#this drawing killed me it took me all month to draw and when i finally posted it on insta

[fanficsformyfaves]

She Got Away

Agatha Harkness x Fem Witch!Reader

WARNING: ANGST, SMUT 18+, Violence, Mentions Of Sickness And Symptoms, Mentions Of Murder, Lovers To Enemies To Lovers Trope, Agatha Uses Sex Magic To Give Herself A Cock, Rough Sex

PREFACE: Reader and Agatha were together back when they still lived in Salem, but when Agatha takes the coven's power and kills almost all its members, she fled, living only Reader alive

A/N: Flashback In Italics!

Marvel finally grew a pair and gave us the lesbian angst we deserved

And yes this was heavily inspired by Chappell's unreleased song 'Subway'

All I remembered seeing, as the last of my vision faded into darkness, was someone stashing me inside a hollow tree and growing vines shielding me from view. In the far distance, her silhouette turned to face me once more, before disappearing into the thick fog ahead.

I hadn't seen Agatha since then, but I was determined to find her. After everything we'd been through, the last thing I ever expected was for her to betray me the way that she did. She killed our coven and ran off like it was nothing. Like what we had was meaningless and insignificant to her.

From that day forward, I vowed to make her pay, if it was the last thing I did.

It took a while, but I managed to track her down in New Jersey. It became difficult when I couldn't sense her magic anymore, but I knew she was there. It was just a feeling I couldn't shake.

I walked down the lane of houses, wary of the eyes following me, when I arrive at the very last one at the end of the street. I take a quick glance through the window and that's when I felt my heart drop.

The woman I loved all those years ago. The same woman who made me feel like I was actually worth something, just to take it all away from me.

Amidst the blinding rage that coursed through my body was the agony I felt when I she first left. It was a knife twisting inside me with no way out.

Wanting to end this once and for all, I stormed the house by kicking the door open to find her huddled in the corner of her kitchen. She tried hard to mask her fear with a cocky grin, but of course I saw right through her.

"Well, if it isn't (Y/F/N). God, how long has it been?"

"Three hundred years, six months and six days"

"Awe, you kept count-"

She was interrupted by a dagger I threw her way. The blade striking the cabinet when she ducked.

"I see you picked up knife-throwing", she teased.

I lunge forward, grabbing the back of her head and slamming her into the wall. I wanted her to hurt the way I hurt. Only ten times worse.

She falls to the floor, holding her head, as I grabbed another knife, but before I could drive it into her chest, she stops me by my wrist.

"Remember pain? Kinda tickles doesn't it?", I said through gritted teeth.

I only managed to draw a drop of blood, before she reached for the chair and knocked me off of her. She gets back on her feet and makes a run for the door, when I use my magic to block off her only exit.

"I'm surprised you aren't using magic to get out of this one", I say, following her into the living room and blowing a fallen strand of hair away from my face.

She sighed through her nose, not taking her eyes off of me.

"Don't tell me you've reformed?"

"Another witch took my powers. The Scarlet Witch"

I scoff in surprise.

"So you finally got what was coming to you"

Her lips were set in a fine grimace.

"Well...almost. I'm just here to finish the job", I say, using my powers to launch her across the room.

She hits a glass case and falls to the ground with a thud, wincing. Just as I go to throw another one of my daggers, she holds a hand out.

"Wait! Wait", she pleaded, halting me.

"This isn't what you want. Me? Without power?", she chuckled nervously, carefully getting back up.

"This is- this is undignified! Don't you want me at my best?"

She stretches out the kinks in her neck, making sure not to take her eyes off of me.

"Admit it, you prefer me-"

"Horizontal? In a grave?", I cut off.

"Formidable", she answered.

"Come on, baby. You love it, the anticipation", she whispered, taking a step closer.

"Hm. That would be fun", I shrugged.

"Wouldn't it? Just...let me get my purple back and come find me after-"

"Not a chance in hell. Which is exactly where I plan on sending you. I promise to make it quick", I mocked, winding my blade back.

"Wait! Please!"

I roll my eyes, irritated with the stalling.

"Look. I hurt you, I'm not denying that", she swallowed thickly.

"But I didn't want to. I didn't have a choice", she shakes her head.

"You always have a choice. Like not killing our coven for example"

"You don't know what happened-"

"Or leaving me...when I needed you", I struggled to hide the hint of sadness peaking out from behind my anger.

Up to this point, I was able keep my composure, but the longer I looked at her, the more I felt the pain I'd been carrying around for years creep up on me.

"(Y/N)-"

"I woke up alone, surrounded by nothing but a pile of bodies and no one to turn to. You did that!"

Agatha bows her head, unable to hold my hurt gaze.

"I loved you, so so much", my voice was reduced to nothing but tearful whispers.

"So could you imagine just how much it killed me when you left? To find out it was all one-sided?", I hissed through gritted teeth.

"I did love you-"

"No, you didn't. You don't leave someone you loved behind"

I could tell that struck a nerve in her, when the brim of her eyes began to water.

"Why do you think I spared you and hid you in that tree? Hm? So you could exact revenge on me three hundred years later? Why not just finish the job?", her tone now angry at my accusations.

I was dumbfounded by the revelation. It was as if time ceased to move and the rest of the world disappeared around us.

"What?"

"I left to protect you. It was for your own good"

"That was you?"

"Of course it was. Everyone else was dead by the time I found you again"

My brows furrowed in confusion.

"What do you remember?", she questioned, mimicking my expression.

"I..."

"We were in the woods. I was confronting my mother about conspiring to kill me, when you showed up"

Suddenly, rushes of the past engulfed my vision. The grief of losing both my family and Agatha must've been too much for me to bare and caused my mind to distort my recollection of it.

I was walking through the forest, looking for my familiar, when I stumbled upon the empress and Agatha fighting.

"You were born evil", the empress snarled, as Agatha tensed at her tone.

"Empress? Agatha? What's happening?"

The empress turns back to Agatha with a look of disgust.

"No-", Agatha goes to intervene, but was interrupted by me getting struck with a bolt of magic.

"Obviously, I struck her back and when the other members overheard us, all hell broke loose. I was running and fighting for my life for hours"

"Why would she do that? Why would she try to kill you?"

"You heard her, I was 'born evil'. Finding out about the Darkhold was just the nail in the coffin"

Each missing piece of what happened finally began falling into place.

Back in Salem, a devasting sickness swept through the town and nearly claimed the lives of all its residents. Unfortunately, I was one of the unlucky few that fell victim to the disease's rampage.

It started with a fever and a few aches, but quickly escalated to me vomiting blood by the pint. I was bed-ridden for days and sure to die as there was no traditional spell to cure my ills, when Agatha made me a promise to keep me alive, no matter the means.

"I won't let you die", she sniffled, wiping the sweat off of my forehead.

"Agatha-"

"Don't. I'll find a way"

And that's what made her turn to Dark Magic and discover a book called the Darkhold. In the dead of night, whilst everyone was either asleep or nursing the sick, she snuck back into my hut and performed the ritual that restored my health.

"I don't know how she found out, but somehow she did"

I angrily wiped away the tears that managed to escape me.

"Let's say you're telling the truth about what really happened. You still left me", my voice trembled with each word.

"I couldn't risk people thinking you were involved. If they did, you would've spent the rest of your life running and you deserve better than that", she said, getting close enough to cradle my face in her hands.

I inhale, shrugging to get away from her.

"I don't believe you"

"Seems like you do"

Finally fed up with her mind games, I grab her by the throat and spun us around to pin her to the wall. I conjure another dagger and just as I raised it high into the air. This was it. The moment I'd been working towards for the last three centuries...only I couldn't move. She didn't have her powers, so I knew it couldn't have been her.

"You can't do it, can you?", she struggled.

"It's cause you know I'm telling the truth"

She was right. The realization knocked the wind out of me like a bat to my chest. I knew deep down, no matter how much she hurt me by leaving and how much I hated her for it, she only did what she had to...because she loved me. I took a shaky breath and felt another tear roll down my cheek.

She lowers the hand I held the dagger and cupped my face.

"That's it. Easy"

Once my hands were both to my side, she pulled me into a tight embrace, as I nuzzled into her neck.

"Oh, sweetheart. I missed you", she sighed contently.

Her own voice quivering at the feeling of my trembling sobs.

She eventually pulled away just enough to wipe my face dry and in that moment, my eyes poured into her baby blues.

I didn't know whether it was the adrenaline or the burden of the last few centuries being taken off of me, but before I could figure it out, I dropped the knife, grabbed her face and smashed my lips against hers. I backed her up against the wall, careful to guide her around the broken glass.

She quickly got to work on pulling my shirt off over my head and I followed suit, untying her robe. I couldn't help but take a moment to admire her hardened buds peaking through her nightgown.

"Missed me?"

"Shut up", I exhaled, pulling her back onto my lips, as she moaned at my man handling.

Once we were done ridding ourselves of all our clothes, she spun the both of us around to pin me now. She held my wrists against the wall and trailed her kisses down to my neck.

"You're so fucking pretty", she mumbled, painting my skin with shades of red and purple.

I whine at her nibbling down on my shoulder and throwing me around her waist. She takes us to the couch and I grind myself down on her lap, groaning at the sensation. As I returned the favor and left marks all up and down her neck, she mumbles something in Latin. Before I could question what she was doing, I felt something press against my core.

"Is that..."

"Really thought I forgot your favorite spell?", she grinned wickedly, running her hands up my waist to hold me in place.

"I always did enjoy fucking you raw"

I dive back into her lips and adjusted my hips to help her along. She grabs the appendage by the base and uses the tip to rub firm circles on my already aching clit.

"You're a mess", she chuckled, taking one of my nipples into her mouth.

"Please, take me", I moaned, grasping the back of her neck and bracing for her to stretch me out.

In one smooth thrust, she filled me to the brim, as I cried out. It was much bigger than I remembered.

"God, you were always so warm...and tight", she panted between each subtle thrust.

After giving me a moment to adjust, she started with a gentle pace, reminding herself to litter my neck and shoulder with kisses to soothe me.

"My sweet angel, fuck", she groaned.

As I began to ride up and down her length. Her eyes rake over my form and the way my hips dropped forward and pulled back over and over again. With each motion, her tip directly pressed into my g-spot, making her name fall from my lips repeatedly like a cursed hymn.

Her nails claw down my back, earning a wince.

"I'm sorry", she panted.

"Don't stop"

"I don't wanna hurt you-"

"I don't care", I whine, diving back into her lips and riding her faster.

She uses her biceps to hold me in place, ramming up into me harder.

"Agatha, fuck", I whimpered, holding onto her shoulders for dear life.

"That's right, baby. You're all mine"

My climax was fast-approaching and all I could do was fight it off as long as I could, until she gave me permission. Even after years of hating her, my body never forgot.

"I can feel you getting close", she moaned.

"Do it for me, come on, baby. I need you to come", she pleaded, reaching down between us to vigorously rub my throbbing clit.

I came with a scream that surely echoed throughout the neighborhood, but I couldn't care less. My vision momentarily faded to black, as my head fell back from the overwhelming pleasure that consumed me.

She held me against her, groaning as she coated my walls with her warmth.

"Fuck", she grunted, still thrusting into me to help us both ride out our orgasms.

Both spent and covered in each other's sweat and essences, we stay still for a while to catch our breaths.

"Miss me now?"

Too tired to think of a comeback, I simply nodded against her shoulder, hearing chuckle.

"Welcome home, baby"

[cosmichorrorlesbians]

These were the Silt Verses.

(closeups/design notes/rambling under the cut, because it took me over a month to make this so I'm going to be a little self-indulgent.)

spoilers for the whole podcast ahead!

Our protagonists! Notes:

Some of these came out more accurate to how I see them than others. Hayward in particular looks much less grimy and haggard than I imagine him. Carpenter, on the other hand, is perfect in my eyes. Shrue is (subconsciously) very much inspired by the wonderful @unbloodiedmartyr's rendition of them (thanks Sacha, your art goes insanely hard!)

Hayward and Paige face away, a nod to their final parting. Carpenter and Faulkner face one another, in deference to their final reunion.

Val and Shrue are both shown at the moment of their deaths.

Paige, the only character confirmed to survive the immediate finale, is the only one with closed eyes.

I'm a blond Faulkner truther. Sorry.

Someone left some really really insane tags on a Valpost I made like a month ago about how Val can alter her appearance as she pleases, but the Last Word can never convince her not to see the actual aftermath of her torture when she looks in the mirror, and it sent me a little crazy, so I was trying to capture that failing self-deceit here. She's meant to look absurdly young, but where the flames overlay her face, you can see the prayer marks and lacerations on her skin.

I had this out on my desk for days and every time a family member dropped by I had to frantically hide the fact I was drawing 'politician gets shot in the head' fanart. RIP.

These are the marks of the Many Below! They look Not Great enlarged, but hey ho. I wanted them to look hidden and incidental, separated in each corner as they are:

'Begin with a balbis on its side. Within the two spaces, a circle marked by a single dot.' Drawn in the silt of the White Gull River.

'Beneath this, a pair of concentric circles. Within the annulus, an ovoid with a slit - a staring eye.' Scrawled across the pug postcard Cross uses to write his idea to scapegoat Shrue.

'Under that, a lemniscate over a heptagram[...]' Made up of the ribbon that binds Mercer and Gage's rifles.

'[...]and three parallel lines beneath.' Faulkner's staff, broken into three pieces.

Interstitial illustrations. There are four sets of these, which (roughly) correspond to more stand-alone episodes & fan favourites. This is my favourite, for my beloved Chapter 36: All Lovers Part As Dust. I had a blast distilling recurring motifs of the episode into one little illustration, and I'm really proud of the result; I think it captures the match of sweet and bitter that the episode in question inspires. The clock points to the eleventh hour.

These are pretty self-explanatory: I couldn't pass up a chance to draw the inciting miracle of the series, and it made sense to pair it with the image of Paige and Hayward sailing downriver at the end of Season 2, an image which has always haunted me.

The hare and the owl are from Chapter 26, a symbol of the Wound Tree's emergence. The lobster and fish are intended as a nod to Faulkner and Rane, a character who I love but couldn't include more overtly. Lobsters are seen as a symbol of devotion and fidelity because, apocryphally, they mate for life, and yet the lobster here is without its pair. The fish was intended to be a remora, which swims beside sharks. (Yes, I'm aware remora are tropical sea-dwelling fish, and humbly beg any marine biologists reading this not to kill me on the spot).

The Killing And Violence Siblings!

These object illustrations were deliberately positioned as parallels and specifically reference Season 2, marking the point of the poem that is made up of that series' titles (an attention to the series chronology that roughly coheres throughout the piece. Very roughly.)

Mercer and Gage's rifles are twisted round with a red ribbon, which bleeds into the White Gull, binding them together and reflecting how they're rarely seen apart. The ribbon's also a deliberate parallel to the banner wrapping Carpenter and Faulkner's hands elsewhere in the art.

Carpenter's axe and Faulkner's sororicidal mirror shard are depicted alongside fish hooks, as though they're separated for much of the season, the Parish draws them back together in the end. Also an echo of Paige's line, 'Love is just a meat hook for you to catch me on.'

There's only blood on one of the rifles, in a nod to Mercer and Gage's uneven dynamic.

Bookend landscapes. The pages were intended to reference the Silt Verses as an in-story document, and represent the themes of truth, myth and record throughout.

The illumination!

It was always going to be a radio-- not a nod specifically to Sid Wright, but really to the use of broadcast, music and sound throughout the show. TSV's sound design is truly one of the things I admire most about it.

The radio is meant to be on Carpenter and Faulkner's dashboard, as they drive along the river in the very first episode, hence its positioning at the start of the poem.

I conceived this as the centre of the piece, and drew the rest around it.

aaaand that was a lot. I didn't cover everything, and I recommend clicking on the final piece to get full quality and see how the details interact with one another-- but if you've read through all these meanderings, thank you, sibling. I started this two weeks after the finale, and managed a full relisten while drawing. It's been a labour of love, and I now hate watercolours more than I have words for.

[n3kk1tty]

"Imagine being the adopted Daughter of the Sinclair brothers showing up in Travis county one day after buying a piece of land and a home to start a new life for you and your fathers. "

Thomas Hewitt x Reader

Ambrose burned down that night and you were lucky to escape with what you did. Your twin father's clinging to life as tears streamed down your face tearing out of there before the cops could show ripping your family from you. You made sure you wouldn't be followed. No one would find your family and take them from you. You had grabbed what you could in the hours before departure after pulling your father's to safety and killing one of the survivors. You and Lester filled two cars with what you could before setting the whole town ablaze in a finale good bye. Your family home and town in mass flames as nothing would survive. Too many bodies to determine if you all had died in the fire or not.

You were a smart girl and had dreams of one day leaving the nest you just didn't think this is how it would turn out. When your fathers Vincent and Bo came to you were already across Louisiana state lines into Texas with your father Lester following in his truck. In the aftermath your family had found another ghost town to set up in. You were happy your years of prep for a life on the road had paid off as you had a lot of money to spare to help start this new chapter. You were practically tossed the keys to the house and land for cheap as everyone was abandoning this town, happy to sell for nothing. Bo took long to adjust to the change, getting into fits at having nonstop maintenance to do on the house and new garage. While Vincent lamented at the tragedy of what happened and how all his art was gone.

You had managed to snag only a small box of your fathers tools and art journals in the fire but had made sure on a trip to pick him up new art mediums when you went towns over for supplies one day. You remember how hard the quiet man hugged you when you awkwardly showed up in his basement room with a box of different art mediums. Signing to your father while you spoke. " I know it doesn't replace what we lost that night. But maybe it's time to try new mediums just like our new beginning. I love you dad." After that day Vincent would dive into new mediums every time you brought him some. He quickly took up wood carving and mask making to replace his wax prosthetic while using his oil pastels to draw the texas sunsets.

You and your father Lester were the most positive of the family about the move. You did your best to make the house a home and to keep the family together while Lester got work a ways out picking up road kill just like he used to. The only piece of mind with him having such a long commute was the fact Jonesy was always with him and he was just a call away. Your family lived in the quiet town for a few months blissfully unaware of your cannibal neighbors lurking in the ghost town as well. That was until you started frequenting the corner store for goods. Things like nails, cigarettes, and beer became a regular on a trip for you to do as Bo was always asking you to pick up things while he stayed home mumbling to himself.

It wasn't till your third trip did Luda Mae start questioning you. You brought the beer to the counter pointing to the cigarette brand your father liked. " A husband at home who likes to drink and smoke missy?" You let out a small laugh in response to the older woman. " No, no. Sadly not Married nor dating Ma'am these are just for my father. He's been working on our house and having me go fetch him things. " The woman perks up behind the counter. " Working on a house you say. That wouldn't be in this town would it. Ain't hardly anyone left let alone new comers. " You lean across the counter the sweetest smile you could muster in your face.

" We actually like the quietness of the town. Haven't had time to meet our neighbors though after moving in a couple of months ago. We've been too busy trying to get the house in order. I think I have already lost count of the days with how much I've been in my garden or kitchen all day. " The older woman pulls in a seat motioning for you to sit with her at the counter as she interrogates you. " So you like keeping yourself busy? Is it just you and your father and mother in the house, I know I'll be losing track of days myself keeping up with the three boys in my house. "

You laugh as you shyly scratch your head. " No ma'am. Never had a mother before. I'm a little embarrassed to admit it but I'm adopted by three brothers. They kinda found me abandoned when I was younger in this roadkill dumping ground and when they brought me home none of them could decide who the father would be so they are all just kind of my dad's. Now I know that must be a little strange and off putting to most but I sware that's my life. Though I guess legally my Pa Bo is my father as he took me to appointments when I was little. "

The woman could feel her maternal instincts fluttering in her chest as she schemed a way to make you her daughter. Luda Mae was determined to be the mother you never had, or even mother in law. " Oh that sounds like something silly three men would do. Must have been tough growing up with no mother. " You sigh to yourself as you think back to the home you can never return to a sadness hurting your heart. " I mean my father's certainly struggled teaching me to be lady-like. If it wasn't for my dad Vincent I'd probably still be running around in a baseball cap and boy clothes being a wild child. He used to fuss for hours learning how to style my hair like all the other little girls and make me dresses to wear since sometimes money got tight. "

" Oh you poor thing. What brings y'all to Travis? Planning on staying long or are you gonna set out on your own eventually. " Your smile drops as you half heartedly try and smile again at the woman but she can tell that question hurt you. " No, I think I'll stay here with my dad's. Our last home was burned down thanks to burglars and we barely made it out alive. I'm just doing my best to hold my family together. They are all I've ever known and I wanna keep them safe. I should probably be heading back before the beer gets warm."

