#preserve your things worth going outside for

[waterfallregicide]

If you like that a thing exists, you have to support it with your presence and your money. I am being so serious right now, this is about your local art spaces, farmers markets, religious organizations, hobby groups, rec sports complexes, community centers, it’s not enough that you just like them, you have to go to them, you have to pay for them! Bring your friends with you! Fund them through voting for your local government! Volunteer your time! You cannot only rely on other people to do it for you! Do it yourself!

[brawberryz]

the other family

Batfam Yan! × Negleted Coraline! Reader

《Platonic》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

Pt: 1 2

This sucked

This family was the worst, you would have preferred to be in an orphanage than here.

You had been living with this stupid family for almost a decade and at no point did it seem like they cared about you.

You didn't know them that well, ever since you came to the mansion you didn't get along with anyone

Everyone seemed so focused on their responsibilities that you could never talk to any of them.

And you weren't going to beg for their attention, if they didn't give you attention you weren't going to give it to them either

You still had a little dignity and you swore to yourself to never beg anyone, you were much better than that.

Putting that aside, your life was pretty boring

You didn't go to school and you were homeschooled, plus the mansion was pretty creepy and no kid would ever come near you so you could say you didn't have any friends.

Even if you went to school you didn't think you'd have any friends either, people always said you were weird so you didn't think you'd be lucky to have any friends

Unless they want to be friends with someone as weird as you

You could say that the only one you had on your side was Alfred, he was like the grandfather you never had

He was the only one who noticed you among all the darkness that surrounded this mansion.

Your father and your brothers weren't the best, you couldn't say they were bad people.

They were just too busy dealing with their own problems that sometimes they ended up ignoring many things.

But deep down inside you wanted them to notice you.

You would like to be able to share those family moments with them, but that wish was only possible in your dreams.

_

You were walking through the halls of the mansion as usual, most of the time you spent outside walking through the gardens in the company of a strange black cat that for some reason had managed to enter the mansion

As you continued your tour you noticed a strange door, you had never seen it before which was strange since you swore you had discovered every place in this mansion

With curiosity you approached the door and opened it, it looked like a normal room

Maybe it had a little dust and cobwebs, it seemed as if no one had entered this room in years

You saw a small trunk next to a piece of furniture, those two things were the only thing in this strange room

You approached the trunk first and opened it, there was not much just some old books and trinkets

But there was something that caught your attention

A doll

But it was not just any doll, it looked too much like you it was as if it were an identified copy of you

Surprised you grabbed the doll and You examined it, it didn't look old which made it seem very strange that it wasn't dusty

It was too well preserved, you thought that maybe it was just a coincidence that it looked like you

But, you were surprised that it was wearing the same clothes that you were wearing at that moment

You tried to convince yourself that it was just a coincidence, it shouldn't mean anything

You were just overthinking things again, right?

You got up from the floor and left the doll on the small piece of furniture in the room, you began to inspect the room more closely looking for something else interesting

A few minutes passed and you found nothing, only small spider nests and the occasional rat skeleton, god, this place needs to be cleaned urgently

You were going to leave the room after not finding anything but something caught your attention, the wall looked very strange

You approached to touch it and you felt that something was out of place, as if something was inside those walls

Your curiosity was stronger and you decided to tear the wallpaper off the wall, Alfred's scolding for breaking the wall would be worth it if what was hidden between the walls was worth it

After completely tearing the wall your eyes opened in surprise, it was a small door

You crouched down to be able to better inspect the strange door, it was too small the only way to get in there was by crouching or being too small

You tried to open the door but it was locked, you frowned and let out a sigh of defeat

But then an idea entered your mind, maybe the key was between the drawers of that small piece of furniture

You quickly got up and went quickly to the small piece of furniture in the room, you started to search through all the drawers for a key but you only found buttons, needles and small blurry polaroid photos

You opened the last drawer hoping it was a key and when it appeared today you were very lucky because you found a small key, it was a little worn and had a strange shape but you didn't give it any importance

You approached the door again, you put the key in and the small door opened

You couldn't believe what you were seeing, when you opened the door you saw a small narrow hallway full of blue colors, you were very surprised and you thought that maybe it was some kind of dream but you knew it wasn't, this was real

You didn't know whether to go in or not, your instinct told you that it could be dangerous But your curiosity was too great, what kind of secrets that you still didn't know was hidden in this mansion?

You let out a nervous sigh and decided to enter this mysterious place, it may or may not be dangerous.

You really didn't know, but you were going to find out.

After entering the strange door and having to crawl to get to the other end because the space was too small, you finally reached the other side.

After a few seconds you were able to reach the other side of the narrow hallway, you slowly opened the door until you could get out of there

You stood up and looked around confused, it was the same room just a little more tidy and clean

Was this some kind of joke?

You decided to take a risk and leave the room, you began to slowly walk through the halls of the mansion

The mansion seemed more colorful and full of life

Your body stopped dead as soon as you felt arms around you from behind

You quickly turned around to hit whatever was behind you but you were surprised to see Richard

Richard

He looked the same but at the same time so different, it was the first time he hugged you like that and he was so affectionate

He had always been good and affectionate with the whole family except you, and that made you feel a little jealous of the others

"It's good that you came back, little sister, I was so worried!"

He said as he hugged you tightly, he had that worried yet sweet tone he used with everyone

You could barely process everything that was happening, you stared at him for a moment and your eyes caught something you had never seen in the original Richard

His eyes...

...

HIS EYES WERE BUTTONS!?

You stood in shock for a few seconds with your mouth open as you looked at him, you couldn't believe what was happening this couldn't be real But it felt so real

Too real

"Your...your eyes"

You said breathlessly looking at him in surprise, he just let out a small laugh at your surprise

"What's wrong with my eyes?"

"Your eyes are...they're buttons-"

Before you could finish speaking he interrupted you

"Buttons? Oh yes, it's just a small, unimportant detail"

He said without paying much attention to that detail

Your brain could barely process everything that was happening

What kind of crazy dream was this?

_

This was the best thing that ever happened to you!

Apparently Richard wasn't the only family member in the mansion, they all looked so different but at the same time so similar to their original versions

If we take away the fact that everyone's eyes are buttons, they were what you always wanted

They treated you well and were kind to you, even Damian who in your original world hated you and despised you in this world was very sweet and treated you like a real older sister to him

You did activities that you never thought they would do with you, everything was perfect

This was what you always dreamed of and you wouldn't change it for anything

You didn't remember how much time had passed since you came to this other world but you didn't care, if it was by your own decision you would stay here forever

And they wouldn't mind having you forever

_

You found yourself walking through the gardens as usual, accompanied by the black cat that you had met in your original dimension, it had appeared the first day after you came to this world

The best of all He could talk, he was a kind of guide for you and you were grateful for it

It seemed that not only your family had changed but all of Gotham

"You should be careful with them, (name)"

The cat said as he swung between the flowers and bushes in the garden

You just raised an eyebrow at the cat's comment

"Why do you say that?"

You asked curiously, since you had come to this world the talking cat had become too attached to you

And for some strange reason he distrusted your new family too much, whenever one of them tried to get close to you when the cat was near they received a hiss and also showed their claws

"Just don't trust them too much, they are plotting something that I don't like, trust me, my cat senses never fail"

He said seriously, you thought he was just exaggerating too much besides your new family was very good

It wouldn't make sense for them to want to hurt you

"You worry too much, if something was wrong I would have noticed it already just relax"

The black cat just stared at you without saying anything, he felt sorry for the fate that awaited you in the claws of that family

He just hoped it wasn't too late to convince you to leave this world

_

The whole family was gathered in the dining room, they had thrown a surprise party for you, it was a kind of official welcome and you were very excited

Your original family had never thrown a party for you and this was all just new to you

Next to the cake was a small gift, this was the best thing that could have happened to you

"What are you waiting for? Open the gift now"

Jason said handing you the gift, you nodded happily

But as soon as you opened the gift your smile disappeared

"Buttons?..."

You said confused looking at the strange gift

"You don't like it? You can be like us and stay here forever, don't you want that?"

Richard said approaching you, you could feel a bad feeling when you saw him near you and instinctively you got up from the table

"It's not that... it's just that..." You tried to find the right words, you couldn't believe what was happening, sewing buttons on your eyes? You wouldn't let that happen! "I don't want to... I'd better go to-"

Before you could continue speaking your body collided with Tim's, he was there behind you

"Why do you want to leave? You said you would stay with us..."

Tim said in a sinister tone, grabbing you tightly by the arms. You tried to get out of his grip but your strength was nothing compared to his.

"I didn't want to use force on you, (name), but you leave me no choice."

"What?"

Before you could say anything, you saw Bruce approaching you with the water and the buttons. You screamed, cried and kicked but nothing was enough.

Tim's grip was very strong and you could barely move.

They forced you to sit in the chair while Jason and Richard held you so you wouldn't move.

"Calm down, (name), it will only hurt a little."

Richard tried to calm you down but all you did was cry and scream for them to let you go.

It's too late to regret it now, but don't worry!

You don't have to worry about your old family anymore, now they will take care of you forever

Forget about everything, the only important thing is them and only them

_

Bruce was going crazy, he hadn't seen you for months

He wouldn't have even noticed that you disappeared if Alfred hadn't come to his office saying that you weren't at the mansion

He thought that you had simply left but after days without hearing from you he started to worry

He felt like the worst father and he knew that title suited him very well, he had ignored you for so long and now you were lost somewhere

The entire batfam was shocked, everyone felt bad about themselves for having ignored you and left you aside

Days passed and no one knew anything about you, it's as if your presence had disappeared from the earth

The only thing left of you were old photos and blurry memories in everyone's heads

But they was going to do everything possible to bring you back home, They made a lot of mistakes but they were going to fix them

Or maybe it was just an excuse to not feel so guilty

The clock keeps turning and time is running out, maybe when they find out everything it will be too late

Too late

I know I said I was going to upload other stories but in my defense...

I have no excuse, I just did it because I just saw Coraline and I was inspired🔥

[moonlight-prose]

For the touched starved scenarios maybe Logan with "hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters ^^ the other notices so they pull them into a hug, smiling as they just watch them melt"?? I think it would be so cute with logan finally breaking his own barriers, reaching out to the one he adores (or*cough* is very much in love with *cough*) bc HE doesnt realize how touch starved he is and becomes slightly nervous at initiating contact at first😫

how it lingers

a/n: have i shoved this into the small world i made with the previous ask from this list? probably. but they're just so cute and i'm in love. plus just the fact that reader is also probably really timid to initiate contact with him physically. but logan finally reaching out for touch (cause he's so starved for it), and getting a response such. just let this man be happy and in love.

summary: when affection is coupled with pain logan learns it's not worth asking for. what does he need with it? but a difficult mission has him seeking the warmth of a lover in the arms of a friend.

word count: 0.7k

pairing: logan howlett x reader

warnings: fluff, blooming romances, the start of a relationship, soft logan.

It happens after a mission gone wrong. Tension hung thick in the air when the X-Men entered the front entrance, their suits charred and ripped, faces lined in pinched frowns that said far more than they wished. Logan hung back on the porch, smoking the cigar to appease the growing anxiety building in his chest. He'd never been a fan of the crowd this group accumulated—especially not when kids were involved.

But somewhere in the throng of people stood you, waiting with hope in your chest and a light in your eyes that beckoned him closer. Charles held your attention for a moment, Jean meandering over to explain in grave detail what exactly happened. You did your best to cling to every word. Even as your mind wandered to the man still stuck outside—his hands curled into fists and eyes shut to the rest of the world.

"We aren't sure what happened," Jean mumbled, a dazed expression glossing over her eyes. "If it wasn't for Logan well…Scott and I wouldn't be standing here."

The echo of his name shot through your heart—his pain bleeding into your veins the longer you stood there listening to Jean explain what happened. He saved them. He was the hero. So why was did he remain outside? Entirely separated by the people who would happily welcome him in—the ones he silently considered family.

"Is he hurt?" you asked hesitantly, entirely aware of his healing capabilities.

Nothing could hurt the Wolverine.

Not physically anyways.

Jean shrugged, fatigue settling over her face in a darkened cloud that might take days to pass. "He's…Logan."

Which meant he was taking this time to shove away emotions he didn't want to feel—things that would wreak havoc on his mind. He pushed down things he didn't want to feel; the parts of himself that left him with the bitter taste of fear on the back of his tongue. So he smoked to distract himself and left everything else up to the rest of the team.

He found it was easier to mull over his actions alone. Safer.

You tuned out the remainder of the conversation, eyes catching on the subtle shift of the crowd as Logan finally made his way inside. He clung to the wall in the hopes of going unnoticed. A familiar act of self preservation he often grew fond of at times like this. He never liked being the center of attention—why would that change solely because of one mission?

“I’ll meet you guys later.” Their responses went directly over your head, your body drawn to the man who attempted to vanish into the corner beside a plant desperate for more water.

“Bub,” he greeted, arms crossed at his chest—face turned away from your welcoming smile, from the warmth you tried offering to keep the darkness at bay.

“They said you saved them.”

He grunted, eyes flicking back to see your shoulder slump forward an inch. Barely noticeable to others in the area, but Logan clung to every slight shift of your body. Each look and half hearted smile. He tucked them into his chest in the hopes of one day wiping them away. All the stress of being a professor, of choosing to get to know a man who barely spoke more than a few words at a time.

His hand tugged at the sleeve of your cardigan softly. Barely a brush against your arm, but the grin you gave in return lit a fuse he didn’t know resided at the back of his heart. Over the years he understood what connection meant. How to form them, why he should. But staying in solitude favored him best; he couldn’t hurt anyone if he avoided them.

Until you offered him a smile bleeding enough warmth to soothe his aching heart.

A silent agreement passed between your eyes, loud enough to echo in the back of his mind as your arms curled around his neck. And with a blissful sigh filled with contentment, he melted into your touch, hands clasping around your back—arms tight and strong across your waist. Logan hugged you with his whole body, a swathing blanket of heat that poured out of him and enveloped you in love.

“Thanks bub,” he mumbled into your shoulder, head ducked as he shifted back to the corner—still tightly wound around your body.

You smiled, burrowing your face in the soft leather of his jacket. “Anytime Logan.”

[cheralith]

PLEASE MORE OF CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND KAISER 🙏🙏

childhood bestfriend!kaiser who, at age nine, manages to find a spare coin on the ground and decides, for the fun of it, to use it on a nearby capsule machine as he waits for you to finish up inside the convenience store. it contains mini capsules of what seems to be cheap jewelry, and though kaiser cannot be bothered to wear any himself, he decides for the fun of it to just give it a spin since the other machines don't seem worth his money.

he ends up with what looks like a cheap nickel ring with a plastic deep blue gem glued onto its little divot. it's... actually not bad for something so cheap, but it's still cheap enough to notice some flawed intricacies and some irregularities in its pattern surrounding the band of the ring. he attempts to try it on some of his fingers, but it refuses to budge past half of most of them.

you manage to finally finish up paying for your stuff at the register, meeting him outside where you find him squatting down in front of a couple of capsule machines arranging from some quick candy to disposable toys. he holds something shiny between his two fingers as he examines it closely, his concentration on the item making you giggle lightly. that's when he notices you and you ask him what he's holding as you shuffle up next to him.

"a ring," he states simply, letting you hold it between your fingers to let you analyze the toy. "i think it's a little small for me though."

you hum lightly before gently trying it on your left ring finger. to yours and kaiser's mild surprise, it fits quite snugly. "hey, look at that!"

you show off your hand to him, where the ocean blue gem glimmers along the silver band. kaiser stares at it for a minute, taking a liking to how well it goes together with your hand—like it's meant to be there.

he tucks his head away from you, the tips of his ears blushing a light pink. quietly, he mumbles, "... you can have it, then... if you want."

