#the royal blue silk shirt

[hyperdramas]

i’m not strong enough for this lyr i am not equipped with a way to deal with htis why is he doign this to us i’m literally just a cuties’ g who only thinks cutely of him NOTHING ELSE!!!!!! i was never prepared for this HOW ARE YOU DOING

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HELP. I'M THE SAME WAY OKAY i've never thought about him being anything other than cute and hot at some times.......this is just so much okay i'm SO overwhelmed. AND AND IT JUST KEEPS HAPPENING

it happened just like how it happened the first time 😭 i woke up from a long nap & opened instagram to see THIS EXACT POST as the FIRST post of my feed. i can't keep doing this holy crap i live in fear at all times because GOD he looks so good ☹ but also i'm so scared because oh my god i've never seen him in any other way.......the whole shirtless boxer agenda we're going for is CRAZY (i'm SO HAPPY he's confident about it though! he worked so hard and BOY did he get a great result 🙏)

[alexofkent]

The big help out

[ohproserpine]

viii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, alastor tweaking, VERY heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, DEATH, hunting, VERY graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), drowning, flooding, mentions of glass piercing skin, a gun, threats of death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Alastor's head snapped to the side, with a sickening crack accompanying the movement

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

.

A few blocks away, at the Vox Tower.

The heavy door before you swung open to reveal a diner. Chandeliers hung from the lofty ceiling, the crystals casting shattered reflections of light across the expanse of golden tables below. The centerpiece of the room was an expansive aquarium, its transparent walls housing sleek, metallic sharks that glided gracefully through the rose-tinted waters.

Vox guided you inside with a hand on your back, leading you towards a secluded booth. He was dressed in a neat, crisp royal blue suit, perfectly matching the attire chosen for you by Velvette. She had dressed you in a stunning cerulean silk dress that hugged your figure in all the right places. The fabric flowed gracefully as you moved, the long skirt sweeping across the floor with every step of your white heels.

"I didn't realize there was a restaurant tucked away in here," you whispered, your eyes widening in awe as you took in the glowing ambiance of the place.

"Well, we at VoxTek are full of surprises, my dear," Vox chuckled smoothly as he moved to pull back the chair at your table. "It's quite a diverse company."

"I see," you murmured, a sense of intrigue coloring your tone. Taking a step closer, you sank into the plush seat, a soft hum of contentment escaping your lips as you settled in. Vox pushed you in before taking his seat across from you. With a snap of his finger, he gestured for a nearby waiter to approach.

Once the menus were presented, Vox glanced over at you expectantly. "Feel free to order whatever you'd like, my dear. Consider it a treat for all your hard work." A waiter slid over a tablet for the bill, and Vox pulled out a sleek black card which he quickly swiped. "Take your time. We have all night to go over your contract."

Grateful for the gesture, you returned a smile before turning your attention to the menu, scanning the options while Vox took a sip from his glass of wine, the scarlet liquid swirling.

Before the moment could continue, however, a sudden wave of static crackled through the room, causing the tables to tremble, drinks spilling and tabletop decor tumbling aside as the lights flickered erratically. Startled, Vox choked on his drink, coughing as he accidentally spilled it on himself.

You looked around in worry, confusion furrowing your brow as you whipped your head around to assess the situation. A few of the patrons were talking amongst themselves in hushed tones, their concern mirroring your own.

"What was that…?" you asked, your voice barely audible above the din of the lingering static.

"Second fucking time," Vox grumbled under his breath as he attempted to wipe the wine off his crisp white dress shirt, but his efforts only seemed to smear the stain further across his chest. The crimson stain stark against the pristine fabric made it look as if he was just mauled.

With a resigned sigh, he abandoned his futile efforts and without a care in the world, tossed the soiled tablecloth back onto the table. Despite the mishap, he flashed you a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure it was nothing, my dear. Just a temporary glitch in the system. I'll have my workers look into it later," he said, waving it off.

Vox clapped his hands with a sharp, authoritative gesture, summoning a few waiters to swiftly clean up your table and retrieve the menus from your hands. They rushed over with a sense of urgency, their movements swift as they began tidying up the contents, the clatter of plates and silverware echoing through the air.

Meanwhile, a tall, slim blonde receptionist approached, her steps slow as she made her way towards Vox. Her slender fingers pushed her slim red glasses up on the bridge of her nose, accentuating the sharpness of her eyes as she addressed you both with a polite nod of her head.

"Mister Vox," she began, tapping a pen along her clipboard. "I have a few tables available for you upstairs. Would you like to transfer while we get the ground floor cleaned up?"

"Do that for us, will you?" Vox nodded, standing from the table with a sigh you couldn’t hear but could see in the slump of his shoulders. Straightening up, he brushed invisible dust off the front of his jacket and suit pants with swift, agitated motions.

"This day has been nothing but shit to me. The hell even was that?" Vox muttered under his breath as he glanced down at his watch, a luxurious 10-million soul bucks carat model he had allowed himself to purchase a few moons ago. "Alright. Time is ticking. Let's not waste any more time and move somewhere else, love."

With a nod, you followed suit and stood up, mirroring his movements as you prepared to leave the table. But before you could take a step, another round of static swept through the room, much stronger this time. The vibrations pulsed through the floor, causing you to stumble and grasp onto the table for support. The lights flickered and dimmed before abruptly going out, enveloping the room in darkness.

"What the fuck?" Vox snarled, the glow of his screen casting eerie shadows in the darkened environment as he turned sharply to the receptionist, the faint illumination of his face acting as a temporary flashlight.

"Get this checked out, will you?" Vox hissed.

"Of course, Mister Vox," the receptionist nodded briskly, maintaining her composure despite the chaos unfolding around her. Her pen scratched against the paper as she made a note of his request. "I'll have someone look into it right away."

"Satan. Alright, come on, doll," Vox called for you and slipped his hand into yours, interlocking them together with a firm grip. Reluctantly, you accepted his hand, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you as you followed him towards the staircase.

Together, you ascended the steps, the lingering sensation of static still hanging heavily in the air like an ominous fog. Another wave swept through the atmosphere, causing your skin to tingle with prickles and sending a shiver coursing up your spine.

Something was off.

The second floor was eerily quiet, devoid of the bustling activity in the ground floor. The subdued murmurs of the remaining patrons echoed faintly against the walls. You noticed that some of the only patrons left were already making their way down the stairs, their hurried footsteps punctuating the hushed atmosphere as they descended the glass steps.

As you scanned the area, your eyes landed on a TV perched high on the wall. Whatever show had been playing before was now reduced to nothing but static and glitches, its wires crackling with electricity like an angry serpent. Thin wisps of smoke curled up from the tangled mess.

"Doll?" Vox turned his head, catching your wandering eyes with a knowing look.

"I apologize for all this trouble, my dear, but worry not, everything will be handled in a jiffy," he reassured you, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin as he guided you by the railings.

Leaning his elbows against the metal, he took your hand into both of his, kneading and caressing it as he grumbled to himself. "If I knew this was going to happen, I would have taken you out another night."

"Well, there's no way you could have seen that coming," you muttered as you turned your gaze towards the ground floor. Below, various demons and imps scurried around, attempting to manage the chaos. With a shrug, you moved to lean against the railings, the cool metal soothing against your skin.

Resting your cheek on your free hand, you continued, "I mean, there's always another day. We can even hash out the contract right now."

At your words, Vox visibly deflated, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he cast you a dry look. "Always so professional, are you?"

"Yes?" you replied with a nod, tilting your head in genuine curiosity. "Is that bad?"

"No, not at all," Vox huffed, a barely concealed smile playing at the corners of his lips as he pulled you closer to him. "It's actually quite charming."

With a yelp, you stumbled into his arms, your hands pressing against his chest for balance. Vox leaned in further, his left hand coming to rest on your back, his touch gentle yet firm as he looked deep into your eyes.

"But would it be bad to say I wanted something more?" he murmured, a pinkish gradient tint glowing softly on his screen, casting a warm and inviting glow across his features.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden intimacy. "Something more?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek, his touch tender against your skin.

"Yes, my dear," he murmured, trailing his thumb down to press and part your lips. "Something… personal."

"I-I don't really get what you're telling me," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest. As Vox leaned in closer and closer, you found yourself backing away until you could no longer retreat, your back arching dangerously over the railings.

"Then perhaps it's best if I show you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

Popping the lid open, a familiar golden band sat inside, glimmering softly in the dim light of the room. Your eyes widened with recognition, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"My ring," you gasped, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached out to pluck the precious jewelry from its box. However, your hand halted in midair as you noticed an unfamiliar engraving gleaming on its honey-colored surface. A wavy symbol was etched onto it, its silver detailing standing out against the smooth gold of the ring.

"Vox, what's… what's this?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly as your eyes darted back and forth between the two sights. You could feel a hot fire starting to coil in your gut, your skin already slowly cracking. "What'd you do?"

Vox's expression remained impassive for a moment before softening with a touch of vulnerability. "It's a symbol, my dear," he explained, his voice gentle as he slowly took your hand and raised it to his lips. "A symbol of our… partnership."

"Partnership?" you echoed, your eyes tracing the movement of his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers.

"You'd make a good wife," he blurted out, catching you off guard. Your gaze shot up to meet his, wide with surprise, as his declaration hung in the air between you. "I could provide for you. I could make you happy. Give you anything, anything you want."

A clawed hand, its digits tipped with sharp, pointed nails, delicately plucked the ring out of its velvet cushion. Taking your hand in his, he gently slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could even process what had just happened, a wave of static washed over the room, crackling through the air like tiny bolts of lightning, causing him to curse under his breath.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he growled.

The room trembled again as another wave of static hit, this time with greater intensity than any of the past waves. The floors shook beneath your feet, the building groaned in protest, and you stumbled forward with a gasp, your knees buckling under the force of the tremors. Desperately, you reached out to grab onto Vox for support, clinging to him as the world seemed to tilt and sway around you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the receptionist stumbling toward you both. Her calm demeanor had vanished, replaced by frantic movements and panic in her voice.

"Sir, sir!" she huffed, her words punctuated by labored breaths as she stumbled to her feet. Her hair was disheveled, and her clothes were torn. "The building is under attack!"

"Attack?" Vox scoffed out in disbelief, his shoulders shaking from his laughter. "Who in Lucifer's name would even think of crossing me?"

The receptionist shook her head vigorously, her eyes wide with terror, strands of her disheveled hair clinging to her sweaty forehead.

"The radio demon," she rasped out, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with fear.

You froze, your hands shaking as they moved to cover your gaping mouth. Another wave of static shook the building, but your thoughts were scattered, unable to focus amidst the chaos.

Vox's grip tightened on you and the handle of the railings, his claws raking against the metal with a sharp scrape. His expression slowly shifted, the laughter fading as a dangerous seriousness settled over him. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes briefly before looking back at the receptionist with a dark glint in his eyes, a storm brewing within him.

"What did you just say?"

Before a response could be made, an explosion thundered through the floor, sending debris and dust swirling through the air. In shock, you watched as tendrils of inky shadows began to writhe and thrash, lashing out and slamming into the walls with bone-shaking force.

A particularly powerful tendril crashed against the aquarium, its force shattering the glass and unleashing a deluge of water that flooded down through the ground floor, drowning the patrons below. The sharks were caught in the torrent, their powerful bodies tossed and thrashed about as they were swept away.

Another tendril snaked its way through the dust, wrapping around the receptionist with a vice-like grip before flinging her high into the air like a ragdoll. The desperate cries of the poor woman echoed through the room before abruptly falling silent as she slammed into a wall with a sickening thud.

"Fuck—" Vox cursed, pulling you into him. His arms tightened around you protectively as he scanned the scene, his eyes darting around in search of any functioning piece of technology that could offer an escape and allow him to teleport you both out. However, his efforts proved futile; every piece of tech in the room was malfunctioning, either from the rampant waves of static or the overflow of water from the shattered aquarium.

Creak.

Suddenly, there was a deafening sound, cutting through the air and the chandelier above you both began to tilt dangerously, its crystals catching the flickering light before it started falling. Vox's curses mingled with the din as he swiftly scooped you into his arms, his muscles straining under the weight as he sprinted away just in the nick of time. With a thunderous crash, the chandelier came hurtling down, shattering into a thousand glittering fragments upon impact with the floor.

The glass shrapnel, propelled by the force of the chandelier's collapse, began to ricochet in your direction. Reacting swiftly, Vox made a split-second decision and hurled you over the railing and onto the ground floor. Screaming, you landed with a thud, the shallow water from the shattered aquarium splashing around you, soaking your dress and sending a shiver down your spine. However, Vox's own descent was less fortunate. As he jumped to follow, a few sharp glass shards found their mark, piercing his metallic body, tearing through his frame, and exposing the wires beneath.

"Ah…" Pushing yourself off the floor, you grappled with a moment of hazy confusion before a shock of fiery pain shot up your leg, so intense that your body instinctively recoiled, nails clawing at the flooded floors. A scream threatened to escape your lips, but you bit it back, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes blinked rapidly against the pain, struggling to adjust to the darkness surrounding you.

Everything blurred together in a mess of shadows and rushing water. Your breaths grew heavy and frantic, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to shake from the sheer intensity of the pain.

"Doll—!" Vox's voice crackled through the darkness, his form glitching and sparking from the water that seeped into his exposed circuits. Before his outstretched hand could reach you, shadowed tendrils snaked around him, yanking him away with a jolt and tossing him aside, sending him skidding into a nearby column.

You watched in horror, the dim light reflecting off the wet floor and casting eerie shadows on your face. Just then, the tendrils, like twisted serpents, slithered towards you, causing you to shut your eyes tight, bracing for the impending danger.

Time seemed to stand still as you lay there, your breaths shallow and rapid, every nerve on edge.

Still, nothing happened.

Slowly, cautiously, you dared to open your eyes, your vision blurred. As your sight cleared, you found yourself face to face with a familiar shadow.

"William?" you croaked out, your voice raspy from the exertion. William, Alastor's loyal shadow, perked up eagerly at the sound of your voice, its form undulating as it slithered around you, enveloping you in a gentle embrace.

With a weak smile, you raised a trembling hand to pat at the comforting darkness. "Hey, buddy…"

Your attention was abruptly torn away as a red blur darted towards the spot where Vox had been slammed into. Shock seized you, freezing you in place as you watched with wide eyes, feeling your pulse pounding against your chest and skull in a frantic rhythm.

William followed your gaze, his form stiffening as he silently scanned the area for any sign of danger. After a tense minute of no one seen nor heard, he turned back to you, his shadowy head tilting in confusion.

With quivering lips you uttered one name that had explained everything, "Alastor."

.

"Mgh!" Vox grunted as he collided with the wall. The sickening crack tore through his body as he crumpled to the floor amidst a splash of sparking wires, debris, and hanging metal. His systems went haywire, his vision obscured by flashes of glitches and static, each burst of light stabbing into his consciousness like searing knives.

Despite the system failures, Vox couldn't miss the sight of a familiar red-clad demon stalking towards him with a menacing grin etched on his face.

"You..."

Struggling to move, the overlord felt his arm pinned under debris, the weight pressing down on him like a vise, squeezing the air from his lungs. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he sucked in a breath. Each inhale felt like fire scorching his insides.