Luda Mae walks you back to your car patting your back as you finish your chatting. " Well you know men. If you don't tell them to take a break they will work themselves ragged. My old man Bo is probably fiddling in his garage or in the house again. I'd love to come by for a visit, Miss Luda and give a proper introduction since we're neighbors. Maybe I should bring some dessert for your boys. " The woman smiled as you started the car up. " Oh (Y/n) I think my Tommy would fancy meeting you. " A blush and a nervous laughter arises as you remember back to the last time you attempted romance and how Bo and Vincent nearly made him a wax figure in Ambrose.

" I'd be charmed to meet him. I'll be seeing you around ma'am don't work yourself to hard. " After that day Luda Mae became determined to hook Tommy up with you. You were the perfect candidate for her son. The list of womanly house chores you could do was phenomenal and you were a sweet family oriented girl who was pretty to boot. The next visits to the shop you brang the old woman all sorts of things while you two spend the time chatting away. Like homegrown veggies, or fruit you snagged outta town, you even brought her some embroidery you did while learning with Vincent. All things Luda Mae appreciated and shown how you were the perfect daughter in law for her. She brought the things home showing them to Tommy talking his ear off about how she found him a bride finally and the man was excited just to get a look at you.

Hoyt caught wind of the newcomers in town and decided since he was the sheriff he might as well introduce his authority. Luda Mae almost took his family jewels though stating that you were Tommy's and Tommy's alone so to keep his hands off her future daughter in law as the man got ready to drive over. It took the whole Hewitt family to stop Tommy from hopping in the back of the car to catch a peek. Luda Mae had to assure him that you'd meet in due time but she was buttering you up for your new position.

At your house you had snagged bees to add to your new little farms addition so you were attending to your helpers. There wasn't much food out here and you and Lester were the only ones bringing in money so you figured homesteading was good enough to keep your family fed and happy. Trips out to town were long and tedious like Ambrose but you made do with selling things at the farmers market to help bring home ends meat. Your little farm had rabbits, chickens, and bees for wax now. You beamed in pride up at the window as Vincent signed to you. " Bees ? For wax ? Bee- careful not to get stung. "

You laughed at your fathers joke as you smiled as you signed back to him. " Very funny Dad. " Suddenly a cop car came rushing down the pebble road to your home. You freeze in fear as Vincent takes notice of your face rushing to grab Bo and his tools as your brain rushed with the thought that your family had been found. You were panicking. How did they find you. There was no way anything survived that fire or the victims could pin point you. Your eyes darkened as you grabbed the knife in your apron pocket. No one would take your family from you without paying with their life first. The sheriff hopped out the car standing in the driveway to your porch as you stood in your gardeners outfit and sunhat before him. " Well hello sheriff what brings you all the way out here?"

" Well I sheriff Hoyt would be surprised that we have newcomers in town who haven't even met their local police officers yet. Luda Mae has been chatting up a storm about you missy and I figured since I'm the sheriff of our small town it only makes sense to get to know who I'm protecting. " Your grip loosens from the knife in your apron as you let out a relieved sigh. " Well my goodness sheriff what an honor it is you drove all the way here to meet us. I'm sorry I would have been dressed a lot nicer if I knew someone so important was coming. Why don't you get outta the heat sir. That uniform must be blazing in this heat I'll go grab my father and some lemonade to cool you off. " The man's ego felt extremely boosted by your demeanor as he took a seat in the rocking chair on the porch.

You rushed inside in time to stop your twin father's from rushing out the door to mangle the sheriff. You push your hands on their chest signing out with your hands what's happening just so you know no one can hear. " It's just one of Luda Mae's boys. The lady from the store said her son was the sheriff. He isn't here for us, just to introduce. " Bo stares down grumbling as he wipes his hands clean of car grease. " Guess we should make peace with our neighbors. Stay outta it if things go south though. Understand. " You smile at him as you go to the kitchen Vincent following behind as you shout to the man. " I will Pa. You want beer or lemonade?" You laugh as Bo replies back lemonade is fine as he doesn't wanna share his booze with the sheriff just yet.

The front door swings open as Bo towers over the man on the porch. His face switches to a smile as he walks over to the sheriff sticking his somewhat cleaned hands out. " Well hello there sir. How kind of you to stop by. I'm Bo Sinclair the man of the house. Sorry about the car grease, was working on my truck. " The sheriff shakes his hand as he looks the man up and down. At least they weren't bikers or hippies he thought as the pair sit down making small talk as you bring drinks out. The two spend hours shooting the shit almost bonding over there disdain of the bikers in town. They talk about the town and its history while Bo eventually offers to fix up the sheriff's car as it looks like it could use a look under the hood.

By the time the old men are done chatting and taking a look at the car discussing Bo fixing up cars for the sheriff and splitting profits off of car scraps Lester and Jonesey are making it up the drive way for dinner. Hoyt ended up meeting the whole strange Sinclair family that night as he stayed for dinner. Fresh veggies and beautifully seasoned food with dessert and beer. The man almost didn't want to leave and agreed with Luda Mae your family's would be best together through you and Tommy's future wedding. Though Hoyt wouldn't tell your fathers as the twins were built out of brick and Lester was proud to show off his roadkill job so winning the Sinclair's favor was the Hewitts plan.

That night Hoyt went home with a full stomach and plenty of leftovers as your rabbits were well multiplying like rabbits. The sheriff tossed the leftovers plate to Tommy as he patted the boy on the back saying he was lucky. " We found you a good one boy. Gonna have to marry that one so me and my future business partner can keep bringing good meals like this home. " Tommy nearly licked the plate clean as the cucumber salad and roasted rabbit were heavenly on his tongue and when he got to the Mississippi mud pie on the plate he almost wanted to run over there now and officiate the wedding. Tommy was even more excited as Hoyt told him not to worry about his face as your father Vincent had a birth defect to his face as well. Talking about how if Tommy asked he would probably make him one of those fancy prosthetics to boot.

The first time you met the giant guard dog of the Hewitts was on the faithful day you invited them all over for dinner. The Summer heats had been rough but you Sinclair's had made your new home finally to your liking and it only took half a year. Hoyt and Bo were thick as thieves in their car business. Your garden was flourishing as you did wonderfully at the farmers markets selling off eggs, rabbits, and flowers. On rare occasions you'd sell art that Vincent made. All the Sinclair's had pulled together and were now financially stable again and adjusted to their new lives. The past may have burned down but the new peace you had you wouldn't trade for the world.

Maybe Ambrose going up in smoke was the blessing you all needed as it took with it the past bad memories as well as the good. Along with the Sinclair's doing good that meant the Hewitts got to thrive off of your generosity as well. Luda Mae spent hours making Tommy scrub off blood and dirty from his body to be presentable for your first meeting. You had brought the woman many fancy soaps from your trips to town and she was currently doing her best to make the man smell like roses. She even went out of her way to trim back his hair and freshen his clothes. With the last spray of stolen cologne the Hewitts were piling into the new fixed up car they had fixed up by Bo.

When they arrived the porch was lit up with fairy lights and the old Texas farmhouse was now as beautiful as it ever was. New paint and many maintenance later with your adding of decorations and dried herbs on the porch the Sinclair's property was the prettiest in Travis county. How either family never broached the topic of murder was a mystery as it wasn't like Bo wasn't making people disappear for car parts and cash when they wandered into your property. Can't have his new sheriff friend being crossed with him but the Sinclair's weren't going to let anyone take their new home from them. While the Hewitts kept with keeping their freezer stocked.

Both families stood in front of each other smiling while their dark secrets made them even more similar than they thought. Tommy nervously handing you a bouquet of wild flowers he picked while you tried talking to the behemoth. The Hewitts made themselves comfortable in your living room while they talked your fathers up. The same fathers who kept glaring down the Hewitt boy any time they thought he was stepping out of line with their beloved daughter. You two were watched like a hawk as Tommy nervously fiddled with his dress shirt while you softly talked to him trying to get him to look at you. Gentle hands felt his forearms as he tried to communicate back but couldn't as he was unable.

The Sinclair brothers watched like guard dogs around their daughter as you sat with Tommy on the couch teaching how to use sign language to communicate with you. Jonesey sat by you getting pets as you taught him how to sign dog. You liked the sweet man you did. He was shy and big but he was a gentleman to you as electric shot through your heart every time you touched. The Hewitts plan was working and you and Tommy were just in the beginning stages of your love story they thought. The two family's after that night became thick as theives. You and Tommy were paired together most days then not afterwards as the boy would get so excited he would happily do the long walk to your property just to see you.

Even if his help wasn't needed he would be there for an hour so you could teach him sign while Vincent worked away on a better prosthetics for your boyfriend to be. Every time this boy lumbered up the porch he'd bring you a gift and be as clean as possible while happily making noises at you. You even started sneaking off to the Hewitts under the guise of helping Luda Mae in her own garden and home just to see Tommy. Under the Texas heat love bloomed in the air and the families grew closer and closer together. You were so close it was becoming harder to hide each other's secrets.

It all came out in the open one day though when one of the victims came out of the basement when Bo and you were over to help. They came running out covered in blood begging you for help in the kitchen with you and Luda Mae in the middle of pickling. They yanked you away while swinging the knife at the old woman shouting for everyone to hear that the Hewitts were monsters and you should leave. The old woman panicked begging for you not to leave coming up with excuses as the victim lunges at her. With a swift wack of a cast iron they were slumped in the floor as you made work to cutting the vocals cords and Achilles tendon in the poor thing.

Luda Mae stood in shock as her sweet gentle future daughter in law was blankly using a knife to finish the girl off making sure she wasn't gonna be causing a fuss anymore. You stood above her as you looked at the old woman, blood smearing your face as you laughed. " Guess our families are a lot more alike than I thought Luda Mae. " Bo and Hoyt came sprinting into the room noticing the blood and girl on the floor as Hoyt was prepared for the worst of having to fight his friend before the mechanic gave an approving chuckle. " That's my girl. Quick and effective. Well come on Hoyt the ladies can't keep pickling with this bitch on the floor so let's get it cleaned up. I'm hungry for some lunch too. Would y'all ladies mind making us men something. "

After that the families solidified a friendship between the two Travis County quickly became a place for people to disappear and die. The Sinclairs did not partake in the cannibalism like their friends but they would gladly help lure victims or finish people off. The families were always at each other's places to help and soon we're even helping fix up the corner store and the Hewitt home. Life was peaceful and eventually Tommy got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend. Through the little sign language he did know under a southern live oak tree Thomas Hewitt asked for you to be his girlfriend.

You gleefully said yes as you tackled the man down to the ground placing a loving kiss to his face. You two hid under your tree from your prying families as you spent the evening in each other's arms giggling away as you exchanged kisses and bated breath. Your life in Ambrose may have been destroyed in that fire that night but you wouldn't trade your new beginning for the world. A fire could destroy the past but it also could warm your heart to the new future to come.

This was an idea in my head after I rewatched both movies. If y'all want more of Thomas Hewitt X Sinclair daughter make sure to let me know or if you want more Sinclair Daughter posts in the future.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Chapter Five - Ostensible

Summary: Truth comes to light between the hushed whispers of destined lovers. Friends emerge in the oddest of places and flowers bloom in place of words.

Notes: ~9k words, holy fuck. Sorry this took so long, I realized that it's been literal months since I updated this story.

Warnings/Tags: Gault's funeral, Reader is slapping bitches as they should.

Tag list is open, just let me know :)

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Ostensible (adj.) - stated or appearing to be true, but not necessarily so

Morpheus brings you to his chest as your scream turns into buzzing breaths and you’re trying to gulp down your unrelenting fear. You push against his hold weakly, the fabric of his jacket seemingly too rough against your inflamed skin.

“How—how could you do—do that?” You scream at him through hiccups. You feel your eyes start to sting as the prickling tears start to emerge from your eyes. “I trusted you… I trusted you!”

“I fought justice with justice,” your husband answers simply. 

His response angers you in return. What is his definition of justice if he killed a person without reason? Without fair trial? You look at him with a hardening frown. 

“No, kings fight with honor and that was not honorable. You answered justice with injustice,” you accuse, hands on his chest to give yourself more room. The tears have caked themselves on your cheeks, drying and pinching the skin beneath. 

“It is as I make of it, I will not hear it!” Morpheus growls down at you, his hands gripping harder around your arms, squeezing as he screams his excuse.

Smack!

The stinging of your fingers meets the night air, the imprint of your hand swelling on Morpheus’ left cheek. His eyes are wide as it takes him a moment to realize you have struck him. When his eyes finally meet yours, he finds not the eyes of the woman he knew. 

Morpheus sees anger, resentment, and hatred in your eyes. Your lips downturned with no regret of the action you just did. His jaw hangs open, the hit stunning him. 

Matthew winces at the slap, having before been on the receiving end of it⎼even if it was under different circumstances. He and Jessamy turn around to give the two—should he call them lovers?—some privacy. The young knight follows Jessamy’s new fascination with toeing the loose garden path. This path sure is made out of path tonight… Matthew thinks to himself as he draws a pattern.

“Do not dare to touch me. Not now, not ever.” Your glare only softens when Morpheus lets you go, his fingers seemingly snapping open after realizing his grip on you.

“Forgive me,” Morpheus whispers, his head dipping in embarrassment. 

A similar apology sits heavy on your tongue for striking him, but flashbacks of how you got into this situation play in your mind. Your teeth clamp over your tongue until you taste the iron of blood.

With a deep breath, you ask a question you’re not sure you’ll get an answer to. “Why are you so angry?”

The question shakes through his core, the words ringing in unfamiliar territory. 

“I… I don’t know,” Morpheus answers slowly after a few quiet moments.

The crickets chirping fill in the growing silence as you take in his answer. With a sigh, you leave against the betterment of your judgment towards the scene of the crime.

You don’t have to look to know that Morpheus was trailing behind you. The ever-familiar sound of armor from Matthew and Jessamy follows as well.

You stop early, seeing the laying stump that is the recently passed Rodrick Burgess. In all of his past glory, real or not, here he laid for his crimes. 

Morpheus follows your eye line, squinting in the dim light of the eclipse until they widen in realization. He jogs over, and this time you’re following him with heavy and dragging footsteps. Your heart rate picks up once more and though you know he is dead for good, a primal part of you still fears he may come back to life. 

You can still feel Burgess’ scrutinizing gaze upon you and how his hands so easily wrapped themselves around your neck. The lack of power you had in the situation as your breath was taken from you, as your nails did nothing against his armor. Your hand reaches towards where he laid his hands on you and you wince as you touch the blooming bruise.

Morpheus crouches down to the body, placing the back of his hand to Burgess’ nose, and only stands back up when he concludes that he isn’t breathing anymore. He turns to you with a forlorn look on his face and his mouth agape with words that he tries to push out. 

“Forgive me, for doubting you,” Morpheus manages to squeeze out eventually. 

You turn your head away from him, staring off into the distance as his apology only skims across your ears. Morpheus’ eyes drift down towards your neck, guilt eating him alive as he sees the distinct bruise that encircled you like a noose. 

A straying hiccup is fighting its way past your throat as you hear him coming closer to you. The air is thick with tension and a wedge grows between you like the weeds that sprout between the cracks of your garden path. Even if you try to stamp them out, they will grow back because both of you are too prideful to work together. 

Your eyes retrace the dead body once again, the low light doing well to hide most of the gruesome aftereffect of Gaunt’s actions. But the smell, it permeates through the night wind and reaches your nostrils, making you sick to your stomach.

You’ve never even stepped in the kitchen when your father brought in fresh geese from his hunting trips; how do you deal with a person? The smell of death is so distinct. You turn away, the nauseating feeling of acid once again building up in your throat. 

“Please,” Morpheus calls out to you, grabbing onto the fluff of your dress. 

You turn quickly, feeling the seams ripping at the force of it. Your eyes widen as you see the great King Morpheus on his knees before you. His lithe fingers still grip your dress, the blood that had besmirched his hands transferring onto the silk and tulle. 

“Gods, what are you doing!” You curse, dropping to your knees with him.

The grass pricks at your skin but you pay it no mind, grabbing onto Morpheus’ elbows to bring him up. He doesn’t go easy, because when has he ever? He’s just as stubborn as you are.

“I am sorry, please, I am sorry,” He apologizes into your gown, head low and almost bowing on his knees. 

“Please, get up, Morpheus,” You whisper, grabbing at his elbows again and lifting him to stand with you. 

His nose and eyes are blushed red as he holds back tears and he dips his head into your neck to hide himself. He hovers just above your neck, not quite touching your skin but you can feel his shaky breath along the curve of your neck. His hands are fisted at his side as he punishes himself mentally for what he has done to you.

Despite everything, despite your pride, despite your differences, your hands wrap themselves around his head, shielding him as he trembles like a lost boy in your arms. You feel no tears hit your shoulders and it’s a sad realization indeed when you’ve concluded that, even now, Morpheus won’t let his image crack in front of others. 

Under judgment of the Celestial Lovers, the two of you remain like that for a few minutes. Silence, for once, was welcomed between the two of you. Morpheus’ breath slows down to match your speed and calms himself. 

He is the first to pull away and he doesn’t look in your eyes after. It is a subtle action that you did notice and should you not have such a caring heart as you do, one you would’ve ignored. But, you can’t and so your heart lurches out to comfort him even when your mind is pulling you in the opposite direction. 

“Where did we go wrong, Y/N?” Morpheus sighs defeatedly. 

“We never ‘went wrong’, Morpheus,” you say after a few seconds with a sigh of your own. You think back to the first day you met him, the day of your wedding, to the whispered confessions he proclaimed to someone else. “We were doomed from the start…”

“Will you let us try?” 

After all of this time? After months of neglect and loneliness? How could you possibly believe that Morpheus wants to start a relationship with you now? All of his past actions have contradicted everything that has led up to this moment. His question strikes a chord with you, and yet—

“Tell me, my lord.” You swallow your fear, gripping onto the dark cape Morpheus had draped over you previously. “Tell me of the conversation you shared with your beloved Calliope tonight and I will think about it.”

A small frown etches on Morpheus’ face. “Calliope is not my beloved,” he says first and foremost. “But, I told her that she was right after all, that we were simply not meant to be. That I do love you, it just took me a while to realize the feeling.”

“Why do I not believe you, Morpheus?” The confession was sweet, but he has yet to do anything to prove his words. “Words are not actions, and I cannot in good faith believe a single thing you have said to me tonight.” 

This time, it is you who looks away. You must steel your heart away, you cannot let it get hurt again. Even now as it beats erratically in your chest, it feels like his fingers are gripping themselves around the muscle. Your fingers tremble as they continue to grip onto the cape.

“Jessamy, let us depart.” Morpheus finally says, clearing his throat and walking away, his footsteps silent compared to your beating heart.

Morpheus plays with his bracelet, pulling at it as it grows tauter against his wrist in retaliation. It sears into his skin, leaving a new reddening bruise. Your own mimics its partner, twisting and tightening in on itself, but you had long gotten used to the pain. 

“Take me back to my room, Matthew,” you eventually say when Morpheus’ figure is no longer seen. 

You lead the way, having long since memorized the outline of the castle gardens. Your company is that of night critters as they also enjoy the early night. Fireflies dance in the air in pairs as they celebrate the yearly union. The further you walk, the more dilute the smell of death becomes. Soon you are back to smelling the subtle hints of jasmines and evening primroses as they blossom in the night. 

Blind by thoughts, you walk straight into another body, a small grunt leaving your lips. Matthew is there by your side to steady you before you even recognize what is happening. 

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” Calliope’s infamous voice comes through the night. 

“All is well,” you say, too tired to bring out the other negative emotions that usually show with her mention: jealousy, rage, resentment… No matter, not tonight. You grip onto Morpheus’ cape tighter as you make your way past her. 

“Wait,” Calliope calls out. In a moment without thought, her hands reach out for yours, gently grabbing themselves over your cold digits. 

“Hands off the Queen!” Matthew announces loudly in your ear. His nerves are on edge from all of the events that have occurred so far tonight. 

“No, Matthew, it is quite all right.” You push the knight away with the back of your hand and a ringing of his voice in your ears. 