"really?!" you exclaim, clearly delighted. you grin widely, clenching and unclenching your fist when he nods shyly again in affirmation.

he watches you from the corner of his eye, witnessing you glimmer in admiration at the cheap ring, as if it was an actually well-crafted piece made with love and care and thought and not some mass-produced, cheap toy that would most likely break in a couple of days.

so it's surprising how long the little toy has lasted after all these years. there eventually came an age where it could no longer fit any of your fingers without it getting stuck, so you had opted for creating it into a necklace with a matching silver chain. when you had proudly showed off your creation to kaiser at age twelve, his lips purse in bashfulness fronted as confusion. he knew you had worn it for quite a while after he gave it to you, given how he always would steal a glance at your hand to see if you were still wearing it, but to see you go to a length to preserve such a small gift made kaiser feel like he was on top of the world.

you wore the simple necklace for a long time—essentially every day and never took it off unless you were showering or going to bed. even despite the strict "no jewelry" rule at your school, you always had tucked it inside your shirt in secret, feeling like you were carrying a piece of kaiser every where you went since you and him went to different schools (what institution he went to, you didn't know. every time you asked him what school to see if it sounded familiar, he'd just simply reply, "school.")

so when kaiser disappeared from your life for three years, after he had gotten arrested at thirteen for apparently robbing a store (you would shout at the others who rumored about the subject that he'd do no such thing), the piece of metal felt heavier around your neck at times. it felt sore at times, but you still insisted on wearing it every day in hopes that he'd still be somewhere nearby, waiting for you to hand him spare pieces of your dad's bread rolls behind his bakery.

you'd fiddle with it at times while waiting at his bus stop, while you waited on the swings at the nearby park, while you sat on the stairs of your father's bakery... just waiting in hopes of seeing a familiar blonde to hopefully appear before you. you don't know how much time you had wasted in the first year and a half attempting to continue a routine that you didn't know ended without your knowledge... just simply waiting and staring into the open distance while your fingers fiddled with the toy ring strung around your neck.

you stopped waiting for the figment of someone you used to know after the seventeenth month. winter was upon you now and you knew it was getting harder to withstand the chilled air as you waited, waited, and waited. as you swung lightly on the swings that you and kaiser used to eat too much candy with bought with your dad's spare cash, you eventually let the sugar dissolve on your tongue one last time before heading home as the snow began to fall.

you were eighteen, visiting home from the big city on a holiday weekend when you saw him for the first time in years. just shy of the end of your first semester at university, you saw a familiar head of blonde (with now blue tips) hair descending down to the shared tunnel of the subway, face just barely visible from the scarf he wore. you were on the opposite side and had just gotten off at the same platform, and the whiplash you had given yourself at the moment to double check if the person wrapped in a dark blue scarf was actually someone that had disappeared from your life years ago was truly there could've snapped your neck.

suitcase trailing behind you, you had forgotten all about your connecting train and swiftly trailed down the stairs in desperation to see a familiar face you yearned to see for the past few years. you probably looked like a psychopath, but you didn't care, not when you spotted the familiar choppy locks of white gold just a few meters away.

when you called out his name, you proved yourself right given how the figure in front of you freezes when you shout his last name.

kaiser remembers stiffening up at the sound of a melody all too familiar to him just before he transferred through the turnstile to the other station. he slowly turned around to see a face he had spent a good portion of the beginning of his life around, a face that unlike most people in his life, he didn't dread to see with a flow of contempt. but he still felt the apprehension fill his nerves, similar in the way that it did just before a big match.

and it felt nearly impossible to control such a feeling—especially when he spots the shrewd ring still hanging around your neck on a thin, silver chain, its dark plastic gem still glistening at him with a knowing wink in its glimmer.

a/n ; some more of childhood bestfriend!kaiser here, here, and here (yandere warning for the last one). comments and reblogs always noticed and endlessly appreciated :]

[illubean]

ooooh if i can request a fic or hc, can you do the phantom troupe or just chrollo, feitan, phinks, shalnark, and shizuku (if its too many for all the phantom troupe) with like an angelic fem s/o like full on wings and halo and her nen ability is healing?

(if u dont like it its fine :) have a good day everyday! sending virtual hugs!!!)

Phantom Troupe w/ an Angelic!S/o

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor, Shalnark, Shizuku Murasaki Type: Headcanons, written Fem!Reader in mind

this has been marinating in the drafts for a while whoopsies

Warnings: some toxic behaviors

Chrollo Lucilfer

ngl he's prob thought of just stealing your nen then killing you and preserving your wings

butttttt you were interesting to him so he decided against it

he decided it was more worth it to keep you around then have to go through the trouble of all of that

did he massacre an entire clan for their eyeballs? well yeah but like...they weren't THAT special to him

but you?

he thought you were gorgeous

and he was intrigued by your very existence

after you start dating and you start trusting him he probably just locks you up somewhere under the pretense of "keeping you safe" aka making sure no one can kill the troupe's personal medic

despite that he still treats you very well

he likes to bring you stolen gifts and shower you in praise whenever he gets the chance

if he could make a cult around you he probably would

Feitan Portor

very confused how someone meant to be the epitome of pureness ended up with him of all people

he is one of the more viscous members of the troupe

seriously, you chose HIM????

thinking about it brings him to...not so appropriate territory

all I will say is he is a wee bit perverted and his brain is going down the corruption route

n e wayzzz he's probably scared to touch you when you first get together

you're just so pretty and delicate that he doesn't want to hurt you

he often comes to you when he's wounded and won't say a word about it

whenever you touch him while healing him his face dusts a light pink and he has to avoid eye contact <3

he may get a wee jealous if you tend to the other troupe members

sometimes when he's on missions he won't dodge attacks that he could've easily just for an excuse to have you touch and tend to him again (you could've just asked babes)

Shalnark

another confused one but not as self deprecating as Feitan

like why are you with him he's a criminal but also he's not THAT bad right???

he probably asks you if he's going to hell when he dies

actually he asks you tons of questions in general

like how does your nen work, how did you get your wings/halo, how did you end up walking around on earth like every other human??

he is very curious like shinee

sometimes he likes to just stare at you

and he especially likes to watch you work

he is amazed by your healing abilities every time

but most of all he likes watching you do mundane things

like watering the flowers outside or setting out food for stray cats

he thinks you are adorable

Shizuku Murasaki

upon first meeting i see this going one of two ways

either your appearance is so unique that she cannot forget you

or she forgets you a few times and thinks she died but didn't remember

you have to reassure her that no, she is not seeing things and she is not dead

she wishes she can keep you all to herself; not because of your powers but because of how ethereal you are

she thinks your too perfect for the public eye

when she has the chance and if you let her she likes to pet the soft feathers on your wings

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ a rare bloom .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Jade Leech x gn! reader

𓏵 632 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 2nd Person POV, no pronouns used, fluff

hwehe finally feeling a bit better so I'll post more often! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

You weren’t sure when it had started—this quiet exchange of oddities between you and Jade. It wasn’t anything official or pre-planned. One day, he’d handed you a smooth, sea-polished stone with faint iridescence, claiming it was “charmed to bring clarity of mind.” The next, you’d slipped a hand-carved bookmark into his herbology notes, painted with tiny mushrooms and ferns. Neither of you spoke about it. The gifts simply flowed back and forth like the tide—silent, steady, almost inevitable.

Today was no different.

“Here,” Jade said, extending a delicate flower toward you as you both lingered outside the cafeteria. His usual sly smile curved his lips, but there was something softer in his gaze, like the calm shallows rather than the deep sea.

The bloom itself was striking—a pale lavender blossom with spiky petals that radiated from the center, each tip fading to almost translucent white. Tiny silver specks shimmered in the sunlight, as if dusted with stardust.

“It’s called lunaflare thistle,” Jade explained, watching your expression closely. “Quite rare. It only grows at high altitudes and blooms for a single day under the full moon.”

You blinked, carefully accepting the flower. It was lighter than it looked, fragile in your hands. “You climbed a mountain just to pick this?”

His smile widened. “Oh, no. I simply stumbled upon it during a… casual hike.”

“Uh-huh.” You eyed him, unconvinced. Jade Leech didn’t do anything casually.

Still, the flower was beautiful, and the fact that he’d thought to bring it to you made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Thank you,” you said, tucking it into the strap of your bag. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t go to waste.”

Jade inclined his head, satisfaction gleaming in his heterochromatic eyes. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Then, as he turned to leave, you almost missed his next words—spoken lightly, almost as if to himself.

“After all, it’s quite like you. Rare, lovely… and gone before one can fully appreciate it.”

You froze, but by the time you processed what he’d said, Jade was already strolling down the hall, posture relaxed and unreadable as ever.

Later that night, curiosity got the better of you.

You sat cross-legged on your bed, the thistle resting carefully on your desk. A quick search on your phone revealed… nothing. No mention of lunaflare thistle, rare or otherwise. You even skimmed through a few magical herbology databases, but the flower didn’t appear in any records.

Frowning, you switched tactics, searching instead for the flower’s appearance. Eventually, you found it—a common mountain wildflower called silver star thistle. It wasn’t rare. It wasn’t magical. It certainly didn’t only bloom under full moons.

It was just… pretty.

And Jade had lied.

You stared at the bloom for a long moment, heart thudding quietly in your chest. Why go through all that trouble? He could’ve easily handed it over without the elaborate story. He wasn’t the type to lie without purpose—unless, of course, the meaning wasn’t in the flower itself but in what it represented.

“Quite like you,” you murmured, remembering his phrasing.

Rare. Beautiful. Something fleeting and worth cherishing.

Heat crept up your neck as realization settled in. Jade Leech, smooth-talking eel that he was, had given you the closest thing to a confession you could expect from someone like him—subtle, veiled, and laced with plausible deniability.

Smiling to yourself, you gently pressed the thistle between the pages of your herbology textbook, preserving both the bloom and the memory.

If Jade wanted to speak in riddles and half-truths, you’d play along. After all, some things were sweeter when left unsaid.

[hqbaby]

twenty-four — kiss and tell

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.7k content. profanity, angsty flashback, naoya is a dumbass

What happened that night is all a blur to you now. You remember little between dragging Satoru out of his bedroom to join the others outside and making the worst mistake of your life, and even that you can’t say you remember for certain.

You know that the night had started well enough. You and Shoko spent most of your time dancing and occasionally crashing on the couch to engage in extremely pretentious conversations about the state of the world with the group of political science majors who had camped out there. Like most of Yuji’s parties, the night had involved copious amounts of alcohol and little critical thinking.

“I’m gonna go get some water,” you told Shoko through the blaring music. “You want anything?”

She pointed at her cup. “Get me another one?”

You chuckled. “Haven’t you had enough?”

“Nope!” she said, grinning at you. “Keep ‘em coming!”

“Your wish is my command.”

You stumbled past the group of boys who were having a competition for how many chips they could stuff in their mouth, past the girls who were contemplating getting matching tattoos, the couples who existed a world away from the one you were living in.

Your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar pair of blue eyes and a mop of white hair. You frowned, not finding him anywhere.

You went into the kitchen, skirted past the two boys who were trying to figure out what those giant Q-tip looking things that people fought with were called—pugil sticks, you later found out—and grabbed yourself a bottle of water and a drink for Shoko.

You remember wanting to find Satoru, wanting to see where your beloved boyfriend had disappeared to. That was why you walked down the corridor to the bathroom. That was why you happened upon Suguru’s bedroom, the door opened just a crack. That was why you heard what you heard, why things changed the way that they did.

“He was looking at rings.”

You knew better than to eavesdrop. Years of living in the same house as your parents, where there was a daily occurance of arguments behind closed doors, had taught you that there were some things you were better off not knowing. Some things that you couldn’t unhear after you heard them, things you shouldn’t have to hear at all.

But Suguru’s voice drew you in. His words even more.

You leaned in towards the door thinking, How bad can it be?

It was Yuta who spoke next. “Rings?” he said. “For her?”

“Yeah,” Satoru’s best friend spoke. “He’s getting serious about this. I think it might actually be real this time.”

Now, that made you press your ears against the door. They were talking about you and your boyfriend. They were talking about how serious your relationship had become.

If you were being honest, you were scared shitless by the whole thing. After high school, you hadn’t so much as looked at the boys who sauntered in your direction. You were aware of your tendencies—“a lack of self-preservation skills,” as Sukuna often called it—and you never thought that any relationship was worth the pain you could inflict on the other person, the pain they could inflict on you.

But Satoru had come into your life all bright and good. Perfect was the only way you could describe it. The kind of perfection that had you wanting to catch up, to be worth whatever pain you both could suffer if things turned sour. The kind of perfect that made you want to be perfect too.

Your heart was light at Suguru’s words. He was looking at rings. He believed in what the two of you had. It was real.

But then you heard a laugh. Naoya.

“Satoru doesn’t do ‘real,’” he said in that haughty tone of his. “He likes the spectacle. The show of it all.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Yuta said. You could hear his frown through his words. “He loves her, I think we can all see that.”

“We all know he went for her because she was a challenge to him,” Naoya insisted. “It’s the perfect story: The untouchable girl falls for the college heartthrob. They get married and live happily ever after—it’s fucking disgusting.”

You heard Suguru laugh. “You’re just jealous because you have some weird crush on her.”

“I’m not jealous. I just recognize his patterns. They’re so fucking predictable.”

His patterns. Satoru’s patterns.

What patterns?

“Do you remember Hana from freshman year?” Naoya continued. “She was really pretty, really sweet. He was in love with her, wasn’t he?”

“Sure, but—”

“And Miyoko after he and Hana broke up? He was convinced he was gonna marry her too.”

“Okay, but—”

“Wasn’t he seeing Kana when he convinced himself he needed to have—”

“Fine!” Suguru groaned. “He has a pattern. He’s a fucking romantic. We get it, man.”

“I’m just telling the truth,” Naoya said. “The moment she stops living up to his standards, the moment the illusion breaks, he’s going to move on to the next perfect girl. It’s just what he does.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You’d known about Satoru’s past, the girlfriends he had that he swore to you were different. You were different, that was what he told you. You were the only one he’d ever wanted in that way.

You heard someone groan on the other side of the door.

“Is he awake?” Yuta asked.

There was a shuffle of fabric. The sheets on Suguru’s bed.

“Nope,” Suguru said. “Still pretty blacked out.”

You looked through the crack in the door. The three boys were on the floor beside the bed and passed out on the sheets was your boyfriend. Your perfect boyfriend.

You suddenly felt lightheaded. You felt confused. You felt sick.

Everyone’s gathered in the living room. Mahito is sprawled out on the couch, barely lifting his head as he speaks.

“I hate hide and seek,” he says. “Whose idea was it anyway?”

“I thought it was fun!” Utahime says, grinning.

“We had fun too,” Sukuna chimes in. He slings an arm around Kento—who does his best to shrug him off to no avail—and smiles at the man. “Didn’t we?”

Kento’s look of disdain is the only answer he gets.

Everyone else laughs and starts chatting about the game, filling up new cups of alcohol and settling around the fire. Until—

“Where’s tiger?” Sukuna asks eventually once he’s circled the room looking for you. “Mahito, did you find her?”

The other boy grunts on the couch. “I dunno.”

Maki grows pale, coming to the same conclusion that you’re not here. She glances over at Satoru who’s sitting on a chair with Kimi on his lap. His eyes are distant, staring into the fireplace. She looks around again. And she realizes.

“Where’s Naoya?” she asks.

The whole room grows quiet.

“Are they not here?” Nobara scans the room. “They’re not…”

Satoru looks around now too. He sees what everyone sees. There are only two people missing in this room: You and Naoya.

He grimaces. “Where the fuck are they?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Naoya had his body turned to you, the two of you still sitting in the cramped compartment. You don’t know how long you’ve been in here. It feels like hours have passed already.

“No,” you tell him, leaning against the wall behind you.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re such a pain.”

“Back at you.”

“No, but really,” he says, sitting tall as he folds his hands on his lap. “Why’d you do it?”

You frown. “Do what?”

“Kiss me,” he answers. He cracks a grin. “Not that I’m complaining or anything—”

“Holy shit, shut the fuck up.” You bury your face in your hands. “Don’t ask me that.”

In truth, you don’t actually remember the kiss. Just that it happened. Just that you’d done it, that you’d decided to ruin everything.