Finding the leverage, with closed eyes and clenched fists, Vox braced himself and pushed with one hand while the other pulled, every movement sending waves of torment shooting through his body like bolts of lightning.

There was a sickening crack, the sound drowned out by the deafening roar of static and electricity that erupted from him. His back arched involuntarily, nerves and sinew spasming, his body instinctively attempting to curl in on itself to shield against the onslaught of pain as he ripped his arm off. Opening his mouth to scream, Vox found no voice escaping, only a glitched, distorted wheeze.

"My, my," Alastor chuckled, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement as he watched Vox dry-heave from the pain, relishing every moment of his torment. "Good show! Ho-ho! It's always such a thrill to witness your suffering."

"Wh-Wh-What the fuck do you want, old man?" Vox's voice glitched out as he shakily got to his knees, beads of water dripping and soaking through his suit, mingling with the blood and grime that coated his skin. The stench of metallic decay hung heavy in the air, mixed with the acrid scent of burning wires.

"You've got some nerve coming for me straight at my base," he shouted out, his screen flashing with a fierce red hue. "I've got you at a disadvantage!"

Alastor raised a brow in mocking surprise, twisting his head side to side to survey the torn-up tower with exaggerated interest. "Who's at a disadvantage?" he quipped with a shrug, his tone laced with derision as he gestured casually at the chaos surrounding them.

"I'm not the one on my knees, old pal," Alastor mused, his tongue dripping with sinister amusement as he tapped his staff against the flooded floors, the sound echoing. In one, swift motion, a shadow shot out, piercing Vox's shoulder and pinning him back against the wall, the tendrils coiling around him like a vice.

"Fuck you!" Vox hissed, his anger boiling over as he shot out wires of his own. Alastor made no attempt to dodge, staying put as the wires struck through his shoulder, flesh and muscle spraying out in a grisly display. Despite the gruesome injury, Alastor seemed unfazed, tilting his head with an audible crack, his grin widening into something unsettling.

"Sloppy," Alastor spat, blood trickling down the side of his mouth and dripping down his chin. With deliberate slowness, he raised a hand to grasp at the wires, his fingers curling around them with a sickening creak as he pulled them out.

"What the fuck are you even here for?!" Vox screamed.

"Funny you should ask," Alastor mused, his empty gaze boring into Vox's screen. Shadows wrapped around his injured shoulder, forming a makeshift bandage, while his other tendrils reached out, snaking towards Vox's ankles and forcibly dragging him forward. The demon fell onto his back, briefly submerged in the water as he was pulled towards Alastor.

Humming, Alastor slammed his foot down on Vox's torn arm, eliciting a scream of pain as sparks shot out. Chuckling, the Radio Delon hand came down hard, driving Vox's own wire into his eye with a sickening crack, causing the screen to fracture in a spiderweb of cracks.

"I'm here for my wife."

"Wife?" Vox narrowed his eye at Alastor in confusion for a moment, his screen flashing with red, blue, and yellow hues, before widening in recognition at the sight of a golden glint on Alastor's mangled, clawed hands.

Immediately, he snarled, his voice barely audible over the glitches and static, "I ain't telling you shit."

"Oh," Alastor drawled slowly, twirling his cane in his hands with a devilish grin. "You will."

Alastor moved with startling speed, lunging forward to grasp Vox's arms with his bare hands. With a vicious snarl, he began to tear at Vox's chest cavity, his claws digging into the metal casing with a sickening screech as he began to pull it off. Vox screamed in pain, his systems protesting against the assault, but he fought back, unleashing a flurry of sparks and glitches in a desperate attempt to break free.

"Old piece of shit!" Vox roared, his words dripping with venom as he punctuated them with a furious pound of his fist against the ground. Leaning up, he lunged forward, his hand shooting out to scratch at Alastor's eye with a scream of rage. "Radio's fucking dead!"

"You've got quite the fight in you, don't you?" Alastor's laughter echoed through the room as he jolted back from Vox's retaliatory strike.

With a casual flick of his hand, he wiped the crimson blood from his cheek, strands of his hair falling over the new scar that marred his face. "But I'm afraid spirit won't be enough to save your worthless life."

Alastor leaned down, his muscles tensing as his fist crashed into Vox's broken eye with a crack, causing the screen to fracture further. Lifting Vox by his collar, Alastor brought him closer to his face with a snarl.

"Radio killed the video star."

Alastor's tendrils coiled like vipers ready to strike, but before he could unleash them, a sudden crash of debris behind him jolted his attention. With a swift twist of his head, he peered over his shoulder.

Against the backdrop of the dark brick wall loomed a disheveled figure, her rosy cheeks and tousled hair framing her big, doll-like eyes. The shimmering of a necklace with a delicate rose pendant around her neck caught his attention, and in an instant, he recognized you.

Your hand pressed firmly against the wall for balance, while his shadow, William, enveloped your waist, supporting your weight. The fabric of your dress clung to your drenched skin, torn in parts, with one heel missing from your sprained foot. Streaks of makeup ran down your face, smudged by tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You sniffled, your face flushed with warmth as a burning pain spread to your throat, choking back every sob that threatened to escape.

"Al…"

Alastor didn't know what to do with himself.

Every muscle in his body tensed, locking him in place as if he were frozen in time. In his shock, Vox slipped from his grip, crashing to the ground in a heap of metallic clangs and crackling wires.

With cautious steps, he stepped forward, testing the waters, metaphorically and literally. To his surprise, there was no barrier, no force pushing him back, and no contract manifesting before him.

"Cher?" he called out, breathless.

The sobbing wail that escaped your lips was answer enough.

Heart pounding in his chest, Alastor rushed forward and caught you in a desperate hug. His arms enveloped your trembling form tightly, as if he could shield you from the world's horrors just by holding you close. You sobbed against him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body going limp like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. His hand flew up to cradle the back of your head, his touch both tender and urgent, his claws grazing your skin slightly in his desperation.

The smile on his face long dropped. His muscles tensed as he whispered your name over and over again like a mantra, each repetition a plea to whatever higher power might be listening.

For the first time in decades, Alastor felt fear grip his heart in its grimy claws. His eyes remained wide open, unblinking, as if he feared that closing them would make you vanish before his very eyes.

"Mon cœur," you heard the dark timbre in his voice, the faint crackle of radio static lingering in the air. Your husband drew his head back, and you winced at the loss of touch, but he immediately dove back in, pressing his lips against yours in a long overdue kiss. The taste of his metallic blood flooded your mouth, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Sighing against his lips, you tilted your head and pressed yourself further against him and Alastor grunted in response, his clawed hands mapping up the curve of your hips and moving up to your chest, pressing his palm flat against your heart to feel its steady rhythm. It beat for him, raced and throbbed because of him

You trembled beneath his touch, more tears slipping from your eyes, dribbling down your cheeks.

"That’s it, cher," he hushed. "My sweet girl. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be alright."

His hand reached out, cupping both of yours firmly, causing your rings to clink together. His thumb gently traced over the back of your right hand, caressing the golden band.

Alastor paused, his fingertips gliding over the unfamiliar texture of an engraving on the ring, a curious furrow creasing his brow as he moved back in to examine your hands. You hesitantly allowed his inspection, silently noting the subtle twitches on his blank expression.

Despite the tenderness of his touch, Alastor's face remained devoid of his usual smile. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, silently asking for an explanation, and you answered the unspoken question immediately.

"Vox."

With just one word, Alastor immediately understood. A fleeting smile graced his lips as he pressed a final tender kiss to both of your eyelids before his grin returned in full force. he snapped his head back to face Vox, holding you close in his arms, supporting your weight due to your broken ankle. "It seems we have some unfinished business."

"Yeah, we fucking do," a new voice interjected, causing both you and Alastor to whirl around.

Velvette and Valentino made their presence known as they stood stoically by the entrance, their disheveled appearances and visible injuries painting a picture of the struggle that had unfolded. Every bruise, every torn piece of clothing seemed to speak on its own of the relentless assault Alastor had unleashed upon the building. It was clear that they had endured their fair share of the battle.

"Come."

Velvette reached her hand out, and you felt an odd sensation of tugging at your neck. Suddenly, a hot pink collar materialized around you, and before you could react, you were forcefully pulled forward with a sharp yank. The sudden movement caused you to stumble several feet, your injured ankle buckling beneath you with a jolt. A scream ripped from your throat, the intensity of the pain washing your vision with a blaring flash of white.

Valentino immediately grabbed you by the hair, wrenching you up as though you were nothing more than a prize to be claimed. "You want her? Well, we're going to have to make a deal," he taunted.

Something primal gnawed and snarled at Alastor's insides. Even in the brief seconds since you were torn away from him, the ache for your presence already began to consume him, searing through his veins like a wildfire. It cut him deeper than any of the physical wounds he received. He had just gotten you, and now you were being torn away from him once more.

He wanted to scream, to tear at his own flesh in anguish, to rip through the barriers separating him from you until he could hold you close once more.

And if he had to paint the sidewalks of hell with the blood of these vermin to achieve that, then he would stop at nothing to see it through.

"There's not going to be a deal. I doubt anything you can offer would be of any value," Alastor's grin twisted into a snarl, his eyes flashing red. With a swift motion, he slammed his staff against the floor, unleashing a blare of crackling energy and swirling shadows into the air. "I'm going to end your fucking lives."

"Ay, calm down," Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with menace as he spread his wings, casting a shadow over the room. Dipping a hand into his coat pocket, he drew his gun and pressed it tight against your temple, the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine. Sweat beaded on your forehead as the searing burn of the barrel pressed against your skin, a silent threat hanging in the air.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Valentino's thumb run across your cheek, the demon cooing at you as if you were a child. Blinking away the tears, you opened your eyes to find Alastor's figure standing out vividly amidst the chaos, his red suit and hair glowing like fire against the darkness.

Like blood.

Alastor's entire body practically shook with anger, the shadows in the corners of the room writhing and twisting.

Their tainted blood should never dare to soil your skin, nor should the gaze of these wretches ever dare to tarnish your beautiful visage. In his eyes, you were pure and untainted, and above all, you belonged to him.

Only him.

"Now," Valentino chuckled, a twisted smile playing on his lips as he reached out to pet your head with a hand, his fingernails sharp and threatening. "It's really not worth the trouble. So why don't you stop this tantrum, grab your little bitch, and get out? She's not this fucking valuable to us."

"D-D-D-Don't!" Vox's voice crackled from his spot on the floor, his one functional arm trembling as he struggled to rise.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Velvette scowled, her nails digging into the fabric of her torn dress as she hurled your contract towards Alastor with a vicious flick of her wrist. "Do we have a fucking deal?"

Alastor's hand shot out, snatching the contract mid-air before it could reach the ground. Holding it aloft, he tore it apart with a savage rip, the sound of paper shredding echoing like thunder through the room.

"Deal."

Instantly, the chains restraining you dissolved, and Valentino moved away from you. You felt a gentle tug as Alastor's swirling shadows guided you towards him. His arm enveloped you protectively, pulling you close as if shielding you from any further harm. His wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on Velvette and Valentino, a silent warning in his stance.

"I'll make sure you regret ever crossing us," Alastor declared with a menacing growl, summoning a swirling portal of shadows behind him as he slowly backed away, pulling you along with him. Before departing, he deftly removed your engraved ring from your finger and tossed it in Vox's direction.

"Radio isn't dead," Alastor snarked as the shadowed portals began to envelop you both, their inky tendrils curling around you like a shroud, "but this broadcast is coming to an end."

With that, you and Alastor vanished into the swirling shadows, leaving the three figures standing amidst the aftermath.

The building lay in ruins, reduced to disrepair. Water trickled down from the shattered remnants of the aquarium, its glass now fractured and broken, mingling with the thick dust that hung in the air like a shroud. From top to bottom, no room was left untouched by the devastation wrought on by the Radio Demon.

Velvette stood rigid in the center of the room, her figure shadowed as she bore her intense gaze into Vox. The TV demon scoffed dismissively, his broken screen flickering erratically, casting disjointed shadows across the room.

"I'm killing her," Velvette declared.

"Who?" Vox croaked, doing his best to sit up as Valentino helped him to his feet.

Velvette clenched her teeth, her frustration boiling over as she stepped forward and forcefully slammed her heels down on Vox's legs, sending him slamming back down, the sound echoing in the room. She spat in his fractured screen, her voice dripping with venom.

"I'M FUCKING KILLING HER!"

.

"Don'tcha worry about a thing, sweetheart!" Mimzy chirped cheerfully, her voice ringing out above the din of the crowded bar. Balancing a huge stack of beer in her arms, she maneuvered skillfully through the maze of tables, dodging patrons and obstacles with ease. The dim lights of the bar reflected off the bottles, casting shimmering patterns across the worn wooden surface, while the faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air, mingling with chatter and laughter.

Arriving at the table, a group of men erupted in hollers and cheers. Mimzy giggled in response, her laughter joining the chorus of noise as she shot a playful wink in their direction. With a bit too much force, she shoved the tray onto the table, causing the overflowing glasses to slosh and liquor to spill onto the tabletop.

"Enjoy!"

With a toss of her hair, she sauntered away, her heels echoing against the wooden floorboards as she made her way towards the entrance. The club was delightfully full tonight, and Mimzy could practically taste the mouthwatering green of money already.

But just as she reached the doorway, a hand grabbed her, yanking her out into the darkness beyond. The blonde's cheery demeanor disappeared in an instant as she found herself shoved up against a nearby wall.

The cold grime and mysterious mold clinging to the brick surface sent a shiver down her spine, the dampness seeping through her clothes and chilling her to the bone. The dim light from the bar seemed to fade into obscurity as the darkness of the alley enveloped her, suffocating her senses. Panic surged within her as she struggled against her assailant.

"Hey! What gives—" Mimzy began, but her words caught in her throat as she realized she was face to face with Velvette. The overlord looked disoriented and disheveled in the dimly lit alleyway, her clothes torn and her hair in disarray. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now held a wild, frenzied glint.

"There you are," Velvette's grip on Mimzy's dress tightened, her nails digging deep into the fabric and piercing skin, sending a sharp twinge of pain through the blonde. "I've been looking for you."

The blonde recoiled as Velvette's claws trailed up her throat, leaving a trail of stinging scratches in their wake. The metallic smell of blood flooded her nose as one of Velvette's nails grazed over her skin, catching on the delicate chain of her necklace and tugging it slightly.

With a trembling voice, Mimzy managed to choke out, "Oh! W-What do you need me for, sugar?"

Velvette's lips curled into a sinister smile, the glint of her sharp teeth shining under the alley lights.

"Oh, just a little chat," she replied, her voice dripping with malice. "Aren't you curious about what's been happening in your absence? Some skeletons in a closet got dug up."

The blonde's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized the gig was up.

"I didn't—!" she started, but her protest was cut short by the sickening thud of Velvette's fist against the wall beside her. Cracks spiderwebbed across the brickwork, the crumbling debris cascading to the ground in a cloud of dust.

"Don't lie to me," Velvette hissed, as she leaned down to the blondes height, meeting her face to face. "You knew who she was. And you helped him."