“I simply want to say that I wish you the best of luck. Morpheus is very, shall we say… shy, about his actions. If he has not told you, we are not lovers. I stopped seeing him the day before your wedding. I just want you to know,” she rambles and you could never see it in her to do so. Yet, here she is, rambling, afraid that you would go back on your word and never speak to her again. 

“I know, Calliope,” you sigh, holding her hand in your own. “I was angry and in denial with myself when I heard those words he whispered to you on that balcony.”

“You heard that?” Calliope gasps with wide eyes. She pulls herself closer to you and her presence feels like an old friend. “I am so—” 

“I do not need any more apologies tonight, though I am thankful for your honesty. It is time to look toward the future on a more positive note. I would be honored to call you a friend, if you can forgive my own actions against you.”

“I never held that against you, Your Majesty. Being friends, it would be a dream come true.” Her hands squeeze yours like a small hug. 

“You are too kind, my lady,” you say with a smile—a real, genuine smile.

A new flower blooms that night in your garden. From the blood of your spilled enemy and the promise of your first friend within castle walls, a hybrid between forget-me-nots and lilies emerges from the late summer grass. 

Agnes greets you as soon as you step into your door. Her worry and fussing as she scans your tired face and bloody ripped dress is a contrast to her normally calm facade. She’s dragging you on your tired feet and undressing you head to toe before shoving you into an already prepared bathtub.

“Honestly, do people have no sense of decency anymore!” She mutters to herself as she frolics throughout the bathroom grabbing at this and that. 

Agnes began throwing different creams and petals into the water, you might as well have been stew she was cooking. The water turns milky and orange like the summer firefruits the servants used to freeze for you to eat. 

You stay quiet as she begins to scrub your body down with a new sponge, the familiar roughness of it calming in an odd way. Agnes is still muttering to herself as she does so, making sure to get through every nook and cranny she can. 

The water is almost boiling hot, something that you would normally condemn but tonight you welcome it. It burns and washes away the sins and tragedies of tonight.

You’re nothing but a lump of flesh at her mercy as she suds your hair, her nails breaking apart dry blood and turning the soap brown. Her face is still tense, eyebrows furrowing as she washes away the sins of the past. 

Iron permeates the air and the nauseating smell of death comes back like a disease on the horizon. 

“Agnes, what is your opinion on the King?” You ask, half to distract yourself and half to learn more about him.

Would it be too late to learn more about your husband? Perhaps, it has been several months since you've sworn to each other for eternity. But, tonight an abundant amount of new information has come forth. Some were just speculation and some were outright facts.

“King Morpheus has always done right by us, Your Majesty,” Agnes states honestly. 

“Us?” You probe.

“Yes, my late husband left us out to dry and I don’t make near enough for our son. King Morpheus is paying for his education and lets me sleep in the palace as long as I work under him. And to keep you safe of course, Your Majesty,” Agnes further explains. 

She globs on a different type of cream into your hair and the air starts to smell like fresh fruit instead of dried blood. The image of Morpheus starts to shift as you imagine him through Agnes’ eyes. What was once dark turns lighter in your mind. 

You suppose he isn’t a terrible husband, just a neglectful one. He lets you do as you please: tearing away at his gardens for your own sanctuary, permitting you into the royal library, and letting you paint uninterrupted in the studio. 

Was everything he confessed tonight true then? That his feelings for you have changed from resentment of forced marriage into love? It is hard to believe, there is no way a person’s feelings could change so fast. 

For all of the good that he’s done, there is also the bad. Neglecting you is the most obvious answer, but he also failed to listen to your pleas for mercy and rejected you from his inner royal court. He has refused to let you serve your kingdom and share the burden of ruling as a monarch. And though you resolved the issue of his former love for Calliope yourself, would it have wounded him to tell you himself? Why? Why?

The never ending torment that is your own thoughts has you sulking deeper into the bathtub until the only thing above the water are your eyes and nose. Agnes dumps water over your head and your breath creates bubbles in the water. 

You wish to stay in the warm waters for the rest of your life, like returning to the safe womb from which you were born. At least there, you wouldn’t have to deal with… well whatever this is. 

“I am sure that His Majesty never meant to harm you,” Agnes starts again, taking your forlorn expression. 

Too many times has she seen a lonely wife on this side of the universe. Though poorer herself, she is blessed to have been married for love and not arrangement. A lonely wife is always the first ingredient for disaster, followed closely by an angry wife. 

“The King is one of few words, but his actions proceed him. He thought he was doing right by you, Your Grace.” She quickly continues. 

You don’t bother with a response. Perhaps he did think he was doing the right thing. You can imagine what it must have looked like to him in the dim light. A weapon in the hands of an unknown soldier, kneeling over you while your face was still panic-stricken. 

It, however, doesn’t ignore the fact that he proceeded to ignore your pleas, too focus on bringing you his version of “justice.”

You don’t see Morpheus for another week, the tension between the two of you has died down to a low simmer instead of the raging boil you left at. In your time, you’ve started to enjoy Calliope’s company more and more. 

Oftentimes, the two of you share conversation within one of the several drawing rooms in the palace. Calliope brings lemons from her home kingdom of Boeotica that are hardly grown in the seaside soils of the Dreaming. And with lemons comes to fruition your new favorite dessert of tiny lemon cakes. 

Calliope often thinks that you seek out her company each day of the week just so you have an excuse to eat the pastries and drink tea, though you would deny it. You do genuinely enjoy her company. Had you never overcome your diversities with each other, you would have never known how kind, witty, and graceful she is. 

She never minds it. Calliope has missed her sisters dearly, and your company ebbs away at the homesick feeling she’s had since coming here as emissary. And between laughs and hushed whispers of shared stories does she come to find a sister in you as well. 

Other times, you find that Calliope loves to take morning strolls through the open grounds within the castle. She loves the way the sun feels against her skin, warming her up in the mornings like the soil beneath her feet. Matthew accompanies the two of you while she listens to your rambles, your mind having far too many topics of conversation given your lack of friends within palace walls. 

“How did you come into Morpheus’ care?” You ask one day on a familiar stroll in the palace gardens. 

Calliope hums as she acknowledges your question. She thinks for a moment amidst the sound of mourning doves and fountains trickling. You wait with bated breath. Your jealousy of Calliope has long dissipated, but a part of you wishes to know how she managed to become so amicable with your husband. 

“Morpheus and I grew up in the same circle, being royalty and all. It is not uncommon to say that we had our fair share of encounters while we were children. Did you know that he was quite the rambunctious one while he was young? He, Hob, and Lucienne were oftentimes found chasing each other through the halls with wooden swords and empty threats.

Morpheus got into a lot of trouble, he often came back to his nanny covered in bruises or dirt. His mother never appreciated it, thinking it was unsightly for a prince to look and act as he did. I first met him when my parents were visiting as guests and I had holed myself up in some library. He comes bargaining in to hide from Hob and Lucienne from some game they’ve made up. 

We became friends through our love of literature and when Hob and Lucienne eventually found him, they nicknamed him the Prince of Stories. He hated it, of course, saying something about how it was not regal enough for him. 

Eventually, he had to step into the throne. As you may know, his brother was in contact with the divine and thus became divine—and had to step down as the next king of the Dreaming. His eldest sister left to travel, though for reasons unknown to anyone outside of the royal family.” Calliopes goes on.

Her voice is light and smooth, perfect for reminiscing and storytelling. You find yourself smiling at this new found information about Morpheus. His more solemn and distinguished attitude is a stark contrast to his childhood. 

“Do you still love him?” You ask hesitantly, finding distraction in the morning bees that collected the last few drops of autumn nectar. 

“Yes,” Calliope replies honestly. “But as friends.” She nudges you with a knowing smile as she sees you deflate slightly. 

“I see.”

“You need not worry. I believe our relationship was due to his wish for simpler times. Everyone had grown up, Lucienne filled in her role quite well as the royal advisor, her studies proven well. Hob married and inherited his father’s fortune and lands. And Morpheus took to the throne, you must imagine how that is for a boy who was never meant to take to it?” Calliope stops just before the colonnades that reentered the palace as she asks you the question. 

“How do you feel, Calliope? Now that he has listened to you and stopped the relationship?” You inquire, a curious frown etched upon your face. 

“As if he’s finally grown to be the man he is meant to be,” she answers with a soft smile. 

With that answer, she leaves you, having other responsibilities to tend to. The fall chill comes down, kissing across your exposed shoulders and caressing through the loose strands of your hair. Your mind is muddled with thoughts as you watch Calliope’s figure recede. 

On the seventh day, Calliope is nowhere to be seen and instead, you find Morpheus standing in the middle of the drawing room. You had just finished a new book that you wished to share with Calliope, but instead, you’re greeted with bouquet after bouquet of different flowers. 

“Oh!” You exclaim, confused. 

You tilt your body outside for a moment to make sure that you stepped into the correct room. Jessemy’s body seems to materialize out of thin air, and her quiet demeanor makes her a lot more difficult to sense. You even look to Matthew just to make sure, but he meets you with a shrug. 

“Good morning,” Morpheus coughs out when you turn your attention back to him. 

Matthew lets out an aggressive sneeze as the sickly sweet smell from the abundance of flowers reaches his nostrils. The armor-clad knight sneezes again and practically shoves you into the room so that he can close the door behind him.

“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” he apologizes. Matthew’s muffled sneezes can still be heard on the other side.

A few seconds pass too fast, the atmosphere fills with awkward tension. You could hear the ringing in your ears and wish to crumble and hide within yourself. 

“This is… a lot of flowers,” You state the obvious, scanning over the different colors and shapes. 

“Yes,” Morpheus agrees, perhaps a little too quickly. “Lucienne said you might like a gesture, and I do not know what your favorite flowers are. I find that I do not know about you, at all.”

Morpheus watches closely as you trace the delicate petals of a yet to bloom dahlia with a soft smile. Dahlias are an incredibly romantic flower with the message being “forever thine” and he wonders if you knew that when selecting the flowers. 

“I do like flowers,” you admit absentmindedly. “These are dahlias, an incredibly romantic flower, but not many know that they can be toxic, too. And these,” you practically skip over to another bouquet, “these chrysanthemums mean joy and optimism, and they can even make a soothing tea.”

Your eyes light up as you scan the room, taking in the different species and colors as you start to ramble about each one you like, naming their meanings and purposes. Morpheus listens intently, learning and smiling at the way you flitter around the room like an untamed pixie.

Your smile grows with each new flower you name and you turn to see him smiling back at you. The moment is lost, however, when you realize what he is trying to do. 

“Wait,” you pause, leaving the flowers behind. “You thought that you would be forgiven after everything with just a few flowers?”

“I would not call this a few…” Morpheus laughs slightly and gestures towards the wall of flowers. “I want to get to know you.”

“That would have been a more appropriate conversation you should have shared with your wife on our wedding day,” you grit out. 

The flowers are just a distraction. Morpheus may be a man of a few words, as Agnes has said, and you can see that he is trying in his own weird way. But it will take a lot more than some pretty flowers to gain your favor again. 

“We are gathered here today to honor the recently passed Ser Gault, a noble soldier of the Dreaming whose bravery saved none other than the Queen’s life. As per King Morpheus, Ser Gault will be buried with the highest honor given within the kingdom.” The Reverend Destiny reads off of his old, leathered book. 

You stand amongst the crowd of gathered attendees, the late autumn sun is just about to clip below the horizon. Through your black veil, you garner a small peek at your husband. Morpheus stands next to you, perfectly straight-postured as always and you’re having a hard time trying to read his emotions. Your eyes return to the wooden casket in the ground. 

Six feet under, lies Gault. The very reason you are standing here today, alive and breathing, and yet she wasn’t. It’s been a couple of months since her death, the funeral had taken that long to carefully prepare. 

Perhaps it is the black dress you wore or the cold and dry weather, but with every passing moment Destiny draws on, the harder it is to breathe. You feel as if your living body is going to freeze on the spot. 

No one else spoke, you’re not even sure what the relationships between the attendees and Gault were. You did know that you felt out of place. Funerals should be surrounded by loved ones and you barely knew her past her name. 

Even when everyone else leaves, having already given their prayers and flowers, you stay, feeling as if it was the best way to pay your respects. With each new layer of dirt the grave digger throws on top, you bury the guilt that weighed down your heart. 

It could’ve been you.

It could have been you. 

…

Should it have been you?

Morpheus’ presence brings you out of your thoughts and you find yourself blinking back tears. He’s twirling a singular white tulip between his fingers, contemplating something before he gives the flower to you. No words are exchanged as you hesitantly take the flower, but you understand him.

“Please forgive me,” He asks through the flower. 

You take the flower from his hands, your fingers grazing his for a moment. The warmth is ever fleeting, and it’s missed as soon as you pull away. The tulip is light and delicate in your fingers, a simple push of your nail could snap the stem in half. 

“I am still angry at you, Morpheus, and you are still not forgiven…. but this is a good start. You have always acted before you thought, and I’m not so sure anymore if it is a blessing or a curse,” You whisper to him. 

The funeral staff have left, and the mound of dirt now rests, ready to be compacted down through time. You place the white tulip on the mound and walk away, giving Gault her first and last gift from you. The autumn chill creeps up quicker now that the sun has set and you briskly make your way back to the comforts of your suite. 

Morpheus lets out a deep sigh, watching your receding figure merge with Matthew’s the further you walk away from him. His shoulder relaxes as he repeats your words on his lips. 

“A good start…” 

He returns with haste to the royal library and begins digging around the archives. He searches in candlelight desperately for a specific book he hasn’t read in a long, long, time. 

“Looking for something in particular, my lord?” Lucienne’s voice calls out to him. 

Morpheus looks down briefly from the ladder he clung to, the wrong book in his hands. He sighs as he slides the book back into its place, pushing on the old spine. The higher he went on the prongs, the stronger the books began to smell like his oldest brother. 

“Language of flowers,” He admits defeatedly to his most trusted advisor. 

“What ever do you need that for?” Lucienne asks, shocked to say the least. 

“It seems to be the only way I can communicate with my wife.”

Lucienne raises a quizzical brow, probing him for further information without saying another word. Morpheus climbs back down the wooden ladder, candelabra in hand as he makes his way to her. 

“Every time I try to explain myself, I simply make matters worse. Y/N has a kind love for flowers and seems to understand what I said during the funeral,” Morpheus explains. 

Lucienne’s mouth opens in a silent “ah.” She knows exactly what he means, though she keeps the thoughts to herself. Looking past the already difficult past the two of you shared, Morpheus was hard to understand at his core. 

He always came to conclusions within his own mind, only speaking the final verdict without letting anyone else in on his thoughts. At least with flowers, he can communicate in a way that you would understand. 

Without another word, Lucienne disappears into the darkness of the library, knowing her way around the aisles as if it were the grooves in her own pointed ears. She comes back not a few moments later with the correct book in her arms, handing it over to her King. 

Though, in the darkness of the night and the shadows cast by candlelight, Morpheus is basked in a type of vulnerability she hasn’t seen since they were children. 

“For the Prince of Stories,” she jokes, a crooked smile dashing across her lips as she recalls the old joke. 

Morpheus casts her a playful glare, thinking it had been too long for anyone to remember that nickname. But, he thanks her nonetheless and sits by a large window to catch up on some reading. 

The moon rises higher in the sky, casting a blue hue over the worn and inked pages. His fingers trace across the drawings of different flowers and herbs alike as he pages through the book.

Jessamy remains by his side still as he makes his way to the palace gardens, muttering to himself as he tries to find the specific flowers he finds agreeable. By the time the moon reaches Her peak, Morpheus smells like fresh dirt and he interlaces the stems together into something more presentable, tying off the bouquet in some twine he found lying in a greenhouse. 

He presents the finished bouquet to the only person around, who happens to be Jessamy. Ever silent, Jessamy only shrugs, her armored shoulder pads falling as soon as they rise. 

Not exactly the greatest boost of confidence, but it was better than Jessamy ripping it to shreds, he supposed. He leaves the bouquet in the servant’s quarters with a specific note that Agnes is to send the flowers to you.

You wake up to a very excited Agnes shoving flowers ino your face. Sleep still clings to your eyelashes like glue and your frown only deepens when someone opens the heavy curtains of the room. 

“What is going on,” you say sitting up, eyes blinking open. 

Agnes shoves the bouquet of flowers into your hands, which you poorly grab at. 

“It’s from King Morpheus,” Agnes explains as she begins to prepare you for your day. 

A brush runs through your hair as you push your sleep aside. You stare at the flowers, a bouquet made of blue salvias, hawthorns, myrtles, hyacinths, and marguerite daisies. 

“The more I look at it… the bouquet is kinda ugly,” Agnes mutters from behind you, her brush stopping mid-stroke. 

You don’t respond to Agnes but silently agree. Morpheus didn’t seem like the type of person to send something half-done and you rack your brain as you start to name off the meanings behind each flower he sent you. 

Blue salvias… meaning “I think of you,” hawthorns which represents the term “I am hoping,” while myrtles means “love in a marriage.” Your cheeks flush as you decipher the hidden message in the flowers. The remaining two flowers, hyacinths and marguerite daisies, decipher “to play” and “I await you.” 

“I’m thinking of you. I am hoping for love in our marriage. Come play with me, I await you.” The message reads. 

Morpheus waits for you? Figuratively or literally? If it was literally, where in the vast palace grounds would he wait for you? You ponder over the message across breakfast with Calliope, her voice muffled as you silently chew on your fruit, debating if you should even accept the invitation. 

At least he isn’t forcing your hand, it will be your decision whether or not you should meet with him. At first, you considered not going at all, but that darn bracelet from the Sister Fates kept twisting and tightening around your wrist until you couldn’t take the subtle pain anymore. 

You spend the rest of your afternoon hunting him down. If he couldn’t specify where he would like to meet, then you would just have to revisit all of the locations in which you have interacted with him. That was the best you could come up with at the time. 

The drawing room was the closest to you at the time, the flowers Morpheus had gotten you were disposed of and the room returned to its original cleanliness. It still smelled of flowers, but the scent was less intruding this time around. Still, your husband was nowhere to be found. 

You head to the ballroom next. With the lack of whimsical effects from the eclipse, the ballroom was just like any other space within the castle. Though the open ceiling was still a beautiful touch, casting everything in natural sunlight. You spot Lucienne near the unmoving decorative thrones at the very front and you make your way to her. 

“Lucienne,” you call out to her, quickening your step to catch up to her. 

“My lady,” she greets, clasping her hands over the heavy book she was holding. 

“Have you seen Morpheus?” You ask outright. 

“No, Your Majesty. King Morpheus has cleared his entire schedule today, therefore I haven’t a clue to his whereabouts.”

“Hm, interesting,” you think aloud. Lucienne was your first and only hope of easily finding him. 

“Forgive me for not being of much help,” the royal advisor apologizes, pushing her round glasses back into place. 

“Do not fret. Thank you, Lucienne.” You acknowledge this before letting her continue with her daily responsibilities. 

Next, you make your way to the royal library, where you find Mervyn dusting the table lights with a grumble. The brighter blue of his new denim overalls makes him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the brown books. The pumpkin-head man doesn’t bother to answer your question, shooing you away with a dirty glove as if your very presence was enough to annoy him. 

You leave, tail tucked between your legs and a little offended as you make it to Hob’s studio. Opening the door greeted you with past emotions you’re not sure if you’ve processed. You haven’t been back in the studio since that eventful evening and no one has been in since, either. 

Dry paint was still splattered across the walls and floors, broken canvases were strewn across the room. Dust sprites have made themselves a small home, covering every inch of the place in a fine layer of dust. Upon seeing your face, they get shy and fly out past your head, leaving you sneezing and still unable to find your husband. 

“Wait out here, Matthew,” you instruct as you slowly make your way into the studio. 

You run a finger across a shelf, collecting the dust on your finger and rolling the lint into a small tube. The brushes have dried, paint caked onto them as if frozen in time with the promise of something new. But you know, you know the brushes are destroyed—that no matter how much water and oil you soak them in can you return them to the state they were before. 

Evening came quicker now that it was autumn, beginning to cast the studio in a warm yellow light and illuminating the dust. You let out another sigh, relaxing your posture in the solitude of the broken room. To think that it was autumn already… 

The window unlocks with a click and you open the glass panes to let the dust fly out. You enjoy the chill that ran down your shoulders as you lean out the window to escape the stuffiness of the room. The blissful solace was interrupted by a rustling below you. 