But what was there to ruin in the first place? The whole thing had already been crumbling beneath you without you knowing.

He prods your foot with his. “I just wanna know.”

“I don’t know,” you tell him. When he looks at you, unimpressed with your answer, you shrug. “I realized some things. Or I was confused about them at least. I needed to… do something.”

“So you kissed me,” he says. “Out of nowhere, you come up to me and kiss me because you needed to do something?”

You tilt your head. “Is that how it happened?”

Naoya narrows his eyes, shifting a little. “You don’t remember?”

“No,” you say, and you realize how lame that probably sounds. “I just know that I did it. I wasn’t really thinking. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You don’t remember,” he repeats like he doesn’t believe you.

“Yes, Naoya, I don’t fucking remember,” you say, exasperated. “How many times are you gonna say that?”

He shakes his head. “What do you think happened?”

You furrow your brows at his tone. “What did happen?”

Naoya studies you for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re just being mean to him. If you’re just pretending not to remember to psych him out. But he knows you better than that, you wouldn’t stoop that low.

“We were at the party,” he says slowly. “I was outside the house. Trying to get some air, you know, because Yuji had just thrown up on the carpet like a fucking idiot and I didn’t wanna clean it up.”

He pauses, gauging your response. You nod at him to continue.

“And you showed up,” he says. “And you sat down beside me and you were real quiet for a moment. And then you leaned over and kissed my cheek and said ‘thank you’ and—”

“Wait, what?” You gape at him. “I kissed your cheek?”

“Yeah, my cheek. And you said—”

“I kissed your cheek and thanked you?” you ask, louder. “That’s it?”

Naoya frowns. “Yeah, I fucking thought you knew that.”

“I didn’t know that!” you exclaim. “I kissed your cheek?” You slap his arm. “This whole time, when you said that we kissed—you mean that I kissed your fucking cheek?”

“Yeah!” he says. “You kissed my fucking cheek and thanked me! I thought you knew what I meant!”

You feel your eye twitch. You want to punch him or pull his hair or—

“I can’t fucking believe you!” you say, throwing your hands at him haphazardly, ultimately unable to decide how you were going to try and hurt him. “This whole fucking time that was the fucking kiss? Naoya, I’m gonna kill you!”

[avocado-writing]

if you’re open to writing for karlach, maybe something where she and tav come up with creative ways to be close without tav being burned? or just go nuts and crawl over to shadowheart for healing lol

notes: karlach is so fucking hot (literal and sexual) i am insane over her. i'd love to write for her more

rating: E

pairing: karlach x gn!reader (background shadowheart x lae'zel)

You met Karlach about a month ago, and you’ve never wanted a woman more in your life. 

Every part of her is perfection. Her toned stomach; her gorgeous eyes, her wild hair. You want to touch her so badly. Want to run your hand up the plain of her back and feel her shoulders shift under you when she wraps you in her embrace. Want to feel the crush of her lips against yours, the soft wetness when you press between her legs.

But she is on fucking fire, so there lies the issue.

You know she feels the same. When the rest of the camp is asleep you steal into her tent, the two of you whispering the filthy things you want to do to each other while pleasuring yourselves because you can’t physically fucking touch. It’s maddening. You want to be able to actually do them, not just promise that you will. 

You’ve seen her fingers disappear into her cunt as she moans your name, you’ve come against your palm while telling her how badly you want to taste her.

Gods. you are going to lose your mind over this tiefling.

Stripped off and with a fresh outfit slung over your shoulder, you stomp down to the pond just outside of camp in order to wash up that morning. Your mind is on other matters - tadpoles, mostly, and how on earth you’re going to save yourselves - but you are totally snapped out of your brooding when you see you’re actually not alone.

“Soldier. Didn’t think you’d be awake for another couple of hours yet, the way you tired yourself out last night,” says Karlach cheekily, grinning up from the water. She’s chest-deep, infernal engine running so hot that steam is churning up around her, leaving a clinging mist all over her shoulders and face. She dunks her head under to wet her hair and makes a beautiful arc as she resurfaces, shiny and dripping.

You stare. Your mouth has gone completely fucking dry. Your head has emptied of all thoughts save for two words: wet Karlach wet Karlach wet Karlach–

She raises an eyebrow. “Babe?”

You drop your clothes.

“Fuck it,” you say, and dive into the pond.

Her lips burn with a kiss long since needed, the pain being bearable for the pleasure of knowing her. Her cunt is almost excruciating to run your fingers across and yet you find yourself gritting your teeth and pressing your tongue inside, the magma of her orgasm deliciously burning your face. It’s so worth it. It’s so, so worth it for knowing you can make her come, and what your name sounds like from her lips when you’re the one bringing her there. She lets you fuck her thigh like a dog in heat and it feels like your sex is aflame. 

You have zero regrets, lying in the muddy pond bank, naked body covered in burns. You hear Karlach reapproaching with someone in tow, chattering nervously.

“Yeah, aha, we just er… got carried away. Sorry. I really do appreciate you helping us out, though!”

Shadowheart peers down at you, her mouth a tight line of disapproval. 

“Lady of Sorrows preserve us, look at the state of you,” she sighs. Despite the rawness of your injuries you manage a grin.

“Come on, don’t act as if this is the first time you’ll have used Cure Wounds after sex. I’ve heard the noises you and Lae’zel make.”

Her face goes a bright enough red to match the tiefling next to her, and Karlach throws her head back in uproarious laughter.

Every moment of pain is worth it, for her.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling

[leighsartworks216]

In Your Silence (I Hear You)

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Requested by @ghulehh666:

"Just had this idea for so long in my head, basically astarion x tav(gn). Tav is really antisocial, never visits tavern or such, and prefers to stay somewhere quiet and alone or with Astarion. When they have to talk, their ability to speak sometimes randomly locks out and doesn’t know what to say."

I know you said antisocial but I kinda went further and made it more social anxiety or autism-coded

Also I still have not played the game or seen much gameplay so some things may be inaccurate and stuff

Warnings: going through a busy crowd, brief mention of nails digging into skin, some sensory issues (touch, sound)

Word Count: 1,287

Masterlist

AO3

You were holding on for dear life. Your arms curled tightly around Astarion’s, eyes scanning every which-a-way. Unfortunately, this was a rather common occurrence.

Before all this, you kept to yourself. Perhaps to an extreme. You avoided going outside, you didn’t speak to anyone for as long as you could help it, and you were quite happy like this. Dealing with other people was always a headache, and never near worth it, but staying alone? The only person you could be irritated with was yourself.

And then you got kidnapped. And somehow, somehow everyone chose you as the one to save the world. You couldn’t stay alone anymore. Too much was at stake. But sometimes it was all too much. Too loud, too demanding, too… everything.

Astarion didn’t know what to make of you upon first meeting. He’d assumed you were working with the damn Illithid, but when he insisted you just kept shaking your head. Truly, he’d have thought you were mute, if he’d not seen you talking with the damned creatures. Now that it’s been weeks, he knew you better than the rest. After all, it was his tent you ran to when you needed quiet, and, even more than that, it was him you trusted to find your voice when you couldn’t.

That’s how you ended up in this bustling market street, clinging to him as he smoothly guided you through swaths of people. He was used to navigating crowds. His eyes sought out slightly-more-open gaps and he’d be able to slip through with no issues. Alone, that is. With you, the strategy was a little different. Not only did he have to get himself through, but you as well. He could only imagine what the weaving pattern he took to find even-more-open gaps in the sea of people looked like from above.

The street never seemed to end. More and more people entered from either end. Stall owners barked out calls to potential customers. Everyone was shoving to get where they needed to go. Astarion was tired of it. The only reason you’d turned down here was to find one specific stall for some spices Gale wanted. He’d stopped looking for the stall long ago, leaving that task to you.

Toward the end of the street, though still quite far from any freedom, you squeezed his arm and planted your feet. He stopped immediately. Your eyes were set on one of the stalls - a table filled with handfuls of herbs, small bundles of them tied together with string. He sighed through his nose. Gale better damn well be happy for all the trouble this is.

Astarion placed a hand over yours on his arm, searching for any opening in the river of people going around you both. He could feel the anxiety radiating from you the longer it took. As soon as there was even a hint of a gap, he pulled you through.

Trying to walk through the hoard rather than with it was a nightmare. You were jostled and bumped into by everyone. Astarion wanted to switch you to his other side to act as a human shield, but doing so risked losing you to the flood. And when you finally got through, finally standing in front of the one stall you came here for, you felt it. Like a switch, your throat felt leaden. Your vocal chords were heavy. It seems preserving your voice for this moment did not help at all.

“Hi! Welcome, welcome! What can I get for you today?” the stall-keeper beckoned. Astarion had to fight to keep his eyes from rolling. All traders were always too cheery, overacting as they tried to play nice to convince you to buy more.

The vampire turned his focus to you. You still held onto his arm, but it was a little more relaxed. Your nails weren’t digging into his arm, at least. (You always apologized profusely when your voice came back, even when he brushed off your concerns of hurting him or, worse, being a nuisance.) You searched the table, eyes roaming stacks of small spices and bundles of large herbs. Astarion had no idea exactly what Gale’d asked for. He trusted you remembered.

A moment passed, and then you were pointing at a small cloth bag, round and full. The attendant lit up. “That’s our special blend! It contains all you need for any meal! Just one pinch and your mouth will thank you for it!” When they said the price, Astarion saw you retreating in on yourself. It was a lot to ask for one small sachet, though it looked like it would last several weeks if conserved properly.

Before you could even formulate an apology to Gale for his damn herbs and spices being too gods damned expensive, Astarion was pulling out his coin purse and counting out the gold. “We’ll take one.”

The attendant picked up the sachet by its drawstrings and plopped it into your hesitant hand. You squeezed his arm - you didn’t like that he was paying for it. He handed over the money, and pulled you back into the throng of people.

It wasn’t long before you were at the end of the street and being tugged along to a quiet side-road as there was no longer a need to slow down to glance at each stall. As soon as the people thinned out to a manageable level, you let go of his arm and reached for your own coin purse.

“Please, love, you don’t need to pay me back.” He covered your hand holding the purse, preventing you from opening it. “Besides, I will be more than happy to discuss repayment with the Wizard.”

You gave him a disapproving look. He just rolled his eyes.

“Was acting quickly to get you out of that mess as soon as possible not what you wanted?”

You glared harder. “Don’t twist it,” you muttered. The weight was still there, but being out of the crowd had helped enough. Though, it seemed heavier now that you have spoken… Damn.

He chuckled airily. “Hate to admit I was working outside of my own self-interests for once?” You raised a brow at him. “Well, aside from having Gale in my pocket, until he compensates me for the loss.”

You huffed and put your coin purse away, tucking the sachet away in the process. Your hand found his arm immediately after. He didn’t even react as you gripped onto the fabric of his sleeve. At first, he’d been a bit scandalized, complaining that you’d wrinkle it or pull at the embroidery. He almost… enjoyed it. The simple act of keeping each other close, relying on him to act as an anchor. It felt nice to be needed.

He noticed before you that your feet were beginning to drag. The sole of your boots scraped on the street every couple steps, not to mention how you slowed down ever so slightly. He smiled knowingly, resting his hand over yours on his arm once more. It was reminiscent of nobles strolling along, prim and proper.

“Come on, dear,” he encouraged smoothly. “Once we return I can read that mystery novel to you.”

You grabbed onto his arm with your other hand, pulling yourself closer to rest your head against him. You had a tired little smile on your face. How unfortunate such outings were so much on their leader. He’d probably get two lines in before you passed out in his mess of pillows.

“Though, it is rather obvious who the culprit is.”

You pinched his arm.

“No, my being a magistrate has nothing to do with it,” he chastised. “It’s hardly my fault I’m more observant than you, dear.”

[leggerefiore]

cw: champion Volo au, yandere, volo being himself

pairing: Volo/Reader

The Champion of Sinnoh was an eccentric sort of man. He was recognised all around the world for his natural talents as a trainer — Rumoured to be nigh unbeatable. His focus on preserving historical sites and native cultures to the region also earned him much acclaim. It was only a natural thing, of course, as he was a descendant of certain people that laid claim to Sinnoh as their origin point. His family seemed to be gone, having been raised by a mysterious old woman who he never referred to with any familial terms. Yes, Volo was considered quite eccentric.

You found yourself utterly fascinated with him. The blond simply was utterly beautiful, too. His exposed grey eye caught the light wonderfully in all of his pictures. Those golden strands of his almost shimmered like precious metals. His smile was charming. You knew it was nothing more than a celebrity crush, but something drew you into him like no other. Other champions failed to have the same appeal as him. Steven was certainly handsome, having many fans of varying genders. Leon was undeniably gifted with mass appeal. Lance even had a particular charm that drew in a dedicated fanbase. None, however, pulled in you as much as the Sinnohan champion had.

Truly, you never expected anything to ever come from it.

But, a certain tournament held in Unova had drawn you in to observe. It was a massive showdown between powerful trainers from all over the world. Tickets were expensive, but more than worth it. Seeing so many intense battles had been nothing short of exhilarating. The lobby often had a few trainers hanging out in there, doing small fan meet-ups and speaking about their battles between those who competed. You felt shocked when you spotted the blond sitting in a chair speaking to a few gathered fans. A surreal feeling coursed through you as his presence was impossible to ascertain. He wore a heavy coat with fur collar, but what caught your attention was the pendant around his neck. He was never caught without it. You wondered about it quite regularly.

Volo had been chatting to a few of the fans, an amicable smile on his face. Though, as you stepped into his line of sight, the conversations slowly began to teeter out. For a moment, his face almost shifted into something ominous. His sole exposed eye stared into your very being as his lips fell from the grin. It lasted for nothing more than a moment as he snapped from whatever it had been and continued on with the fans. The uncomfortable scene lingered in your mind. Had you done something to upset him? The thought made you nervous, but it likely was nothing more than a passing reaction. Maybe he was tired… Battling could take a lot out of people.

You had departed from the scene and found yourself sitting out in the sun outside. The water surrounded the facility made for a relaxing ambience as you unwound from the intensity of the day's battles. People wandered around you, lost in their own worlds. Your mind drifted, too. The sight of the Sinnohan champion had made this entire trip more than worth the trouble and expenses. Seeing him in person had made your heart race… He was just as handsome as he had been on the screen. Something about him was more intriguing in person. Your heart rate spiked at the sight of him. You were curious about him. He was never seen in public nor with other people. It was rare that rumours about his affairs came out.

“Boo,” a voice whispered into your ear. Hands rested on your shoulders. Instantly, you tensed up and struggled to pull away from the unknown person. They remained firm in their grip. Whipping your head around, something in you twisted. Volo gazed at you curiously. Somehow, you felt like an insect under his scrutiny. A smile was on his lips, but it was different from the way it appeared in pictures. A laugh came from him as he let you go. Your immediate reaction was to demand to know why he did that, making him chuckle. His head tilted, fringes following the motion. “You were spaced out in public… That's dangerous, you know,” was his simple reply. Something felt wrong.

Yet, you were simply over the moon to have his attention on you.

Volo sat beside you, remarking on wishing to know what you were thinking so intensely about. Naturally, you made up a lie. He cocked a brow up at your explanation but made no attempts to question you further. Instead, he began to ask about you. Starstruck, you instantly began to answer with little regard for the information that you were feeding him. He nodded along to you, absorbing it all until he felt satisfied. Then, he shifted to letting you ask him some questions. It all had been mostly surface things that you likely could have dug up online until you asked about his pendant. His attention shifted to the teardrop piece of metal relaxing against his chest.

“… Oh, this?” his voice was low, “… It's related to the ancient Sinnoh people.” The reply made you nod. Of course… right, he was very proud of his heritage. Why would he not wear something like that? You shook your head. Somehow, however, you felt caught off-guard by his hand finding your chin. He gripped as his grey eye bored into you. “You're quite cute,” he simply said, “Won't you join me for dinner?”

How could you say no to him?

The painful churning in your stomach could simply be ignored as nothing more than nervousness.