"I-I didn't know," Mimzy lied straight through her teeth, trembling in her heels. "I swear, Velvette. I didn't know anything about his wife."

"Don't play dumb with me, bitch. You knew full well who she was," the overlord snarled.

With a derisive laugh, she threw her head back and added, "But you couldn't even keep it under wraps! You got fucking ratted out in less than 2 days!"

"No! No, I swear on my life, sugar!" Mimzy pleaded, her voice trembling as she shook her head, her golden curls bouncing around her shoulders. "I was just a stray bullet!"

But Velvette's expression remained cold and unforgiving, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You fucking liar," she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

A flash of silver caught Mimzy's eye, and she flinched as she saw the dagger in Velvette's hand. The cold metal glinted with a blue glow in the dim light of the alley, its edges sharp and sleek.

It was angelic iron, and the very sight of it sent bile rushing up her throat.

It hurt her eyes to look at the dagger, its presence filling her with a sense of dread she couldn't shake. But despite the fear coursing through her veins, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She was frozen in place, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

But then, there was a sudden blur of movement.

"Wait!"

A sharp, searing pain shot through Mimzy, causing her to gasp. The sensation of blood trickling down her skin sent waves of nausea through her, and she dry heaved, struggling to keep herself upright.

Her eyes remained locked on the smeared blood on the steel lodged in her, the sight both horrifying and mesmerizing. It was so revolting, so surreal, that she failed to suppress a shudder of dread as she stared at it, transfixed by the grim reality of her impending fate.

Coldness began to envelop her, seeping into her bones as the darkness closed in around her like a suffocating cloak. Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision as the edges of her consciousness blurred and faded. She felt herself slipping away, consumed by the shadows, as the alleyway swallowed her whole.

Velvette let the body drop, the dull thud echoing in the desolate alleyway. A twisted feeling of satisfaction flooded her veins, coursing through her with a sickening thrill.

The harsh glow of the streetlights cast eerie shadows across her features as she surveyed the aftermath of her actions. With a flick of her head, she turned away from the lifeless form, her cracked heels echoing against the cold pavement as she disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of crimson steps in her wake.

"And so it begins."

.

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Wimbledon

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: when George wants something, he always gets it. No matter how hard she’s trying to resist.

Warnings: some curse words; implied smut, but nothing extra steamy; mostly fluff and love; George being a cocky bastard; no use of y/n

A/N: I wrote this a while ago, so I did some proof reading, but it still can hold some mistakes, because English is not my first language. Enjoy it, babes!

I don’t own any images, they’re from Pinterest. Please don’t use my writings without my permission!

“If I get a pole, you’re gonna go to Wimbledon with me.” George smirked looking at her, and she rolled her eyes, not amused.

“Why would I want this?” She asked with arms crossed on her chest.

“Because you wouldn’t want me to tell Susie, that you’re flirting with Toto on daily basis.” George knew about the flirting and he also knew, that she wouldn’t want to destroy the Wolffs marriage.

Clearing her throat, she looked over the people around. “You wouldn’t do this. The last thing I want is to destroy people’s lives.”

“Then you’ll go with me to the Wimbledon if I win or not.” George smirked again knowing that she’s trapped in this.

“You’re an asshole.” She said feeling little embarrassed.

“But you like it, don’t you?” He said in low voice brushing past her getting himself prepared for race. Toto saw their interaction and was curious what left her in that shook state.

“Are you okay?” Toto’s voice interrupted her reel of thoughts as she put on her okay face again.

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. I need to get back to checking the car.” She avoided his eyes as she walked quickly towards the car looking over it.

Susie walked in to the garage, surprising everyone by her presence. George smirked, he was in the process of putting on his helmet, she was looking at him with stern look while Toto was greeting Susie as a good husband would do.

“The car is okay. I think today is a good day to get you to that pole.” After a while she came to George while writing something to her papers.

“I’m gonna do everything I can to get that. Wish me luck, princess.” He said as he hopped in the car.

She just smiled a little. Maybe she was attracted to his cocky persona. Maybe she wished deep down for him to get the pole to be with him at Wimbledon.

———

And that was it. They were sitting together at the royal booth along with other celebrities. Social media were already full of their photos together and she tried to put on her best smile. Wearing the silk creamy dress with cardigan over her shoulders, she screamed royalty along with him wearing striped dark blue blazer with white shirt underneath along with tie and white pants. Like they were born to be beside each other.

When she was focused on the game, George was watching her through his sunglasses. As the one of the players won the set, she gasped in excitement. Was it from the game or from the feeling of George’s hand on her bare knee?

She turned her look at him only to see his smirk plastered on his face as he tried to look invested at the game.

She let out a little huff, placing her hand on his, nonchalantly sneaking her fingers around his palm. He squeezed her fingers lightly.

“That game is pretty interesting, don’t you think?” She leaned closer to his shoulder, speaking in low voice. He felt her breath on his neck and it made him shiver a little.

“Yeah, very intense, I would say.” He said calmly with smirk. His hand on her knee moved a little up her thigh. She took in a sharp breath. Quickly she carefully looked around them, if someone seen what he’s doing. Her hand tried to get his hand away but it resulted only in his getting even higher moving her dress to reveal more of her skin.

She looked up at him in disbelief and he was already looking at her with smirk.

“What? I thought that you find this game interesting.” He said in amused tone.

“Are you trying to embarrass me? This is not appropriate.” She said nearly whispering.

George only chuckled, averting his gaze at the court as his hand moved back adjusting her dress. Then he placed his hand in her lap, finding hers and intertwining with it. She cleared her throat being slightly calm with the outcome.

After the game, they were up to meet a Novak Djokovic, George took many photos with the fans around as she watched it. She knew there was also a people snapping photos of her with him, already conspiring what they are.

Meeting with Novak was great, she already met with him a few times.

“So, you two together here at Wimbledon, that’s something.” Novak said amused. Oh no, he’s also the one to tease it, she was thinking.

“Yeah, I needed to get my girl into that nice dress when the only thing we wear is race suits or Mercedes merch. Also we’re fans of tennis so…” George chuckled as she looked at him in slight disbelief and Novak noticed.

“Oh, your girl. I didn’t know that you’re official. Took you long enough.” Novak grinned.

“We’re not-“ she tried to have a word in this, but was interrupted by George’s hand around her waist.

“We’re not used to all that attention, so we kept it a secret for a while, but I think the Wimbledon was a great chance to get into that spotlight, don’t you think love?” George smirked looking down at her, something loving in his eyes.

She felt trapped, but understood the assignment. “That’s true. We tried to be secret for so long, that we grew tired of it. It was really exhausting.”

“Congratulations. You two are a good match, I saw it coming.” Novak winked as he walked away to prepare for his game.

She parted from George quickly, going for the champagne from the nearest bar. He just followed her calmly, because there was no chance of her escaping him.

As she gulped a champagne, he was standing beside her, getting a cup with strawberries, she knew that it was his strange tradition, getting strawberries at the Wimbledon.

He slowly took a bite from one of the berries looking around them at other people.

“So, what if I don’t want to be your girl?” She said turning her body to face him.

He scoffed looking at her. “If you really didn’t want this, you’d be fighting like a lioness back there to assure Novak, that we’re not dating. You wouldn’t be standing here with me, you wouldn’t want to be near me. So. Do you want to be my girl?” George ate another of the berries, there was something about the way he just bit into them that made her mind go wild.

“Are you serious or is it one of your games? Because I’m not some play toy, Russell.” She said in serious tone. Ah, there it was, her calling him by his surname. It was always a turn on for him.

“I’m dead serious, princess.” He grabbed another berry and gestured for her to open her mouth and she obeyed, still holding his gaze. As he was about to place a berry in her mouth, he quickly put it away and kissed her lips instead. She gasped surprised, but quickly gave into the kiss, her hands sneaking around his neck. He smirked into the kiss, feeling of her soft lips shook his entire body. She tried to deepen the kiss, her tongue softly licking on his lips, he tasted like strawberry.

They parted after a while, her hands placed on his chest to steady her in her place as his rested at her hips.

“You really are unbelievable, Russell.” She chuckled.

“If you call me Russell one more time, I’m not gonna last to the hotel room.” He said with dark gaze.

“We wouldn’t want that, right, Russell?” She leaned closer to him just for whisper into his ear with chuckle.

That was the last straw. In one hand, he held the cup with strawberries, and in another her hand as he guided them through the crowd to the parking lot, where the driver was waiting for them. When they got to the car, George took off his blazer like a gentleman, pulled off his tie, navigating the driver to their hotel. Then he averted his attention to her, getting strawberry into his hand and then to her mouth. She took it in her mouth, chewing and finally gulping. With that his lips was on hers for another round of kissing. This time it was passionate, wild and sweet. His hand on her neck, steadying her in place as she was holding him by his upper arm.

“Oh, George, you’re… really something.” She said in between the kisses when she tried to catch her breath.

“Wait until we get to the hotel. You’re gonna be more surprised.” He whispered as he bit on her lower lip.

———

The clock hit midnight, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her body wrapped in the sheets as George was getting her a glass of water. He sat beside her, watching how she downed the whole glass.

“You’re a beast, George.” She exhaled with chuckle, her face showing how she’s tired from their evening activities.

“I didn’t expect you being this wild. I clearly underestimated you.” He chuckled jokingly.

“So. Are we a thing or is this some friends with benefits kind of stuff?” She looked at him with serious look.

George retrieved the glass from her hand, putting it down on the bedside table. Then he cupped her face with his hands.

“I told you already, that you’re my girl. I would scream it to the whole world, if I could. This is not some one time thing, I really want to cherish you, take care of you, love you. Because you mean so much to me, you can’t even imagine.” His eyes were full of love, he was truly mesmerised by her.

She was ready to melt on the spot from his words.

“Beside all the teasing and banter we had to this day, I had a crush on you since you were racing for the Williams. But as time progressed I thought that you’re just cocky asshole, who wouldn’t even talk to me. And then you got to Mercedes and my head was spinning every time I needed to talk to you. That’s why I started to flirt with Toto, to clear my head and get some fun. From my side it was harmless, but I think you stepped in in right time, because he seemed to take the flirting on another level.” She ran her hand through her hair with sigh.

“You don’t need to worry now about Toto. I knew that you would never want to hurt Susie, I just wanted to poke that feelings in you, to get them to the light. And it worked.” He smirked.

“I’m so happy you did it. My heart is fluttering right now.” she chuckled leaning against his shoulder. He pulled her closer, kissing her temple.

“I was actually taken aback by you from the moment I saw you around the paddock. But I was so young and you always had that unavailable face.”

“That’s my mask to unwanted attention.” She chuckled.

“We need to get to Hungary in the morning. It’s the media day, would you like to fly with me or by yourself?” He teased her.

“You’re already trying to get rid of me this soon. Shame on you, Russell.”

“You know what it’s doing to me, you calling me that.”

———

Media day went pretty well, all eyes and cameras were on them, as they tried to keep their composure. She was stuck in the garage, preparing George’s car for the practice session, and George was sitting with the press, smiling and talking like he usually did.

“So, you and George, huh?” Toto stood beside her looking over the car casually.

“Wha- Yeah.” She was little startled by his sudden presence but she kept it cool.

“I didn’t know that you’re a thing.” Toto said a little saddened?

I didn’t know either, but here we are, she thought.

“It may seem confusing, yeah.” She chuckled while writing something to the data sheet.

“I thought that we… You know.” He leaned closer.

She took in the sharp breath pointing her pen to him, looking serious. “As much as it was flattering to talk with you, you have a family, a wife. We can’t talk like we used to. I’m sorry I let you misunderstood the situation.”

In that moment George appeared at the entrance of the garage seeing how she pointed her pen towards Toto, who looked at her with furrowed brows.

“Hey, baby.” George walked to them, standing beside her, kissing her temple, which caused her to smile happily. Toto saw that and his face softened a little.

“You’re really a good match, I see it now. But don’t let your personal life into work. You know I’m strictly against that.” Toto said with slight smile and went after other teammates.

She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“What did he want?” George asked with concern.

“He was surprised that we’re together and that he thought me and him are something more. I reminded him, that he has a wife and family.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m so proud of you.” He said with a teasing smirk.

She rolled her eyes at him.

[cromulentreader]

Isaac Newton after watching an apple fall: Why did the apple fall?

Jude Duarte after watching an apple fall: Only seven royal revels ago, did I see Cardan throwing an apple up in the air and catching it. When he finally dignified the apple with a bite he held it elegantly with his long bejewelled fingers. His shimmery golden powderred eyes found mine, as the corners of his red lips curled into a cruel smile. He dented the apple aggressively, juices dripping from his mouth to the blue silk shirt with ridiculous ruffles, not missing his overly exposed chest on the way down. Refusing to look away from his gaze full of disdain I wondered if he was pondering shredding my mortal throat if not for Madoc’s protection. He hates me enough to do it. Just as much as I hate him.

[somewhereincairparavel]

What would the seven wear? - Fashion Style analysis ( HOO Girls Ver.)

as a kid I used to want to be a fashion designer so making this post healed my inner child <3 enjoy ~

HAZEL LEVESQUE - okay okay omgg this girl would have the best fashion sense out of all of them (imo) because she is influenced by SO many fashion aesthetics, like her style would be vintage and modern at the same time! I feel like she would love long flowy dresses because it was the most common clothing women would wear in the 40's, she would love floral patterns sm because they are so cheery and it lightens her mood, this would bring out her "adorable" style more. also. JACKETS. this girl is OBESSED with jackets and cardigans, particularly in the colors brown and black. Overall her style is a mix of cheery, cute but she has that pluto edge to her style aswell with the jackets.

PIPER MCLEAN- honestly as much as she would hate to admit it, i feel like Piper would LOVE pink, pale pink takes up the majority of her palette. Her style is very youthful and it's a mix of rebel indie kid and soft coquette core. LOVES LOVES LOVES denim shorts, they are like a must in her wardrobe. Also, She loves jewelry, whether it be tassel earrings, beady bracelets and necklaces, rings etc. like she defo cares more about accessorizing than the actual clothing. she wears baggy white shirts a lot for some reason, but it suits her so well. Crop tops are a must, specifically pink or purple ones with a cute image on it, remember she wore a hello kitty crop top? yeah like that. I feel like her style is the most fresh and childlike without it being over the top, it is so cute. i love her style sm.

ANNABETH CHASE- Annabeth's style is super elegant tbh, she LOVES wearing grey, orange and white imo, also, i feel like she LOVES light blue/dark blue jeans. Ofc Annabeth loves caps, its like super dear to her, she doesn't have a specific "style" she just loves changing it a lot. Annabeth LOVES long dresses especially if they are white/warm brown. Her style is just super chill and modern. Percy is down bad when she wears baggy shirts tho cuz she slays so hard in them Annabeth loves knitted lace jackets because it gives off very homely vibes. Overall her style is super authentic and fresh tbh.