In the colorful flowers of the gardens below you, you see Morpheus and Jessamy, their black colors displaced amongst the lively backdrop. Morpheus paces back and forth along the cobblestone path, looking towards the entrance below you before returning to his pacing. 

Had he been there this whole time? You step away from the window, wishing to keep yourself hidden as you too begin to pace back and forth. This whole day was spent looking for him but now that you found him, you’re not sure if you want to see him. 

Yes, you should see him, give him a piece of your mind. 

No, you shouldn’t see him, let him suffer in his silence. 

Yes, you should go to him, you can see his efforts in trying to reprimand his mistakes!

No, did you forget he refuses to let you do anything in the castle?

He lets you do a lot, all things considered. 

“Oh, be quiet,” You scold yourself as your mind races. 

Your feet move you out of the studio and out of the royal library all the while your mind still plays tug of war between yes’s and no’s. Soon you’re flying down the winding stairs that lead down to the gardens, your heart pounding and your breath shaky. 

No, what if he hurts you again? And your hand pauses on the door handle. 

But what if… Oh, gods above! Shut up!

You push the door open, the sun blinding and the air fresh against your flushed face. It’s too late to turn back now. Morpheus’ head snaps up at the sound of the door banging open, standing to his feet even though he had just sat back down. He stares, wide-eyed and unblinking at you. As if afraid that if he does, it would have all been a figment of his imagination and you were nothing but an illusion of his wishes. 

A beat of silence passes between you, even leaves don’t dare fall as if trying to avoid the tense atmosphere. It’s you who breaks it first for if it continued any longer, you would run back up those stairs again. 

“Hello, Morpheus,” you greet and raise your hand in a wave and inwardly cringe at how horrible this is and you should just turn around and hide in your room. 

“Y/N,” Morpheus breathes out your name like a song. 

“How long have you been waiting?” You ask, noting the amount of pacing he had been doing. 

“Since dawn,” He responds honestly, his cheeks and nose flushed from the cold air. 

“Forgive me for keeping you, the flowers… they did not specify where,” you apologize quickly. He nods in understanding, there isn’t exactly a flower that means “meet me at the garden under the marble statue of the naked woman fountain.”

“No, I would’ve waited the night if necessary,” Morpheus assures and another beat of silence follows at his confession. “Would you like to promenade with me?”

You nod once, enough for Morpheus to close the gap between you and offer his arm. You hesitate for a moment but swallow it down as you wrap your fingers around his limb.

“Just this once,” you agree. The two of you begin to stroll through the expansive gardens, enjoying the weather and last of the sun’s rays. 

“I would like to get to know you, if it pleases my wife,” he says suddenly amongst the sound of trickling water and birds chirping. 

“What do you wish to know?” You respond. Morpheus pauses for a moment, not particularly expecting to have come this far in conversation—if he was going to be honest with himself. 

“What is your most favorable season?” He asks. 

“Spring,” you answer easily. “Though I keep that information close to my chest.” 

Morpheus smiles at your little jab. Spring would explain your love of flowers, when they are most beautiful. 

“Why do you enjoy dancing?” He inquires next. 

“It is a physical form of music and music is beautiful but intangible,” you explain as best as you could, but the feeling is hard to put to words. “I’ve always danced when I’m happy and therefore have become happy when I dance.”

“Do you miss your family?” 

“Not as much as I miss my harpsichord,” you joke, having gotten used to the freedom away from the scrutinizing gaze of your father and the constant lessons from your mother. “Tell me about your family.”

“What is there to learn? All events have been written on paper and bound in leather.” He lets out a deep chuckle at his own joke before pretending to clear his throat when you don’t laugh with him. 

“Tell me about your sister, Teleute. Why is she not here?” You ask instead.

The night that Rodrick Burgess burst into the ballroom is still fresh in your mind. Something made him believe that Morpheus’ sister could bring back his dead son and Calliope mentioned something happened to Teleute but it is a heavily guarded secret. 

“A royal family secret,” Morpheus confirms your suspicions. “Teleute almost died giving birth to her first child. Since that tragedy, she has been an oracle and foreseer of death itself, though we know not the reason why. Our parents sent her away in fear of their own deaths coming sooner.”

So, it was simply misinformation that Rodrick Burgess was fed. She could only predict when and how someone died, not bring them back from the dead. You suppose any loving parent would want to bring their child back, and even go to extreme lengths to achieve it. 

“A cruel thing for parents to do to their daughter.” You frown as you realize that the former king and queen had banned her from her own home. 

“Yes, but the last I’ve known of her, she is happier out there and not in here.” 

“What of the rest of your siblings?”

“I have six in total.” Morpheus continues to indulge your curiosity. “You know of Reverend Destiny, I have a wild card of a brother who left the royal family and his titles for no known reasons, but I don’t blame him. There are the twins, who disagreed with my ascension to the throne and have declared themselves enemies of the Dreaming, but that is a discussion for another day.”

“That is only five siblings, what of the sixth?” You question as you mentally tallied up the number.

“My youngest sister passed in her sleep whilst fighting a fever dawning on her third birthday,” Morpheus reveals quietly, briefly reliving the past. 

“My condolences, my lord.” You apologize quickly after for probing too far. 

“Thank you, but it has been many years and the ache is healed.” 

The two of you fall into another silence, following the cobblestone path beneath us. Mervyn had been doing a wonderful job in keeping the path clean, not a single blade was out of place and no insufferable weeds popped up. 

Arm in hand, you and Morpheus descend further into the gardens where the bushes are overgrown and the flowers grow wildly over forgotten statues. A gazebo stood strong despite the strong cracks in its foundation and columns. A lone stone table with a game of black and white sits beneath its roof. 

“Do you know how to play?” He asks as you two stop before the table. 

“Chess?” You confirm his question, to which he nods. “Yes, I would dare say I am quite proficient.”

“I shall take that as a challenge, for I have never lost a game.” Morpheus grins as walks up the small steps of the marble gazebo. 

“Consider your challenge accepted,” You say with a prideful glint, raising your chin high. “Which side do you prefer?”

“Ladies first, I insist.” Morpheus offers the side to the white side with his hand before taking a seat opposite of you. 

The stone seat is cool beneath your legs, a calming temperature as the air crackles with both of your egos on the line. You watch as Morpheus realigns his pieces so they all face the same way. You wonder whether or not he was giving you the upper hand by giving you the side which will move first, but the more you think about it, the more you realize it is so he could see how you think.

White always moves first, it usually attacks and black defends—but chess is not just about capturing and winning, it is a game of logic and strategy. Both opponents show their skills in how they maneuver their pieces while manipulating their opponents. Your eyes meet his once again and all playful banter the two of you shared is gone. 

The man in front of you now is no longer your husband. No, this is King Morpheus: calculating, patient, and intelligent. 

As per the rules of the game, you move first and Morpheus watches intently. He sets his next piece out and the two of you play back and forth as the game slowly progresses. You watch Morpheus hover his fingers over his bishop in thought, his mind whirling with different scenarios. 

“Do you play chess often?” Your voice cuts through his thoughts like a sword freshly sharpened off the whetstone. 

“When I have the time,” He answers soon after. 

“I see,” you hum in response and the silence continues. 

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Your voice cuts through the quiet of the game once again. 

“Yes…” Morpheus draws out and you see his jaw tick in annoyance. Your soft smile and voice is starting to distract him and any plan he tries to come up with. He lets go of the knight, forgetting if that was really what he wanted to do or not. 

“Very well,” you feign a sigh, a hint of mischief hidden in the message. 

The quietness continues as the only sounds that accompany the game are the sounds of your laughter as you capture any of Morpheus pieces and the rising crickets. 

Soon enough, the pieces are scattered across the black and white board as you enter the end game. Morpheus has a great deal of your pieces captured and you the same on your side. The game slows as both of you try to figure out the best course of action and reaction from each other. 

You try your luck at distracting him again, though this time you ask a question that has been left unanswered for months. 

“Have you ever thought back to my question from that night?” You ask even though it was your turn. 

“Which one?” 

“Why are you so angry, Morpheus?” You ask again, this time expecting an answer. 

“Do you really think me so?” Morpheus retorts as the game turns over to him. 

“Angry? No, not anymore. I think you are lonely,” you conclude as you watch his piece move across the chessboard.

The sun is beginning to set, much like the end of the game. Its final rays are casting everything in a deep orange and the night critters begin to warm their voices to sing. 

“I am not lonely,” Morpheus scoffs at you. “I am constantly surrounded by people and even childhood friends.”

“And yet, you still lie.” You frown at his evasive answer. “I, too, am surrounded by friends and servants but at least I knew I was lonely.” 

“It is my fault you had to feel such a way,” he apologizes again.

You shrug him off, the sound of his apologies now familiar in your ears and you no longer wish to hear them. You wish to hear the truth. 

“For me, people held me at a distance because by law I am their queen and they cannot look past the title. Through time, I no longer blamed them for doing so. For you, however, why do you distance yourself from those around you emotionally?” You ask, wanting to dig deeper into his thoughts. 

Morpheus seemed stunned at your new question, one that penetrated his very soul and held it out for him to see and reflect upon. When he thinks about how he has treated those around him, the answer comes out slowly but truthfully. 

“I have built myself onto a pedestal of regality and control that no one can reach. But I realized that it was not constructed of marble but that of mud and sand from which if a single grain falls, I shall lose everything. I cannot be weak, I cannot let my subjects suffer as such.” Morpheus finally confesses.

He’s not sure who needed to hear it more, you or himself. Morpheus thinks himself as the only one with responsibility. And while it is true his are more grand and important than most, he believes it to be his and his alone. To push them onto others is a burden. Should he seek others for help, he cannot control the outcome no matter how satisfied or failed it may be.

“Only a weak king would deny their weakness and faults. You are good, Morpheus. Fall if you so shall decide to, and you will find that I will be there to catch you. You are not alone anymore.” You smile at him, one he wishes to see for the rest of his life.

Your smile only widens as you move your queen and it’s soon realized to both of you that you had finally cornered his king.

Checkmate.

His king has nowhere else to run and your standing, victorious queen blocks his path. Morpheus frowns as he tries to find a way to continue playing, but no matter what he plans, nothing comes to fruition. 

“I surrender,” He sighs as he goes to knock his piece over. He had fully fallen to your distractions and whims. 

The ceramic piece topples over and bounces against the marble game board, rolling around slowly as it accepts its defeat. You glance from your seat across from him and notice the tick of his jaw as he loses his first game of chess. 

“Perhaps ‘I surrender’ is not the correct course of action here,” You say after a deep breath.

You reach for the small black chess piece and examine it closely between pinched fingers. The detailing is well done, and the craftsmanship comes from the hands of an expert. You place the ebony piece next to your queen of ivory, the two pieces standing together amidst a gameboard of fallen pawns, knights, and bishops. 

“Marriage is a partnership. I do not want you to surrender to me and in return neither will I to you. I simply ask for us to be equals.” You stare at Morpheus with a hopeful look.

Morpheus glaces between you and the chess pieces and finally gives you a small smile. You are too good for him and he promises himself that he will spend the rest of his life making sure he is the husband you deserve. 

“As you wish, my queen.” 

Dusk settles and takes your combined sorrows with it. Tomorrow a new dawn will rise with the promise of hope. 

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God, finally they made up. Only took them fucking what? 35k words? Medium slow burn fr

♡ Yours, Layla

Tags: @dnarez @arunawayheart @acdassenza @ella33 @karma-is-a-god @bluespecs14 @boo8008 @dragon-kazansky @i-voluntears @dennixlovezelda @commanderfreethatdust @herfantasyworldd

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Can you write a fic where Ethan doesn’t want to be a Ghostface so he tells reader the truth and they warn the rest of the group then run away together

ethan hasn’t killed anyone (cause that would defeat the purpose of him not wanting to be gf) but this is after quinn and anika’s death. only convenient time for this conversation to take place. also i didn't add running away cause i feel it wouldn't make sense for reader to leave their friends behind durning all this, so maybe anon if you really want that i could possible do a follow up to them having a happy life.

gn!reader masterlist

“i- i have something to tell you.” ethan whispered in your ear, drawing your attention away from your anxious friends. you were gonna prompt him to tell you, but when you say the worry on his face you excused the both of you.

sliding into the bathroom with ethan on your heels, you sat on the edge of the tub while ethan leaned his weight against the door. “what’s wrong?” noting how ethan kept his eye to his feet, hands twisting below his stomach.

“what i’m about to tell you… just know i was forced to be apart of because of my family. things would have been worse if i- i just hope you can forgive me.” ethan finally looked up and at you. eyes soft and face open, waiting for something.

you shifted a little, worried whatever he says crosses your morals. “okay… but only if you actually tell me what it is.”

“okay,” he took a deep breath then said, “my family is ghostface.”

you froze, “i’m sorry, what?” keeping your voice composed, miraculously.

“my- my dad, sister and i. we’re related to richie, the guy sam killed in woodsboro last year. my dad is detective bailey and my sister is-“ “quinn.” putting those two pieces together.

you waved your hands around for a moment, “wait, so quinn didn’t die yesterday? only anika? then who was ghostface? were- were you the one who-“ “no! no, i wasn’t. it- it was my dad.”

ethan took two steps closer in his rush to correct you and you couldn’t hide the faint flinch it produced, but you saw his face fall. ethan noticed that you’ve become afraid of him. “my- my dad wanted it to be me, but i was enjoying my night and didn’t want to leave.”

that caused your heart to stutter, in the good developing a fat crush on a boy kind of way. you and ethan were having a study date at a diner two blocks from campus, and it seemed sweet when he phrased it that way but then your mind started turning.

“wait, was i just an alibi? if you went through with it, i would have defended a murder to my friends. what the fuck, ethan?” standing to your feet, face getting warm with heat. heart thumping at this alternate outcome.

"i know, i know. yes. you were designed to be my alibi, but I never fully wanted to be a part of all this, i only joined at first cause my whole family was a wreck after my brother died. my hands are free of blood but my conscious is pooling with guilt, that's why i'm telling you this so then we can then warn the others. i trust you the most out of everyone."

ethan took a step closer and instead of flinching or moving back, you stood your ground keeping a keen eye on him. "you swear you've had no part in anything so far? cause i can't trust or defend you if there is a drop of blood on your hands." staring up at him with pleading, hopeful eyes.

with this new information you didn't want to mistake him for a nerdy, shy good guy. but the ethan you know is the shy (flushing whenever chad tried to wingman him to you or any girl), a little nerdy (whiling to go into film debates with mindy when she was in a trusting mood) and he was genuinely a good, sweet guy. he'd always walk you home when it was dark outside, he'd buy you food or drinks whenever you're together for hours, and he'd always uplift you; complimenting you from your accomplishments to how you looked that day. that's the ethan landry you've gotten to know the past six months, you don't want to lose him.

his whiskey-brown eyes danced around, pinballing over the place. his tongue peeking out to wet his plush pink lips, your eyes followed the action. you felt his hand bump into your own, looking down to see him linking your pinkies together.

"i swear i have done no harm to anyone. when everything started to feel real i knew this wasn't the healthy decision, it's not worth losing everything i've gained. this group is more of a family to me and- and i don't want to lose you because of a revenge fantasy." brows pinching and eyes changing to a doe expression.

“what- what are you… what about your actual family? would they kill you or disown you? doesn’t- doesn’t that bother you in anyway?” watching how ethan’s face didn’t change, just a simple shrug in response.

“it doesn’t matter. nothing matters but this, so no it doesn’t bother me… completely.” bringing his free hand to your cheek, cupping your apple and rubbing at the growing dark circles. ethan leaned his head closer, “i mean it when i don’t want to lose you. i want to get the opportunity to build a future with you, get our degrees, take you out on dates and so much further down the line.”

“i’d- i’d like that too…” trailing off as you both leaned in and locked lips. hand reaching out to grasp onto the hem of ethan’s shirt, pinkies curling tighter, with ethan treating you like a fine piece of china. if this weren’t such a dire situation you would happily indulge further, but you kept it short and sweet before being the first to lean away.

“run away with me,” ethan sighed against your wet lips. your eyes fluttered open to see his dream stare. “can- can we do that?”

“after.” silently agreeing to flee with ethan, “but after all this. we can’t leave our friends behind and you’ll help us have the upper hand.” making a move to the bathroom door.

you pulled ethan behind you and brought the both of you back to the living room. all eyes turned to you and ethan, having been gone for almost ten minutes now.

“were you two making out? seriously? now?” mindy complained with an eye roll. you deadpanned her with a simple, “yes and, ethan has something to share will all of you.” stoned eyes melting into honey as you urged him on, “you can do this.” giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

[ztarvokwrites]

doffy & croc - witnessing their s/o almost die

author's note; slowly getting back in my groove!! again posts will be slow so uhhh yeah! i missed writing these two tbh 🫶🏻 this has been briefly proof-read!

reader is nb (they/them)!

trigger warnings; death, you almost die whoops!, angry doffy, angry croc, very slight gore mention, angst, comfort??

word count; 1,597

»»————-　★　————-««

Donquixote Doflamingo - the former King of Dressrosa and feared former Warlord of the Sea. Nobody expected him to be beaten by Monkey D Luffy and Trafalgar Law, yet he was. You and a few others who hid from the Marines were lucky enough to escape, yet your heart hurt immensely once you saw your beloved Doflamingo be taken to custody by the Marines.

"Y/N, we have to go!" Called one of Doflamingo's family members. You looked back at them, worry written all over your face.

"But, Doffy-"

"Y/N, it's too late now... Come on, let's go!"

After you escaped, you wondered if your lover was still alive. It had been quite a few months now and you still had no clue. That was, until somebody placed a hand on your shoulder.

"My dear Y/N," Spoke the familiar voice. Your breath hitched. "Did you forget about me, hm?" You turned around in an instant and grinned, looking up at the man you've missed with all your heart.

"DOFFY! How did you escape Impel Down?!" You exclaimed as he picked you up effortlessly in his arms. Doflamingo just laughed, kissing you sweetly on your neck and drawing a soft hum from your lips.

"I can be very persuasive when I want to be, Y/N~" He cooed before finally kissing you on the lips, clearing your mind of any thought you might've had about his strange statement. It was calm after that day—the both of you effortlessly hiding and running away from Marines and beginning to build up another Donquixote Family Crew. However, most good things must come to an end...

The battle between the Marines and your crew raged on, you shot and slashed at any Marine that dared to stand in your path. Your head turned to look at Doflamingo for a moment, a smile on your face as you watched your beloved coldly slaughter each Marine that tried to attack him.

As you turned, however, a sharp pain entered your abdomen. You loudly gasped, eyes widening as you looked down - a sword plunged deep into your body and coming out the other end. You looked the Marine dead in the eyes as he took out his sword and slashed you again, the sharp blade piercing your skin and plunging deep into your stomach. The Marine slashed again and again and again until finally, he stopped, letting you splutter and cough out blood, your legs getting weaker and weaker by the second.

Doflamingo turned upon hearing you splutter and cough, his grin faltering as he watched the blood spurt out of your mouth and wounds before you fell to the ground, seemingly in slow motion. He watched with a straight face as you began to choke, your eyes struggling to stay open as you looked up at your lover. You didn't say a thing as your body twitched, wanting to move but being too weak to do so. Doflamingo's veins bulged out of his skin in silent anger as your body stopped moving, the light in your eyes dimming with each second that passed. He wouldn't let this slide - he couldn't. In a flash, he was in front of the Marine that killed you, slicing and dicing him without mercy until he was a vile, bloody mesh on the ground before him. More Marines began to attack him, but he stood his ground; mercilessly killing them all while standing by your unconscious body, seemingly protecting you from further harm.

"DOFFY! THE SHIP'S READY!" Yelled one of the crew members. Doflamingo ignored them, instead opting to kill every single Marine that was there until no more arrived. He softly panted, his rage still boiling inside of him as he scanned the area. Once he determined that no more Marines were there - or alive - he took your body into his arms and walked with you to the ship. Immediately, the ships' doctors ran over and placed you on a bed and began to treat you all the while Doflamingo is watching them like a hawk.

"...If they die," Doflamingo began, his eyes glaring daggers at the doctors in the room, a bulge of a vein in her forehead. "Then you're all dying with them. Don't you dare mess this up." Fear struck the hearts of everyone in the room as they swiftly complied to his demands, working effortlessly to stitch your wounds and save your life. You didn't wake up for a while after that—your body needed a lot of time to recover, after all. And, it was a miracle when you did.