It became more than just dinner.

You ended up in his bed.

The morning sun peeked through the curtains of the hotel room window. You moved to cover your head and catch more sleep, but a heavy arm around your waist snapped you into reality. It pulled you closer, making you feel the warmth emanating from the person it was attached to. Your brain rushed with panic before you turned your head to see Volo sleeping peacefully. You struggled to comprehend the scenario. Both of you laid bare, so that was more than obvious. The answer as to why laid with the slumbering man as you struggled to figure out how to navigate this.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the champion seemed to awaken on cue. He held you tighter to himself, making all the more aware of his staggering height. His body was quite well-formed, too. You would have been more interested had you not struggled to remember much of the night before. Both you and he certainly had too much to drink at the restaurant. “You're just as precious as I remember,” his voice was a rumble. Your name came from him, and your heart raced. “I've been looking for you all this time…” he shifted to pin you to the bed as he hovered above. Long blond strands curtained your face from the light as he leaned in. His eyes were different — His pupils shrunken.

Something really felt wrong now.

He seemed aware of your revelation. A chuckle left him as he pressed his weight against you.

“… Time won't separate us,” he mumbled, “I'll take all that I want.”

Nothing of what he was saying made any sense to you.

“I told you I would get what I wanted, no matter if it took centuries,” the back of his hand stroked your cheek, “Ah… You really don't know, do you?”

Somehow, you realised far too late that the feeling in your stomach had not been evidence of a crush.

It was fear.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi Miss Raven! I’m new to twisted wonderland, so I’m still confused by a lot of things, and I still can’t understand Idia’s curse and what it exactly does. Also, I don’t understand, why his friends memories will be erased? Can you explain it to me? I’m really lost

I believe you’re bringing up some points I mentioned from this post (since I got this ask shortly after that original post went live)?

Your questions are answered in book 6 of the main story. However, I realize that not everyone has access to the game, the time to read/watch it, and/or the cards to power through to that deep in the story. It’s easy for newcomers to understand the gist in the beginning (~prologue and book 1), but books 6 and 7 are packed with detail and lore that can be overwhelming to understand without sufficient context.

Firstly, the Shroud family curse originates from the Age of the Gods. The Shrouds are considered a branch family to the Jupiter family, and during this time period they attempted to overthrow them. For their defiance, they and all their descendants were inflicted with a curse which quickly burns away blot (the byproduct of magic). This seems like a strength (since that means it’s hard for a Shroud to overblot), but in reality it condemns them since their bodies will start to burn away at their own magic/life force if there isn’t any blot around to consume. In other words, the curse is detrimental to the health of Shroud mages.

Back when mages were still feared and the relationship between magic and lot was not well understood, the Jupiters sealed away overblots and a Watchman (from the Shroud family) was appointed to guard them. Over time, the Watchmen would become Styx, a secret independent organization that researches blot. Some Shrouds they could perhaps find a cure for their curse through these endeavors. Being around blot for their work also technically benefits them, as their bodies would burn the blot in their environment, thus making it less burdensome on the Shrouds’ physical status. However, Idia often phrases their circumstances as shackling and restrictive, as the Shrouds have basically been put in positions they cannot escape from due to the nature of their curse. His childhood is also presented to us as very dreary, as he grew up in Styx HQ, isolated from the real world and in a sterile environment surrounded by Styx staff.

In book 6, Idia reveals himself to the OB boys up until that point as the acting director of Styx. He then proceeds to conduct experiments on them and they goof off a little as well. Ortho expresses hope that Idia could maybe become friends with the OB boys, to which Idia is pessimistic and claims it’s pointless to try since they’ll “be sent down the River Lethe” eventually. In Greek mythology, that river is said to wipe the memories of those that submerge itself in its waters; in TWST, it’s a special program thar Styx uses to purge the memories of outsiders brought into their HQ. This would allow the outsiders to return to normal life without issue while also preserving the secrecy of Styx. It’s like… the ultimate NDA 😂

Because the OB boys are outsiders, Styx has to wipe their memories as a safety precaution before they can be released. This means that all of the fun times Idia spends with them in Styx will be forgotten too, so Idia doesn’t believe it’s worth it to make an effort to befriend them. It’s implied that Idia has always been pessimistic about his chances at forming friendships because of his isolated upbringing in combination with the expectation that he is going to become the future director of Styx—a thankless job that forces him to toil in a cold, dark place, far away from any intimate human connections.

Hope that helps ^^

[hottpinkpenguin]

Could I request the Darkling x virgin reader where they go to bed together, but before they sleep together reader changes her mind as she's not ready. She's unsure how he will react, but darkling is super soft and reassuring and tells her they will only sleep together when she's ready/there's no rush or pressure etc...

A/n: I made you wait far too long for this anon!! this was a great prompt and i loved writing it. no one makes me melt more than Soft Darkling! hope you love it <33

Eager

Darkling X VirginFem!Reader Word Count: 2524 Warnings: fluff/spice (no smut), misogyny vibes (but not from Darkling!)

You felt utterly ridiculous standing in the middle of your expansive bedchamber, the lacy negligee Genya had picked out for you doing little to keep you warm. You had the bottom hem bunched in your shaking hands as you looked at yourself in the mirror. 

“Deep breaths,” Genya cooed gently as she brushed your hair down your back. You tried to follow her instructions, timing your inhales and exhales with hers. No amount of self-control could quite stifle the terrified stuttering of your heart in your chest. She knitted her brows at your reflection in the mirror.

“It’s normal to be nervous,” she observed softly. “But you shouldn’t be… terrified.” 

The corners of your mouth twitched as you fought the urge to cry. You were grateful for the dim light of the scattered candles in your room. It kept your sour expression cast in shadow. 

“I’m not terrified,” you argued weakly. “I’m just…” Your voice trailed off impotently as you tried to find the right word. Apprehensive? Embarrassed? Exhausted?

“Stressed.” You settled on a word that captured such a small fraction of the emotions swirling in your chest as to be almost negligible. You were terrified, although not in the way Genya assumed. You were anything but unsure of what you were about to do. In fact, you were utterly consumed with desire for Aleksander. The warm knot that boiled low and deep in your stomach confirmed that. Your heart skipped a beat as your pent-up mind thrust imagined scenes into your consciousness: your lips on the curve of his neck… the muscles on his back flexing as he climbs on top of you… his fingers digging into the flesh around your hips…

No, it wasn’t sex that you were terrified of. And it wasn’t Aleksander either. 

The source of your terror wasn’t anywhere outside of you. It was within you. You forced yourself to hold your own gaze in the mirror, staring down the demons in your own eyes. You need to confront this, you chided yourself. No more running. 

You were terrified of giving up this part of yourself to someone else. It wasn’t about Aleksander, and it wasn’t about the actions involved in giving it up. The thing that held your heart in an ice-cold vice was the fear of repercussions. You’d been raised in the Ravkan High Court your whole life, and as the only Lantsov daughter, your worth still hinged on antiquated rules tied to your purity. Your brothers Nikolai and Vasily had never known that kind of pressure, had never been forced to preserve their innocence for the bitter reward of bartering an advantageous marriage. 

You had Aleksander to thank for showing you your worth. He was the one who’d shown you what it meant to be truly valued, truly loved. He was the one who’d intervened on your behalf when you’d been standing at the altar, moments away from an ill-fated marriage to an abusive drunk. All your family had seen was the virginal princess wrapped in white - Ravka’s most valuable gift - and the massive coffers of your almost-husband’s family. Aleksander had seen a woman inches away from marrying what would ultimately be the death of her. He’d been the one to give you a choice. You loved him, completely and utterly, and he would be the one you’d choose to give yourself to, body and soul. 

But as much as you hated to admit it - as much as it stung to confront just how deeply rooted the twisted morals of your upbringing had become within your own mind - you hadn’t come to peace yet. You were flexing your newfound freedom a little more every day. With Aleksander by your side. But you needed more time. 

A gentle knock on the carved wooden doors that separated your bedchamber from the hall outside knocked you from your reverie. Genya stood hastily, smoothing her palm over the smooth waves of your hair one last time. She gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You caught her hand under your own, nodding calmly as you smiled at her. You wondered if she could see the gratitude in your eyes. Aleksander was the first to show you true love, and Genya was the first to show you true friendship. You hoped that one day you’d be able to put into words just how much she’d saved you. 

She hesitated only briefly to smile back before she made her exit, disappearing through the doorway into the hall. You heard her exchange soft words with Aleksander before she closed the door behind her. 

You chuckled when you heard Aleksander knock again gently, asking if he could come in. Ever the gentleman, you thought as you replied affirmatively. The door opened a crack, deep shadows darkening the doorway. Aleksander seemed to materialize out of the very darkness itself. It was a strange manifestation of his powers, and one that you weren’t sure if he was fully aware of. You’d never mentioned it to him, preferring instead to let yourself be caught breathless by his presence each time. 

As always, you felt your breath tangle in your throat for an instant. The sight of him seemed to wipe your mind clean of all the worries and the conflicted emotions, leaving behind nothing more than that burning knot in your stomach. His dark eyes took in the scene before him, lingering on the vast expanses of your skin that he’d never seen before. For the first time since you’d slipped into the sheer, purple-tinted gown, you felt warm. You ignored the urge to demur and turn away under the heat of Aleksander’s hungry gaze. Instead, you rose from your seat in front of the dressing mirror and walked towards him. A gentle breeze from the open window next to your bed made the candlelight flicker, the hazy glow dancing in his eyes as he tracked your every movement. That delicious, warm knot low in your belly tightened at the closeness of him, the air between the two of you practically crackling with energy. 

“You look-”

You silenced what you were sure would have been a devastatingly appreciative compliment by pressing a finger to his full lips. He fell silent obediently, his eyes simmering like coals. It was rare for him to see you so confident. Usually he was the one guiding the interaction, but you felt incredibly powerful as he fell under your spell. His usually tense and vaguely troubled energy completely erased in favor of awe as he drank you in without an ounce of embarrassment. 

You replaced your finger with your lips, pressing yourself against his tall, strong frame. His hands raked up the side of your thighs, bunching the fabric of your gown up on your waist to expose the skin of your hips. His hands kept traveling upward, following your ribs from your sides up into the planes of your shoulders and your upper back. You let yourself melt into the kiss, moaning softly as he drank in every drop of what you were giving him with a hungry, seemingly bottomless need. 

His hands finally found their way up into your hair, tangling his fingers gently but firmly against your scalp as he pulled you back from his mouth. You looked up at him through slitted eyes, feeling drunk and whining at the loss of his mouth. He smirked, relishing in the effect his touch was having on you. 

“Eager are we, pretty girl?” 

Your stomach somersaulted at the pet name, your head spinning wildly as he bore back down on your mouth. His tongue pressed through your open lips, tasting you as if he’d never be sated. You could feel the seams between your thoughts starting to loosen, your mind falling under the intoxicating spell of lust. His hands released your hair and slid down your spine and over the swell of your backside. He hooked his hands under your ass, and you leapt up into his arms, twining your legs around his waist. He caught you easily, the muscles in his arms and back flexing with ease as he guided you backwards towards the luxurious bed. You felt the softness of the sheets envelop you as he laid you down, his weight settling on top of you not an instant later. It was all warmth and friction between you two, each of your hands roaming freely over the other’s body as you kept driving the kiss deeper. 

It wasn’t until you felt one of his hands slip over your naked hip and settle between your thighs that a familiar prick of uncertainty flared to life in the back of your mind. It was quiet but insistent, and like a lighthouse cutting through a thick fog, it brought your awareness crashing back into the moment with disappointing clarity.

Aleksander sensed your hesitation and broke the kiss, his eyes suddenly full of worry as he met your gaze. 

“Where’d you go?” he asked, his voice husky around the edges. The sound of it nearly wiped away the trace indecision that flitted around your thoughts like a gnat. But, as gorgeous as he looked hovering over you with a concerned expression, his breath more ragged than usual, you knew in your heart what your decision was.

“I… I want you… desperately want you. But… maybe not… maybe not tonight.” As the words came out in a halting mumble, you suddenly felt incredibly sheepish. A nagging voice in your head made the sharp observation that you’ve let him go this far, the least you can do is give the man what he needs and finish the job. 

You found you were unable to meet his eyes, afraid of what you’d see in his gaze. You weren’t sure you could bear to disappoint Aleksander of all people. Much like a few minutes ago, you felt the edges of your mouth turn down and tremble, tears threatening your eyes. That hot, lusty urge that had almost consumed you moments before crumpled like tissue paper in your blood, and your cheeks burned with shame.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmured, rolling sideways onto the bed and gently guiding your chin upward with his thumb. “Never discount your needs with me.” His voice was serious, each word heavy with emphasis.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, drinking in the flickers of emotion in his mahogany-black eyes. 

“I don’t understand,” you mumbled in reply. 

“Do not say ‘maybe not tonight’ when what you mean is ‘not tonight’,” he clarified. His words felt like a riddle you were struggling to grasp. Sensing your confusion, he went on. “You deserve better than that. This-” he gestured to your two bodies, still somewhat intertwined on the bed- “will only give us what we want if we are clear on what we need.”

You’d never laid with a man, had never come this far into intimacy with Aleksander, but you recognized the truth in his words on an instinctual level. The bluntness with which he addressed you was strange and refreshing, and it emboldened you. You nodded in agreement, holding his gaze to show him you understood. He smiled after a moment, satisfied with your reaction. 

“My affection for you is not contingent on your body,” he added, anticipating the direction of your worries before your thoughts had a chance to get there. “I love you for all that you are, independent of what you share with me on any given night.” Your head spun, struggling under the weight of what you were sure was one of the most pure and powerful expressions of love that anyone had put to words. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as a crushing wave of appreciation for the man in front of you swallowed your thoughts.

Aleksander watched your emotions flash in your eyes, the tears causing him to frown slightly in confusion. He brushed a thumb at the corner of your lash line, wiping away the moisture there. His touch still sent shivers rippling over your skin, and you smiled at him. Emboldened by his devotion, you took a deep breath in and began to speak. 

“I don’t know how to give away this part of myself, Aleks. After having my virginity prized and sought after and protected for so long, I’m struggling to think of this-” you copied his gesture, referencing the space between you two where your legs tangled in his and your skin pressed on his torso “-as anything beyond duty. It’s getting better,” you added quickly, noticing the twinge of hurt in his eyes. “It is. Because of you. And I do love you. And I want this. I want to be yours, to give myself to you, including my body.” You had to swat away the urge to kiss him as you noticed the involuntary flicker of desire in his gaze at your words. “And I will. But not until I can think of sex as more than just… a gift.” 

The words tumbled out of your mouth faster than you could catch them. When you were done, you bit your lip, unsure if anything you’d confessed had made sense. You waited, studying Aleksander’s face. As usual, he was drinking you in, his intuition grasping at every minute detail in your tone, inflection, and expression. When you’d first met him, you’d been unnerved by how observant he was, how quickly he deduced your feelings and thoughts. At times, his studious attention was irritating  as it meant you couldn’t keep anything from him. But now, when you felt yourself drowning in a million emotions you weren’t sure had names, you were grateful for his ability to read you.

After a few long moments under his penetrating gaze, he smiled, softly chuckling. 

“What’s funny?” you asked, more curious than offended. He reached down and found your hand, resting on your stomach. He interlaced his fingers with yours and brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm, reassuring kiss there. When he raised his dark eyes back to yours, you saw nothing but adoration sparkling back at you. 

“You are, quite simply, the most incredible being I have ever known,” he said simply, as if he were reading a recipe list to you. “I would wait until the night swallows the sun for you. Whenever you’re ready, my love. You know where to find me.” His last words were mumbled slightly as he rolled over, twisting towards the edge of the bed. As elated as you were by his unequivocal acceptance of your boundary, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit rejected to see him turn to leave. 

“And where’s that, Aleks?” you asked. He half-turned back to you, one eyebrow raised in question. “Where will I find you?” you clarified. He smirked, picking up the candle on your bedside table and blowing it out with a confident exhale. 