REYNA AVILA RAMIREZ ARELLANO- i have a feeling that reyna would love dressing up. it brings her comfort, she was the hairdresser in circe's island after all, Reyna is just straight up royal core. she likes wearing corsets, and silk gowns, Her color palette is gold, black, white, violet, and dark maroon tbh. Reyna LOVES large gold earrings that just dangle y'know? it makes her feel and look regal. She also loves circlets that you wear on the head. uggh she has got that roman classiness y'know. Super fancy and enjoys wearing long robes and skirts, i love my fancy shmancy queen <3

[chopinski-official]

Chopin’s Wardrobe — What I Wore

Today I would like to share with you all the manner in which I dressed. It is interesting to see how fashions have changed over the course of 200 years. Some might say style has slipped… Anyway! Here are some details on my wardrobe:

My Suit

I liked to wear sober colours: black, mauve, blue… and especially grey. For instance, I once asked Julian Fontana to have made for me a pair of dark grey winter trousers, without a belt, which were smooth and stretchy.

Grey trousers, 1840.

At a concert in Glasgow, a pupil recalled that I had worn a pale grey suit. Which included a frock-coat of identical tint and texture.

(Left) Frock coat, 1840. (Right) Frock coat and trousers, 1852.

Under my suit, I would wear a modest waistcoat in a fabric such as a black velvet with a tiny inconspicuous pattern, something very quiet and elegant.

(Left) Provençal waistcoat with mauve silk seedlings, 1860. (Centre) Waistcoat with floral pattern, 1838. (Right) Striped waistcoat, 1850-70.

My preferred shirts were ones made of cambric or batiste fabric. They had small mother-of-pearl buttons, two breast-pockets, and could be bought for 14 francs.

For my cravat, I would wear muted colours during the day. Usually, I would tie it in a bow. However, when performing in a formal setting, I would wear a broad, white silk cravat.

Winter Clothes

To keep warm in the winter months, I wore a thick redingote or over-frock coat, as can be seen in this daguerreotype of myself from 1849.

(Left) Wool coat, 1840. (Centre) Winter costume. Paul Gavarni, 1846. (Right) Frock coat. Wool, trimmed with silk velvet. 1820-1830.

At one point, my sickness rendered me so sensitive to the cold that I wore three flannels under my trousers.

Underpants, mid-nineteenth century.

Accessories

Because I had small feet, I often found shoes uncomfortable. I mourned the day, Moos, my shoemaker died. No one made my shoes like him.

1840s men’s shoes.

On my head, I would always have my hair curled, and, when outdoors, I would wear a top hat. I bought my hats from Dupont’s because he made them lightweight. They were originally made of beaver felt but, by my later life, they were made of silk plush.

(Left) Top hat made of beaver felt, 1830s. (Right) Top hat made of silk plush, 1850.

My outfit was only complete with white gloves. Without them one would not be in good taste. Kid gloves were common, but I also liked wearing Swedish (suede) gloves. Always in white.

Evening gloves. 1848.

A pocket handkerchief was also a necessity.

Finally, I had a miniature pocket watch. According to one concert-goer, it was “In shape no bigger than an agate stone, on the forefinger of an alderman.”

Where did I shop?

I bought my top hats from Dupont’s at No 8, rue de Montblanc (the previous name for rue de la Chaussée-d’Antin). I lived on this street myself, both at No 5 (1833-36) and No 38 (1836-38).

(Left) 9, rue de la Chaussée-d’Antin, the fabric shop across the street from the milliners, 1840s. (Right) Rue de la Chaussée-d’Antin, 1858-1878.

My shirts came from No 37 in the Palais Royal galleries, on the theatre side.

(Left) View of the Galerie d'Orléans in the Palais-Royal, 1838. (Right) Jardin du Palais Royal, 1840s.

The white suede gloves could be acquired from À la Corbeille de Fleurs, Houbigant’s shop at No 19, rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré.

(Left) The corner of rue du Faubourg-Saint-Honoré, 1820-1840. (Right) Faubourg Saint-Honoré, 1814-1885.

There were also many shops along the Grands Boulevards. This is where I got my trousers made by my tailor, Dautremont.

(Left) Boulevard de la Madeleine, 1799. (Right) Boulevard des Capucines, 1830.

Boulevard des Italiens, 1840s (left), 1835 (right).

So…

As you can see, in spite my reputation for being picky and perhaps… prissy, with regard to fashion and furniture, I was far from what was called a dandy. My dress was never over-the-top and nor did I put on the airs that were so pertinent to dandyism. My desire, if anything, was to be refined and respectable. Although, perhaps my efforts to do so were occasionally cause for frenzy or distraction.

[caashmoneynae]

MY MASTERLIST. -> click here for more.

❦

HALFTIME.

JORDAN POOLE x BLACK!FEM!OC

SUMMARY: in which Teja goes to one of Jordan's games and ends up engaging in sexual activity in the locker room. ✨

❦

"𝗜 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧'𝗦 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬!" Teja exclaimed, a smile on her face, as her dark brown eyes sparkled at seeing Jordan make a three-pointer and she clapped her hands loudly, the area she was sitting in erupting in loud cheers while she watched her man and his team travel down the basketball court.

(A/N: pronounced 'TEA•JUH')

"let's go, Poole!" Monaé, Teja's best friend, exclaimed, hyping the man up and boosting his ego, as she and Teja smiled in sync and they watched their team play defense.

the teams were in the second quarter and there were only 5 minutes left on the clock. the Golden State Warriors had 56 points — leveling up from 53 due to Jordan's shot — and their opponent had 53 points, diminishing their tied score and causing both crowds of fans to get antsy since halftime was coming up and they wanted their team to be in the lead.

Teja and Monaé both dressed in Golden State Warriors apparel, but Teja's was more customized because Monaé did it for her. her shirt was long-sleeved and royal blue and on the left side of her chest, it said "Basketball Girlfriend" as "Warriors" sat on her left sleeve. on the back of the shirt, it read "Poole Belongs to Me" and under it read his jersey number as all of the words were spelled in gold letters since royal blue and gold were two of the team's colors.

her brown legs adorned black jeans and her feet held white Air Force 1's as a gold anklet dangled around her left ankle and gold hoops sat in both of her ears, a gold 'T' necklace sitting comfortably around her neck while a gold necklace that read 'Jordan' in cursive sat there as well. her black silk-pressed hair was side-parted and swooped to the right side as a few bobby-pins sat in her head to make sure her swoop stayed in place, her lips glossy with Vaseline and adding a 'pop' to her appearance.

it was clear as day that Teja knew she looked good, and though she preferred silver jewelry over gold, she always made sure to wear some gold to all of Jordan's games.

hearing cheers, Teja's eyes averted to the clock, and she realized that not only was there one minute left before halftime, but the other team had tied with the Warriors for a second time. she looked back at the court and her gaze intensified as she lightly chewed on her bottom lip, the time running down quickly while the Warriors traveled down the court with the ball.

Draymond Green passed the ball to Stephen Curry, and Stephen passed the ball to Gary Payton II, and Gary passed the ball to Jordan, who passed the ball to Andrew Wiggins. it seemed as if the time was only winding down quicker and quicker, and this caused Teja's palms to grow sweaty while her eyes flickered between the clock and the court.

as if on cue with the clock hitting 10 seconds, Andrew began making his way to the basket, swiftly dodging the opponents that tried to stop him while his teammates played excellent defense, as he suddenly jumped up and dunked on the men below him, the ball going through the net with ease and the buzzer sounding out into the lively court while Teja and the other fans began cheering.

"can't wait 'til our boys take home that dub, Mo'!" Teja smiled, the two women standing up from the stands, as Monaé smiled with her and the two began to walk down the staircase behind the other fans.

"girl, who you tellin'? one more win and we goin' to the playoffs, baby! ooh, i can't wait to celebrate!" Monaé smiled, holding onto Teja's hand so they wouldn't be separated by the large crowd, as Teja looked up at the scoreboard and read '58-56', making her smile slightly widen while she looked back at Monaé and the duo made their way to the concession stands.

"oh yeah, we fa'sho' gon' celebrate this win. and then after that... i'ma give my baby his reward, ya feel me?" Teja smirked, playfully raising her brows, as Monaé laughed and shook her head, playfully shoving the woman's shoulder while Teja laughed.

"T, you a trip! but i feel you, girl, no doubt." Monaé smirked as Teja stuck out her tongue and the two did their handshake, their pinkies locking at the end while they giggled.

"ooh, hold up. Mo', hold my purse, i'ma go to the bathroom real quick," Teja announced, taking her phone out of it and putting it in her pocket, "i'll be right back before halftime ends."

"you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Monaé asked, grabbing the purse from the woman's hand and slinging it over her shoulder.

"nah, you good, 'Naé, i'on want you to lose your place in line," Teja assured, looking down and checking the time on her Apple Watch, as she looked up at Monaé and gave her a small smile in reassurance, "make sure to buy me some nachos, mama! you know how i like 'em."

"will do, Mrs. Poole!" Monaé smirked playfully, watching Teja jog away from her, as Teja laughed and shook her head, a wide smile on her face while she made her way to the restrooms.

the farther Teja was from the crowd of fans, the more the loud sounds of them began to turn into low murmurs, and she tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans as she made her way to the woman's bathroom. before she could walk into the restroom, however, a large hand grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into a room, making her squeal out of surprise, as she watched the door to the room shut and she saw lockers in the corner of her eye, making her realize she had been yanked into the Golden State Warriors's locker room by no one other than Jordan.

"you know i hate when you do that shit!" Teja exclaimed, punching the man in his arm, as Jordan laughed at her and pressed her up against the door, kissing her lips while he sneakily locked the door.

"you still love me tho', girl," Jordan chuckled, a small smirk on his face, as he eyed her down and ran his tongue over his plump lips at the sight of her attire, "mm, you look good. who you lookin' this good for, baby?"

"nobody but my man," Teja smiled, cupping his face in her hands, as she placed a few pecks on his lips before giggling, "now why you bring me in here? you got 8 minutes left before it's time for you to go back on the court."

Jordan didn't respond to her question. instead, his smirk only widened, and his nonverbal answer immediately clicked in Teja's mind as to why she was pulled into the room so abruptly.

"uh-uh, Jordan, i know you not tryna'..." Teja trailed off, raising a brow, as Jordan chuckled softly and his brown eyes looked into her dark brown ones while lust started to cloud his pupils.

"oh, i'm definitely tryna'..." Jordan smirked, mimicking her past statement, as he let out a low chuckle of mischievousness before kissing her lips, the kiss oozing with passion and causing Teja to procrastinate on kissing him back while his hand latched around her neck and pulled her closer to him.

falling into the temptation rather quickly, Teja kissed Jordan back and she soon melted into the kiss, making his lips curl up into a smirk, as he let go of her neck and tugged at the waistband of her jeans, pulling away from the kiss and trailing wet kisses down her jawline while Teja's breathing turned uneven due to rising arousal.

"you movin' real slow like we ain't got a lot of time in here." Teja breathily mumbled, kicking off her shoes, as Jordan chuckled softly and his hand slipped into her pants before he swiftly removed them and made sure her phone remained unharmed.

"i know what i'm doin', mama," Jordan muttered, his voice slightly deeper due to sexual desire running through his veins, as goosebumps spread across Teja's skin at the tone of his voice and Jordan noticed this, a smirk crossing his lips while he placed a few wet kisses on her neck before tapping her left thigh, "jump."

wrapping her legs around his waist, the two kissed for a final time before Jordan hoisted her up onto his shoulders, carefully lifting her smooth legs onto his muscular biceps while she lightly scooted up on the smooth wooden door so her hips would be level with his face.

it was definitely safe to say that this wasn't their first rodeo.

"pull these to the side for me, princess." Jordan spoke lowly, his eyes flickering up to her, as Teja bit down on her bottom lip and gripped the right side of her panties, pulling them to the side and revealing her soaked sex while Jordan licked his lips at the sight.

not wasting any of the short time they had left, Jordan immediately dug in, his pink lips wrapping around her swollen bud while he gently sucked at it like he was a baby and her clitoris was his pacifier. moaning softly, Teja gently laid her head against the door as she ran her fingers over Jordan's head, her brows slightly furrowing while his hands squeezed her thick brown thighs.

"sh-shit, Jordan," Teja moaned airily, her brows slightly furrowing, as she felt his tongue slither and wiggle inside her folds and her hips lightly jolted against his face, "mmh, eat this pussy, Daddy... eat your pussy just like that, baby."

"like that, mama? hm?" Jordan hummed against her, sending vibrations through her core and up her spine, as Teja shakily whimpered and her back slightly arched off of the door, her grip on her underwear tightening while she rubbed the nape of her boyfriend's neck.

"yessss— o-oh, shit!" Teja gasped, feeling his middle and ring fingers slide inside her walls, as her palm gently smacked the door she was pinned up against and her eyes rolled back, feeling soft kisses be littered around both of her inner thighs while her juices began to drip down Jordan's hand.

moans, whimpers, and whines fell from Teja's two-toned lips and sounds of her gushiness aired out into the room as her eyes fluttered closed and her hand moved from the nape of his neck to his hand on her right thigh, gently squeezing it while she shakily exhaled. Jordan's fingers thrusted inside of the woman at a slow and semi-deep pace and he laid kisses around her vagina, occasionally laying some on her clit and causing her hips to jolt.

suddenly, Jordan's fingers curved, and Teja's whole body jolted as tingles almost immediately dispersed through her body, her grip on Jordan's hand tightening while she gasped loudly.

"oh, fuck, t-that's my spot!" Teja cried, feeling Jordan's hand slither underneath her shirt, as he pulled one of her breasts out of her bra and kneaded it in his palm, his index and middle fingers fiddling with and tugging at her sensitive nipple and earning feeble whimpers from her parted lips.

"right there? huh, pretty?" Jordan cooed, his eyes staring up at her with a combination of lust and mischief, as Teja vigorously nodded her head and her eyes rolled back, "ooh, you 'bout to cum, ain't you, baby? i feel that pretty pussy clenching, mama, you 'bout to wet my face up?"

Teja felt the pace of his fingers start to pick up and each thrust had him poking at her g-spot as her stomach muscles tightened and she let go of Jordan's hand, her hand sliding underneath her shirt and gripping her second breast out of intense pleasure while she practically gripped the life out of her underwear. her thighs began to tremble and her lips rested agape as Teja suddenly gasped and her stomach caved in, her body jolting and her brows furrowing while her legs locked on the man's shoulders.

"y-yes! oh, yes, yes, yes— fuck, baby, i-i'm cummin'!" Teja whined loudly, her hips grinding against his fingers, as Jordan laid his tongue out flatly and caught her nectar atop his pink muscle, causing a shiver to go down Teja's spine while she rode out her orgasm.

"there you go, beautiful. ride that nut out." Jordan cooed, a small smirk on his face, as he licked his lips and gently pulled his fingers out of her erogenous walls, slipping them in his mouth while he sucked her juices off of them and looked up at her.

sighing softly, Teja raised her head from the door and looked down at Jordan, noticing the smirk on his face instantly, as she let out a soft laugh and shook her head, removing both of their hands from underneath her shirt while she put her breast back into its cup.

"we ain't never doin' this again." Teja chuckled softly, letting go of her underwear, as Jordan chuckled and lowered her legs back down to his waist, her legs loosely locking around his hips while he kissed her lips.

"You know damn well this shit gon' happen again, T."

[the-grey-hunt]

i was encouraged for two seconds and now you all get to look at medieval ghost trick—heavily based on the medieval AU by @theriveroflight!