Doflamingo stayed by your bedside the entire time; holding your hand and even eating next to you as you healed up. He hated seeing you in that medical bed—it reminded him of his mother when she was sick and the memory made his blood run cold with pure rage. But, when he saw your hand twitch, he snapped out of his thoughts and grabbed your smaller hand in his, the eyes behind his shades watching over you intensely. You didn't make a noise, nor did you move your body any more than a twitch, but Doflamingo took that as a first sign of you waking up.

It was like a switch, the way the man sat down beside where you laid, his larger hand clasped around yours as he silently pleaded for you to wake up. And when you did—oh boy, when you opened your eyes and looked around before your gaze landed on his—he was ecstatic beyond words. His large, somewhat uncomfortable grin that you adored had returned to his features, his hand tightening around yours as you uttered your first words in what felt like years;

"Doffy..."

»»————-　★　————-««

Ever since Crocodile escaped Impel Down, he made it his mission to find you again. After all, you were one of the few members of Baroque Works that he actually trusted, liked, and eventually dated. You were very dear to him, and he'd be damned if someone had stolen your heart away from him while he was away. But when he found you, walking in the rain with your umbrella and bag in hand, he froze, unsure of what to do. What could he do to make this less awkward? He could just walk up to you and say hello, but he feared that you didn't remember him—or you might be scared off. His closest associate, Daz Bones, took note of this sudden change in demeanour, and he was about to ask what was wrong until his own eyes landed on you. His gaze softened, a low sigh leaving his lips.

"It would be better to just go up to them and talk instead of gawking from afar." Says Daz, crossing his arms. Crocodile glowered at him, his brows furrowed as he growled at him to be quiet.

"...Croc...?" Your soft voice, filled with relief and shock, snapped him out of his intense glare and made him turn to you, his brows shooting up in awe. You remembered him, and you weren't scared. The taller man soon took you with him, where you—as well as himself and Daz Bones—took off. It was relatively peaceful...

Until it wasn't.

Outnumbered. Cornered. Separated. Afraid. The Marines had found the three of you and managed to separate you from the two men. Your Devil Fruit power was no match, but you fought anyway, hurling attack after attack at them until—

BANG!

SLICE!

One Marine had sliced your back from behind and the other shot your abdomen from the front, leaving you gasping for air and crumpling to the floor like a sack of potatoes. As the Marines were about to take you away, they were sliced into pieces. Daz had come to protect you, just as he was ordered too, but it was far too late—the state you were in left little to your survival rate, blood pouring out of your wounds as your eyes darted to the man in front of you. In silence, Daz picked you up and carried you over to Crocodile, who had made his way over after killing many other Marines. One look at you, and Crocodile was enraged.

Before the Marines could come any closer, he killed them—whether it was from strangulation, asphyxiation, or if he chopped them to pieces. They were all dead within seconds.

"Let's board our ship," Said the former Warlord, his stoic expression unreadable. "And get the hell outta here."

Hours pass, and a doctor's team have finished treating your wounds upon Crocodiles threat of murder and promise of a hefty amount of Berries. They leave the ship with the money they're given, and the two men set off with you in bed, peacefully unconscious for what the doctors predict could be a few days. Crocodile never left your side. Not even once. All his meals were brought to him as he sat at your bedside, making sure you didn't die and changing the bandages every so often.

It was well into the night when you eventually stirred awake, a soft groan leaving your lips and alerting him from his slumber. His golden eyes pierced through yours as your eyes met through the dim light of the lamp.

"...You're alive." He spoke, a hint of shock in his relieved tone of voice, his gaze softening as he leant forward and cupped your cheek with his hand. You placed your hand on his golden hook and weakly smiled.

"That I am..." You responded, your voice hoarse from being unconscious for so long. Crocodile missed your voice. He missed you.

»»————-　★　————-««

[archandshri]

28th June ‘24 - [arch] One Page Limitation??? - My process for Traffic Zine #5

Hello All!

A couple months ago, I got accepted to @trafficzine, a digital anthology of pieces by a large group of artists and writers based on the most recent season of the Life Series. I made this piece back in April, but thankfully I kept some notes of my process. 

Heads up - this contains spoilers for Secret Life :D

We were able to choose our own prompt from a list! For this project, I wanted to push my comic making - especially how to communicate a lot of information in a small space. I went through and watched a few clips from the series to see which prompt would fit a comic and settled on Scott’s death.

As usual, I began by getting some reference images and going ham on some big paper. This gets me excited about the project and helps generate ideas. I go for whatever interests me in terms of medium and subject matter, but I try to use a process that doesn’t let me control too much (in this case brush and ink)

initial sketches for fun and vibes :D

During this, I also took the time to transcribe the scene - I wanted to use the dialogue directly, and see how much I could fit into the single page that I was allowed for the zine.

In these early planning stages I make sure to do warm-up sketches to remind myself of the energy I want to communicate. This also keeps things fun and fresh so I'm not ONLY thinking about page composition and making things 'good'. (the expectation for it to be 'good' kills a project prove me wrong)

Dialogue from the clip + warm up sketches

Next up, I started to plan what panels I have on the page. At this stage, some panels might just be a box with some words, and some may have a sketch if I have a clear composition in mind. This stage is mostly for pacing and plot, so instead of focusing on what the panel and page will look like, I will think about:

what will happen in the panel

it's purpose and

what it will communicate

Sometimes I'll illustrate a string of panels that tell the story and fit them on a page after - but this depends on the project and my confidence with the size of it.

After messing around with these and coming up with a pretty clear direction, I draw a bunch of boxes to see how the panels could sit nicely together. At this stage I might realise I have too many panels, and need to cut a few or come up with a creative solution. Nothing is set in stone at this point.

sketching panel layouts

Now begins the fun! I decide on the layout I prefer and I can start putting planned compositions into the boxes. I often do this digitally, or a digital editing process will be involved.

Once planned, I print these out to do a more refined sketch over. I find that my traditional drawings have a lot more life and character to them than digital ones, so I try to keep the majority of the process traditional, with passes of scanning and digital editing.

I tried a version with her looking out at the distance - ready to face the oncoming battle. But it still felt off. So I turned to my slides to ask myself some questions!!

I tried to think of more things that were working - but I really felt like it was lacking a lot. I was going for this slower emotional feeling because that came more naturally to me, but it just wasn't working for this image. The original clip is quite rushed and chaotic - which would be harder to communicate in a comic format but the challenge interested me. Either way, I knew I wasn't happy with this direction so... i decided to start from scratch! Back to the drawing board!!!

In the previous version, I had cut out a lot of the dialogue, but I decided to go back to the original clip and use AS MUCH as possible. Since passing the bow was my favourite part of that first composition, I really wanted to lean into it as the emotional height and final goodbye before Scott's death. It's a moment to slow down and absorb the vibes :D

I made a list of panels along with their descriptions to refer to when trying to figure out the order of panels. there were SO MANY and it was VERY CONFUSING when they were too small to read.

These thumbnails were super small and would not have made sense without my list, I swear.

I printed this tiny thumbnail out at A4, so I could sketch over it and get a clearer sense of flow. Then began a loooong process of printing out tiny photocopies and rearranging the panels to be legible. It was a difficult balance of communicating busyness while making sure the hierarchy/reading order made sense.

After some tweaking, i printed out an A3 copy to draw my panel borders and text.

Doing this on a separate piece of paper means I don't have to worry so much about messing up the text or borders when drawing the characters. This allows me to be more free and expressive with my illustration.

Woah! Quick trip back in time!! During the thumbnailing process I drew these warm up sketches! I looooved the way the linework came out. I drew this on an A3 piece of paper - and the shocked Gem would, in theory, be one of the smallest panels. So I decided to do a crazy thing.

I touched up the sketch digitally, compiling some of my favourite warm up sketches, some traditional sketches made for the panels, and filling the rest in digitally. Then I printed this image out in QUATERS at A3!! This meant the final sketch layer, printed out was A1!! (aka very large, considering the final file would be at A4, about 8x smaller)

I did this so I could get fairly small detailed lines with my pencil while being quite expressive and firm with my mark-making. Slowly, I dlined all of the panels traditionally and scanned them in. Then I assembled the finished linework on Photoshop, along with the text and panel borders and got to colouring :D

final linework :D

For colouring, I played a little bit with halftone but I found the texture made it feel a bit too busy - the panels are already doing enough. Because of this, I also decided to use a limited colour palette. Here are some images of the colouring process, which I won't go into today.

I'm really happy with how this came out - I think it captures the chaos of the moment, while taking time to linger on the emotion of it. Keeping that bow moment really made it, I think.

I think the last panel is still quite weak. Earlier in the process there was a low-angle shot of Gem about to kill Scott which may have been more powerful, but I think I was struggling with my actual drawing skill when it comes to perspective. A lot of learning how to draw, and in particular with comics, is about knowing where your skills are at, how to utilise them best and how to test and push them.

I'm glad that I started again, instead of finishing that composition I wasn't happy with. It was a tough project but I learnt sooooo much from it, and it's been essential skill-building for.... the current comic I'm working on (stay tuned!!! :0) Thanks for reading this incredibly long post! Go check out @trafficzine and look at all the other cool art Cool vibes and silly men,

Archie :D

[glittergelpensblog]

Shadow and Song (Azriel x Reader) Part Two

Part two! Thank you so much for all of the support for part one! I have so many ideas for this series and can’t wait to see where it takes me :)

Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 2,577

Part One

It wasn't until you felt Elain's hand on your back that you finally let go of Feyre.

"Mrs. Laurent, draw up some tea and bring it to the drawing room." Elain spoke.

Mrs. Laurent looked like she wanted to do no such thing, glancing between the three of you. It was with one final glare to Feyre that she turned around and made her way to the kitchen.

_____________________________________________________________

Elain and Nesta sat on the opposite side of you and Feyre. Everyone quiet, too scared to speak, too scared to find out what made your sister return home.

It was she who finally broke the silence, "Where is father?"

"In Neva," Nestas voice was sharp. " Trading with some merchants from the other half of the world and attending a summit about the threat above the wall. A threat I wonder if you've come back to warn us about."

You drew in sharp breath. A threat above the wall? Why hadn't Nesta mentioned that to you? Why didn't she tell you anything?

"Whatever the reason, Feyre," Elain spoke softly. "We are happy to see you. Alive. We thought you were--"

"I never thought that." You sent a look to Elain before your gaze met Nesta's. You knew it was coming, knew the look in her eyes.

But before she could snap back at you, words bound to be as sharp as knives, Feyre pulled down the hood of her cloak down.

Elain's hands immediately began shaking, teacup rattling in her saucer. Your eyes widened as you took in your sister. Her slimmer figure, her taller stature. Her ears.

She was Fae.

"I was dead. I was dead, and then I was reborn--remade." Feyre's voice shook.

Elain set down her cup and Nesta angled herself, the movement barely noticeable, between them and Feyre. Her hand slightly stretching out, as if she wanted to take you behind her as well.

Feyre did nothing but hold her gaze with Nesta. "I need you to listen."

You were silent as she told her story. She spoke of the trials Under the Mountain, about Amarantha, how the red-headed witch had killed her, and then how the other Fae gave her back her life. She briefly mentioned leaving Tamlin and her new life in the Night Court. Her job with the High Lord. She explained why she was back. The threat at the border. Hybern. What she needed you to help her with.

You knew Feyre was different the moment you saw her. Yes, she was beautiful, almost glowing. But you knew something was wrong. You saw it in her eyes, her tight lipped smile. You felt it in the way she barely hugged you back. The horrors she endured, they had changed her, had taken her warmth.

"You--you want other High Fae to come... here. And... the Queens of the Realm." Elain's soft voice was nearly shaking.

"When?" you asked, not bothering to look at your other sisters, your gaze only on Feyre.

"Find somewhere else." Nesta spat.

Feyre turned to face Nesta, getting ready to speak again.

But Nesta wouldn't allow her. "Find somewhere else. I don't want them in my house. Or near Elain. Or near Y/N."

"Nesta, please," Feyre begged, "There is nowhere else; nowhere I can go without someone hunting me, crucifying me--"

"And what of us? When the people around here learn we're Fae sympathizers? Are we any better than Children of the Blessed, then?"

"Because they cared so much about us when we were starving!" You snapped. "When we were nothing but a poor, dirty family in a rotting cottage? Why do we care what they think when they never cared for us?"

Nesta ignored you yet again. "Any standing, any influence we have--gone. And Elain's wedding--"

"Wedding?" Feyre blurted, eyes scanning Elain's left hand, the dark iron wrapped around her finger.

"In five months," Nesta said. "She's marrying a lord's son. And his father has devoted his life to hunting down your kind when they cross the wall. So there will be no meeting here. There will be no Fae in this house."

"Do you include me in that declaration?" Feyre's voice was quiet, the answer found in Nesta's silence.

Your mind was a blur as you took it all in. The Fae are what took Feyre, what had taken many lives before hers. They would cross the wall to torture, to kill, the Beddors a recent wound still fresh in your Village's mind. But the Fae had also saved Feyre, gave her life. If they truly were as bad as human's thought, then why did Tamlin spare Feyre's life? Why did the High Lords resurrect her?

"Nesta," Elaine spoke again, "If... if we do not help Feyre, there won't be a wedding. Even Lord Nolan's battlements and all his men, couldn't save me from... from them. We keep it secret-- we send the servants away. With spring approaching, they'll be glad to go home. And if Feyre needs to be in and out for meetings, she'll send word ahead, and we'll clear them out. Make up excuses to send them on holidays. Father won't be back until the summer, anyway. No one will know."

"There is no other way." Feyre held her gaze with Nesta.

"We'll send the servants away tomorrow." Nesta said.

"Today, we don't have any time to lose. Order them to leave now."

"I'll do it." Elain stood, brushing off her skirts.

"I'll help," You joined, following your sister into the kitchen, mind racing with a million thoughts. You would never get Feyre back, never the way you thought you would. You would never live together again, never have her head against your shoulder as you played the piano late at night. There was no way she could come back, not with her new found life.

You pushed back the tears in your eyes as you approached Mrs. Laurent.

______________________________________________________________

"Why didn't you tell me?" You asked Nesta.

Feyre was still in the drawing room when you called Nesta from the hall, feigning that you needed assistance with getting something out of your Father's study.

"Why didn't I tell you what?" Nesta said.

"What Father was truly doing in Neva? That there was a threat above the wall. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Like you could've done anything," Nesta's voice was low. "There is nothing you could've done but worry."

"We could've helped, like we are right now--"

"Which we shouldn't be doing! We are putting ourselves in jeopardy--"

"As Feyre did for us," You glowered, "As she did every day in those woods, nearly freezing to death every winter. For us. We are helping Feyre in the way she helped us, in the way she kept us alive!"

"All of the servants have left," Elain's soft voice interrupted, saving you from the next cruel words to spew from Nesta's mouth. "Feyre said there are others here, for us to meet."

You followed Elain into the drawing room.

______________________________________________________________

Feyre entered the room, cloak gone, and you couldn't help but stare at your sister. This was her life now. She wore an intricate gown, probably worth more than you and your sister's gowns combined. Her body was adorned with jewelry, including a crown at the top of her head.

Behind her stood three men, the first, in the middle, seeming to radiate power, the High Lord, you assumed. His dark hair and fine black clothes contrasted with his violet, almost glowing, eyes. The one to his left seemed wild, ancient. He wore an outfit made of leather, adorned with glowing red jewels on his hands, chest, and shoulders, his dark brown hair almost reaching them. And he had wings, giant wings, almost like a bat's.

And to the High Lord's right was what had to be the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He was dressed similarly to the man on the left, wearing black leathers, but with blue gems rather than red. His face was narrow, sharp, expression calm as he looked at you and your sisters. His dark hair slightly covering his forehead, a strand nearing his hazel eyes. Like the other male, he also had large, bat-like wings.

You tucked your head down as Nesta stepped in front of you and Elain.

Feyre stopped a few feet in front of you before she spoke, "My sisters, Y/N, Nesta, and Elain Archeron." She paused, allowing you all to take in the men before you.

"Cassian," She gestured to the man on the left, then slightly turning to the right, "Azriel, and Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. "

You stood silent, surveying the powerful men. The hairs on you neck stood, and your heart was pounding wildly in your chest. You tried to calm yourself. Though the were Fae, they wouldn't hurt you. They had taken in Feyre, cared for her. And they were here to protect you.

Rhysand bowed to you and your sisters. "Thank you for your hospitality--and generosity," A warm smile graced his features.

You smiled back at him, and the other two men. "It is nice to meet you," You fought to keep your voice steady.

Nesta looked at Feyre, then the men. "The cook left dinner on the table. We should eat before it goes cold." She said before she strode off to the dining room

You followed Elain out as she sputtered a "Nice to meet you" to the three men.

Nesta sat at the head of the table, Elain to her left, and you took the right. Feyre sat beside you and Cassian next to Elain, Azriel on this other side. Rhysand slid into the seat next to Feyre .

The two winged males struggled to sit, adjusting their large wings with the back of the chair.

"Would you like a stool?" You asked, noticing their efforts to remain comfortable.

Nesta scoffed at your gesture

"Thank you, but we'll be fine." Cassisan said to you with a reassuring smile.

Feyre was the first to open the dishes of steaming food. Everyone was silent as they began preparing their plates and eating.

Nesta eyed Feyre as the latter took a bite, struggling to chew.

"Is there something wrong with our food?" Nesta clipped.

"No," Feyre replied, reaching for her water, her face slightly tinged pink.

"So you can't eat normal food anymore--or are you too good for it?"

Nesta truly could not leave it alone for one night. You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

"I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even."

Your face became hot as you blushed at your sister's words, and you heard Cassian nearly choke on his water. Nesta just laughed lowly.

It was Rhys who intervened, attempting to diffuse the building argument. "If you ever come to Prythian, you will discover why your food tastes so different."

You didn't even know visiting Prythian was an option. Perhaps there was hope that you would be able to see your sister outside of the circumstances you were in.

Nesta's glare shifted from Feyre to Rhys. "I have little interest in ever setting foot in your land, so I'll have to take your word for it."

"Nesta, please," Elain whispered.

Nesta ignored her, looking at Cassian who was assessing her with a smirk on his lips. "What are you looking at?"

Cassian's brows rose, the amusement on his face gone. "Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while the other youngest dealt with sleazy men at the pubs, all while you did nothing. " Your face flushed at his words, not knowing what Feyre had told them of you. "Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall. Your sister died--died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don't expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make--and insult my people in the process."

Nesta ignored him and turned to Feyre, Cassian's face filling with rage.

"It... it is very hard, you understand, to... accept it," Elain spoke to him, "We are raised this way. We hear stories of your kind crossing the wall to hurt us. Our own neighbor, Clare Beddor, was taken, her family murdered... it's all very disorienting."

"We know you are not here to hurt us," Your voice was steady a you looked between the three men, "But it is rare we experience Fae who are to help and not hurt."

"I can imagine," Azriel spoke, the first you had heard his voice the entire night.

"Nesta and I did not know what to do, how to work or hunt. Our lives were taken from us overnight. We were scared, had received no training, we failed them. Both of us." Elain said.

Feyre turned to face Nesta. "Can we just... start over?"

It looked as if it took everything in Nesta to back down. "Fine."

"Can you really fly?" Elain took Cassian's attention from Nesta.

The rest of the dinner went well after that, Nesta being as civilized as she got while the Fae explained their magic, the Illyrian race, and "Lesser Faeries" or Cassian called them. The meal was ended with a discussion of the sleeping arrangements for the night, Nesta assigning you the task of showing them their rooms before they began working on their letter to the queens.

After you had given them the directions to their rooms, you pulled Feyre aside while the three men began their work, most likely eavesdropping on your conversation.

"I missed you," You spoke, gently grabbing Feyre's hand, "How are you, truly?"

There was a long pause before she replied, "I don't know how to feel... I don't think I know how to feel. What happened Under the Mountain, the horrors I had endured... I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy."

"Is it better, at the Night Court?"

Feyre breathed deeply, looking out the window, up towards the night sky.

"With Tamlin, it was like I was drowning, suffocating. Everywhere I went there were sentries behind me. I was never left alone, I couldn't leave the house. What happened Under the Mountain broke me, but living in that house, it felt like I was trapped under there all over again.