“Right here,” he replied, settling in under the covers next to you, his arms wrapping around your barely clothed body and pulling you against him. You smiled in the darkness at the realization that he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were you…

[marigold-hills]

Wolfstat for “take off your shirt” 😇

here you go! 🥰

trigger warnings: tiny bit of blood, mentions of a fight, light injury

(List of prompts!)

It’s not the first time. Of course it’s not, Sirius with the self preservation of a suicidal toad does this kind of things all the time. Gets into arguments. Gets into fights. Protects Remus’ dubious honour.

“Take off your shirt,” Remus tells him, his very unhelpful mind supplying him with snapshots of the times he imagined saying those words in much nicer contexts.

Sirius does. It’s not easy, with his bruised ribs and a spell damage cut that extends across his torso. He winces and then grins, like the pain is a reward for good behaviour. There’s a little bit of blood on his teeth and on his lips and Remus wants to clean it off him.

They keep a supply of dittany paste for this, and for Remus, whose skin tends to break even outside of the full moons. Remus scoops some up with careful fingers and layers it, gently, across the damage.

“You need to stop this, Pads,” he says without looking up.

“He called you a-“

“I know what he called me. It doesn’t matter.”

Sirius, always ready to defend, doesn’t get it. “Of course it matters! You’re worth-“

“I know, Sirius,” Remus interrupts him again, sparing himself the pleasure-pain of having Sirius describe him in the flattering words he always uses.

It would be so easy to fall into this. To let himself believe that when Sirius says you’re beautiful and you’re brilliant and anyone - anyone, Remus - would be lucky to have you, that he means it as more than just a friend. That when they slump together on the sofa and invariably end up tangled up in each other, the comfort is more than just proximity.

The fall would be lovely, but the ground would catch up with him sooner or later.

“You don’t know.” Sirius catches Remus’ wrist, fingers tight around it. “If you knew… if you could see yourself the way I…” Sirius let’s go, braces himself on his knees. Meets Remus’ gaze head-on, jaw clenched. “I promised myself not to say anything. You’re my friend and I won’t ever ruin that. But you have to know how I feel about you.”

The ground runs from under Remus’ feet.

“I’ve loved you since I’ve known you,” Sirius says. “I understand that you don’t feel the same,” Sirius, the embodiment of all of Remus’ wants, says. “But I can’t keep watching you treat yourself like you’re worthless. It’s tearing me apart, Remus. You’re tearing me apart.”

Remus has no words to speak. He wraps himself around Sirius, leaves a streak of dittany across the edge of his jaw.

When they kiss, Sirius exhales into Remus. It tastes like relief. 

[tinydefector]

Enjoy some of the stuff I like writing of the transformers/ the history, mentality and personality I like writing into the characters. Let me know if you would like some other characters and I'll make another.

Masterlist

Characters breakdowns

Megatron

Megatron, despite what continuation I enjoy as a sappy poet who loves writing. Pre-war, he was actually a very sweet and caring mech who had high hopes from changing cybertron. He wrote as a way to show people the horrors that were happening in the mines. Trying to make people feel on a personal level 'humanize' the lower class cybertronains and make people empathise and see through their eyes. During the war, Megatron makes so many mistakes because at the time, he is still young, and he doesn't know anything else outside fighting, mining, and writing because he never had the luxury of living. And when you're living in an oppressive regime, there is going to be rebellion, when the only way you can have your voice heard the only way to change things is to fight. That's what Megatron does. At first, it's noble, but over time, it wears down his morals. There is only so much death you can see before it destroys your mind and changes you. He gets into a mind set of 'it's either you or me' and self preservation will kick in and despite all his sacrifices he has done for the greater good of cybertron he still wants to live, and the only way he can do that is to make himself into a monster for his own protection, he finds it safer to become a warlord, and a usurper but as time goes on his midn finally caves and he doesn't care for the consequences anymore, becuase the war has been going on for so long. He knows the only way this war ends is with his death, and he is a selfish bot who never got to live freely. He's going to hold onto that, even if he puts others into the position he was once in, he wants to be able to live and he's going to do everything he can to have that freedom of never being under someone's rule again, yet it leads him into becoming what he sort to destroy.

Depending on what continuation I'm working with depends on how he is after the war. Mtmte IDW continuations I love that he ends up with the lost light. Not for the reason that he got his freedom. He got what he had been fighting so much for, but he isn't the one in charge anymore. He has to relearn how to live and relearn how to be civil, which is hard when everyone there is a victim of your war. Rodimus original hates the fact he's there, Megatron is the reason Rodimus became who he is, and he hates it. He hates it and blames Megatron for nyon, for him having to become a prime. But over time, he realises just how lost Megatron is on the ship. He doesn't know how to be just another mech in a group. And I love the idea of Rodimus letting him be co captain as a way to give him some semblance of control over his life again. And Megatron is an amazing captain, he loves working, he loves reports, loves checking machinery and making sure it is still functioning and it leads him to also becoming Ratchet's apprentice with medical becuase he never wants to be helpless to save someone he cares for ever again.

Earthspark continuation Megatron lives with alot of guilt and regret over so much, some days he still wonders if it was the right decision to join Ghost but each time he sees Dot with her child both human and Terran it makes him feel it is all worth it. He never got that as a young sparkling, and he would lay down his life to make sure those children never have to be in his position ever. Megatron was a warlord with a spark too big, and in the end, it got broken too much to the point that he felt safer becoming something else to protect himself. And I can't blame him, I've made decisions I never would have before because of death, it changes you breaks you and turns you into something you would hate if you saw yourself in a mirror.

I actually happen to like the idea of Megatron being younger that Optimus by half a century or so

Optimus

Optimus is one that depends on continuation a lot. Becuase it's either I like writing him as this feral goblin from the Rust sea who Codexa took one look ad and went. 'This little rustlet is my son' and teaches him everything she knows, and Orion is all too happy to learn. He loves the archives, history, and preserving it. And he is very much Codexa, a little rust goblin who goes to protest and everything because he sees it unfair for so many to suffer. She is very proud of him despite fearing deeply for him because he is a young spark, and she doesn't want to lose her son to propaganda.

Or we have Orion as a law enforcer who was trained under Alpha Trion, he's a stern bot but he does care for people, taking Drift to Ratchet, caring very much about shockwave and trying to protect him as much as he can from the council. He follows the rules but will bend them when it comes to protecting people and he's a bit of a hot head, snarly and tempered.

Becoming a prime either makes him bolder or more mellow tempered, but he still caring and willing to fight for his friends and loved ones, watching cybertron fade breaks his spark so much becuase he never wanted to see this happen, he never wanted to watch Megatron become corrupted by the thing he sort to change. But war has that effect on all of them. The war wages on and each century it just makes Optimus more tired. He is actually a very depressed mech, but he puts up the wise and friendly facade. But he misses so much of his culture, and it hurts even more if he is the archivist continuation becuase he has all of these documents and he re reads them and some nights he will cry himself to sleep becuase he wishes he could have changed to path of the war. And in truth, if it came down to it, he would go back and give his life to prevent cybertron from falling. He was made into a prime he wasn't chosen to be one, and he's constantly at war with the matrix because of that. And when the matrix bonds with Rodimus, Optimus is selfish and relieved. If he had his choice, he would never touch that cursed thing ever again. To him, being a Prime isn't a gift. It's a curse.

Ratchet

Ratchet, in his younger days, was a big partier, but as he gets older and does more surgery, it starts to chip away at him. Watching how if a mech of a higher class was brought in, they got fast charged in front of other patients. He had to watch mech he had known and grown a bond with shut down because he was forced to work on another mech because they were of a higher class than others. So when he opens his clinic, I. The dead end asap way to help mechs of lower status he never would have thought it was what would lead him to hsi further Conjunx, at first Deadlock wasn't anything special to him, just some poor bot who had hit the lowest of lows. So when this mech keeps coming back over the centuries to check on Ratchet and make sure he's alright,it amuses the older medic over this speedster.

But when the war breaks out its Deadlock who's the first at his door, telling him he needs to leave becuase it's not safe, a large sum of money transferred to him, and a pleading look from Deadlock. That's how Ratchet ends up at Optimus' side throughout the war, he's dedicated to keeping as many bots functioning as possible, and he sticks by medic law, he will help anyone, Decepticon, autobot and unlined bots without a bat of an optic. And little does he know that He is on a list of do not harm. Deadlock pulls a lot of strings as Decepticon. Ratchet is one of the most well-known medics due to being the Autobots HMO, but also because he is on a protective list, he is a to be captured only, killing him is an automatic execution. Ratchet himself is quite the rule breaker. He meets up with Deadlock multiple times, fixing him and snarking him, calling him a stupid kid for getting himself so beat up. But over time, Ratchet becomes rather smitten with Deadlock, and all it takes is Ratchet asking him to leave the Decepticons and Deadlock does without argument.

Drift

Drift, he's one who I want to write more because I love him alot, he's a mech, which started out with nothing and is now one of the most wealthy bots to still be alive. From a junkie to one of the Decepticons' most feared assassins. Meeting Ratchet changed his life around, I like the idea when Ratchet was saving him. Deadlock literally saw Primus that day. And he doesn't know how to repay Ratchet. He tries to better himself get off the circuit boosters, but that falls in with the Decepticons and makes a name for himself as an assassin after he and Hotrod go to a rally, Hotrod took one look at Megatron and walked away, but Megatron caught Deadlocks attention. He makes a name for himself working with Mixmaster and a lot of money off it, but he refuses to go back to using, so his wealth just slowly accumulates. And when cybertron falls and the war continues, it's something he doesn't pay attention to. But Ratchet is, he makes it very clear to every con that Ratchet is off limits, and many think Deadlock has a personal vendetta against the medic. And a few bots learn what happens when they lay a hand on the medic. So Ratchet becomes the infamous medic not only because of his skill in the field but because Deadlock literally has him on a can't touch list that even Megatron respects.

When Deadlock becomes Drift he gets a full cosmetic surgery done by Ratchet, and the medic vouches for him making it very clear to everyone that Drift is off limits, that's when Drift and Hotrod finally see each other again, it's a reunion and a half. Once the war is over and cybertron is slowly being rebuild is when Drift realises the fortune he has amassed over millions of years. He's the one who funds the lost light expedition as a thank you to Rodimus for everything he has done for him. Both he and Ratchet join the lost light as a way to get away from cybertron and the names they have made. And it's only on the lost light that Ratchet actually finds out Drift is older than him by a good few million years. And it leads to quite some funny situations because no one knew Drifts age. Rodimus is shocked, and so are many other bots. But I also have this very funny little thing in my head of an interaction with Drift and Rung. Of Drift doing a therapy session with Rung, sitting there meditating when he suddenly just goes. "I know you're Primus, I don't know why, but thank you for leading me to Ratchet," and Rung is sweating coolant like. 'How does this fragger know who the fuck I am!?!"

Rung

Many of you know I love writing Rung as Primus in hiding. And I love the idea of him making himself this tiny mech who collects spaceships from over millennia, and they are his most prized possessions, he learnt many skills but became a therapist becuase he wanted to help people, it was always in his natural to help those he could. He gave up his original form, creating cybertron. He was there for the first sparklings created. He was there throughout everything. And when the war started, he evacuated a lot of young sparks, wanting to protect them, but it broke him. Watching that shuttle get shot out of the sky. Rung has been there for everything, he cringes away when people pray to him, he despises the cults made in his name, the depictions of him as this selfless warrior, he wasn't a warrior, he was a scared bot with no choice but to stop Unicron, he's a selfish bot who wanted to enjoy the life that his original form has gifted.

He enjoys being a therapist, but after the war he realises all the trauma so many bots have and he tries to ease it to help them throught it the best he can, but when he's doing a session with Drift and the mech turns to him looks him dead in the eyes and says he knows Rung is primus it spooks him. No one could know that Rung was older than this bot, so how could he know that he had never done anything that could have made Drift suspect him. And it is left as a mystery as Drift never brings it up again, never tells anyone else, but Drift is the only mech he fears more than Unicron because he knows who he truly is.

Rodimus

Rodimus/Hotrod was originally a mech on the streets, he had multiple run in with the law due to illegal street racing. Prowl was originally trying to recruit him as an undercover agent, he meets Deadlock by chance while bootlegging energon. They become quick friends when Deadlock gets him out of trouble quickly, they begin hanging out alot and are nearly inseparable, Hotrod helping Deadlock with his withdrawals, keeping him busy and never taking it personally when Deadlock lost his temper from the withdrawals. When they went to one of the Decepticons rallys, Hotrod was tempted to join but it was when he met Megatron it changed his mind. In truth if he had met Megatron before he had started becoming the paranoid mech, Hotrod most likely would have been friends with Megatron. But seeing the crowd of angry mech following Megatron's every word has Hotrod ready to get out of there.

He stays an unaligned bot for quite a bit. But eventually joins Optimus begrudgingly. He doesn't agree with either side of this war, but to him, the Autobots are the most moral at that time. But when the burning on Nyon happens, he hates himself, he hates both the Autobots and Decepticons, and he despises the matrix of leadership more than anything. He hates what he's been made to be. He lives with so much guilt, and he doesn't know how to deal with it, Drift can see it, and he organises the ship. Rodimus finds it easier to run away from cybertron, so he does. But when Megatron joins the crew, it throws a wrench in the works. Rodimus wants to scream at Optimus at Megatron. He doesn't want to be near the mech who shoots him through the spark. But over time he comes to realise how lost Megatron is, it takes alot of time for either of them to be comfortable near each other.

It's a day Rodimus is struggling with reports. He wants to scream t his own prosessor for not being able to focus. Megatron drops something into his servo to fidget with before sitting at the other side of the table as he works quietly on reports. And it's the first time Rodimus says thank you to Megatron,it takes both of them a moment before they settle back into quietly working.

Here's a list of oldest to youngest in my headcanons

Rung - old as fuck, he is god

Drift- this man is old, no one knows just how old tho

Ratchet - he's not as old as drift but still pretty aged

Optimus, Rodimus, Megatron - all around the same millennia, Optimus being older that Rodimus and Megatron, Rodimus only have a decade on Megatron.

_______________

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[bronze-bell]

( @yellow-rose-embalmer )

If Aesop had not, perhaps, deposited that letter to nobody in the postbox so that Victor would have something to do, if Aesop had not written far too much while realizing too late he forgot to place his own name on the back after hastily crossing out Victor's own, maybe he would be a little more well-kept. But all of that has happened, all of the past is inescapable, and he cannot hide from it. Only wait for everything to crash down.

And how terrifying it is to wait.

He needed to write everything down anyway, and he would not be surprised if he burned his words once they returned to him. They just needed to be out, and what better way to move them apart from him than to write them and seal them away? He knows the dangers, yes. And if he made a grave mistake, if every bit of goodwill he has scraped together crumbles away, he can only say that it was inevitable. Anyone who found out would do the same. If convincing does not work... but that isn't enough this time, right? Not when death means nothing.

He hasn't bothered to put up his ponytail or get his mask on this morning, not after the sleepless night before. The letter has not been returned. He doesn't know what could be happening, and the terror, the possibility that he's destroyed it all, looms close behind him.

===

(The letter—or would it be better called a ramble, a confession?— is wrapped in a plain, sturdy envelope, such that he hopes it isn't anything that would stand out. Unfortunately, his handwriting is clearly recognizable as his own, rendering the whole point moot anyway. The envelope bears the first few letters of Victor's name, written several times and crossed out on all of them, but the lack of another addressee is notable. The text's shape and unsteady pace betrays the emotional tension in the writer.)

I'm sorry.

I don't even know what I'm sorry for. For going against that faith you had in me? For taking matters into my own hands and hoping you would never find out? For trying to relieve you of burdens but only trying and failing to soothe my own? You were already asleep, there was no need—

I came here to continue my duty. To free more people. But you were never truly free, you kept returning and I could only grow more ashamed, more unable to face you. If you did not have to wake up, if you were safe and never had to be afraid again... but it doesn't work like that. Not anymore. (I still would not leave you.)