MORE WORDS BELOW THE CUT:

im gonna talk about each outfit specifically because again, someone encouraged me for 2 seconds and i love talking

YOMIEL (and SISSEL): Sissel gets a little medieval hood instead of a plain kerchief, because it's adorable.

Yomiel's outfit is based on this gentleman here, but with a longer doublet to mimic his suit jacket. His red clothes are plain and a common color, but the richness of the color (from an early dye batch) indicates that it's probably a bit expensive, and the rich black collar and blindfold (because sunglasses didn't exist) are also some flashy signifiers of wealth.

The white leather of his shoes and belt would also be pretty showy (even if those white shoes are a bad idea in medieval mud...). I couldn't figure out a way to make the hat work, but I kinda wanted to.

CABANELA: As a knight, Cabanela not only has some flashy white leather for his belt, but he's wearing a full-length chainmail shirt (expensive!) AND a deep black skirted tunic—lots of fabric that would take LOTS of expensive dye. This is conspicuous consumption to the max, showing off his status (indicated by his silver chain and pendant) as a royal knight.

His sword doesn't quite seem to match...as it's not his, but Jowd's old sword, still bearing Jowd's family's crest. Cabanela's outfit is taken from these two 12th/13th c. knights.

LYNNE: A younger and less established knight than Cabanela, she's wearing more common colors (red, blue, yellow) from cheaper dyes, and her armor is based on this 9th/10th c. fellow. Older gear and much less flashy—she has plain brown leather accessories—but she bears the green ribbon favor that shows her commitment to Jowd's case.

Plus, her hose (pants) are a pretty deep blue and her armor is polished. She's taking good care of her handmedown gear and has made a few splurges on clothes! Her sword may not have a crest, but there's still a few jewels set in the hilt, befitting a royal knight.

KAMILA (and MISSILE):

Kamila as a young noblewoman is referenced from this statue of a French queen. Her veil and circlet are typical for medieval women—most wore some kind of hair covering—but her circlet is metal, while most ordinary people would use fabric. I'm very proud of how nice all the gilding turned out. The power of shading!

Her little purse is not only expensive, but a royal favor—it's silk dyed Tyrian purple, a color that was often legally banned for anyone not in the royal family. I imagine it's a gift from her friend, Princess Amelie! Her clothes are pretty plain, light colors for a noblewoman, which is probably a matter of taste and/or youth.

The pose she's in, holding her cloak fastening down so it doesn't pull against her throat, is very common in medieval artwork of the period where this type of sash fastening was common.

Missile is Missile. you can't improve on perfection XD. I have given him a green collar, in a style to match Kamila's fancy gilt belt.

JOWD:

Jowd is dressed in his "prison clothes", this rough brown friar's robe and rope belt that I copied the pose from as well. However, being brought back onto the case as a knight, he's recovered his old green "coat", a very nice garment called a gardcorps. It's a simple green, not too expensive, but it's lined in a contrasting white, showing the care put into its make.

I switched the opening on his gardcorps to the front, rather than the side as in the original illustration, so that the rope belt would be visible because I really liked the belt. It's got most of the "penitent" vibes I was trying to give Jowd. Also, like the friar, he is barefoot (prison does not give one a big clothes budget).

The background shows the city, like the original green-monochrome city skyline from the game's promo images. This city, however, has fewer and smaller lights, indicating the palace and the castle wall—and over the sea, the Viking longships of Sith's country are swarming in! (it's explicitly not longships in the fic I reference, but the Vikings are just too suitable a reference)

[jerirose]

Hey you.

Alt ver. and image description under the cut

Twitter | Instagram [Image Description]

A digital realism painting of Hwang Hyunjin from Stray Kids from just below the bust up. Hyunjin is standing sideways, right of the image, leaning slightly back into frame. He has his hand raised to his mouth, pressed against his lips. Hyunjin is wearing a navy blue silk shirt, that sheens in the light. He has several piercings, all silver; two in his ear, a ring in the upper cartilage, a stud in the lobe, an eyebrow piercing and a small septum ring. His eyes dark and looking towards the viewer, his cheeks flush with a rosy blush and glowing star freckles. Hyunjin's hair is dark brown and slicked back with gel, with some strands falling down onto his face. The background royal blue, lighter around his head and getting darker, there's a harsh shadow peaking from behind him. There are 5 stars in front of his right arm and two near his left hand, these stars are drawn roughly in white with different shades of blue scribbled inside them. In the ALT image below the cut, there are no stars.

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter Four

Series Masterlist

Cw: None

The day he had started to dread was upon him, the day he and his family would visit the Court of Nightmares, he had no idea what he was to expect in Hewn City, the home to the horrible folks who loved being there.

Nyx sat up in his bed, removing his covers and looking out to the darkness of the Night Court, his room in the Riverhouse was gigantic, beautiful and every inch of it held a homey warmth. It was a massive expanse filled with rich hues of purple and blue, glittery shimmer on the room's roof, mimicking the night sky outside, painted by her mother when he was just a babe, preserved in his ceiling forever.

He slipped off from his bed, a large window overlooks the city below, casting a soft glow of moonlight onto the plush carpet beneath his feet, he groaned as he stretched his wings behind his back, letting them flex, he curled his wings around himself to shield the expansion of his chest from the cold air in his room.

His bedroom had its walls adorned with paintings depicting different landscapes and mythical creatures from various cultures. There was also a grand canopy bed draped in luxurious silk sheets that matched perfectly with the room, royal blues and purples with silver accents. On one side stood a full-length mirror framed elegantly in gold leaf while opposite to this stood another door leading further into the house.

In front of the window was a sitting area furnished comfortably with couches covered in velvet fabric and scattered throw pillows embroidered intricately in black threadwork patterns reminiscent of stars against night skies. Atop an ornate mahogany table sat several books about astronomy and mythology and sketches depicting various celestial bodies and creatures from folklore.

Nyx gazed out at the shadowed expanse of the Night Court beyond his window as he walked into the balcony, faerie lights lighting up The Rainbow and the streets leading to it, the Sidra rippling gently under the moonlight filtering through the beautiful city. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he contemplated the unsettling encounter that awaited him and his family later that morning. He had heard nothing but the worst of Kier and the people like him who resided there.

As Nyx stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air enveloped him, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming jasmine and the distant aroma of the Sidra river. The faerie lights lining the streets cast an ethereal glow over the city, making it seem almost magical despite the ominous tales surrounding the Night Court. The gentle lapping of the water against the riverbank created a soothing melody that contrasted sharply with the unease churning in Nyx's stomach.

His skin glowed with a natural luminescence, highlighting the intricate tattoos that snaked across his shoulders and arms, telling tales quite similar to what his father and uncles had experienced. Each line and curve of the markings added depth to his already imposing physique.

His wings, folded neatly against his back, shimmered subtly under the faerie lights illuminating the balcony. They were large and powerful, the leathery texture of them not hard to see with how polished they were.

As he pondered the unknown terrors of Hewn City, Nyx's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his mother's soft voice calling up from downstairs, making him lean over the balcony to see her. "Nyx, dear! We have a big day ahead of us, come have something to eat."

"Coming, Ma!" With a heavy sigh, Nyx reluctantly pulled himself away from watching the sun rise in the Night Court over the Illyrian mountains and threw on a shirt.

Diving from the balcony, wings spread completely to land headfirst in the dining room. "Mornin'."

"Cauldron, Nyx!" Mor yelped as Nyx appeared in front of his aunt, his uncle Azriel's shadows hiding him well, the male in question was watching in amusement, taking a finger-full from a bowl of melted chocolate she would be adding to some pastries. "Get back here you horrible child!"

"But I'm such an innocent babe," Nyx pouted and made a run for it around the room as he licked his fingers clean, his mother and father laughing at Mor throwing her apron at his face then glaring at the couple, while Cassian carried Nesta bridal style to another of the little chaoses Nyx had been causing since before he was born.

After breakfast, the sun had risen up, and Nyx stood outside his giant wardrobe, thinking about what to wear, he certainly didn't want to be too comfortable.

Nyx opened the massive wardrobe doors, revealing rows upon rows of clothing tailored specifically for his physique. Leathers of armour designed to accommodate his wings, tunics suited for nothing less than the Heir of Night, and trousers reinforced with magic to withstand the flexibility he needed to move and fight.

He scanned the options, and finally, after much deliberation, he settled on a set of dark grey leather breeches that hugged his muscular legs tightly. Over this, he donned a snug vest of Illyrian leathers that did little to hide the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen through the fabric.

A belt adorned with an intricate pattern encircled his waist, holding up both his trousers and a pair of knee-high boots crafted from supple black leather, on the leathers of the back of his hands sat two twin black Siphons. They were symbols of his lineage and his heritage, the power of distruction.

He heard a knock on his door and made his way to open it, seeing his father outside, "Da?"

"No." Rhysand said instantly seeing Nyx's attire, the Illyrian leathers, the Siphon, "You're not wearing that."

Nyx crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "It’s appropriate for the place, is it not?"

"I know that look," Rhysand muttered under his breath, stepping past his son and into the room. His gaze swept over Nyx's outfit critically before landing on the siphons etched into the leather at the back of his hand. Rhysand sighed heavily, running a hand through his onxy hair. "But you're my heir, not my warrior."

"You’re going to be meeting some very important people today, Nyx. You need to make a good impression," He explained patiently.

Rhysand went through Nyx's clothes and pulled out a fitted black tunic with intricate silver embroidery at the collar and hem. The ensemble struck a balance between practicality and elegance, suitable for the formal yet unpredictable nature of the occasion ahead.

Nyx watched his father's actions silently, though inwardly he was bristling at being treated like a child. Still, he knew better than to argue further, especially when it came to matters of etiquette and presentation. He let out a sigh of resignation as he allowed his father to give him a change to a more appropriate attire.

He selected a pair of knee-high black leather boots with silver buckles and fastened them securely to his legs. He then donned a wide belt adorned with a silver buckle in the shape of a crescent moon.

The fitted black tunic felt strange against his skin at first, the silver embroidery at the collar and hem added an elegant touch without detracting from the overall simplicity of the outfit. His wings melting into himself, not suited for the tunic he wore before slipping his feet into the knee-high boots with silver buckles.

Rhysand watched his son, dressed in clothes appropriate for an Heir, and gave him a smile, "Now you look like the Heir, remember, the people in the Court of Nightmares will be expecting you, you can not show them any weakness."

Nyx nodded, with a deep breath, his features sharpened, his eyes void of emotion as Rhysand motioned to his door, just as cold, "Come now, your mother is waiting."

The moment Nyx stepped foot into the Court of Nightmares, he was immediately struck by the biting cold that seeped into his bones. It was as if the very essence of the realm itself was designed to chill one to the marrow. The air was heavy with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional creak of ancient stone beneath their feet as they navigated the twisting corridors.

Glowing orbs of an unearthly blue hue, suspended mid-air by magic, provided the only illumination, casting an otherworldly pallor across the scene. The walls, constructed from a labyrinthine network of obsidian and jet-black marble, seemed to absorb what little light managed to penetrate, leaving everything shrouded in an impenetrable darkness that pressed in from all sides.

As Nyx followed his family deeper into the Court of Nightmares, they approached the imposing gates that marked the entrance to the castle. Carved from a single block of black stone, the massive doors depicted a scene of primordial chaos, great, scaled beasts coiled together in a nest of claws and fangs, locked in a perpetual cycle of combat. The creatures appeared to be devouring each other even as they slept, their forms blurring together in a macabre dance of death.

Yet, amidst this tableau of darkness and destruction, there was an unexpected beauty. Vines of jasmine and moonflowers wound their way through the coils of the beasts, their delicate petals glowing softly in the dim light.

His aunt Morrigan entered first, the throne room falling silent, his uncles and aunt Nesta, all of them had a coldness that he could feel in his bones, he'd be with his parents, with a deep breath he walked by his father's side, both of his parents had a crown made of starts on their heads, his father's features were distant, like he was a different person, like his mother was too.

Nyx's heart pounded in his chest as he followed his parents into the grand throne room. His gaze darted around, taking in every detail of the courtiers gathered there. Despite the palpable tension hanging in the air, he noticed a certain kind of reverence in their demeanour towards his parents, a respect born out of fear.

Morrigan, clad in a gown of deepest red, strode in first, her presence commanding the immediate attention of everyone present. Her eyes met Nyx's briefly, and he felt a chill run down his spine. All of them had a regal bearing about them, exuding an aura of authority that was almost tangible.

Nyx zoned out as his parents sat on their throne and he stood beside them, the people of the Hewn City kneeling to them, his eyes landed on a young female among the crown, porcelain skin that seemed almost translucent in its paleness, too pale to be healthy, with black hair down her back, the dress she wore was the same raven black as her hair, the dress was nothing fancy, at least not compared to the silver he wore, but he couldn't help keep his eyes off her.

As the kneeling courtiers rose, there was something hauntingly captivating about her, something that drew Nyx in despite himself. Her eyes met his, and he felt a jolt of recognition. It was as if he knew her somehow, despite never having laid eyes on her before. A curious sensation stirred within him, a feeling he couldn't quite place. But amid the sea of faces, hers was the only one that held his interest.

As his father ordered them to relax and mingle, he turned to his parents, mostly his mother, "May I go too?" He asked, his uncaring look not wavering.

His mother gave him a soft smile, "Of course you may, Nyx," she nodded, people were drinking, dancing, talking, and his uncle Azriel had disappeared into the room, Cassian and Nesta dancing to themselves, Mor talking with Kier with a look of boredom clear on her face as they walked to his parents with another male beside them.

He knocked into someone far smaller than him while he was distracted by the males around his parents and aunt, his hands shot out instinctively, "Oh, apologies, I didn't know where I was..." His gaze met the dark blackhole-like eyes of the female he had been looking at, her hand gripping onto his, slightly tilted from tripping half way. "Hello." He smiled.

"Hi..." The female watched his face, probably gauging his reaction Nyx thought.

"I'm Nyx," He offered a smile hoping it would make him come off as friendly.

"I know who you are, my lord," The female put some distance between them, giving him a little courtesy.

Nyx's eyes went as she saw her bow for him, "Oh, none of that please," He couldn't hide his cringe and looked away. "You don't need to do... That."

"It's just a smile courtesy," She laughed and he was sure he had heard it before somewhere, "I'm no fool to not show respect to the Heir of Night."

"Well, then, would you like a dance?" Nyx asked, turning to face her. "Just to one song." He offered her his hand and gave her a cheeky grin, "To respect me, of course."

The female paused to think for a moment, and then her eyeliner went by him, probably to the diaz where a conversation Nyx couldn't find in himself to care about was going.

"Of course," She rested her hand on his, the corner of her lip tilted up just slightly and Nyx counted that as a smile.