"At the Night Court, I feel... free, I suppose. There's no breathing down my shoulder, no one telling me what I cannot do, where I cannot go. What people think of what I do doesn't matter. I have a job, people to protect... but it doesn't feel like a burden, I don't know what it feels like..."

A purpose.

"What Rhysand said, about visiting Prythian..." Your voice was barely above a whisper, a dream you were too scared to say aloud, like telling one a wish so it wouldn't become true. "Can that actually happen, can I actually visit you there?"

Feyre struggled to keep the tears in her eyes, you were so full of hope, so full of life, of innocence.

She couldn't let you visit, not right now, with war so close. She needed you here, safe.

"Maybe someday in the future, when things are safe. When this war is done with. Maybe then, you can come see me."

"I would love that."

"I would too."

______________________________________________________________

Tag list: @lizziesfirstwife @waytoomanyteenagefeels @starryhiraeth @knmendiola @bionic-donut @caosfanblr @lena-davina @starriestarlight @younxii @starsdoulikedem @lucyysthings @esposadomd @naturakaashi @carolinaflicker @missusbarnes-rogers @vlysseve @lollipop974 @whydohumansss @spaxxxi

[moonsbypadfoot]

can you make another theo nott headcanons?? <3

I do not have anything specific in mind but make it angsty?? I guess

also I made the text small so it'll fit your blog's aesthetic <3 ❤️‍🩹

obviously I can make another theo headcanon 🪼

Theodore headcanons | pt. 2 🩶

(I think I'm dyslexic, so please excuse any typos)

+ kind of an x y/n?? , second pov, longer than the last one

for the little woman fans!

🩶

theo draws like a pro but then complain of how 'cattivo' (which you haven't figured out what it meant yet) his drawing is, even though it is beautiful?? Like what??

theo tries to speak as if he's in an Shakespeare book and his friends (Draco, and mattheo) would laugh at him at how ridiculous it sounds because they don't understand him plus, his accent makes it more confusing

after his friends laughed at him, he would get all grumpy and sad. that's where you hopped in.

"theo, what's wrong? " You scrunched your face. "Theo? " you said, once more, but the boy didn't even move a muscle.

I forgot to tell you, when he's grumpy, he gives everyone the silent treatment.

but, you're an exception.

"theodore, what happened? " You sighed, looking down at Theo, who's head was on the table.

"nothing is wrong" Theo scoffed.

also, he doesn't want to bother you, that's why he tends to lie sometimes.

"something is wrong, look at you! " You said, softly touching his hair, trying to make him look at you.

"fine" he pauses "something is bothering me" he rolls his eyes.

"well what is it? " you gave a small smile, after finally convincing him to tell you.

"can you teach me english? "

at that second you swear that you could laugh "Theo? What? You're speaking English right now! " You chuckled

bad mistake ; he got more grumppier.

he gave you a nasty 'mhm' and lays his head back on the table.

"hey I was just joking, but, nonetheless, you're already good at English"

"see? you know when to put 'nonrtheless', I don't even know what that means! "

The next day, you took him book shopping (for everyone's sake, everyone knows a grumpy Theo isn't a good Theo), and you paid for him

Instantly his mood was better, and he took you to drink at the three broomsticks.

theo keeps smiling and looking at the totebag you crocheted for his 14th birthday. inside was the books you got him.

(he was most excited for little women)

theo paid for the butterbeers you both drank.

after that, it became your weekly thing to go to the three broomsticks every Sunday.

theo also starts to call you 'amore mio', but whenever another boy calls you 'love' he immediately assumes things.

at valentines day, he was weirdly quiet, until he suddenly came to you

"y/n" Theo said, not looking directly at your eyes. "yes, Theo? "

"that's for you" theo sighs.

you gave him a big smile, and hugged him, though, he didn't look very happy.

It wasn't a secret that Theo has a big crush for you, well, lorenzo kinda spoiled that for you,

(talking with enzo, 4 months before valentines)

"I may know a guy who likes you" Lorenzo said, all giggly. You gasped. "Tell me who it is! "

"No I can't! " Lorenzo laughs.

"I swear I'll kill-" He cuts you off, "okay, okay fine! But you cannot tell him nor anyone that I've told you this"

he paused for a second. "it's Theo!! "

It also wasn't a secret that you like him, Lorenzo also spoiled that for him

(2 days before valentines)

"Theo, I need you to do a favor for me"

"What? " Theo groans, dog-earring his little women book.

"You need to make a move on your girl" Lorenzo said, making Theo scoff the second he hears that. "hey, she likes you! "

"Ridiculous" Theo said, opening his book again.

"I will, and you must hear me. It's no use, Jo, we've got to have it out, and the sooner the better for both of us," he answered, getting flushed and excited all at once. "Say what you like then. I'll listen," said Jo, with a desperate sort of patience. theodore was a young lover, but he was in earnest, and meant to 'have it out', if he died in the attempt, so he plunged into the subject with characteristic impetuousity, saying in a voice that would get choky now and then, in spite of manful efforts to keep it steady... "I've loved you ever since I've known you, Jo, couldn't help it, you've been so good to me. I've tried to show it, but you wouldn't let me. Now I'm going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can't go on so any longer."

After he read that, he realized that if he waits anymore longer you and him wouldn't work out just like theodore Laurence and josephine march.

"Maybe you're right, Enzo, maybe I need to make a move" He said, which made enzo confused but, he was happy either way.

well long story short, that was the start of your lovely relationship.

the whole reason you two got together was because of a book and you think it's absolutely beautiful and poetic 🩷🪼

[jonathan-samuel-smith]

Lord Jon and Prince Damian is a funny combination because just imagine Clark never managed to conquer all earth because magic and magic user, Talia basically built a huge kingdom to protect her people from the Lords and also accepts some others who are fleeing.

Years past and Jon has always been curious about that place and laughs when he faces Talia's youngest soldiers. He falls in love deeply hard about that boy with green eyes, then Jon starts to try to seduce that cute and smol boy (and Damian hates him deeply)

Just imagine:

Jon: *throws a body at his door like a cat*

Damian: ... Some guys bring flowers

Jon: I'm not 'some guy'

And also

J: "i've killed for you. how many other people can say that?"

D: "... Multiple, actually"

Basically: Lord Jon's love language is being annoying

Took me a while to figure out how I'd write the Super Lords, but eventually I was inspired by another work. I might write a sequel to this but we'll see. Fic under the cut.

Jon was scrolling on his phone, looking to find people talking negatively about him or his father so he could send them death threats. He could probably find them easily and make good on those threats, but then he'd have to get up, and he was comfortable where he was. He was getting a little peckish though, so he might run through a couple if he got up to eat.

His dad came into the room looking flawless. “Jon.”

“Hey dad, can you get me something to eat?”

“What? No. Get it yourself, or better yet, ask Kelex.”

“I thought you took away my voice commands after I killed the wrong general last week.”

“Oh, right. Have the knowledge crystals not taught you how to hack yet?”

Jon groaned ”I hate the knowledge crystals dad, they take so much time. I don't see the point in them.”

“The point is they would teach you how to solve problems, like how to reinstate your voice commands in Kelex’s code. Now get up, I have something important for you to do.”

Jon got up and stretched. “Oh I'm way hungrier than I thought. Hold that thought, Dad.”

“Jona–” Kal started sternly as a gust of wind blew past him. He could hear Jon ferociously consuming junk food from the pantry in superspeed. When he was done, he ran back up to his dad.

“Hey Dad, I'm back. What's up?”

“What do you know about Talia Al Ghul?”

“Oh that's easy. She's like, your archnemesis. Her family's got really strong magic so she can kill us if she gets close enough. She controls the last stronghold of human resistance. She's older than you so she's, what, a million?” He grinned cheekily “Just kidding, Dad. You don't look a day over 500.” He laughed. “Kidding! You should see the look on your face.”

“Jon, I'm being serious here.”

“‘kay.”

“She's just crowned her heir, Prince Damian. He's your age.”

“Oh?”

“He's an even more powerful mage than his mother, and trained in martial arts. He is a serious threat, one that needs to be neutralized.”

“Ok, but how am I gonna do that? You said he's more powerful than his mom, and you can't kill her.”

“He takes his group of soldiers into the Himalayas every month to train privately. I want you to ambush them.”

“Kill them, right? How do you want them dead?”

“Doesn't matter.”

“Alright. I'll be right back.”

Kal grabbed his arm and dug his fingers in hard enough to bruise. “You could die today, Jon. Take this seriously. Run away if you need to. You're no good to me dead.”

Jon nodded. “Got it.”

Jon flew to the mountains and looked for them with his heat vision. He found them fighting each other and flew down and started snapping the neck of the closest person to him. Unfortunately, this was slow enough to draw alarm from the other assassins, who all knew magical attacks. Still, Jon was quick and he fought dirty, letting out a deafening shout and causing an avalanche. The teens fought him with martial arts married with magic, sacrificing their lives so that the final assassin could defeat Jon and place him in magical bindings.

He spat blood. “You're lucky they can be brought back to life, or I wouldn't have spared yours.”

“I didn't ask you to. But thank you– not for sparing my life, but for beating me. I've never lost before. It was exhilarating! Can you do it again?”

The boy looked at him strangely. “What?”

Jon grinned manically. “You're a great fighter. I want you to defeat me again. And again and again until I get bored. What's your name? I never even lose to my dad.”

“... I am prince Damian Al Ghul.”

“Oh no way! I came here to kill you! Well, I'm not doing that anymore.”

“Clearly not.” Damian said, gesturing to the chains around him.

“Oh no, not cuz of that. I meant cuz like–” Jon cut himself off as Damian took off his mask and piercing green eyes met his own. “Wow, you're really pretty. I've never seen anyone as pretty as you in my whole life. Definitely not prettier. I think I was saying something?”

Damian blushed. “Tt. You were saying why you're not going to kill me.”

“I think I'm in love with you.”

“What?!” Damian squeaked.

“That was so cute! You're so cute! You're so small you look like you'd fit just right in my arms!”

“Go back to the ‘I love you’ part because I'm not understanding!” He shouted.

“I'll say it as many times as you want! I love you, I love you, iloveyouiloveyouiloveyoui–”

“Stop! You can't love me, you just met me, and your dad is superman!”

“Um, I'm pretty sure I can. Love at first sight is a thing, and I've known you for longer than that already.”

“So what, just because you think I'm pretty and I beat you for the first time, you're in love with me?”

“Is that not enough? Ok well, I really like the color of your eyes, and you're really powerful, and you make me feel so many feelings I have never felt before! Fear, excitement, curiosity, admiration, respect, awe, happiness, arousal–”

“Stop talking.”

“Whatever you want, gorgeous.”

“That's talking.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Still talking.”

“I don't know how you want me to stop talking if you keep talking to me. Oh but uh, don't stop, I like it.”

Damian facepalmed. “I'm taking you back to my mother.”

“Oh I hope she doesn't decide to kill me after you went through the trouble of sparing me, that would be really embarrassing for you.”

Damian was quiet for a few minutes. “...You've never felt curious? Or excited, or afraid or happy? Really?”

Jon shrugged. “Maybe once. But nowadays I'm always either bored or bloodthirsty. Except right now, I'm neither. You're the most interesting person I've ever met and I just killed 5 people. That's like, 1 more than I usually do in a day.”

Damian set his jaw hard. “Why do you kill so many people?”

“Why do you think, assassin Prince? To feel alive.”

“...Who do you usually kill?”

“Dissidents and criminals. My dad's okay if they're dissidents or criminals. There's not, like, a ton of those out there anymore, though, so I've taken to scrolling back really far on Twitter. Oh, and jaywalkers.”

“Tt. Typical.”

“Who do you usually kill?”

“Political enemies, soldiers, criminals.”

“I guess everyone's a political enemy when they're aligned with us and not you. That's a lot more people you can kill. I kinda wanna join your side now.”

“We don't kill frivolously.”

“Why not?”

“Because we value human life.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Why does your father care about order if not to preserve human life?”

Jon laughed. “My dad doesn't care about humans! He just wanted to tidy things up. He gets mad when I kill other people because it messes with his system. It's one of those dumb parent rules, like keeping your socks in the sock drawer, or cleaning the fortress on Sundays even though we have robot servants.”

“... You're completely insane.”

“Do you want me not to be?”

Damian furrowed his brow. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I want you to get what you want! You deserve to get anything you want, way more than my dad does. I bet you could with your magic! Cast a spell on me, make me sane for you. If you want that, I want it.”

“It's Jonathan, isn't it?”

“Yeah, or you can call me Jon. Or you know, whatever you want. Even if it's mean, I can take it.”

“...Jonathan. I don't want to take your agency away with my magic. That wouldn't be right.”

Jon shrugged against his chains. “If you say so, my prince.” Damian was quiet for a while, and Jon slipped free of his chains to help Damian cart back all of the bodies. “You should let me carry this.”

“What– Jon?! How did you escape my bindings?”

“Magic interacts completely unpredictably with me.”

“I don't– why are you even still here?”

“Why would I leave? It's not as if there's anything more interesting on TV. Twitter says all the shows are boring cuz of Dad. Well, you know, the dead side of Twitter. God do you know how perfect you look? From every angle?”

“Jon, I think you should just leave.”

“Well, my dad is expecting me home soon. What do you think I should tell him about you not being dead?”

“... Is he going to hurt you if you go back?”

Jon shrugged. “If I let him. Which I probably will, so I don't get grounded. But I might be grounded anyway since this meant a lot to him. If I don't get grounded, can I see you again?”

“It's best if you don't.”

“I'm going to be honest, I don't like that answer. If you want me to stay away you'll have to use your magic to harm me.”

“Tt. Do you have a death wish?”

“No. My biggest wish is for you to spar with me and win.”

“What if I lose?”

“Then we'll go again until you win.”

“...Hm. You're very… persistent.”

Jon grinned. “Thanks. Wow, it feels really good when you compliment me. Do it again.”

“Um… you have really unique eyes?”

Jon beamed. “This is great, keep going!”

Damian blushed. “I'd rather not.”

Jon pouted. “Pleeeeaaase? I'll do anything.”

“Will you go home?”

“Fine, yes, after… 3 more compliments. Then I'll go home, for now.”

“Tt. Your curls look very nice, your hair makes a nice contrast against your skin tone and you– ah… you… that is, you're very strong.”

“I already knew that last one.”

“I meant muscular.”

“That's not a compliment, that's just a fact.”

Damian’s ears burned. “...I like it. I like that about you. I like that you're muscular. It looks… visually appealing.”

“Oh, I'm definitely in love with you. I'd love to stay and compliment you back, but I said I'd leave, and I want you to trust me! If you ever need me, or just want me, all you have to do is call. I'll come.”

Jon flew back home. “Dad? I ambushed him, caused an avalanche, and killed his squad, but he still beat me.” Jon called out.

Kal walked out to see his son. “You look unharmed. Why did he let you go?”

“Honestly? I think I annoyed him too much. But I'm going back tomorrow.”

“I see… an ambush didn't work, so you'll have to gain his trust and then betray him. I was going to punish you but your tenacity and cunning deserve a reward, so it is simpler to do nothing.

“Oh, yeah, psh, that's totally why I want to go back. I totally want to murder him in cold blood. I mean, you know how much I love murder.”

Kal frowned. “I do know. It gets in the way of your studies. However, this time I approve.”

“‘kay. Thanks. See ya.” He went back to his room to watch Damian with his X-ray vision.

The next day, Jon went to Nanda Parbat and watched Damian from the sky, waiting until he was alone to approach him.

Damian’s hair was slicked back with sweat and he was flushed and panting.

“Prince Damian. You look somehow even more incredible than last time.”

“Spare me the mockery.”

“What? I'm not mocking you. The way your skin flushes and glistens is as enchanting as any of your spells, my lord.”

“Hn. You know most humans find sweat repulsive?”

“I'm only half human. Also, you smell great. Musky. Can I lick you?”

“Definitely not.” Jon pouted. “Do you want something?”

“Yeah. Can we spar?”

“After lunch. Would you like to dine with me?”

“Can I? Won't the servants see me?”

“I cook for myself.”

Jon gasped. “I get to try your cooking?! Yes!” He pumped his fist in the air.

Damian chuckled good naturedly.

Jon leaned against the island as Damian cooked. “What did your dad say about you failing to kill me?”

“Oh I told him I was going back today and he thought I meant that I was going to gain your trust to kill you.” Damian stiffened. “So I'm going to let him think that so I can spend more time with you.”

“Try this.” Damian said, handing Jon a spoonful of sauce. Jon tasted it.

“Hm, that's pretty good! I've never had this before.”

Damian tasted it himself and nodded. “It is good.”

Jon ate at his usual impatient pace and spent the rest of the meal talking at Damian.

“Alright, Superboy, follow me.”

“Anywhere.”

“Tt.” Damian led him to the training courtyard. “Here we are. Remember to be quiet.”

Jon rushed to tackle Damian but he predicted it and dodged, casting a spell to slow down Jon’s movements. It was a lot stronger than the spell Damian intended to cast, and he moved like a sloth. “Wow prince…” he began as Damian took his time pinning Jon to the ground and immobilizing him with a spell. The first spell wore off quicker than expected. “...Damian you're so fast! Oh, it's already over!” Jon giggled. “You did even better this time! I suppose it's to be expected since it wasn't an ambush. You're really impressive…” Jon sighed dreamily, looking up into Damian’s eyes with a lovestruck gaze.

Damian coughed and looked away. “...You wanted me to beat you. Did you go easy on me?”

“I can honestly say that didn't even occur to me. I don't know why I would do that. Would it have made you happy?”

“Hell no. It would have made me angry.”

Jon smiled. “I'd like to see you angry. Maybe I will next time. Though I don't know if you'd even notice, considering how well you beat me this time.”

Damian looked confused. “Why would you want me to be angry?”

Jon raised a brow. “‘Cause I wanna see how you look when you're angry. I've never seen it before. I wonder if it would make me angry, too. I never get angry anymore.”

“You're… impossible.”

Jon grinned toothily. “Is that a good thing?”

“... I haven't decided.” Damian got off of Jon, much to the younger teen’s disappointment, and did a nullification spell on Jon before helping him up. Jon smirked and flipped Damian over his shoulder as he stood, but Damian landed on his feet and cast a sleeping spell on Jon. He woke him up with a water spell, sitting on his chest.

“You got me again! I love you.”

“You're weird.”

“Is that bad?”

“I haven't decided.”

Jon smiled, crinkling his eyes. “Wanna go again?”

Damian laughed. “Sure. I've not even worked up a sweat yet.”

The next time he came to Nanda Parbat he threw down a corpse in front of Damian, face still splattered in blood.

Damian sighed. “Most guys bring flowers.”

“I'm not ‘most guys’”

“Who was he?”

“He criticized your looks so I killed him for you.”

“Jon, I don't care what anyone says about me.”

Jon's eyes flashed red. “I care that he said that. Now he can't say anything like it ever again. What do you think of my technique?”

“Messy, but efficient.”

Jon smiled “Thank you. Do you want to spar?”

“Jon it's 11:38 at night.”

“... Is that a problem?”

“I was sleeping.”

“Oh. Can I join you?”

“Tt. No. Go home.”

Jon pouted. Damian held firm.

“Okay. I'll miss you.”

“Tt. You say such embarrassing things. Goodnight.”

Jon smiled, then quickly leaned in to kiss Damian’s cheek. “Good night, my love.”

Damian slammed the door in his face.

It became somewhat of a pattern for Jon to ambush Damian when he went out on missions, and Damian learned to expect it. Jon was getting faster at killing Damian’s compliment.

“I killed them, so we can be alone!” Jon said cheerfully, gently touching Damian’s cheeks with his bloody fingers and looking at him adoringly.

“Jon. Keep your hands to yourself before I cut them off.” He said, drawing his rune-encrusted sword slightly out of the scabbard.

Jon pouted but removed his hands. “As you wish, my lord. So, what are you out here for today?”

“I was planning on retrieving a magical relic from a temple to the east of here, until you showed up. You’re like a gnat.”

“I can get it for you!”

“Tt, I’m sure you can’t, there are magical booby traps.”

Jon pouted. “I want to do this for you. Please?”

“Jon, I am certain that if you were deathly injured my mother would not permit me to put your body in the lazarus pit.”

“Not even if I died saving your life?”

“Likely not. I shouldn't even be talking to you, you are the enemy.”