Is it selfish that a part of me... doesn't want to succeed? That I want to have your warmth, your voice, all the things I can't preserve the way I can so much else? If you are comfortable, and happy, does it matter if it happens because you are finally at rest?

I know I have always been here to help. I know it is my duty to reach those meant to die, those who are in too much pain to keep going. (Even now, I wonder if I have reached those who need me the most.) But... I know that you wouldn't see it that way. Nobody does. Mr. Carl, too, knows that this mission is a solitary one. Being able to convince someone to let me guide them is ideal, yes, but... it has, in practice, been impossible. You would not be different, I'm sure. Even if I wish you were, if you ever found out that it was me bringing you to dreamless sleep all those times, I... I would understand if you wanted nothing to do with me anymore. Even as I wish to have your company, I have destroyed your trust, I am sure, and tried to bring you to the other side long before you were ready.

If you would allow me to ask this... please do not tell anyone. I do not know what would happen, and I am already... no, it's not worth thinking about. You will do what you decide is right, and who am I to decide what that is? I have hurt you, have I not? All I wanted to do was make things better for you, and yet...

Once again, I apologize. For everything.

Victor Grantz has been dying, recently. Not in matches, like normal, no. Outside of them, daring to close his tired eyes for a moment before waking up in his room, consumed by a blind panic of where am I what happened oh god— Are They back?? Nobody stole anything, right? Why did they let him revive in his room??

Safe to say, he was on extremely high alert after the first time it happened. But even if he wasn't, he's sure he'd have noticed the look on Aesop's face. The way Aesop wouldn't meet Victor's eyes at all. The way Aesop fiddled with his hands. The way Aesop was, very obviously, guilty.

Something clicks into place, then. So now the question becomes why. And, paranoid as he is, he can't trust it's actually Aesop.

Although, god, if anyone is killing him he hopes it's Aesop. As weird as that sounds. You see, there's no real reason for Victor to be dying. It'd be one thing if his bag was searched, another if his room was, but neither are true. He's made sure of it. (The keys are still in his pocket when he revives, and ordering the letters in a way only he knows leads to the order being perfect afterwards.) It's not torture either, he's certain it's not meant to be.

The only other reason for someone to kill him is... Concern. Worry about him neglecting himself, choosing to reset his body and take him straight to bed rather than argue with him about whether he's okay.

And that is why he hopes it's Aesop. Because that is absolutely something he might do, and it would make him much more at ease.

But he can't just ask Aesop if he's killing him. That likely wouldn't go down well, especially if Aesop isn't the murderer. So he experiments instead.

- - -

He'd pretended to be unconscious on the dining room table. Late enough he knew nobody would walk in on them, and close enough to both of their rooms that it'd give Aesop confidence to solve the mystery for him.

And, well... If the gloved hands and the click of the case didn't give it away, Aesop speaking, quiet and shaky through his mask, definitely did. Victor wills his pounding heart to stop beating so loud. Aesop will catch on to his ruse, surely...

Aesop does, in fact, catch on... Partially. Thank god, he didn't seem to realise what it meant. He asks about a nightmare, though seemingly remembering victor can't answer him. Victor is given reassurance that it'll be over soon, anyway.

He's given a lot of reassurance, actually.

A little scolding, though more concerned than anything else ["You really must take care of yourself better..."],

a few admissions of attachment ["if only you knew how much I care for you..."],

and many, many apologies.

Victor's heart starts to relax from it all, and he wonders if he might actually fall asleep here... before there's a sharp prick in his arm.

Cold floods through him, and it's too heavy to struggle. He falls unconscious within minutes.

He wakes up back in his bed. Nothing is out of order. Well, at least that's calmed most of his nerves...

[this goes on for weeks. Somehow, he finds himself more relaxed each time.]

= = =

The next unusual thing happens with the letter.

Victor would recognise the handwriting anywhere by now, especially when it's addressed to him. Sort of.

Even if he wasn't mildly addicted to reading and pretending people's letters were for him, he'd still itch to open that seal. There's absolutely no address, besides his own, half formed and shaky.

He can't be blamed if he doesn't know where to go, right? He's just being diligent, right? [He burns with curiosity, taking the letter into his room as subtly as he can, so he can pore over every detail.]

There is no name here, either. But what he does get is so much more... Fascinating, in a sense. It's a terrible thing, he knows, but he can't stop himself from being entranced at the pure emotion dripping off of Aesop's every word.

It's a secret. Just for him.

+ + +

If not for the subject matter he'd be feeling both sick and rather giddy at the chance. (At the moment he just feels the instinctual crawling nausea of something to hide from Them. He swats it away.)

It's funny, how mere weeks ago he thought Aesop was like Them, but it's even clearer now that he's not, and never will be. Victor doesn't see what Aesop does, but Aesop happens to have painted a very easy picture for Victor to see.

It's love, above all else. It's guilt, it's apology, it's longing, it's protection, it's caring. Victor understands Aesop better than anyone else, and this only proves it. He can connect with that emotion, hold it in his hands and press his face against it to feel the warmth.

Nobody else will understand. It's his secret to keep. But unfortunately for Victor's desire to stare at it for hours, this is still technically supposed to be delivered.

He puts the secret back in its envelope, not bothering to re-melt the wax like usual, locks up his room, and walks to Aesop's door. (If it had been back then, he would have been punished for not being punctual. But, they tended to give exceptions to unclear delivery instructions...)

× × ×

"Mr Carl?" He speaks quietly into the wood of the door. "Is this letter yours?"

It's selfish of him, but he can't wait for the reply.

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 9 (Pt2)

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 9 Pt2 Summary: Reader and Lucien finally get a chance to be alone while the High Lord of Day attempts his hand at subtle match making. However, things don't go according to plan.

Word Count: 9.3k (oops)

Warning(s): 18 + (MDNI), flirting, angst, alcohol use, self-deprecation, low self-esteem/worth, sexual tension (no smut), and nudity.

A/N: Here is the second part. This is a Lucien heavy chapter and was a BEAST overall. But I had so much fun writing it. There are a couple of places where the POV switches suddenly, but I wanted to show each scene from different character perspectives and not have to repeat the same events to do so. Again, thank you to @hardcoremarvelfan for her assistance with this chapter start to finish! And thank you to my team of beta readers! You guys are all amazing! Please let me know what you think. This is a slow burn fic, and I hope it's not moving too slowly story wise.

Series Masterlist Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 9 Pt1

During your breakfast of fruits, yogurt, and pastries, Helion informed you and Lucien of Mor’s return to the Night Court. The story he provided was that she had been called away by Rhysand. You knew that was a lie but didn’t understand why Helion would do so. Lucien simply shrugged, not at all fazed by her absence. You knew that he still didn’t quite get along with many of Rhysand’s closest friends and found family. To your knowledge Lucien never joined the ranks of that found family. Never present for the “family” dinners and only stayed for part of the two main holiday celebrations in the Night Court, Starfall and Winter Solstice.

For your first Starfall, Nyx had been just a bit too young to join in on the festivities. So, you stayed at the River House caring for him. After about an hour of supposed celebrations Lucien had joined you. You smiled as you remembered taking turns reading him a bedtime story.

When the Winter Solstice came around, you had opted to stay at the townhouse alone. You claimed to have your own traditions that you wanted to keep. Which was partially true. However, the thought of not being with your own family yet having to witness the happiness of another kept you confined to your bed. Though you had been pleasantly surprised to find the small gift from Lucien on your dresser that morning. It was nothing fancy, just a small blank notebook. The cover consisted of beautiful, pressed pale-yellow chrysanthemums and daisies preserved in a glass window.

Part of you had wondered if the choice of flowers was intentional. So, you had asked Elain if she was familiar with their meanings. She told you they meant friendship and new beginnings. Fitting in so many ways. You returned the gesture a few days later, baking him some of your Grandmother’s famous fudge. He hesitated at first, but eventually accepted the sweet treat.

One of Helion’s hearty laughs pulled you from the memory. You would have to express your gratitude to the High Lord. For the reprieve from being watched. It was a relief to not find Mor outside your bedchamber waiting for you as she had the past few mornings. Now you could have the conversation with Lucien that you’ve wanted to for over a week. You wanted, no you needed to pick his brain for insight regarding your passage through the Prison wards, your confrontation with Azriel, and your dream. He had left so abruptly. You needed to check in on his well-being as well.

Your eyes drifted over to Lucien; the male’s russet eye crinkled at the corner as he joined in Helion’s laughter. The sight took your breath away. The smile was wide on his features. His shoulders didn’t hold the same tension they had the day before. The golden hue of his skin simply radiated joy. In that moment you couldn’t burden him with your problems, despite the pull you felt to talk to him. At least, you couldn’t burden him right now. You knew that you had to talk to him at some point. The confrontation you had with Azriel and Mor’s blatant comments about your time with your best friend weighed heavy on your mind.

“Oh, if the two of you would excuse me,” One of Helion’s attendants righted himself after whispering in the High Lord’s ear. “I have a few things to take care of, but I will see you later this afternoon. If you haven’t had the chance, I would highly recommend a walk through the botanical gardens.” He winked at you and rose from his spot. While you were happy to finally have the time alone with Lucien, you weren’t sure if you’d be up for a walk.

“That sounds lovely,��� the Autumn Court male rose from his seat as well, offering his arm. “Shall we, my lady?” You couldn’t stop the laugh that spilled from you. You soon found yourself rising to your own feet, linking your arm with his. How on earth are you supposed to say no to his smile?

Lucien could tell that she was tired. Her steps were slightly slower, and the light tint of blue underneath her eyes hinted that she hadn’t slept. He wondered if her despondent mood was based on the lack of sleep, or if it had to do with Mor's comments. She had been detached for most of their time in the palace and he was having trouble reading her. He had hoped that with Mor leaving her mood would improve. Seeing as that was slow going, he would have to see to it himself that her good humor returned. 

The gentle breeze jostled her hair. The sound of wind chimes echoed across the oasis, nearly drowned out by the sound of the small water fountain at the entrance to the garden. The lush archway was covered in ivy and wisterias. For a fleeting moment he was reminded of the Spring Court, and the gardens that surrounded Tamlin’s manor. He glanced at the human beside him, her eyes glazed over as she took in the scenery around them. A small part of him felt bad for dragging her out here, but they hadn’t really had any time alone together in over a week. All he wanted was some time with her away from prying eyes. 

Of course, separation wasn’t new to them. There had been times when he would be down in either the Spring Court or Mortal Lands for weeks on end. Yet somehow this past week and half felt different. Perhaps, it was because he had remained in Velaris and…he felt guilty for lying to her regarding his whereabouts. Even more so after learning from Ruhn of her sleepwalking incident. He expressed gratitude towards the Midgardian male for being in the townhouse that night. 

A part of him knew he shouldn’t have let Amren’s admonishing comments get to him. Especially after (Y/N)’s breakdown at the Prison. Nonetheless he stayed away. Those comments, coupled with Morrigan’s penchant for observing the truth of matters, perhaps it was high time that new tactics for the woman’s healing journey be explored. He knew Ruhn would be all too willing to help with how tightly he was warped around the human’s finger. Truth be told, the idea of another male sharing her bed didn’t sit well with him. But if Ruhn could provide her with the care and support that Lucien himself couldn’t… He’d have to bite his tongue and express his gratitude again when he asked him to continue to look out for her. 

As they walked towering hedges, ones taller than Lucien, lined either side of the white pebbled path. Every now and again a small alcove would be carved out. Some with seats that allowed you to bask in the sun, others had tables. One even had what appeared to be a canopy bed. Lucien watched her from the corner of his eye as they made their way through the labyrinth.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He questioned as she tried to stifle a yawn. She turned her head towards him, eyebrow furrowed. He could almost watch the gears turn in her mind as she debated on telling him the truth. Her focus continued to fade in and out, pupils dilating and contracting ever so slightly.

“I haven’t really slept since our first night here,” Her face fell with the admission. His heart ached at the shame that filled her voice. Prior to the events at the Prison, she had been doing well. At least well enough that he hoped a few days away would not have taken the toll it did on her. And if the tonics weren’t working; then they truly would need to find alternative solutions to managing her nightmares. 

“With Mor around I didn’t want to risk,” She paused. “I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. The tonic isn’t helping. I think I’ll need to talk to the healers directly to find out if there was a change in the ingredients. Or if it's possible that a person can become tolerant of them.” She looked at him then. A sadness mixed with that lingering shame. 

Lucien kicked himself internally. He really should have told Mor to shut the fuck up regarding her opinions on their relationship, especially if she was going to continue to keep the nature of her own romances a secret. The fact that she was now the second of the higher-ranking members of Rhysand’s court to express their thoughts on his friendship was not lost on him. It was also not lost on him that (Y/N)’s feelings were irrelevant to them. In much the same way that Nesta had been forced out of her darkness, it appeared that the Inner Circle believed themselves superior in knowing when a person needed healing and how that healing should occur. The only difference between the eldest Archeron and their new target was that (Y/N) was not on a path of self-destruction. 

“We should rest then,” He took her hand and interlaced their fingers. “There was a nice area in an alcove just a few paces back.” 

“No Lu, it’s okay,” She tried to protest. “I’m okay, I promise.” Lucien continued his path, gently tugging her along. Despite her words, her body didn’t resist him. 

“Then why do I not believe you?” The resting area was the perfect setting for a nap. Tucked behind a wall of green and under a beige fabric canopy was a large mattress resting on a stone platform. Pillows and blankets of varying sizes were tossed about in a decorative fashion. Knowing the reputation of this court’s High Lord, the bed was probably used for activities that did not involve sleep. However, his companion desperately needed some rest. Nothing would deter his resolve in seeing that she had found a few moments of peace.

“Why does he have a bed in the middle of the garden?” She asked, coming to a halt after rounding the corner of what served as the entryway to the alcove. 

“I’m almost certain we do not want the answer to that,” Lucien chuckled, pulling her along. He sat her down on the mattress and began to remove her sandals. 

“I can do that myself,” Lucien swatted her hands away.

“It's fine,” He made quick work of the straps. “I’m already done.” He placed her footwear to the side and kicked off his own boots, setting them next to hers. Gently, he pressed her back to lay on the bed. His own body followed, hovering over her form for the briefest of pauses, and then he was next to her lying on his side. She rolled over to face him, allowing his arm to drape over her waist before he brought her closer.

“Get some rest,” He encouraged as his hand began to stroke up and down her spine. A soothing gesture he often used to get her to calm down when her mind raced at night.

“But I’m not tired,” She fought another yawn.

“Bullshit,” He chuckled.

“Okay, I’m a little tired,” She relented, tilting her head to look at his face. “But I can’t take a nap right now, not when I have so much to tell you.”

“And what is so urgent that it can’t wait an hour or two?” He smirked. She twisted her arm out from underneath her body and pointed her index finger at him.

“You have to promise that this information is cataloged in the farthest and most well-guarded recesses of your mind,” Her tone was serious. “Rhysand cannot find out, even if there is a good chance that he already knows.”

“I swear,” He tried to match her serious tone, but he knew that his smile was getting in the way. Pushing herself up on her elbow, she swirled her head around, looking for any potential eavesdroppers. Once satisfied, she bent down towards his ear. Her breath puffed against his skin, causing the small hairs on his neck to rise.  

“Rhysand’s story of me being his cousin is very likely true,” She whispered. “There is a secret entrance to the Prison that Bryce pushed me into that day. I was able to pass through the ward, in and back out, with no issue.” Her eyes were conspiratorially bright.

“Is that what made you so upset?” He tried to reign in his mirth. “That you found out you are related to an overgrown bat?” Rolling her eyes, she sighed and lightly smacked his chest.

“No,” Her tone became softer as she laid back down. “I cried because I allowed myself to feel a glimmer of hope, just to have it dashed by a failed portal to my world.” The hand at her back reached up to her face, his fingertips brushing the side of her cheek.

“I’m so sorry.” She gave him a weak smile, brushing off her own feelings as she attempted to shrug her shoulders. “Is that what caused your nightmare?” His hand returned to its previous ministration along her back. Again, she shrugged.