{General - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Meeting in Grey - @sleepylunarwolf @achaotichuman @sarawritestories @bakananya @sheblogs @anuttellaa}

[bullet-prooflove]

Smoke: Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @kmc1989 @chaoticqueenie98 @thatonesexycancerian @fanfic-n-tabulous @redpoodlern @kishie8 @skyesthebomb @@thanossexual @nu1freakshow @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @deliriousfangirl61 @darqchilddaydreamz @ankhmutes @goblinenby @just-a-girl-who-wrytes @lexondeck @adaydreamaway08 @keyweegirlie @joyfulfxckery @oklahomapeach @fleureeee @goosterroose @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @ambassadortotrilliusprime @legally-a-bastard '@wnbweasley @justreblogginfics @multiflixshelves @@katriina-74 @trublu2u @@fictional-fantasy @fanfic-n-tabulous @just-a-throw-away @yousigned-upforthis @fangirling-and-lovin-it @keyweegirlie @thekirbishow @laribombarie @pansexualhailstorm @elixae @buckysteveloki-me

Prequel to:

Complicated - Both you and Chibs don't want anything complicated.

No Words (NSFW) - You and Chibs don't need words to express how you feel.

Moment (NSFW) - Chibs gets lost in the moment.

His - There's no doubt in Chib's mind that you belong to him.

Different - Things are different with you.

It’s your capability that Chibs first fell in love with. He’s sitting in the public gallery watching you argue Jax’s case, his gaze fixed firmly on you because you are a sight to behold. Matte black high heels and a fitted grey pencil skirt that makes his imagination run rampant. A royal blue silk skirt that that illuminates your skin making you look practically ethereal as you tear apart the prosecutor’s argument with a viciousness, he likens to a Valkyrie.

It's the first time you’ve worked a case for the club, and he can already tell that Jax has made a wise choice.

There’s a deliberateness in everything you do, even the scorn in your voice when you object to the DA’s motion, it’s meant to anger your opponent, throw them off guard and it works. The DA starts to get flustered and before he knows it the case has been thrown out.

You celebrate with them that night, a glass of top shelf Scotch before you head on out for the night. Chibs can’t take his eyes off you; he’s never met anyone who’s ensnared him the way that you have.

You’re confident, thorough and sexy as hell.

He thinks about you in the shower that night, his palm wrapping around his cock as he imagines the noises you’d make when he’s inside of you, your fingertips digging into his shoulders when he makes you come on his cock.

You become a favourite around the clubhouse, their go to person for legal advice of any kind. You help Bobby with his divorce, Tig with his investment in Cara Cara, advise Juice on the best business structure for his weed shop. You’re good humoured, genial and you don’t take any shit. You command a level of respect that isn’t easily earned amongst their ranks.

She’s emotionally intelligent, Bobby tells him when the two of them discuss you over a couple bottles of beer. It’s why you make such a good lawyer.

He never hears you mention your husband, you’ve worn a diamond on your finger ever since he met you, but you haven’t breathed a word of the other man.

There’s no love there, he reckons.

It’s later that night that he sees the first of the bruises. He’s smoking a joint outside, enjoying a moment of peace when you join him on the concrete loading bay. You sit down alongside of him, and he offers it to you wordlessly. You take it from between his fingers and take a drag, holding it for a moment before you release the smoke into the air. It feels intimate, sharing a spliff as the two of you look up at the stars above.

You’ve been different tonight, a little subdued. Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It’s when you raise the joint to take a second toke that your sleeve shifts and he sees the finger marks imprinted onto your skin. They’re distinctive. Black indentations and broken blood vessels, someone’s grabbed you, hard. You don’t say anything when he reaches out, his fingertips gently shifting the collar of your shirt so he can see the patchwork of brown, yellow and green that mars the base of your throat.

These ones are older, starting to fade. His thumb traces over them lightly before he pulls away.

“I’m leaving him tonight.” You tell Chibs as you hand back the joint. “I have a place close to the office.”

“Good.” He says, his voice a little rough because he’s trying to repress the rage that rushes through his system like a wildfire.

He wants to kill the bastard. He wants to beat the living shit out of him until he’s bleeding and begging for daring to lay his hands on you. His jaw clenches as he places the joint between his lips and takes another toke because he doesn’t want you to see that side of him. You don’t need anymore violence right now, you need compassion, support, to know that someone gives a shit about you.

“Do you need help?” He asks you as he watches the smoke evaporate into the air.

“I’m not going to ask you for that.” You tell him, pushing yourself off the loading dock so that you’re standing in front of it instead. “You’re my client.”

“I offered.” He says dropping the joint to the ground and crushing it underneath the heel of his motorcycle boot. “And I’m also your friend.”

Something shifts when he says that, he isn’t sure what but he knows the words make a difference. You’ve been handling it all alone until this point he guesses, and now someone’s reaching out of the darkness and offering you a lifeline.

“Ok Filip.” You say, your gaze meeting his for the first time tonight. “You can help me leave my husband.”

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[luvendiary]

of moons and gowns / r. lupin

remus lupin x reader; royal!au

part 1

a/n: here´s part 2!!!! this is the end of this specific storyline, but if you're interested in deeing specific scenarios in this au, send in a request! i hope you enjoy this! i had a lot of fun writing.

tw: mentions of abuse and torture.

summary: the life of a servant in the palace was hectic. the life of a servant in the palace who so happened to get along with the princes, was even more so.

In the days that followed your encounter with Prince Remus in the palace corridors, life took an unexpected turn. The upcoming royal ball was now tinged with the prospect of attending as Prince Remus's guest. You tried not to dwell on it however, as you knew it was probably an attempt to get on your nerves or play a light joke on you as James and Sirius often did. 

Still, not much energy was left to dwell on the invitation as the palace was a hive of activity and you were at the center of it. Chores multiplied, and you found yourself engulfed in a whirlwind of tasks, leaving little room for leisure or the company of your royal friends.

The days blended together in a blur of scrubbing, polishing, and arranging, all under the watchful eyes of strict supervisors ensuring perfection for the impending event.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the palace grounds, you finally trudged back to your modest chambers. Your limbs ached, and weariness clung to every step, but the promise of rest spurred you forward.

Upon entering your room the crowd of maids gathered near one of the beds caught your attention. And as you started to unpin your hair you approached them.

“What are you lot staring at?”

Your presence took them by surprise, as they all rapidly turned their heads toward you with huge grins. 

“You may not want to settle down just yet”, Lucy said with a mischievous tone,

You raised an eyebrow as you realized they were all huddled around your bed, and that there was something laying on top. 

“It looks like you’ve caught the attention of yet another prince”, she said as you inspected the beautiful blue, silk dress that had been left extended neatly on your bed.  

Your mind was racing at a thousand miles per minute as you reached for the small piece of paper that sat neatly next to the dress. 

You opened it and felt as the rest of the girls peered over your shoulder. 

In the chaos of these hectic days, I thought a respite might be in order. Please consider this an invitation (rather than a command) to join me for dinner. I promise not to bore you with tedious tales of courtly affairs or James and Sirius’ latest plan (unless, of course, you insist).

I’ll wait for you at the gardens at 8.

Yours sincerely,

Remus

You could feel your cheeks warm up. Dinner with Remus Lupin had been the furthest thing from your mind when you started your day of chores. Yet, as you slipped into the dress laid out on your bed and your hair was once again tamed into soft waves by your fellow maids, you couldn't suppress the flutter of excitement in your chest. 

The evening air was crisp and scented with the fragrance of blooming flowers as you strolled through the garden. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the way, casting dancing shadows on the cobblestone walkways. 

You fiddled with your fingers as you made your way towards the center of the garden where you found a picnic set up, and sitting on a nearby stone bench was Prince Remus with a book in his hand. 

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. A picnic seemed almost too mundane for a prince. But in a strange way it made you feel comforted. You would rather have this than a big elaborate dinner.

As if on cue, Remus seemed to notice you. He closed his book and set it down quickly as he stood up. He was wearing a loose white shirt underneath a blue waistcoat along with some trousers and boots. He looked terribly handsome. 

“There you are”, he said as he approached you with a gentle smile. “I must admit, I wasn’t sure if you were going to come”.

You said nothing and offered him a sheepish smile instead. You still weren’t sure how you were supposed to behave with him.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he offered you a hand, which you took and allowed yourself to be led to the blanket laid out on the ground.

“Thank you, your majesty. I must say that I’ve never worn a dress like this”, you replied. “Besides, if I may be so bold, you look rather dashing yourself”.

He sat next to you and smiled. “Please, just call me Remus”.

You remained quiet for a second before daring to look up at him with the smallest of smirks. “Is that an order?”

He bit his tongue, trying to suppress the smile that crept onto his face, but failing. “It’s a request.” 

“As you wish then…Remus,” you said as you tried to suppress a teasing smile of your own.

With that settled, a satisfied Remus reached out for the basket as he began unpacking.

You sat down along with him; your flowy dress falling around you. 

"I hope you like strawberry tarts," Remus said, holding one out to you on a small plate. "They're my favorite."

You accepted the tart graciously, taking a small bite and savoring the burst of flavor. "They're delicious," you remarked, genuinely impressed.

Remus smiled warmly, pleased by your reaction. "I'm glad you think so. I had to ask Euphemia for her recipe. But, I must admit, I had a bit of help from the palace chefs. They insisted after seeing me covered in flour."

His revelation made you laugh. It was endearing to think about the crown prince of Crescenwatch flustered in the kitchen while covered in flour.

“While I do appreciate the intention, next time let me stick to the baking”, you said amidst a fit of giggles.

He lowered his head slightly and with a soft smirk peered over his lashes. “So there will be a next time?”

You worried at your lip and stared at him contemplatively. “That’s not really up to me”, you replied with a soft smile while raising your eyebrows.

He made a soft sound of understanding before changing the topic once again. The conversation flowed effortlessly as both of you made your way through the food Remus had prepared, and exchanged stories about your respective days. His down-to-earth demeanor put you at ease. In no time you were as comfortable with him as you were with James or Sirius. And as the night passed, you found yourself laughing freely at Remus's witty remarks. The initial awkwardness between you, now gone. 

Remus joined in on your laughter, and he tried to suppress the pride he relished in whenever he managed to make you smile and giggle. Still, the twinkle in his eyes was not easily hidden.

The sound of chirping birds brought you back to reality after a long while. It was then that you realized that you had spent all night out with Remus. What was supposed to be a small dinner, had turned into a full evening with the prince. 

You looked at him, lying down on his side, supported by his elbow as he stared at you. You couldn’t help but laugh with slight delirium. The lack of sleep had started to get to you, and the situation you were in (which in normal circumstances would have frustrated you with the thoughts of the day ahead), humored you. 

He seemed to share your amusement as he laughed along with you. 

“I have to get going,” you said finally as you stood up and patted down your wrinkled dress.

Remus hurriedly stood up. He tried to fix himself up, his waistcoat had long been discarded and his white shirt had been untucked.”Let me walk you back”.

You smiled as you slipped your slippers back on. “That’s alright my prince. You don’t need to do that.”

Remus tilted his head and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t tell me you’re going back to formalities now. Besides, I insist”.

You chuckled. “Sorry, force of habit. If it makes you feel better, I still call James and Sirius by their titles sometimes”.

He chuckled. “But I’m not Sirius, or James, am I?”, he said, trying to get you to look at him.

Your cheeks warmed up. And in your flustered state, you could not muster up a witty answer. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach, making you feel all tingly inside. 

He seemed to relish in this small victory. Whilst in your flustered state, he offered you his arm, which you took, and with the picnic basket in his other hand, he walked you back to your chambers.

The path to your chambers had seemed to become shorter than you remembered it. On a usual day, they seemed to be impossibly far from where you needed them, but as of right now, they couldn’t have been far enough. 

“I had a great night, thank you for inviting me,” you said as you stared up at him.

“Thank you for coming,” he replied.

A brief moment of silence passed between the two of you , trying to make this moment linger as long as possible. Still, you knew it couldn’t. 

“I should…go…” you breathed out with a sad smile. You turned to open the door and walked in with one final smile. However the calling of your name made you stop in your tracks.

“I…I just-”, it was the first time you had seen Remus this nervous. His usual calm and composed demeanor was what you’ve grown accustomed to, and to a certain extent, it seemed weird for a prince like him to become this speechless, especially with a servant such as yourself. 

“I don’t mind being called a prince…”, a small pause. “Your prince.”

A smile broke out through your features, it seemed that you couldn’t stop yourself when you were around him. You stood on your tiptoes and lightly kissed his cheek. 

“Thank you for such a wonderful evening, my prince”. And with that, you turned on your heels and walked into your chambers.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Unfortunately, your dream-like evening had to remain on the back of your mind the next few days. With the ball approaching, the bustling around the palace had increased. Young yourself running around more than usual, so much so that you barely had any time left for meals or even alone time. You were currently occupied with the flower arrangements in the main ballroom. A calming chore like this was a nice change  of pace from the usual, more strenuous things you had to attend to. 

You were lost in your thoughts as your fingers danced along the stems of various sorts of flowers.  Either cutting leaves or thorns. Despite the enjoyment of preparing the flower arrangements, you had to make them with certain speed and agility, which is why various small cuts littered your hands.

“Ah, here she is,” a voice echoed through the room, followed by the sound of tumultuous footsteps.

“Good morning Sirius”, you said without taking your eyes off of your task. “Good morning James”.

“And a good morning to you too!” James yelled back, as if he was saying something threatening.

“Is there something I can help you with?” 

“Yes actually,” said Sirius. “You can start by telling us what enchantment you have placed on our Moony”.

You chuckled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe this will ring a bell. Tall, charming, handsome, dorky man with a lovesick smile that was previously not there?” James said as he peeked over your shoulder looking at the arrangement of flowers.

“He is quite handsome”.

“Yes well, we all know that already. What we want to know is why is he acting like a teenager all of a sudden?” Sirius pressed.

“He is?”

“Well, if talking all day long about the pretty girl he asked to ball, and how he loves how she rebukes every flirty commentary he throws at her isn’t acting like a lovesick teenager, I don’t know what is”, James replied.

“He thinks I’m pretty?”

Sirius sighed in exasperation. “They’re both hopeless”.

“Yes yes, you’re pretty, I’m impossibly charming,” James jumped in. “Setting the obvious aside. Will you tell us what has been going on between the two of you?”

With a nervous smile you finished with the arrangement and finally turned to face them. You realized that this was uncharted territory for you. Sure, your friendship with the princes was very close and you could tell each other almost everything (they surely took advantage of that). However, you had never talked about other boys with them.

With trembling hands you lowered your gaze and twisted your fingers before supplying them with the answer they had been bugging you about. “We sort of went on a date. At least, that’s what I think it was”.

Silence.

And then raucous, ear-splitting screams of what you hoped was joy. 

James was jumping up and down while Sirius ran his hands through his hair and paced around.

“And?” James said with a huge grin as he approached you like a madman.

“And what?”

“And how did it go?”

With a grin of your own, you explained how your date had gone. However, you kept the specifics to yourself, relishing in those hidden moments that no one had  been witness to. 

As you spoke of your date with the prince, you couldn't help but notice the eager anticipation in James's eyes and the barely contained excitement in Sirius's demeanor. Their enthusiasm was infectious, but you knew better than to let it sway you. After all, you were just a servant, and the idea of something more with someone like Remus was not in the cards for you.

“So you’re coming right?” James asked. You could practically see the cogs working in his brain.

“What do you mean?”

“To the ball, of course”,Sirius replied.