Jon grinned. “I guess we both like to do whatever we want.”

“It is human nature to desire freedom.”

“Well yeah but I'm not human.”

“You are as human as you are kryptonian. I wonder, did your father have the same disregard for your mother as with the rest of humanity?”

“I dunno. I was cloned from her dead body and my dad. I never saw them interact. But I know he loved her, and I know he misses her. He's told me it's the only reason he puts up with me.”

“It does not sound like you are very close.”

“We aren't. But he's the only other kryptonian other than Kara Zor-el so y'know, he's important. Not as important as you, of course, but he was previously the most important person in my life.”

“We're here. Don't follow me.”

Jon floated after him. “But I wanna keep you safe! Let me carry you.”

“No– Jon, put me down!”

Jon grinned and flew Damian in. “What's it look like? I can look through the walls for you.”

“Unneeded, I have a map.”

Jon swiped the map from him and read it. “I have a great sense of direction, don't worry.”

“You are infuriating.”

“We cause strong emotions in each other~ how lovely. Okay, hold tight.”

Jon flew quickly down the halls, before being knocked into the wall by a magical hammer. Damian rolled off of him as Jon groaned in pain. “You idiot. Where are we?”

Jon grunted and pointed to their location on the map.

“I can’t even cast a healing spell on you as I have no idea how it will effect you.”

“Don't worry… I have super healing… so the side that hit the wall will be fine. The wall isn't magic, right?”

Damian checked. “Luckily for you, it is regular stone.”

Jon grinned. “Help me up? I wanna help you finish this.”

“It's a bad idea. We need to get you out of here.”

Jon shook his head. “I'm not going. I'll be right behind you. You can handle the magic traps, and I can fly in front of an arrow for you or something.”

“And what if it's a magical arrow?”

“I'll die for you. Did I not mention that?”

“Tt. You're dangerous to have around. But if you're not leaving…” Damian got out a rope and tied them together by their waists with a length of rope in between them. “Stick close to me.”

Jon floated to his feet. “Mkay. Let's go!”

Damian sighed and pulled along a floating Jon. He disabled the traps as they went until they reached the chamber with the artifact. Damian picked it up and the room shook with a deep voice.

“To get out of trouble, face your double. Return the staff to the rack and it will end the attack.”

Smoke billowed out of the air vents and coalesced into shadow versions of Jon and Damian. Damian sighed and took out his katana.

Jon and Damian fought back to back as their shadow versions worked independently. Damian took out his double and Jon defeated his own. The smoke dissipated and Jon cheered.

“We did it! That was awesome! They didn’t stand a chance against our teamwork! Imagine if you came in here with your whole squad! That would have been so much chaos, I really did you a favor by killing them.”

Damian growled and pressed his sword to Jon’s throat, backing him up against the wall. “No. Killing.”

“Mhn, so it's fine if you kill me but not if I kill your squad, who as we've previously established can come back to life whereas I will not?”

“I will kill you if I have to.”

“I would expect nothing less, my prince.” Jon smiled slightly. “So this is what you look like when you're angry. I love the intensity in your eyes.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Are you really trying to de-escalate the situation by flirting?”

Jon shook his head as much as he could. “Just saying what I think, my lord. And I think you look beautiful.”

Damian sighed and withdrew his blade. “You're an idiot.”

Jon smiled cheerily and let Damian drag him along by the rope still attached to his waist. Damian escorted Jon back to the entrance of the temple and cut the rope. “You need to stop killing my team every time I leave the palace. It makes me look incompetent.”

“Do you get in trouble?”

“Not exactly, no–”

“Then it's fine!”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen to me carefully. I am telling you that I want you to stop killing my team. Did you not say that I deserve to get what I want?”

“You're turning my words against me! I just want to be with you. Your assassins would never allow it. If I don't defeat them, I'll die.” Jon whined.

“Then learn non-lethal techniques of taking people down. Practice on those criminals or whatever.”

“You want me to… not kill a criminal?”

“Yes.”

“I can try… can I still be violent?”

“I would appreciate it if you did not scar my team too badly. But outside of that, you can be as brutal as you like as long as they do not die.”

“Okay. I will practice not killing and come back to you. Farewell, my prince.”

“Farewell, lord Jonathan.” Damian said as Jon lifted off into the sky, the cut rope rippling in the wind with his cape.

Jon stormed through the palace towards Damian, knocking people out of the way like flies. “Prince Damian! I came back, as I said I would.”

“Yes, I can see that. Are you here to kill more of my people? You know I cannot allow that, Lord Jonathan.”

Jon cocked his head. “Why would I do that? I don’t care about humans.”

Damian quirked a brow. “I am human.”

“You’re better than everyone else, though.”

“Is that so?”

Jon giggled. “Yeah, I think you could even kill me if you tried. That’s so hot. Look at you, not attacking me right now… so romantic...” Jon sighed.

Damian tutted. “I’m beginning to regret that.”

Jon giggled. “Some days I think I love you so much I'd just let you. Would you like me to do that? Or would you want a fight?” He came closer.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A genuine one. Oh… If I tried to kill you, I hope you’d try to kill me too… maybe we could die at the same time. If I am going to die, I want it to be by your hand. And no one else deserves to take your life away but me, and only if you asked me to.” He giggled, twirling his hair. “I really like having you around, so you would have to convince me first, or else I wouldn’t even let you kill yourself.” Jon hummed. “But I don’t see you convincing me that this world is so terrible as to deserve to be ridden of such beauty.” He stroked Damian’s cheek with a gloved hand, and Damian smacked it away. Jon sighed. “I love you.”

“You don’t know what love means. Your father never showed you.”

“I don’t? Well then, you’ll have to teach me. No one else will do.”

Damian tutted, before sighing as if greatly put upon and offering his ring for Jon to kiss. He did so gladly, kneeling at his feet.

“My prince.” Jon held Damian’s hand by the wrist and turned it over so he could nuzzle into his palm. Damian allowed it. Jon locked his violet eyes on Damian’s emerald ones. He kissed his fingertips one by one.

“You are so devoted to me. It’s perplexing.”

Jon kissed his wrist. “It’s simple; the whole earth should bow to you. You are perfection. Every moment you spend with me is pure gold; my greatest treasures.Or maybe it is that I can take anything in the world that I want, except for you. You are the only thing I could ever rightfully earn. The only goal worth pursuing. Everything was meaningless and dull until I met you, my Prince.”

Damian cupped his cheek. “And what if you got me? What then? Do you truly believe that to be love?”

“I would work to keep you and to serve you, to make you happy.” He smiled. “To annoy you, to pester you, to laugh with you, to see you cry. To hold you. To learn everything there is to know about you until you’ve changed so much that I have to learn you all over again.” He sniffed Damian’s wrist, at the cologne there, and deeper at all the smells that made up Damian. “Intoxicating.” Jon puffed out a laugh. “I don’t know what love is supposed to be like. Have I got it wrong? Do you think it matters? I ask out of curiosity, ‘cause even if it were really something completely morally unacceptable to you, I wouldn't care. It feels better than anything ever has. It’s what I live for.”

Damian’s lips parted in surprise. He schooled his features to ask his next question. “How many people have you killed since I last saw you?”

“None.” Jon smiled. “I’m learning, see? I can do better. I must be of some use to you, haven’t I?”

Damian got a strange look in his eye just then, and Jon became excited at the prospect of learning that expression. “Get up.”

Jon wilted. “Have I offended you, my Prince?”

Damian shook his head. “Stand up. Don’t. Float.”

Jon bowed his head obediently and stood up. Damian stepped close and put his hand on Jon’s shoulder, pulling him down into a slow and gentle kiss. Jon did not know his heart could race so fast. Damian pulled away with an unreadable look in his eye. “Alright, Jon. I accept. I will teach you how to love.”

Jon beamed. “Oh, this is so much better than murder.” He whispered.

Damian smirked. “It is, isn’t it? A lot of things are.” Damian took his hand off of Jon’s shoulder and put both behind his own back.

“Could you excuse me for just one moment? I feel the urge to go fly.”

Damian nodded, and Jon flew off, laughing brightly like a child.

Jon returned a moment later. “I love you! It feels so triumphant!” Jon gasped. “Does this mean we are dating? Boyfriends?!”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes. My mother will not be pleased.”

“I can kill her for you, if you wan’t.”

Damian glared at him. “No. No Killing.”

Jon looked at him for a long time. “Okay… Okay. But if someone tries to kill you, I won’t spare them. Even if you get mad at me. Even if you don’t believe my explanation. Even if you can take care of yourself. I promise, I won’t let you die.”

Damian scowled. “Just…kiss me, you idiot.”

Jon flew to his side in an instant, but was much more apprehensive about actually kissing him, so Damian grabbed his head and dragged their mouths together. Jon purred and pulled him closer. Damian nibbled on Jon’s bottom lip and he gasped. “Damian!”

“Yes?”

“You’ve done this before! And I can’t kill whoever you did it with!”

“You don’t have worry, they are already dead.”

“Woah, do you kill people instead of breaking up with them?”

“Tt, no. They betrayed me. I made an example of them.”

“Wow, I can’t imagine killing you if you betrayed me.”

“Hm. I can’t say it was pleasant, but— we are supposed to be kissing right now, Jonathan.” He pulled him in for a few more smooches.

“Is this part of learning how to love?” Jon asked dazedly.

“No, this is for me. I’m just glad I found a way to shut you up.”

“Dami! That’s–” More kissing. “That’s mean. I love it when you’re mean to me.”

They had their arms wrapped around each other by now. Damian rubbed between Jon’s shoulder blades. “You really shouldn’t.”

“Nobody is ever mean to me but you! How could I not like it? I love when you give me attention.”

“To have everyone afraid of you, your whole life… Let’s change that, hm? You are terrifying in the way that you move, talk, smile, laugh, and behave… But we should be able to change at least two of those.”

“Am I so scary, even to you?”

“No, not to me. You’re even… cute.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?”

Damian furrowed his brow. “No, why would it be?”

“My father always told me to stop acting so cute, that it was distracting.”

“Everything about you is distracting. You’re currently distracting me from my work. I didn’t think you cared.”

Jon smiled. “You’re right, I don’t. And like I said, you can be mean to me, as long as you don’t ignore me. Well, even if you tried to ignore me, I’d cover your eyes until you had to acknowledge me. Or… maybe I could bite you, like Krypto used to do when I was little and I’d ignore him. Hm… come to think of it, you did just say I was distracting, I’m sure there are lots of ways I could get your attention. I like being distracting.”

Damian arched a brow. “Surely you’ll allow me to get my work done.”

“Well, that’s not ignoring me ‘cause you’re mad! So it’s fine. I can just watch you.”

“Do you watch me when you leave?”

Jon nodded. “And I strain my ears to listen. I love the sound of your voice, my prince.”

“Oh Jonathan, your life cannot only be me. I want you to stay in the palace so I can show you other things you might find meaningful.”

“Like what?”

“Friendship, learning to cook, making art. Things that are worthwhile because of the struggle. I think you will enjoy pottery.”

“What's so interesting about making pots? Plenty of people can do that.”

“They can do it because they put in the work, and they are better than you at it. Don't you want to impress me with an excellent piece of pottery?”

“You would like it if I gave you something I made?”

“Jon, the only person who can make the art that you would make is you. If you do not make it, it will never be known. You can give me something no one else can.”

“Who cares? Everyone will say they love it so I don't singe their eyebrows off…”

Damian arched a brow. “I won't.”

Jon blushed and smiled at Damian. “That's right, you're not afraid to tell me what you think. You're my equal.”

“I may even decide to encourage you with kisses.”

Jon rumbled a purr. “I love you. I'm going to make you the best pot ever.”

Damian kissed him again. “Good. I eagerly await it.”

[angelzdaydream]

he's obsessed with you | Marcus Baker

plot: Marcus and reader have been in a secret relationship and they have been hiding it well from Max, but when she finds out she laughs because she knew he was obsessed with you.

requested by: @xtom-darling-x17

warnings: slight smut but no details

Marcus sneaking through your window at night had become a habit for the past few months, but on this particular night you decided you'd be the one doing the sneaking.

You took extra caution to be quiet not wanting to draw attention to yourself as you shimmied your way up the house and into the Baker household. As much as you didn't want his parents catching you, the thought of his sister Max who just so happened to be your best friend was much worse.

You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend sleeping soundly in his bed, his sketchbook sprawled against his chest and he pencil he was still in his hand.

You walk over to him, carefully grabbing the pencil out of his hand and the sketchbook to put it away. You go to close the sketchbook but before you could the drawling he was working on catches your eye. Your heart begins to flutter when you realize it was of you.

Marcus stirring in his sleep snatches your attention away from the drawling and you close the sketchbook before placing it on his nightstand.

"This is different. Normally I'm the one doing the breaking and entering." Marcus's voice startles you a bit.

"Figured you shouldn't be the only criminal in the relationship." you grin before leaning down with the intentions of kissing him gently, but the moment your lips touch, he's pulls you on top of him making you gasp at the sudden motion. Marcus uses this to his advantage as he slides his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

The moment you pull away for a breath of air, Marcus's lips are against your neck sucking and pressing needy kisses against your skin. "You drew me." You moan shakily.

"I did." Marcus replies before sucking on the sweet spot on your neck making your eyes roll back. "How about you be my muse again and give me something else to draw of you?"

"Please." you beg, already so needy for him and before you know it, Marcus is detaching himself from your neck and flipping the two of you around so he's on top.

His lips crash against yours as he grinds his hips against yours, causing the both of you to moan. Both of you were too consumed by each other that you both failed to hear his door open.

"Mom wants to know what you want for dinner- y/n? Holy shit! Holy fucking shit, my eyes!" Max screeched before slamming his door closed and running off.

All you can do at first is look at Marcus in horror. "Shit! How mad do you think she is?"

"She didn't try to kill me so maybe not as mad as we expected her to be." Marcus replies sitting up off of you.

"I'm going to go talk to her." you stand up off his bed fixing your hair and clothes.

"You want me to come with?" he asks reaching for your hand and kissing it reassuringly.

You shake your head no. "I think I should go alone in case she's super pissed. You being there might make it worse."

He nods his head in understanding before you make your way to Maxines room.

You knock on her door, and it doesn't take long before she tells you to come in. You quickly do, shutting the door behind you but never moving from in front of it. You look up at Maxine who is already looking at you. The two of you go a moment without speaking when all of a sudden Max burst into a fit of laughter.

You stare at her wide eyed, unsure if she was so pissed it was coming out as laughter or if it was for another reason. You really hoped she wouldn't make such a big deal out of it, you loved and cared about both Marcus and Max in different ways and you never wanted to hurt either of them.

It goes on for a few minutes before her laughter finally dies down. "I'm not mad." Max speaks after catching her breath.

"You're not?" you question, gaining the courage to move away from the door to sit next to her on the bed.

"I mean it hurts a little that you didn't tell me, but I figured something was going on between the two of you and that you'd tell me when you were ready. I've seen the way you two make googly eyes at each other and honestly, I've never seen him as happy as he is with you. He cares about you a lot, it's disgusting really. Not as disgusting as what I just seen though." Max scrunches her nose up in disgust.

You giggle. "Sorry about that."

"As you should be, I'm scarred for life." she says before giggling too and pulling you into a side hug.

A weight feels like it had been lifted off your shoulders now that you and Marcus no longer had to hide your relationship from her and that Marcus cared as much about you as you did him.

-

idk about the ending but hope you guys liked it <3 feel free to send me request!

[starbluekindo]

LOML (part 3)

synopsis: you and victoria are destined to meet, not to be together.

cw: victoria neuman × fem!reader, angust, traumatic past (quoted), red river (quoted), reader is a supe with necromancy, childhood love, character death, mentions of depression?, smut, nsfw…

part!1 part!2

a/n: this was longer than it should have been ;-;

english is not my first language and i don't have much experience writing, so it may contain errors.

you haven't had good experiences with your powers. being a five-year-old child and seeing all the dead people in a room and even more so talking to them, feeling them, was not a cool experience.

you spent years being haunted by the dead who seemed to haunt you every step you took, they seemed to take some kind of twisted pleasure in tormenting a child. that's what you thought for years until you discovered that most of the ghosts that haunted you just wanted the chance to tell their story, the chance to say goodbye.

and you stopped being afraid of them, after all they couldn't hurt you if you ignored them.

it wasn't an easy path to have the level of control you have today. pretending not to see the desperate child in the corner of your room begging for help or the woman in the mirror with sad eyes was painful for you and when you arrived at the red river... all those poor souls tormented you as you cried and begged them to shut up the fucking mouth.

but then you met victoria and it was like the whole world fell silent for the first time for you. she was your lighthouse, guiding you without even knowing it through the sea of ​​souls that insisted on drowning you every day. losing her was like losing yourself, but having her back gave you life.

the following months were the best you could have in your entire life.

you had victoria by your side after years of waiting. years of forced separation, finally ending in happy moments with her. you and her went to bars, restaurants, museums and every art exhibition you could find, every moment unique and special with her.

it was an understatement to say you were happy, you were radiant.

“oh come on, she’s just a teenager, baby… she’s not going to kill you” victoria said in a carefree manner as she cut some vegetables for your dinner.

“vicky, we’re talking about your daughter” you were on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. for some reason you didn’t know, meeting victoria’s daughter terrified you. “what if she hates me and decides i’m not good enough for her mother? what if I mess up? and if-”

you didn't have time to finish your self-deprecating litany, not when victoria's lips were in contact with yours again, her body pinning you against the kitchen counter. her hands held your waist, pushing you onto the cold material of the counter.

“shh… what do you say we skip dinner and I feast on you?” she bit your earlobe, her hands moving to your thighs, playing with the fabric of your shorts.

“fuck…” you sighed and leaned your forehead against hers, closing your eyes as a small smile formed on your lips “i can’t let dinner burn again, vicky”

“we can always eat out, pretty girl” her lips find the skin of your neck, kissing, biting and sucking, each action designed to draw a desperate moan from your lips. her hands move to the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing the fabric up. touching you, as if touching something fragile.

“such a beautiful girl” she whispers against your skin. fingers gripping the hem of your shirt and she pushes the fabric up, away from your body.

her tongue circles the bud of your breast before leaving a bite on the spot making you shudder, moving her lips to suck a bruise on the skin of your breast “good?” victoria's lips move to her other breast, her teeth lightly nibbling at the flesh, molding it into her mouth as she alternates between one and the other, her free hand making its way through the thin fabric of her shorts, her fingers slipping inside her panties to meet the wet heat of your sex.

the feeling of her fingers inside you, coupled with the way her mouth works on your breasts, is enough to make you squirm on the counter, your moans a sweet symphony that she is more than happy to lead.

“do you like this, love?” she purrs, her voice a seductive rasp. she removes her fingers, coated with your wetness, and brings them to her mouth, licking them clean, "so ready for me, aren't you?" you can barely speak, the sight of her being enough to make you moan again. she easily rips off her shorts in a simple and practical movement, throwing the rest of the fabric to the floor.

she pushes your panties to the side, her fingers replacing them, sliding in and out of you, her thumb rubbing your clit in a slow, sensual rhythm. her lips leave your breasts, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach, your body trembling with each touch.

“you’re my sweet girl,” she says, her voice low and possessive, as her mouth finds your sex, her tongue parting your folds to taste you. “you always have been and you always will be”

“so fucking good” you mumble and close your eyes as you throw your head back, biting your bottom lip to keep from screaming (and getting another complaint from your property manager). one of your hands finds its way between the silky strands of victoria's hair, encouraging the brunette to go deeper and your other hand rests on the edge of the counter, squeezing tightly.

her tongue works wonders on you, taking you to heaven with each lick, her fingers filling you in the way you needed her most. you squeezed victoria's scalp, her eyes fixed on you as her moans grew louder. “please vicky” you whimper and open your eyes looking for her, pupils dilated and pleading.

victoria smiles, her eyes fixed on yours, as she takes you into her mouth, sucking and licking you with a fervor that shows she is starving for you. her fingers continue their rhythm, her pace increasing as she feels your body contracting, your moans getting louder.

she knows that look in your eyes, the way you're begging for release, and she's more than happy to oblige. her tongue flicks over your clit, her fingers pushing deep inside you, the pressure building inside you like a storm.