“Could be,” He felt a shiver run through her at whatever memory surfaced. “All I remember is a festering and desolate darkness that tried to drown me.”

“That’s not ominous at all.” She released a breathy chuckle as her eyelids drifted close.

“My dreams are never prophetic,” She explained. “Just weird. It’s more likely my mind’s way of trying to process being cornered by Azriel in the kitchen that night.” Her voice drifted, and if she noticed Lucien’s hand freeze at her revelation she didn’t let on. Lucien felt locked in his anger towards the Shadowsinger.

“What did he want?” His voice was clipped.

“He wanted to apologize,” She buried her face into his chest, and the rising anger settled. “I told him off instead. Nicked his chin with a knife as well.” Her exhalation evened into a steady rhythm, and he resumed running his fingers along her back. The repetitive action soothed his nerves as well.

“Good girl,” She hummed in response. As she finally drifted off into sleep, Lucien’s mind swirled.

 You hadn’t even been asleep for 30 minutes when an attendant came and woke you. Begrudgingly, you and Lucien complied, the male putting your sandals back on for you despite your ongoing protests. The attendant led you back to your room where several dresses were laid out on the bed and hanging in the armoire. Dresses in varying shades ranging from stark white to cream to ivory. Some were speckled in golden accents, others all monochromatic. One dress was entirely golden.

The dress that immediately caught your eye was a simple column gown with thick shoulder straps that seamlessly flowed down to create the bodice. The neckline was low and would reveal an ample amount of cleavage. A braided rope created a beautiful silhouette, cupping the outline of the bodice’s breasts and wrapping around the waist several times over. The attendant informed you that the dresses were yours and for your use in the Day Court whenever you came to visit, along with the room itself. While it was a similar gift to what Rhysand had done, Helion’s offer was not one of apology or self-assigned obligation. The true intent of his action had not been lost on either you or Lucien. Helion’s offer marked a standing invitation, and an allyship if ever needed.

With the help of another female attendant, you had changed into the dress. You had to hide the small blush on your face as you watched Lucien pause when you emerged from your room. The two of you then followed the male attendant through the winding cobblestone streets of the town surrounding the palace. He led you to a large building whose entrance reminded you of the Parthenon in Athens.

Helion was inside, sitting at a long central table. A stack of books piled to his mid-chest. He was scribbling on a piece of parchment paper with a feather quill. You smiled at the sight, but you couldn’t quite place why. His greeting was as warm as always. Excusing the attendant, he gave you and Lucien a summary of the central library’s history. The one you were in currently was the largest library within the Day Court, but it certainly was not the oldest. However, he was confident that whatever information you were looking for on Prythian's early history would be located within its walls. You simply smiled in thanks; you had not yet revealed that you were from another world and looking for a way home. 

 After an afternoon spent searching through books, the last thing you had the energy for was another formal dinner. It almost seemed that the High Lord was aware of your lack of sleep when he offered a much less formal affair. An evening in a small intimate chamber. The center of the room consisted of a square recessed seating surrounding a fire pit. Two walls were lined with books, while a third housed a small selection of wine next to the door leading to the rest of the place. The fourth really didn't exist as it was yet another open entrance to a terrace that overlooked the lands. So many of the rooms were open in this manner, allowing the natural sunlight to fill the space.

Currently you were snacking on bits of herb roasted chicken, plucked off one of the wooden trays of food that lined the edges of the pit, a few were even scattered along the empty seats. In your other hand was a large clear goblet, filled with a deep crimson wine. Helion informed that the batch was made from the palace’s ancient vineyard, a testament to a perfect blend of ancient craft and magic. You had to admit that the wine was the best tasting wine you had ever experienced.

Fae Wine was much sweeter than you had expected. Flavors of dark cherry and bergamot coated your lips and tongue.At first Lucien didn't want you to drink the intoxicant. After plenty of reassurance from Helion, Lucien only warned you to pace yourself. Of course, you didn’t listen, not fully realizing that Fae Wine was much stronger than normal wine. You found yourself with your walls and inhibitions considerably lowered. For instance, if you had drunk regular wine, you wouldn't have been unabashedly staring at your friend for the better part of 15 minutes. Despite his continued conversation with Helion sitting across the way, you could tell he watched you as well.  

“Forgive me for asking,” You sat on your knees, leaning towards Lucien as he sat in front of you. His legs stretched out on the large couch in a relaxed posture. “I know it must be a sensitive subject, but how does that golden eye work?”

“I can see out of it just like my real eye,” He explained, turning his gaze fully towards you. “My friend from the Dawn Court enchanted it, allowing me to see. I have complete control over the device, and it responds and reacts in all the same ways my natural eye does.” Your eyes went wide, and you felt your cheeks burn from your smile.

“Absolutely fascinating,” You crawled over to him, the alcohol preventing you from caring about personal space. You climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, and began to examine the contraption. You had never looked at the eye up close. The mechanics were definitely a marvel to behold.

“It does more as well,” He smiled at you, his fingers playing with the ends of the cords holding your dress together. “It has the capability to see through magical deceptions. Glamours, spells, and occasionally lingering traces of magic.”

“How?” You cupped the right side of his jaw, turning his face to get a better look. Accompanied by a faint whirring the pupil of the mechanical eye expanded.

“When there is lingering magic on an object, or even a person,” He began. “The image becomes hazy, out of focus. The eye focuses until the image is clear, which allows me to see the true nature of the object.”

“What do you see when you look at me?” He turned his head forward to look into your eyes. His lips open and shut like a fish causing you to giggle. You gently rubbed your thumbs on each side of his face as you held it.

“I think your boldness has put him at a loss for words,” Helion laughed from his seat across the way. You had forgotten that you weren’t alone.

“He’s spent too much time in those stuffy seasonal courts,” Lucien scoffed at the High Lord’s comment, the puff of air hitting your neck. “Perhaps he needs a proper demonstration on how to respond when a beautiful woman seats herself upon his lap. Care to join me for that demonstration?” The High Lord patted the top of his muscular golden thigh. 

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. Biting your bottom lip, you started to move off Lucien’s lap. You only managed to move about 2 inches before you felt his warm hands wrap around your hips pinning you against him. Heat bloomed in your core at the friction. His lips curled up in a snarl as he stared at the other male. Helion merely grinned. 

“Oh hush!” You smacked the redhead in the center of his chest, your other hand moving to his shoulder to keep your balance. “He’s joking. We all know that I’m not beautiful.” Your voice became softer as you said the words out loud. Despite your slightly drunken state, you felt the shift in the air as both males practically began to examine you. 

“How would you describe yourself my dear?”  Helion asked. It was your turn to pause. You had never really seen yourself as beautiful, but you also knew that you weren't exactly ugly. 

“Plain,” You hummed, twirling a bit of Lucien’s long hair around your finger in your attempt to feign an air of nonchalance. “Homely, unappealing, just shy of decent.” You rattled off each synonym. Your attention shifted to Lucien as your name drifted past his lips. You unraveled the hair from around your digit. 

“What?” You honestly didn’t understand why he appeared displeased with your statement. “Oh don’t give me that look, Lu.” You playfully pushed his face away from yours, but remained seated in his lap. 

“How should he look at you?” Helion asked, leaning forward on his elbows. The merriment that filled the room was slowly dissipating. “Because from what we see the description you provided for the woman in the room with us is a bit harsh.” Your face flushed with irritation, leaning back and away from Lucien’s chest. Why couldn’t they understand that you had accepted the fact that you weren’t beautiful and just leave it at that? 

“Well for starters I don’t need false praise,” You tried to keep the air light, the following lie floating off your tongue. “It’s not harsh when what I say about myself is objectively true.” You shifted your weight, but Lucien’s hold on your hips was firm. 

“Then by all means,” He waved his hand, smiling as if he had won. “Tell us some of these objective truths.”  

“I’m not conventionally pretty, but there are parts of me that are…nice,” You stated, turning your upper body  to lock your gaze with the High Lord. You square your shoulders before speaking again. 

“Like my legs.” You felt Lucien’s hands drag their way down your hips down toward your thighs. You felt exposed by the soothing circles he rubbed into the bare flesh as the dress’ fabric fell at the slits. The alcohol coursing through your veins gave the impression that his hands were warmer than usual. 

“What else?” Lucien’s voice was barely above a whisper. A reassuring squeeze to your outer thighs sent a scorching heat through you. Your legs tensed and your hands fell to your sides.

“My eyes,” You swallowed, your attention returning to the male underneath you. “I think my eyes are pretty.” As Lucien’s mismatched eyes bored into you, you noticed a fire burning in his russet iris. 

The flame grew as he stared at you, and your heart began to flutter. You watched as his golden mechanical eye expanded and contracted. His lips twitched with unspoken words. Words you were suddenly afraid to hear. His fingers danced around yours, trying to interlock them, but you kept them at your side. You needed to curb this conversation before you were set on fire by the intensity of his gaze. 

“But it has been my experience that when men give me compliments they only do so because they want something from me, not because they genuinely believe their words to be true.” Your head whipped back to the High Lord. “As soon as they don’t get what they want their pretty words turn to ash.” 

“That last one is not objective then,” the High Lord pointed out. “Rather those are the words of scorned human men, not Fae males who understand and see the natural beauty in everything the Mother has created.” Your body felt hot, and you shifted your weight as far from Lucien’s hips as you could. Poised and ready to leave if this conversation continued. 

“I’m sorry High Lord,” Irritation flashing over your senses, causing the filter from your brain to your mouth to momentarily slip away. “But those are just more pretty words.” Lucien’s hands gently followed your body’s every shift with a sense of hesitation to them. You didn’t want to focus on what that hesitation meant. 

“No need to apologize to me dear one,” Helion leaned back in his seat. His honey eyes flashed to Lucien, whose grip on your upper thighs tightened unconsciously. At least you hoped the action was unconscious. You didn’t want to believe that he would ever want to hold you close in what was certainly a compromising position. Hastily, you stood up from your perch on his lap.

“I’m sorry,” The apology tumbled from your lips, and you ignored the flicker of disappointment on his face. “If I made you uncomfortable…I sometimes…I should go. Excuse me.”

“Wait,” Lucien swung his legs to the side of the couch and grasped her hand, desperately trying to interlock their fingers. “Please, love.”

“Let go, Lu,” Her breath was ragged as she gripped the wrist of the hand trying to hold on to her. “Please.” Her fingers slipped through his, and he could tell that something wasn’t right. His eyes fell to her legs, the fabric of her dress parting at the high slits showcasing their shape as she raced for the door. Helion sat up again, watching as she darted past, calling your name as well.

“I didn’t intend for the conversation to upset her,” Helion apologized as the door shut behind her. “It’s a shame she doesn’t see her beauty. She is remarkable.”

“She is,” Lucien continued to stare forward, his voice breathless as his eyes lost focus. “She’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful, yet in a very different sense from your mate. I have nothing against the Archeron girl, but (Y/N),” Helion’s eyes lingered over the space that she hurried from. “She seems much more your speed. Don’t let her go so quickly.” 

“She doesn’t belong to me,” Lucien stated simply. His eyes regained their focus on the male before him, schooling his features in the process.

“Hmm…Then should I see if she’s interested in joining me in my chambers tonight? Worship her like the goddess she is.” Frustration built up inside him, nearly boiling over and  Lucien’s mask of indifference fell ever so slightly. The High Lord raised an eyebrow. “Or perhaps not.” 

The two males sat in silence for a few moments longer. The once light atmosphere now dulled in the human’s absence. Lucien could feel the beginning effects of the alcohol on his mind, as he drummed his fingers along his knee. Her departure didn’t sit right with him. The way she spoke of herself. If Helion sought her out, his words and actions may only solidify her beliefs about herself. She should hear it from someone she trusts to be honest with her. Lucien had to make it right. She had to see that she was stunning in her own way.

Abruptly, he stood from his chair and strode over to the wine rack. Grabbing two bottles of Day Court’s best he then stormed out of the room.

“Have fun,” Helion smiled as he watched the door close behind Lucien. “Son.”

Lucien didn’t even bother with knocking on her door when he arrived at her room. With one bottle under his arm, he simply turned the handle and strode right inside. 

“Why must you go and say such things?” He demanded.

“What things?” She was grating his nerves.

“You know damn well what I mean.”

“I’d really rather not fight with you Lu,” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we have this conversation when we are both sober? My head is starting to hurt, and I’ve not slept in two days!” She walked over to him, hands wrapping around the fabric of his white linen top. A playful pout danced across her features. Almost instantly the anger drained from him.

“By the Cauldron,” He dramatically rolled his eyes. “How can I say no to that look?”

“You can’t,” She smiled, tucking a stray strand of his hair behind his ear. “You are my best friend here Lucien. I just want to change and relax, preferably by curling up with you on the balcony. The weather is so nice here.” He gently clasped her hand, holding her palm against his lips. 

“As you wish,” He watched as something crossed over her features, but it was gone too quickly for his buzzed mind to process. With surprising grace, she walked over to her luggage and pulled out her nightclothes before proceeding to the ensuite bathing chamber. With the tap water running, he made himself busy by finding glasses and pouring each of them a fresh glass of wine. 

When she emerged, he was lounging on the “L” shaped couch set just at the opening of the bedroom as it led to the balcony. The khaki-colored cushions were plush and soft as he leaned against them. She sat down next to him, and he handed her the glass he poured. She immediately consumed half the glass, before she tucked herself into his side.

The town below Helion’s palace glowed a soft warm golden hue. It almost reminded him of Autumn, with the torches and gas lamps lining the streets of the village nearby the Forest House. Together they drank their wine. His arm over her shoulder, her free hand raised to hold his dangling fingers. They sat like that for a while. They sat for so long that he almost thought she had fallen asleep.

“Azriel thinks you and I are fucking,” Her statement pierced the comfortable silence.

“What?” Lucien nearly choked on the last dregs of his wine.

“Yep,” She emphasized the ‘p’ with a pop of her lips. “Apparently, I am a shameless human whore corrupting the right and virtuous Fae Lord.” She giggled to herself. “Oh! That rhymes!” She lightly smacked his chest in delight.

“He called you a whore?” Lucien could feel his fire just under the surface of his palms.

“No. No,” She took a small sip from her glass. Her eyes still focused on the flickering lights of the town surrounding the palace.

“But there was a clear disapproval of the fact that we share a bed whenever we are together,” She sighed, Lucien’s nod was barely visible as she continued to ramble. “Remember when I told you about how he cornered me in the kitchen? That’s when he insinuated that I must enjoy having another female’s mate in my bed. Apparently, beds are no longer used for sleeping. Just fucking, and since we share a bed that must be all that we do. Fuck.”

That now made three. Three members of the Inner Circle expressed their disapproval of his actions. Already believing that he was not a male of his word. He knew he didn’t have the best reputation after…while living in Spring the past couple centuries. If he had to be honest, he was an absolute rake. So why was he trying so hard to prove otherwise now? He was startled as she let out a dramatic gasp.

“What if that’s the reason my sleep tonics don’t work!” Uncrossing her legs she spun to face him. “What if one of those fucking assholes switched them out? For contraceptives!” Lucien blinked at her a few times, his brain trying to process the near ludicrous statement she had made.

“That is an interesting theory,” He couldn’t hold in his laughter. “But you always fall right asleep after taking your tonic. So how does that fit in?”

“That could be the placebo effect!” Her animated movements caused him to laugh more.

“The what effect?” He laughed. She groaned and slapped her palm against her forehead.

“So, the horrible cliff notes explanation is that my brain had adapted to falling asleep right away after drinking my tonic,” He nodded along even though he had no clue what she was saying. “So, if someone switched it without my knowledge, my brain still thinks it’s taking the same tonic. Therefore, it behaves in the same way by flooding my brain with the “sleepy time” signals. My brain is tricking itself into falling asleep, but the tonic isn’t actually in my system to keep me asleep. I have nightmares because my brain isn’t getting what it had been before.” Her eyes were wide, and if she hadn’t drunk nearly three bottles of Fae Wine on her own since the start of dinner a few hours ago, he may have believed her.