Your heart sank. The prospect of attending such an event seemed like a cruel joke, a reminder of the gaping divide between your world and theirs. You knew they meant well. They often ignored the blatant divide between you, how scandalous it would be for someone like you to be seen with someone like them in an event of that magnitude. Their words were a painful reminder of the barriers that stood between you.

You looked at them with a sad smile. “You know I can’t. For all I know that night was a one time thing. I’m a servant, we don’t get to mingle amongst royalty”.

As Sirius's expression soured and he began to voice his objections, you felt a pang of frustration building within you. Him out of all people should understand. His anger only served to fuel your own, and before you could stop yourself, you interrupted him, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

"Please don't," you pleaded, your words a whispered plea. "I've made my peace with it. It's been hard enough."

With a heavy heart, you gathered the discarded stems and leaves in your basket, your movements automatic as you sought solace in the familiar routine of your duties.

Leaving behind a perplexed James and an angry Sirius, you made your escape, the weight of your conflicting emotions pressing down on you like a burden too heavy to bear. As you walked away, the echoes of their voices faded into the distance, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the ever-present reminder of your place amongst their world.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a couple days now since your small fight with the royals. You had been avoiding them -all of them. 

You had asked one of your fellow maids to take your turns in tending to their fireplace or taking the breakfast, in exchange for other duties. She had happily done so, despite her brief worry for what must have caused such a request.

You could not say that you did not miss your friends. Your life at the palace was made fun by their antics -even if they did stress you out sometimes-. But the thought of facing them, of being reminded of your place in the hierarchy, was enough to keep you away.

As the night of the ball arrived, you found yourself busy with other chores, anything to keep your mind off the lavish event taking place in the ballroom. You scrubbed floors, dusted shelves, and tended to the gardens, the rhythmic motions a comforting distraction from the festivities happening just a few corridors away. 

It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t specifically requested to not attend the ball, and instead you had taken on double the amount of chores you usually did to compensate for that.

So, after a long day of work, you sought refuge at the library. A place you were sure no one would come in, especially not tonight, when everyone wanted to mingle amongst the princes. You, on the other hand, had decided that it was better for you if you maintained your distance. 

However, a certain chocolate-eyed man did not think so.

“You’re avoiding me”, a voice came from behind you, making you freeze in your steps. The pile of books on your hands seemed impossibly heavy now.

You remained in silence, hoping -praying-, he would leave. But luck was not on your side today.

“Why?” he continued. This time his voice was impossibly soft. Your heart sank, hearing the sadness it carried. 

You turned to face him then, and you thought that you could be strong enough to tell him the truth. But as you looked at him, you realized that you couldn’t.

“Shouldn’t you be at the  ball?”, you said in an effort to avoid the topic as you set down the pile of books and pretended to skim through one of them. “I’m sure there’s a lot of disappointed girls out there right now.”

“Maybe. But the one girl I’m interested in decided not to show up”.

You had to remind yourself that to him, you were probably just a fun time. Someone he might never see again. But to you…

“I’m certain that you have a bunch of beautiful girls lining up to take her place”, you replied.

If you weren't so busy trying to avoid his gaze, you might have noticed how his expression seemed to morph into that of disappointment. And quickly into one of frustration.

“I talked with James and Sirius”, he said. His voice is now much more sharp.

“Well, Sirius has a lot of experience in that department. James might not be that helpful, he’s pretty hung up on Princess Lily-”

“They told me that you had made ‘peace with it’”, he said, cutting sharply into your sentence as he took a step towards you. 

You faltered for a moment, before trying to hold on to the unbothered front you had been trying to put on. However, he didn’t give you time to recover.

“That you don’t get to ‘mingle with royalty’”, he continued as he approached you, making you take some steps back. “And that it was a ‘one time thing’”.

Your back hit a shelf, and before you knew it, Remus was looming over you. His hand reached for your book before setting it on a higher shelf. He then gently took a hold of your chin, and he forced you to look up at him. “You’re a smart girl. Don’t tell me you actually believe that”.

You caught how his eyes softened for a fraction of a second. Still, that wasn’t enough to stop the small burst of anger that bubbled up inside you. 

“You’re a smart prince,” you said, your words now had an edge to them. “Don’t tell me you’re unaware of the repercussions this might have”.

“To hell with the repercussions-”

“That’s because you can afford to do that Remus!” you retaliated. He seemed surprised by your outburst, as he took the smallest of steps backward. “I’m a servant, and if they were to see us, do you know what they’ll say about me?” you continued as you jabbed your finger in his chest. 

“Do you have any idea how I was treated back on Blackhaven?” you debated for a moment if this was really worth telling, but you quickly decided that if he wanted to know about the repercussions, you would tell him about them.

“After enduring Orion’s punishments, befriending Sirius was the most wonderful thing that happened to me. But rumors started spreading on how I was his slut. On how I ‘kept him satisfied’ in exchange for protection!”

Remus kept silent. His hand held on your arm gently, trying to keep you close.

You slumped against bookshelves, and looked up, trying to keep the tears at bay. It wasn’t like you had forgotten it. It plagued your nightmares. But it had been years since you had to purposefully remember the punishment that made Sirius decide to get you out of his kingdom.

“Orion found out,” you continued, this time your voice much softer. “So he decided that his normal branding wasn’t enough this time. He said that I would not taint his bloodline -that a servant would not ruin his bloodline.”

Remus’ eyes searched for yours, trying to find a hint that it wasn’t true. That somehow you got saved from being punished. He was familiar with the king’s punishments. He remembered a particular night in which Sirius had not been able to handle it anymore, and he broke down in James’ room.

“So he branded me in the usual place…and then on my hip. And then, he had me lashed…while Sirius watched.” 

You could feel how his fingers tightened around your wrist, but you avoided his eyes. In a brief moment he pulled on your wrist and dragged you to a dark corner of the library where he pulled on a book and a part of the wall popped open, revealing a small room the size of a maintenance closet. 

The sound of a click brought you back to reality. And the small warm light that followed it revealed that the ‘maintenance closet’ was not that at all, but rather a really small study. 

You sighed and turned to face him. He dragged you a few paces up until you were next to the desk. He took you by the waist and hoisted you upwards, so you were sitting on it, before prompting you to continue.

With a shaky breath you went on. 

“I tried not to make any noise for Sirius’ sake. But Orion decided that he wouldn’t be satisfied until I screamed my throat raw,” you had started untying your apron. “ So he didn’t stop, not even when I passed out. Sirius’ pleads and screams kept waking me up, until Orion got tired.”

Remus watched you carefully, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain. He could see the turmoil in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to speak, and his own words felt inadequate.

As you untied your apron, he noticed the tension in your shoulders, the way your hands trembled slightly. Without a word, he moved closer, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached out to help you.

His fingers brushed against the fabric of your dress, the gentle touch a silent reassurance of his presence. With practiced ease, he located the ribbons at the back of your dress, his touch feather-light as he began to untangle them. You tensed at his touch, a shiver running down your spine as the faint outline of the lash scars hidden beneath your dress were revealed. 

But he didn't look away. Instead, he continued to untie your dress, his movements slow and deliberate as he revealed more and more of your scars to him. With each inch of exposed skin, his heart broke a little more, but he refused to let his own emotions show.

Finally, the ribbons completely untangled from your corset, and your dress hung loose around your shoulders, the scars on your back fully revealed to him. Remus felt a lump form in his throat as he took in the sight, the raw brutality of your old life laid bare before him.

But he didn't turn away. Instead, he reached out, his fingers tracing the contours of your scars with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes. 

He had tried to avoid it at first, but the Blackhaven crest that was engraved into your skin screamed at him for attention. The crest was jagged and uneven, the lines distorted from where you had thrashed in pain during your punishment. It was a brutal symbol of the cruelty of the Blackhaven royals, and a mark that would forever brand you as a victim of their tyranny.

Remus felt a surge of anger rise within him as he looked upon the crest. You felt as his gentle fingers made its way up to it. His touch was feather-light as he traced the outline of the crest. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath his fingertips, the scars rough and raised against his touch.

“That was what he was most proud of,” you said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between you. “It made me his property. He tried to make the lash marks disappear later. He said they would just ruin a pretty thing. So they mostly healed. But I guess my body wasn’t able to erase that memory completely.”

More silence.

“The crest on my hip was a final gift. Something about how if I wanted to be a slut, people should know who I belong to. I woke up in the infirmary days later, to the news that Sirius had ‘gifted me’ to Noblehaven”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air. But then, without a word, Remus leaned in and pressed the softest of kisses to your back. And then another. And another. 

His lips moved reverently over the scars. As he trailed kisses along the jagged lines of the crest, you felt a rush of emotions wash over you—pain, sorrow, but also something else. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you felt his lips press against the scars. 

The contrast of the tender action amidst a place that had been ravaged by brutality and cruelty was devastating. 

His hands slowly snaked their way to your cheeks, and as they softly made you turn to look at him they wiped the tears that had escaped your eyes. Without a word, Remus pulled you into his arms, holding you close as though trying to shield you. 

“Be my queen,” he whispered tenderly, out of the blue. His pain-stricken eyes reaching for yours.

“Remus-”

“No harm will ever come to you”.

Your words caught in your throat as you gazed into his earnest eyes, the depth of emotion swirling within them almost overwhelming. The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heartstrings, and for a moment, you were lost in the intensity of his plea.

"Be my queen," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper, yet it echoed loudly in the silence between you. His fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring.

Your breath hitched as you searched his gaze, seeing the raw sincerity etched in every line of his face. The weight of his request hung heavy in the air, the gravity of his words sinking deep.

"Remus..." you began, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "I'm just a servant."

He whispered your name, but his gaze seemed to be undecided on whether it wanted to fixate on your eyes or your lips. “Please…” he begged as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning your lips.

“Please,” he whispered again. This time the plea seemed to weigh so much more. 

Ever so slowly, you pressed your lips to his. 

His arms encircled you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, and you melted into his embrace. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency, a silent plea for you to say yes, to choose him, to become his queen.

When you finally pulled away, a soft smile graced Remus' lips. “Is that a yes?”

You smiled up at him, and tilted your head slightly. “It depends. Was that a command?”

Remus chuckled and cupped your face with his hand as he pressed your lips to his once again. It was soft and desperate at the same time. So much longing in one single action.

“I think you know I’m in no place to give commands when it comes to you,” he whispered as he trailed his kisses up to your ear. 

Remus’ hands snaked in between your dress, softly caressing the scars on his way down. The piece of fabric now pulling at your waist.

“Say it,” he pleaded as he trailed kisses down your neck and back to your mouth. “Say you will.”

“I will,” you breathed out.

He pulled away slightly, admiring you for a second before wrapping his arms around you once again.

tags:

@lovelyygirl8

[pygmi-cygni]

hands and knees begging for fluff of any of the trio (king john, blue jones, nathan bateman) (i have a brainworm for john)

just throw aside medieval standards okay

you two are lifelong friends from different kingdoms, but your fathers are friendly and decide to wed the both of you to get married for stability of the kingdoms. both of your childhoods were spent primarily in the woods. so rugged, less than quaint dresses for you and mud and smeared, muddy faces. so john sees you for the first time all dolled up and his response and SLOW DANCING IN A CLEARING IN THE WOODS TO BIRDSONG IM GONNA DIE ‼️‼️‼️

anyways no pressure at all 🫶 just wanted to dump some thoughts

yes ma'am reporting for duty (i love fluff for any of those three, my masterlist is basically just nathan bateman fluff atp)

I'll go with the prompt u gave me because it was so lovely.

cw: fluff, feelings, fem reader, blasphemy of medieval standards because Jupiter gave me permission, minor miscommunication because i literally cannot do anything the easy way, pining, this is a little different than your prompt but i hope it still works alright for you

Four sets of stone stairs were a beast at seven in the morning. Your calves had just woken up and the climb did not look appealing. But, there was a chamber meeting which meant the princeling had to be up early.

Or, earlier, because he already woke up half past everyone else. You'd found in your years of serving the royal family that an extra twenty minutes fended off his tantrums for at least an hour.

You heaved open the heavy lock to John's room and made your way briskly to his chambers. The curtains were drawn already, but the streaming shafts of sunlight didn't rouse the head of curls slumped under silk sheets. He was snoring steadily, tucked warmly underneath his blankets. You felt sad to wake him - the quiet was a nice change.

But all things come to an end.

As politely as you could, you pulled a bell from your skirt and leaned close to his ear.

And shook it till the ringing peals made your ears bleed.

John was up, head rearing like a horse's out of a river, eyes still half closed and crusted with sleep. He had drool dried on his cheek, and his uncoordinated limbs swatted at the noise. You grinned and tucked the bell away, turning to give him privacy.

"Good Morning, your Grace," you said smoothly, listening to his grumbling with glee. John muttered something crude and shoved off his coverings.

As always, he slept nude, and your eyes remained fixed on the garden outside. Cook was gathering tomatoes with the scullery maid, the swollen red fruit shining in the dew.

You heard shuffling, then a pause.

"Why're you in here?"

His tone was curdled and you turned, eyebrow raised. You knew why, of course, but the game was too fun to let up so soon.

"Pardon, your Grace? Were you expecting someone?" You fluttered your lashes innocently, drinking in his disgruntled scowl. His pants were half laced and his shirt hung off one shoulder.

"...No."

You resisted the urge to stick out your tongue and returned to observing the garden.

You'd grown up with John, more or less. You, a servant, him...well, him. Sort of friends, the way children are before they know of things like 'rules' and 'expectations.' Then, you blossomed into the age where girls and boys didn't mix, and certainly not the Prince and his maid.

But, mornings were always a treat.

Although recently, his morning 'treat' was Winnie, the willowy girl from Scottsdale who liked to wake him. Headmistress noticed and well, now you were here.

And John would never touch you.

A grumble told you he was dressed. You sighed, throwing open the doors to the hall.

Then paused, getting a full look at your ward.

"John."

His eyebrow sprang to his hairline, about to mock you for forgetting his title. But it was nothing compared to the mocking you would give him for wearing his shirt inside out, backwards, and absolutely filthy on the collar.

You checked the hall a dozen times for listening ears, then burst into a laugh. John watched you for a minute, then wiped the sleep from his eyes and swore, fumbling back into his bedroom. You supported yourself weakly on the oak doors, snickering into your apron. He appeared a moment later, cheeks pink and dressed in a clean, right-ways-round linen shirt.

"Waistcoat," you added, clearing your throat. His jaw ticked and ducked back in.

Finally dressed and in better spirits, you walked just in front of him, pleasant mask back in place. John's eyes would flicker to you occasionally, but you refused him, maintaining your professionalism.

It had been a while since you'd had fun. You missed it.

"You missed breakfast," you whispered when you'd made it to the break outside. John frowned, but you handed him a package from your skirt. "I saved you a tart."

John grunted a thank you and wolfed it down, chewing noisily in the quiet morning air. You stifled a smirk. Just like old days; spilling crumbs down his front and icing on his nose.

It hurt a little bit, but you got over it. He was still John from the big house with sticks in his hair, just a little bigger and his curls dirt-free. Although, an hour from now that might not be the case.

"The stables, Your Grace," you murmured, bowing stiffly and taking your leave. John paused, eyes at your back the rest of the way up the hill. He nodded to you at the top, disappearing into the rows of horses. He was hunting today, returning at noon to dress.