“Okay, well then for the sake of the argument,” He placed his empty glass down and began scooting closer to her, “Maybe they are doing us a favor. I do sleep in your bed more often than I sleep in mine. And I was known as a male with many dalliances.” Waggling his eyebrows Lucien clutched her arm and leaned into her side. She looked at him with round wide (e/c) orbs.

“Perhaps we should take advantage of these contraceptives and ravish each other,” He buried his face in her neck, playfully growling and nipping at her skin. She yelped and pushed at his face, all the while giggling. He grabbed the back of her knee, the act of pulling her towards him resulted in her back landing on the couch cushions below. Taking her wine glass out of her hand, Lucien set it on the small table. Her laughter was contagious, and he felt lighter than he had in days.

“Be serious,” She continued to giggle from under him. “You wouldn’t want me.” He leaned down, hovering above her. 

“What makes you think that?” He brushed his nose against hers. This time she didn’t laugh.

“The fact that you are a good male,” She squeezed his cheeks together until his lips puckered like that of a fish. His vision blurred as the skin was mushed around. She let go and slipped out from under his arm. He sat back up and watched as she picked up her glass. His mouth dried up as her ass jiggled from her prancing a few steps out of his reach and back into her bedroom proper.

“That has nothing to do with wanting you or not,” He said smoothly, standing and following her inside.

“You’re right,” She mused. “But you don’t want me.”

“How do you know? What makes you so sure?”

“First, you have a mate,” Her tone took on a more serious edge. “One that is beautiful beyond comparison.” He remained silent. It was true that his mate was the most beautiful female he had ever seen. So then why did he feel guilty when he saw the sad recognition in (Y/N)’s eyes.

“Secondly, this,” His eyes followed her hand as it waved up and down the length of her form. “This is not attractive. This-”

“Yes, you are,” He was breathless. He watched as she clenched her jaw.

“No,” Her tone was indignant. “And I’ll prove it to you.” She set her glass down on a nearby table and her hands immediately clasped around the hem of her top. In one quick motion the emerald top was gone, and Lucien’s breath caught in his throat. Mother spare him, he tried to look away but wasn’t quick enough. His eyes caught sight of her bare breasts as they gently bounced from the movement.

“I hereby challenge you to a game of chicken,” Picking up her wine glass, she sauntered over to him, swaying her hips. “The first to show physical signs of arousal is the loser.” She held out her free hand to him. He knew that the terms of the little contest were set in her favor. She’d have to allow him between her legs for him to see any evidence of her arousal, but he convinced himself that the wine swayed him to agree.

“What does the winner get?” He asked, pulling his shirt up and over his head. Her eyes roamed over the expanse of his chest.

“The right to determine where the night goes,” Her saccharine smile practically sent him to his knees. “Anything goes, except the direct stimulation of genitals.” Suddenly, the room became unbearably warm. She continued her path towards the bed. She set the glass back down on the nightstand, and slowly removed her matching emerald silk sleep shorts. 

He felt himself stiffen at the view of her shapely bare form before him. While he could blame the wine for influencing him, he had clearly already lost. He said a silent prayer in thanks to the Mother that his trousers were still on, and she was facing the opposite direction.

“Though I do believe that the odds are in your favor,” She giggled to herself as she turned to face him. She placed herself on the bed as she watched him, picking up her glass for a final time. He took the opportunity to finish undressing, watching as her throat bobbed from swallowing the rest of her wine. Her eyes sparkled as he shed the last bit of his clothes.

“You know how I know?” She practically purred from her position on the bed. “Because you’re too good a male to find anyone except your mate arousing.”

“Being a good male is a burden really,” He smiled, and began to crawl up the mattress. A fox hunting its prey.

“Poor baby,” She leaned against the headboard, arms settling over her stomach, blocking it from view. He was vaguely aware the pose served a double purpose of hiding what she felt was a flaw while perfectly framing her assets. He reached where she sat on the bed. She allowed his fingers to trace up along her bicep, over her shoulder, and across her collar bones. His golden eye focused on the skin that pebbled in the wake of his touch.

“Poor baby indeed.”

“If you were to relieve your burden,” She allowed his hand to continue its travels up the side of her neck and cup her cheek. The scent of arousal permeated the air, but he didn’t call her out on it. He lowered his face towards hers, their noses barely touching.

“I would wrap my lips around your nipple like a starved babe,” Her eyes went wide but were quickly filled with doubt. He watched as she visibly started to close herself off. Shoulders slumping forward and her knees rose to her chest.

That was not exactly the desired effect he had wanted from  her. He wanted her to know just how gorgeous and tempting she really was. And Cauldron boil him she was tempting. His gaze wandered over her form to the ivory lace bottoms she still wore. Even without the alcohol coursing through him, he knew in that instant that if she were completely bare before him, he would bury his face between her legs. He should have called her out for the sweet scent she emitted.

“We should sleep,” Her voice whispered, as she turned away from him.

“And miss the opportunity to prove to everyone, to ourselves, that-”

“We are just friends,” She interrupted, turning back to look at him. Her gaze traveled over him. “Besides, you lost the game.”

Lucien sighed as she fought back her own giggle. The tension in the air evaporated just as quickly as it had arrived. He didn’t need to look down to know that he was hard as a rock. He should have known better than to agree to her terms.

“Fine you win,” He turned and sat next to her on the bed, his left leg bent to block her view of him. “But you are a cheater by wearing those panties.” She stuck out her tongue. He took a few deep breaths to try and calm his erection. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

“You know,” Her voice trailed off as she covered herself with the cotton sheet. “I feel a little bad about your situation. But I really do believe that…”

“I wouldn’t have proposed anything more than sleeping, love,” He reassured, pulling the sheets back and climbing under them as well. “Not because you are right, but because you desperately need sleep.” She nodded, humming thoughtfully to herself, before she turned on her side facing away from him. He started to scoot over towards her when she pushed her hand in his face.

“Nope!” She warned. “No cuddles until you’re flaccid.” 

Lucien was just on the cusp of waking. His base senses and instinct were the only things drifting through the fog of early morning slumber. The room was quiet, as was the still sleeping city outside. A cool early morning autumn breeze danced over the bare skin of his shoulder as it peaked out from under the light cotton sheet. The air caused the flesh to rise in small bumps, each one threatening to bring even more awareness to his consciousness. However, it was a welcome sensation compared to the stuffiness of the room. Then again, the shifting body next to him was pleasantly warm. 

Slowly he became aware of his hand resting on a soft plush thigh that was wrapped over his hips. The weight of the limb was comfortable and grounding. A steady rhythm of warm air ghosted over the pulse point of his neck. His voice involuntarily gave way to a whispered hum. With the slightest shift, to not wake himself nor the figure next to him, Lucien merged into the softness. Hand wrapping around the waist to bring the plush figure flush against his, he allowed himself to meld with the body resting nearly atop him. Soft full breasts pressed into his chest and a hand found its home near the top of his shoulder.

The scent of vanilla and honey lulled him back into a relaxing sleep. He didn’t even notice the touch of jasmine was missing from his mate’s scent. It was replaced with another soft warm earthy aroma. Amber. She felt so good sleeping against him. A slight nudge of the tip of her nose against his throat caused his hips to buck ever so gently. He didn’t dare open his eyes or move as the female took a quick inhale of breath. Nothing sharp enough to indicate wakefulness. The nose again brushed along the column of his throat, a set of plush lips quickly following. 

He was nearly awake now with the blood rushing to the growing appendage below his waist. He didn’t know what had entered Elain’s mind to where she felt the need to crawl into bed with him, but he was glad she had. Except…that didn’t seem right. He hadn’t fallen asleep in the Night Court last night. Therefore, there was no way that Elain could be here right now. His heart went into an instant gallop as his eyes shot open. It most certainly wasn’t Elain that was so tightly wrapped up around him. Carefully he pulled his head back far enough to look at the sleeping woman. As he looked down at her figure he tried to prevent his length from stiffening more. 

The early morning rays of sunlight filtered through the sheer white gossamer fabric hanging down around the marble columns surrounding the bed frame, cascading down across her skin that wasn’t covered by the sheets. Her features were relaxed as she continued to sleep on his chest. Something deep in him, deeper than where his magic lingered in his bones, hummed. He knew that he should be separating himself from her, but he couldn’t get his body to comply. It was as if it would only respond to a higher power, one that was perfectly content to have him remain right where he was.

He must still be drunk. That’s the real reason for his lack of control. Bits and pieces of the night before tried to stitch themselves together. He remembered entering her room, another two bottles of Fae wine in his hands. Mother above, two bottles. Internally, he rolled his eyes at his past actions. That had been a mistake. He didn’t remember if they finished said bottles, which then led to his conclusion that they must have. It had been a long time since he had woken without his memory fully intact. As much as he wanted to continue to lie like this with her, he knew that should the wrong person decide to enter the chamber they would have a more difficult time dissuading any rumors. However, he couldn’t bring himself to jostle or rush her out of her slumber.

A gentle tracing ghosted along the skin of your back. The shiver that passed over you slowly brought your mind to consciousness. You knew instantly that Lucien was with you simply from the fact that you were not screaming. You felt like you were floating, you were so at peace. Your own fingers twitched along the warm skin of the chest beneath you.

“Good morning sweet girl,” Lucien murmured. Perhaps you were still dreaming, but you could have sworn you felt his lips press against your forehead.

“Hmm, morning,” You didn’t want to open your eyes. Pressing further into his warmth, something stiff poked at your inner thigh. Your eyes shot open. You bolted upright, flinging the sheet to the side and stared at the expanse of golden skin before you.  

“Why are you naked?” Your voice rose in pitch and volume with each word, your cheeks flushing crimson. ‘Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look!’ You really tried not to look down, but you apparently lost the ability to maintain control of your own body. Your (e/c) orbs darted down and back up. You desperately wanted to rid your mind of the image of his hard cock, if even just to prevent yourself from wandering to it late at night, but you knew that that sight would be forever burned in your brain. You shook your head of the fleeting thought that the females in his life must certainly have had a good time with…well, him. 

“I think the better question is why are you?” His own eyebrow quirked up in mirth. He clearly found this all much more amusing than you did. So far, all this has just proved that maybe it was time for distance. You glanced back down at your own body to see that you were in fact mostly nude. You sighed in relief when you saw that you still had a pair of underwear on. However, your relief was quickly replaced by horror in the fact that Lucien was able to see the rest of your naked form. You were aware this wasn’t exactly the first time you’d been in a state of undress around him, but he had always averted his eyes.

Your head snapped up to look at him. Had you been any slower you would have missed the fact that his gaze rested on your chest. Hastily pulling the blankets to cover yourself, your face flushed a second time. You likely would not have minded his stare had you been wearing a bra or a tank top. You knew that your full heavy breasts were eye-catching and enjoyed that fact when you had your short bouts of confidence in your appearance. But that wasn’t when gravity had full control of them as it does now. 

“What happened last night?” You wracked your brain for any explanation as to why you’d both been in your current nude state.

“What do you remember?” He asked. You wrapped the sheet around you, tucking the ends in at the top to form a makeshift robe.

“I remember returning to my room,” Your brows scrunched together. “The rest is blank. Fucking shit balls, I’ve NEVER been black out drunk before.” You pressed the heels of your palms against your forehead. Your head hurt and nausea washed over you. You were going to be sick. Grabbing the bottom of the sheet you ran towards the ensuite bathroom.

The porcelain toilet was cold against your fingers as you heaved your guts into the bowl. Within seconds, a pair of hands carded their way into your hair and pulled it back out of the way. One hand continued to hold your (h/c) locks back while the other rubbed your back in soothing circles.

You were grateful for him. He seemed to always know what you needed and would support you in any way you needed support. And you knew you’d do the same for him. So, the least you could do is support the fact that he has a mate by putting some distance between the two of you. And he’d need to know exactly why, even if it meant being hurtful at this moment.

“The others have been talking,” You started, but another wave of sickness left your body.

“Shh,” He continued to rub your back. “I-I know. We can talk about that later though.”

“I think it's best if there is some separation between us,” The words felt hollow in your ears even though you say them. “I’m not about to be labeled a homewrecker, despite the fact that no home exists for you and Elain right now.”

“Nothing happened between us,” He tried to reason, but you could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. “Did it?”

“You don’t remember?” You turned to look at him as he continued to kneel next to you, you noted that he had yet to cover himself. His hands paused for the briefest of moments. As the waves of your nausea subsided your attention went towards your lower body. You knew your body well. While you were no virgin, it had been a few years since you had sex. Given Lucien’s size, and the lack of a dull ache between your legs, you could tell that at least no penetration

had occurred between the two of you. He was certainly a much better male than anyone gave him credit for.

“I’m quite certain nothing happened,” You rested your head against the bowl. “And why would it? Look at me, I am nothing compared to her.” You wanted to ignore the flame that shone in his eye. The one you knew was sparked from irritation.

“Surely you must not think that I’d be so shallow-”

“Aren’t all men-males?” You were going to win this fight. You would always make sure you won this fight. Anytime someone tried to convince you that your appearance didn’t matter you would argue against it. You had been scorned too many times by men in your past. You knew that your appearance certainly did matter a great deal to anyone that wasn’t just looking to get his cock wet.

“Then again, men don’t care what you look like if they know the night will end in sex.” But they certainly cared when it meant introducing you to others as a potential partner. And as far as you were aware, your physical appearance wasn’t ‘girlfriend or wife material’ worthy. Lucien just stared at you, so you stared right back. Even if he had to lie to you, lie to himself, you could not afford to hope that Fae males were any different. You could not hope that any of them could find you beautiful.

“I will not lie to you-” His voice almost sounded defeated.

“Good,” You cut him off again, looking up. “Then we can move on.” You hoped he didn’t miss the pleading look in your eyes. Flushing the toilet, you made to rise from the floor. Lucien helped you to your feet, and continued to hold your hair as you took small sips of water from the sink’s tap. Removing his hand from your hair, you interlaced your fingers with his.

“I’m not cutting you out of my life, Lucien. You are very important to me. We are friends and can still support each other. I love being with you. We just need to be mindful of how the others see it.” You knew that space was needed. It was necessary, even as something inside you felt like it withered.

“Alright,” He relented, as you splashed your face with the cold water. “What are the boundaries?” He was leaving it to you to decide.

“We have to be the most careful while in the Night Court,” You started. “Physical contact in public should be reduced to linked arms when appropriate. Verbal greetings only. No more nights spent at the townhouse.” You tried to maintain eye contact with him and not let your eyes drift along the expanse of his still exposed body. As much as it scared you, you would have to brave being alone. 

“You and I both know that you sleep better with someone next to you,” He reasoned. “If I can't be there then at least…at least have Ruhn with you. I’m certain he’ll be willing to step in wherever I can’t.”

“He can’t always stay with me,” You informed him. “He has a battle for his own world that he is trying to fight. What am I supposed to do when he’s in Midgard? It terrifies me to think what would have happened that night.” The fact that you nearly walked right off the roof of the townhouse was a chilling thought.

“Then let’s ask Helion for assistance,” Lucien supplied. “Ask him to speak with Thesan. He’s the High Lord of the Dawn Court, a healer in his own right. Surely, he will have knowledge about other sleep or dream preventing tonics.” He raised his hand and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“That could work,” You quickly turned away from his gentle touch. Something deep in you screamed as you walked away and out of the bathroom.

“What do we do when we’re alone?” You tried to stop your heart, but it’s pounding filled your ears. Naturally he followed you, but it was a long while before he said anything else. He slowly got dressed, as did you. Anything to keep yourself occupied while you tried to think.

You didn’t know what to say. If there was nothing between you now, then there shouldn’t be any need to change what you did when alone. Except, being alone with him may only continue to fan the flames of rumors. You needed to do what you could to keep each other in your lives, even if that meant you couldn't touch him in the ways you wanted. Why did this feel like a breakup?

“It’s probably best that we remain consistent,” You watched as sadness flashed across his features."At least for now."

“As you wish.” 

Next- Chapter 10 (~ 7/12/24)

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