Alas, your day wasn't so easy - prepping for a ball meant your feet would be aching long into the night

The steaming bustle of the kitchen smacked you in the face. Spices, steam, and bellowing cooks swept you into the rush of daily routine. A half-heard direction was shouted into your ear, a basket of napkins thumped into your arms, and you were off. You moved like a marionette, waiting for someone to pull your strings in a new direction.

Your ears rang from banging pots and clattering spoons. The soles of your feet felt aflame, blisters aching in your worn-out shoes. Tiredness tugged at your bones and it was only noon. Sometimes you marveled at your ability not to fall down dead in the middle of polishing silver.

However hard your job in the kitchens may be, it was nowhere near Fred's. He balanced tediously on a ladder, dusting each individual crystal on the seven massive chandeliers in the room.

That job would kill you. Literally. The oldest maid had been crushed under one of those crystal monstrosities a few months ago.

You hung your apron on a hook and sighed, closing your eyes against the din. The sideboards were cool against your forehead as you allowed yourself a moment of peace.

"Ay," a gruff voice came from behind. "Get upstairs, yer needed for the dressing."

Yay.

You dusted off your hands and hustled up the four flights for the eight thousandth time that day, breathing heavily as you reached the top. God those steps sucked.

"I know you hate this but if you could please just hold still-"

"It hurts," he groused, twitching as you raked almond oil through his hair. Huffing, you grabbed his jaw and forced his neck still, bringing the comb back up to his scalp.

Huh. He was suddenly pliant, holding his chin up and patiently letting you finish. Just needed a bit of manhandling apparently. John had lovely hair. Thick, silky, dark, always tousled but still looked perfect. His facial hair, on the other hand, would need some TLC.

"Okay, now you really need to hold still."

The razor scratched pleasantly along his sharp jawline, and you swallowed down a curious feeling in your chest. You'd always found him attractive, just not so...close. The suds were technically ladies' soap, lavender, but he needed a bit of perfume. To hide all that dirty horse man smell.

Groomed as nicely as he'd ever been, John sat primly while you fished out his clothes.

"Did Her Highness want you in red or green?" You called from the armoire.

He sighed, and you heard the undeniable sound of him ruffling up his hair.

"I want to wear gold," he protested. "It complements my complexion."

"I don't care what you want," you mumbled, deciding on the red, "your mother is the one who'll be yanking my hair, not you."

"I could, if you'd like."

His voice was right in your ear and you jumped, face the same shade as his velvet overcoat. You floundered, unsure if his Cheshire grin was seductive or not. That gleam in his eye was humorous, but...this dresser was getting way too small, way too fast. You scurried around him, almost like he'd burned you.

John puffed out his chest but frowned when he saw the outfit.

"That one itches."

"I don't care, put it on."

"Do it for me."

Your eyes narrowed. "Aw, need someone to do your laces? No, Jonathan."

"That's no way to talk to a royal," he sniffed, eyebrow cocked. You schooled your face into neutrality, eyes burning. He was getting way too much enjoyment out of this.

"I'll be outside, Your Grace, if you need anything," you said with saccharine kindness, whirling out of his chambers before he could retort.

If it were anybody else, you'd be hung. But John had that way about him that made your tongue a little looser and your cheeks a little warmer. Besides, nobody else would put up with his antics. The amount of times you'd saved him from his mother's wrath? Uncountable.

You rocked on your heels, waiting for him to dress. There was still quite a lot to do, include get yourself ready. It was a themed ball, and therefore even the servants had to be in costume. You were looking forward to that - a new, pretty gown to wear, even if just for the night.

God, maybe he did need help with his laces.

Just when you were about to ensure he hadn't accidentally hung himself, John shuffled out of his bedchambers, shirt undone and a cross look on his face.

"It won't do it right," he huffed.

You averted your eyes from the planes of his chest. "I'll...here, just, um...yeah..."

Hands shaking, you deftly tied his shirt, shivering every time your fingers touched his skin. When he didn't try anything, you calmed, silver tongue back on display.

"You know, Winnie's corset isn't too different...surprised you aren't more practiced."

He wasn't even ashamed, just winked and flexed his hands. "Hm, that reminds me-"

"You just bathed," you said sternly, glaring up at him. His gaze was merry and you couldn't help a small smile.

"Ha, look, the old hag laughs-"

"I'm not old, and I wasn't laughing-"

When you reached his naval, you swore you saw his muscles bunch. Impressively.

"Are you flexing?"

"Are you looking?"

You poked his side and he yipped, shoving away. "Out, minstrel, or I'll have you hanged," he snapped jovially.

Rolling your eyes, you gathered your skirts and swept out of his room, cheeks tingling. Another woman was already outside, and you dropped the expression quickly. A stony chill sat in your bones, mask back in place.

Close one.

Silk rippled between your fingers. Your chest burned, reminding you to breathe.

"Mistress wants it back by the end of the night, so don't get any ideas," the matron barked, but you only had eyes for the dress.

It was the nicest thing you'd ever owned. White silk, trimmed in grey cord. A red sash to hold your keys and a carnation for your hair. Long sleeves and a pouf in the back. Yes, it had a ribbon to show you were the staff, but for a moment you could pretend.

Giddily, you and the other girls dressed, combing soaps through your hair and plaiting your tresses, each girl working on another's. you had no nice shoes, only your scuffed boots, but you did not care.

The silk was like butter over your shoulders.

Biting back a grin, you filed out after the rest of the staff, for the first time excited to be serving.

The castle was exploding with people, the dining hall and ballroom sweltering from the combination of overworked kitchens and crowds of partygoers. The smell of glazed ham and mead was strong, mixed not unpleasantly with perfumes from the ladies. You ducked and dodged, eyes respectfully aimed at the floor, taking cloaks and hoods to the mudrooms.

The coatrooms were piled with cloaks and you handed another armful to the weary footman, shooting him an apologetic smile.

A crash and you frowned, hoping another crystal set hadn't been ruined.

Why did all of the young men have to be so clumsy?

At least John fit in.

You didn't look for him in the crowd, and your face didn't perk up every time you got a glimpse of red velvet. That would be improper, see.

A maid bustled by with a trayful of tankards. Your mouth soured - there were plenty of handsy dukes walking around, and alcohol was not the answer to that equation. Maybe you could stick to the women's side of the table.

Most everybody had migrated towards the food, giving you a moment of reprieve in the back rooms. God, that was enough people for a lifetime.

A curious sound came from the room to your right. You nudged open the door and shit, that's definitely occupied- decided to leave the guests to their activities.

Oh well, another set of sheets to wash. You grimaced, shuddering at the thought. Yech.

Four more hours.

You might dislike John when he's grumpy but it doesn't hold a candle to him when he's drunk. When the guests had been shooed out and your energy thoroughly drained, you still heard him carousing the halls with his mates, making a right mess of his robes and anything he touched.

Oh, what fun chores would be tomorrow.

Dead on your feet, you trudged upstairs to help him to bed. The stone walls swayed in front of you as you stifled a yawn. Now that the rowdiness of the evening had vanished, the castle felt starkly cold. You shivered, wishing for bed.

Not bothering to knock, you pushed open the door to John's chambers.

He was sprawled on his bed, singing loudly into his pillows, stopping every verse to descend into giggles.

....Oh, joy.

"Your Grace," you called wearily, resting your weight against the door, "please, it's time for bed."

Another giggle and his tousled curls sprang up, his lanky body following suit clumsily.

"Ahh, hello little birdy..." he stretched and leaned back, appraising you. "That's a nice dress, did you steal it?"

"No, John, I didn't-"

"Thief, we have a thief! Off with her-"

"Stop it," you hissed, flapping your hands, "you'll wake the dead. Come, give me your jacket."

He whistled, winking. "Undressing me already? We're not even married yet-"

"Or ever, so help me God. Watch your mouth."

John blinked, genuinely confused. "Bu' you're dressed in all that-" he gestured, then it dawned. He froze for a second, recalculating, then sniffed and tore off his coat.

"Begone then, I have no need for you."

"Careful," you hissed, catching the garment before it hit the floor. The stitches would be a pain to repair, and to add on to his growing mess...

You felt your affection for him waning by the minute. John whistled out of tune, spinning in a solo dance while you carefully set his clothes to be washed. Now, to get him fully undressed without tearing the cloth to hell.

Exhaustion burned as you watched his carrying on. You just wanted to go to bed. Don't cry. Don't cry.

"John," you sighed wearily, shoulders sloping in defeat. He ignored you, favoring to lean out the window and sing throatily along to the drunkards outside.

"Prince John," you said, bitterness in your voice. Contempt ran hot in your blood. Still, he carried on, shirtless and cooing like a two-penny whore.

"Your Grace."

The fire in your tone made him turn, eyes wide. You trembled with irritation, eyes burning red and close to tears. Your fist was brutal around his velvet jacket. It would be wrinkled, but it was a suitable substitute for the princeling's throat. The title was sour on your tongue, and you saw his voice die in his throat.

"For the love of all that is holy," you seethed, "get your damn clothes on and get. In. Bed."

He had the decency to look ashamed, but that spirit still smoldered underneath.

"A servant should never use such language," he mused, dramatically tugging a nightshirt over his head. You scowled, tired tears stinging your cheeks.

Angrily you hung his clothing, slamming the armoire doors. John, for once, made no comment as you stormed over, going through the motions with nothing but a dull glare.

He stayed silent when you grabbed his face and tugged a brush through his hair, or fluffed his pillows with an aggressive thwack. HIs mouth was shut during each swish of your broom on the floor, and he only flinched when the broom clattered against the wall. You were crying silently too, any charm of the night or of the stupid dress worn off in your exhaustion.

It was a stupid dress. Too small around your shoulders and hotter than the seven hells. You needed it off, and to go to bed, and for John to just stop being so John.

"Is there anything else you require, Your Grace," you heaved, standing at furious attention near the door.

John sat like a scolded child on his bedspread, face drawn and quieter than you'd ever seen him. Please dismiss me. Please go to sleep.

"Yes," he said simply, and you about wanted to die.

You swallowed a scream of frustration as he stood and walked over.

"A waltz, please. It calms me at night."

"It calms you at- John, stop playing, it's late-"

His hand rested on your shoulder. You froze midsentence, mouth half open in shock. John's eyes were bright from drink but steady and soft as he looked at you.

"Just one," he murmured, "that's all."

Your feet ached and your bones creaked with every step. But you hung your head and stepped closer, arms out in position.

John slid his hand to your waist, his left arm draping over your back. Frowning, you twisted away, unsure of his tactic. But his grip was strong, and soon you were pressed to his chest.

You entire body was on fire. This was not supposed to be happening. You'd be thrown out, he'd be chastised, your dress would be ruined, you'd have nowhere to-

"Step on my feet," he instructed.

"What?"

"Step on my feet. Take off your boots, they're filthy, and stand on my feet."

???????????

Timidly, you obeyed, your thin stockings cold on the stone floor. Surprisingly, it soothed your sore soles, and you relaxed slightly. John adjusted his grip on your shoulder and began to sway.

There was no music, but he stayed on beat, slowly rocking and spinning as if you were dancing along and not...whatever this is. Well, whatever this was had to be the nicest thing you'd felt all day. John's energy had warmed his skin to a comfortable heat, and the gentle rocking motion was coaxing you further to sleep.

He continued to step carefully, keeping his hold tight and his chin firmly on your head. A part of your frustration eased, making way for that familiar rush of affection.

The movements stilled, and you realized how tightly you were clutching his arms.

A few moments passed as you stood, dead on your feet. The candles were burnt to melted stubs in their holders, and night had been glowing for a while.

"Is that all, Your Grace?" You wormed out of his hold, lamenting the loss of his firm warmth.

John looked at you, eyes so downturned and distraught you nearly cried. His arms hovered around where you'd been.

"Tuck me in?" His tone was joking, but his soft brown eyes begged. You shifted on your feet. You'd already done the damage, your heart whispered, skin still tingling from his hold.

Nodding, you pulled back his quilts and pulled them tight over his broad shoulders, gently arranging the furs to cover his long legs. Your eyes didn't meet his while you fussed, but you felt his warm gaze on your cheeks.

His long fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist.

"The mess," he said simply, and you bit your lip. What a mess it was.

"Apologies," he finished. You nodded quickly, pressing a palm to your eyes. His thumb stroked your wrist as you wept quietly, mind breaking at the idea of so much work.

You felt a tug at your sleeve. Sniffling, you looked over. John's eyes roved your face.

"This is new."

"Your mother wanted it," you whispered hoarsely. The dress rippled. "It's too small."

His lips twitched. "Nice things usually are."

The quiet was soothing now. John brought your palm to his cheek, pressing your delicate fingers to his stubbly jaw. You stroked his face, smiling wider when he preened at the attention.

"Tell me a story?"

Snorting, you knelt to his level and recited a children's tale. John begged for stories as a child, anything to push off bedtime. Your mother told stories when you were children. Fitting of you to take her place. He enjoyed them still, it seemed, lips slipping into a peaceful pout as you talked quietly.

His hand made its way to your hair, gently working out the intricate braids. You resisted a groan at the sensation, eyes flickering shut as tension melted from your scalp.

"Why do ladies keep their hair up if it is such an ordeal to undo?" he mused, stroking your locks. You mumbled a response, too absorbed in the heavenly feeling.

"Keep talking, birdie," he said, fingers kneading your head. You stumbled through the ending, fighting to stay awake. John's warm smell softened your focus. A brutal yawn interrupted your telling, prompting a small chuckle.

Story finished, you rose, but were tugged back down.

"The prince demands you stay," he murmured, smiling softly.

AHHH SORRY THIS IS SO LONG AND LATE AND AUGH

@krakenkitty @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m @lonelyisamyw-0love @unear7hly

[acre-of-wheat]

I think we give Airk a lot of shit for his see through floral shirts and layered jewelry, but I don’t think we give Kit enough shit for her clearly very specific fashion choices.

In particular, her signature corset-belt-armor pieces.

Since they’re royals, all of their clothing must be custom made for them, but this is just such a specific piece of clothing I can’t help but imagine how annoying it must be to make these custom pieces for Kit in multiple styles.

We’ve got this cross woven pattern one that appears in the first scene.

Her runaway gear that includes some fun pieces of metal that are presumably clasps but seem also decorative?

And then the one that goes on the quest with her, which is probably the simplest, but still so fashion.

Even Sorsha makes a concession to Kit’s signature piece by incorporating it into her night-before-the-wedding fit. It’s metal this time, and she hates it, but it’s there!

I was remembering when the trolls were questioning Willow and Kit, and how one of the ways they knew they weren’t of the Wildwood was because of their clothing. At first I was like, Willow isn’t dressed that nice, and then I remembered that Kit is wearing a low cut blue silk shirt on a quest, as if that’s normal.

The twins know the importance of looking hot, and accessorizing appropriately, even on an adventure is what I’m saying, and I can appreciate that about them.

[liliummagpie]

Rain: wears an elegant royal blue silk robe.

Mountain: prefers something more comfortable and cozy.

Sodo: only sleeps in shorts or a shirt he stole from Aether.

Swiss: sleeps either in underwear or nothing at all (depends on the weather and the season).