“come for me, pretty girl,” she orders, her voice low and commanding, “let go”

and you do. you come undone, your body shuddering, your moans turning into screams as you reach that peak. victoria sucks and licks you, milking every last drop of pleasure from you, her own body trembling with satisfaction as she witnesses your release.

she pulls away, her lips and chin wet with your essence, a smile playing on her mouth as she watches your chest rise and fall with each ragged breath.

“good girl” she runs her tongue between her lips before approaching you and engulfing you in a passionate kiss letting you taste yourself in her.

you finally had it all again

until there's nothing left

things weren't supposed to happen like this, victoria didn't plan for it to happen, but hey... no one can control everything - not even neuman.

you blamed homelander for fucking up the perfect life you were having after years of fighting, that bastard had fucked up everything.

It was already the fifth call you made to victoria that she refused and it was driving you crazy. you felt like the red river again when she left. not even the traffic was cooperating with you, leaving you unable to leave the car.

you felt scared, you felt scared as hell about everything that could happen. you hated that bitter feeling in your mouth, you hated feeling like a child again. as soon as the light changed again you finally managed to leave the place, passing all possible red lights and at the exact moment you looked at the car's rear view mirror you saw her.

the woman with the sad eyes who haunted you during your childhood.

something really bad was going to happen, you knew it, she told you that.

as soon as you entered victoria's house it was like a part of you was broken, seeing her in such an emotional state made your stomach hurt and the only thing you could do was bend down to hug her, feeling the tears of her to wet your shirt.

even the strongest of soldiers could be shot down.

“you shouldn’t be here…it’s not safe to be with me anymore” her words left you in disbelief, but no real effort was made to take you away from her.

“where else would I be but here?” ‘safely’ victoria thought and bit her tongue to respond, hiding her face in her shirt.

you waited until she was a little calmer and listened to her carefully, you saw her completely lost and with little hope - something you weren't used to seeing in the brunette.

“we can leave the country, hide somewhere safe for a while… just until things get a little better” you suggested as you stroked her scalp, keeping her in your arms to convey warmth and security to her.

“i can't do this to zoe, i can't do this to you” she murmured and closed her eyes. she had the feeling that her body was heavier than normal. “i would be putting you both in danger and i wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you or her.”

“nothing will happen” you both knew that was a lie, deep down you both already expected the worst. lying to yourself was the best way to stay confident - and at the moment it was all you needed.

“i need you to promise me that you will take care of zoe if something really bad happens”

“vicky, nothing-”

“i need it” her voice was more serious now, her eyes were still filled with tears and she was looking at you in a way that left you no choice “please… we both know that you are the best between the two of us who can keep a promise”

"i promise”

her lips met yours in a desperate kiss, as if it were a silent goodbye between you. you reciprocated without even thinking, your hands holding her face to pull her closer, not wanting that moment to end.

“i have to go” victoria whispered as she separated her lips from yours, her forehead touching yours “i have to try to do the right thing at least one last time”

she barely lets you protest, giving you another goodbye kiss, taking longer than last time to pull away “just wait for me”

and it was with those words that you lost her again. It was as if the entire world came to a standstill when the news announced that the vice president-elect had been assassinated just hours after being revealed to the world as a super.

your pain is like a choked scream in your chest. each shared memory turns into an open wound, and absence spreads like a cold shadow, enveloping everything around it. knowing that you could, in theory, bring back your girlfriend, but at the same time being aware of the horror that would entail, is a torment that tears you apart inside.

you didn't even have access to the body.

the rage that consumes you is devastating. you not only feel the impact of the loss, but also an unrelenting rage against the world around you. everything you fought to build with victoria was brutally ripped away. your indignation against the forces that caused this separation is overwhelming, but the anger is also directed at yourself, for what she considers to be her own powerlessness. as a necromancer, the power to manipulate life and death is in your hands, but you are unable to change what matters most.

you find yourself in a months-long spiral of pain and suffering. the depression that invades you is as heavy as the darkness your power summons. at every turn, you are haunted by the vision of victoria, not as she was, but as a distorted memory that your power allows you to see, reanimating her in moments of despair. it consumes you in such a way that the line between grief and obsession begins to blur. the world loses all meaning, and you find yourself adrift, in a place where the shadows seem to constantly whisper, offering the temptation to bring victoria back, even though you know it would only be a cruel parody of what she was.

you couldn't cheat death, no matter how smart you were.

but you remember the promise you made and feel obliged to fulfill it. you finally left the house after being away from the sunlight for so long and drove to the damn place you swore you would never set foot in again, finding yourself facing your worst nightmare.

everything in that place makes you want to vomit, the same old ghosts that tormented you as a child were still there, with a smile that was almost too cruel for you. the sound of your heels hitting the wooden floor echoed through the hallway as you followed red river's new director to the wing where the children usually stayed.

and when you saw her isolated in the corner, away from the other children, it was like going back to the past again. you forced yourself to hold back the tears when you saw zoe's resemblance to victoria and she was... perfect.

you didn't say another word to the woman next to you and walked towards the girl, bending down in front of her and getting a suspicious look from zoe.

“you’re just like her…” you whispered and placed a hand on the girl’s cheek, her eyes watering to the point where a tear escaped “i’m going to take you home”

you would keep your word, you would keep zoe safe and you would hunt even in hell the person responsible who took victoria from you two.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: swearing, otherwise mostly fluff

Part XXVI | Part XXVIII

Next few days it rained just as Tamlin had predicted. Thanks to him you had enough food, the only problem was the fast running out herbs. Not wanting to go out, it was a great chance to practice your magic abilities. High Lord always sat down with you, watching over you. Whenever you had trouble, he offered advice. It wasn't easy after so many years of not using your powers, but it was fun and the two of you laughed a lot when things didn't turn the way you wanted them.

Except of that there was nothing much to do. You couldn't go out and moreover as a result of your reckless run in the rain you caught a cold, so looking out the window and wishing the downpour finally stopped was all you were allowed to do.

Tamlin banned you from the kitchen, making you sit whole day in front of the hearth while he took care of everything. Including you. He wouldn't even let you go up the stairs on your own. You suspected that if he wanted he could cure you with a single snap of fingers, but for some reason he didn't want to. But you couldn't complain at all.

It was pleasant to have somebody to care for you, especially when they did it with such love. Every refilling of your mug was accompanied by kiss on crown of your head and kind smile. Every fixing of the blanket or handing you a book, got you a soft, sweet kiss on cheek and gentle caress. No need to say that you actually spent more time sitting on his lap than on your own. Your chest swelled every time Tamlin slipped into your armchair, pulling you to his strong body.

Bad weather also gave you a lot of time to talk, to really talk about things that bothered you. You patiently listened to his life story, about his family, years in father's army and everything that hurt him while Amarantha pushed him to sacrifice his friends, made him watch the death of so many innocent lives right before his eyes and then just for fun tortured girl he liked and even killed her. He told you about what happened after Amarantha died, all the nightmares that haunted him for months, the echo of the crack of neck that followed him every second of every day. He intentionally skipped the part about your brother being an ass, but you already heard about it from Feyre.

You knew he didn't want you to pity him and you tried not to, but it was hard. You reassured him that he did all he could to protect his Court and held him when you were short for words.

When it was your turn to share pieces of you, well, you didn't have much to say. Your family wasn't perfect, but it wasn't as bad as Tamlin's. Your mother, cousin, brother and his friends made sure you had a quite happy childhood and the only really bad, traumatic thing that happened to you, was the night you lost your mother and your memories.

"Tamlin, I want to thank you," you whispered into the crook of his neck when your tears finally dried. He was gently rocking you while drawing circles on your back with his warm hand. "If it wasn't for you, I would be dead."

He shook his head dismissively. His body was tense as you shared what you saw that night, his jaw still clenched, tips of his claws slightly jabbing the skin of your hip where he held you. You couldn't see his face from this angle, but you could imagine his frown, cold emerald eyes full of hate and rage gazing into the dancing flames. He looked like that when he told you about his father and brothers. All those years when he tried not to get in their way, keeping it low to survive, left a lot of hatred and anger in him. "I could do more. I-"

"You did enough," you stopped him. "I'm alive just because you were there. You aren't responsible for whatever happened to me afterwards."

He looked down at you in disbelieve. "I knew they had somebody in dungeons. I should have done something, help you escape."

"I thought that we already talked about this, but never mind," you spoke calmly with a soft sigh. "Let's say you went down there and helped me get out. What would have happened to you after that? They would have punished you or even worse."

He leaned to the side, putting as much distance as possible in between you which wasn't much in your current position. His hands fell to armrests, claws fully slid out. "It doesn't matter what they would have done to me."

"It matters..a lot.. To me, it matters.."

He watched you out of the corner of his eye and then sighing pulled you into another hug. He looked defeated.

"We can't change the past, Tamlin. But I'm glad you didn't go down there to find out what your father was up to. If you did, I might have never met you again. And we wouldn't be here now, holding each other."

At that moment air crackled with static energy and Rhysand winnowed in.

"Horrible weather," he grunted, shaking drops of rain from his cloak. Last few days he was too busy and only sent you messages. You didn't expect him to appear anytime soon.

Rhys looked around, his gaze fell to you watching him with wide eyes from Tamlin's lap. He froze in shock, his face colour changing from warm tanned to white and then to red.

"Hands off of my sister," he hissed. "Just a few days! I don't show up for few fucking days and you already dare to touch her? Like this?"

Tamlin sighed looking away and without a word began to gently push you from his lap so he could stand up. You knew he couldn't stand your brother's visits and rather disappeared on the second floor, but you needed to put a stop to this stupid situation. You clung to him, holding him in place. He raised a brow at you, but you only smiled at him.

"You didn't knock," you said in sweet voice to Rhysand whose eyes were jumping between you and High Lord of Spring.

"What?" He sputtered angrily.

"Do you remember when we talked about finding happiness?" You were calm as you looked up at him. His talons scratched the walls around your mind and you let him in.

What does this mean, sweetheart? I'd love you to stand up. Now.

Rhys, I'm happy.

You could feel flush spreading on your cheeks. Talking about this kind of feelings was something you'd never done with your brother nor he mentioned his lovers to you in the past. It was probably the only border you two kept intact.

What?! With him? You can't be serious. If you want a High Lord we can try to figure something out. But you.. and him.. Rhys' voice in your head was almost pleading.

I don't want a High Lord. I don't care about such things at all and you know that very well. I-.. I have feelings for him, Rhys. Do you.. understand? He might be my happy ending.

Admitting this much, you were too shy to even look your brother in eyes.

Meanwhile Tamlin stayed still, watching you with concern. Hands that he respectively put on armrests in presence of your brother, inched closer.

"Everything okay?" he murmured, so only you heard him. You nodded.

Rhysand left your mind and silently considered something. Hands at his sides curled into fists, his knuckles white.

"Can I have a word with you?" he asked Tamlin after a while. He frowned at him, but nodded. This time you let him stand up, watching as the two stepped out into the rain. You couldn't help it and sneaked closer to the front door. Through window you could see Rhysand pacing in the rain back and forth, fingers running through his already damp hair. Tamlin stood on doorstep, arms crossed on his chest, his back to you.

Rhysand stopped pacing and turned to him. "Do you like her?"

Tamlin nodded.

"C'mon," Rhys grunted, rolling his eyes. "I mean, do you really like her? No games, no.. getting back on me or something like that..?"

He again only nodded, no words. Rhysand stared him down, gritting his teeth.

"I love her, Rhysand," Tamlin finally spoke so lowly you almost didn't hear him over the sound of rain. "She is my everything."

Your heart swelled. He said that he loved you. Aloud. You talked a lot these last few days, but except of the 'I like you' he told you before, he hadn't expressed his feelings so directly. It was all just small lovely gestures here, soft kisses everywhere except of your lips there. Hearing him to express his feelings so openly brought tears to your eyes.

"I really hope you mean it," Rhysand snarled threateningly. "If you ever even try to think about hurting her-"

"I know. You'll find a way to revenge. I already heard that once before."

In a blink of eye Rhys stood in front of Tamlin, fisting the front of his shirt. His violet-blue eyes shone dangerously. "I'm not joking. Your kin already took me whole my family. She is the only one left. I won't silently watch her being used, hurt and thrown away by any male."

"I will never do any of that," Tamlin hissed in answer, his chest vibrating with growl, but otherwise he hadn't moved an inch, glaring down on your brother. He was just a few centimetres taller than him, but his frame was much sturdier, especially his upper body.

"Good," Rhys released his shirt still glaring at him and stepped back. "You better remember that."

Then he looked straight at you. See you next time, sweetheart. If anything, send me a message. You know how.

"Take very, very good care of her, Tam. She is the most precious person in the world." And with that he was gone.

Tamlin shook his head and grunting something under his breath he opened the door. As soon as he was inside, you rushed to him and squeezed him in firm embrace. Without thinking you stood up on your tiptoes and your lips landed on his. He went rigid, eyes widening.

You realized what you'd done and in shame started to pull away. Tamlin's hand clasped the back of your head and holding you in place his lips parted slightly and brushed over yours. So slowly, he claimed them in tender kiss, not rushing anywhere. Heart thundering in your chest, you kissed him back.

After a minute or two when your lungs burned with lack of oxygen, he broke the kiss and looked down at you, all flushed with glazed eyes. His fingertips brushed away an unruly strand of hair from your face, sliding down to your jaw.

He moved so fast you didn't see it. His next kiss was nothing like the first one. It was wild and hot and needy, war of lips, teeth and tongues. He kissed you like a starving man, devouring and exploring every inch of your mouth, sucking out all air from you.

One of his hands travelled down your body to your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh. You moaned into his mouth drawing a growl from him. Your back arched, chest brushing against the chest. There was no time to take a gulp of air and you were starting to feel light-headed.

Before you could pass out he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours, eyes closed. Both of you were heaving heavily, lips swollen.

"Gods," you whispered and he laughed, his breath fanning your face. You were drunk on his scent, now suffocatingly stronger.

"You taste like strawberries." He pecked your cheek, lips trailing to your jaw and down the column of your neck to the shoulder. He didn't miss even that sensitive spot under your ear. You bit on your lower lip, holding back another moan.

"Say it again," you pleaded breathlessly.

"What? About the strawberries?" he smile into your skin.

"No. What you told to Rhys."

"Aah, you mean that part that I won't hurt you."

"No, not that."

"Then what?" He was teasing you while his lips and hands explored your body.

"You are such a tease. The other thing you told him."

"Hmm," he pretended to think about it, his mouth slowly returning back to the spot under your ear. He licked the sensitive skin and lightly nipped at it. The moan escaped you before you could stop it. "You mean the 'love you' part?"

You hummed in agreement, unable to think straight with his soft lips playing with your earlobe while whispering words in hoarse deep voice that made your toes curl.

Tamlin stopped teasing you and scanning your face with interest, he waited until you opened your eyes and focused. He caressed your cheek with feather-light touch, fingers barely touching you. The other arm held you firmly to his body. You could feel every shift of his muscles. Bright emerald eyes found yours.

"I love you, Y/N," he said little nervously. "From bottom of my heart, I love you."

Your heart skipped few beats and you closed your eyes again. It wasn't the first time somebody confessed to you, but this was so different. It felt so right as if you were born only for this, waiting for him your entire life.

You ran your fingers along his shoulder blades, ends of his golden hair tickling your knuckles. You inhaled deeply and found his gaze.

"I love you, Tamlin," you breathed out.

"Thank the Mother," his tense shoulders relaxed a little, "I already thought you won't say it."

You huffed amused. He leaned down and gave you a peck, licked his bottom lip and gave you another and another and soon you were kissing again. His chest vibrated with growl.

"I dreamt about this so many times, but it's actually much better than I imagined."

"You dreamt about this?" You quirked a brow, nuzzling to his neck.

Muscle in his jaw flexed. "I did. Every night when I couldn't sleep, I tried to imagine holding you like this and kissing you."

You giggled. "Liar. You made it up now."

He laughed, the sound echoing in that broad chest of his. You snuggled to him even closer, enjoying the beautiful sound. "No, I didn't."

You blushed so fiercely you were glad he couldn't see your face.

"Shouldn't we make some dinner?" you asked after a while.

"No," his hands nestled on your waist. "You should go sit down and wrap up into blanket while I prepare something to eat."

He started to gently push you back towards your armchair.

"Nooo," you pleaded. "I sat all day long. I want to do something too."

"Fine," he cooed adding a log to fire. He snapped fingers and a tome fell into your lap. You immediately read its title, your fingers already prickling with curiosity. "Will you read to me while I cook then?"

"Seriously?" You pouted. He just nodded, chuckling. He knew you loved reading and used your weakness against you, knowing you wouldn't be able to resist. You opened the book on the first page, eager to find out what kind of story Tamlin chose and started reading it aloud.

You only stopped to eat and then Tamlin took the book and read to you until you fell asleep on his lap. Marking your progress he put the book aside. Carefully he picked you up and carried you to the bed. Throwing the blanket over you, he snuggled up to you, kissed your forehead and smiling fell asleep.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot @acourtofimagines @harahettania @talesofadragon @ceoofyearning @little-nightowl

[almostwisegalaxy]

Yandere boy?

Cha hyun su x reader

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"Myong-oh............ Myong-oh "

She had been walking for three days in search of the person she loved so much. In the tall grass, she moved as fast as she could, but as carefully as she could.

"Myong-oh... Where are you? ............. "

"Where did you take my child .....?" She said crying.

Y/n was desperate. Her husband had left after an argument they'd had. She didn't know until it was too late that he had taken their 2-year-old son. As the sun was setting, she walked through the streets with a flashlight. In the distance she saw a man with a child. She walked toward the silhouette, hoping it was her little family.

"Myong-oh, Myong-oh wait".

But of course it wasn't them. It was a boy with a little girl.

"Oh... I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else," she said with tears in her eyes.

Hyun Su was curious what a girl like her was doing in such a place at night, but he didn't stay too long. He started again when Ah-yi stopped him.

"Baby, baby," she says, pointing to her belly. She pulls Hyun Su's arm even harder to get his attention.

"Baby, baby"

That's when he finally noticed the girl's big belly that made it so hard for her to move. She holds on to a piece of wood to walk. She shakes and faints, but Hyun Su catches her just before she crashes into his belly. He and Ah-yi take her back to the boats.

3 days later

Y/n pov

Rays of sunlight awaken me from my restless sleep. I open my eyes and realize that I'm not in my cabin, but in a boat cabin. I sit up and look around to see a child drawing on the floor. I try to greet her, but she runs off to who knows where. Well, I think it would be better to go out and see where I am.

A young man stopped me.

"No, don't get up, you're still weak, you need to eat something first.

After you woke up, Hyun Su had convinced you to stay with them on the boat. It's been 3 months now. You were reluctant at first, insisting that you had to find your husband and son.

He kept telling you that he was probably already dead, killed by a monster, which is true and he knows it. But you refuse to listen to reason, because Myong-oh is waiting for you.

He is waiting for you.

Hyun Su's POV

Why won't she give up this stupid idea? Her "family" is dead. She's so stubborn. I don't want her to go. Her presence brings joy to Ah-yi and she opens up a little more every day. I can see that the reason she hasn't left yet is because of the little one. She's taken to her as if she were her own daughter. Every time y/n tries to leave, we get in the way and Ah-yi cries and squeezes her leg. I want her to like me too, not to run away when I'm around.

Now that Yi-kyeong has taken over, it's just the two of us on the boat. We fight all the time, I even had to chain her up in our room.

I.... It's not what I wanted, but I can't let her go. I don't know what to do to make her stay.

(Do you love her?) Yes .... Enormously

(Do you want her to stay?) Yes

(Would you use any means necessary?) ..... Yes

Hyun Su's eyes turned blue in a second. From the moment her monster took possession of her body, Y/n no longer had the choice of whether or not to stay.

[h-didanart]

I MADE IT

CHARACTER REF SHEETS

FINALLY I CAN SHARE THESE GUYS PROPERLY

:D

*ahem* Hello fellow fans and au makers! I am here to showcase my silly little au. Allow me to introduce you to our main characters:

These are Sunset and Moonlight, from The Sunset and Moonlight show! Close ups and info dump below

Where to start where to start, okay, a general description of the AU should be good to start with yeah? Yeah

This is a swap au, but unlike what I usually see swap AUs do, this is less of a full personality swap and more of a ‘bend the characters to a point where they change roles’ thing.

NOW. THE CHARACTERS THEMSELVES—

Sunset Rays Celestial-

Sun is a tired and apathetic guy. He would like to be left all alone in his room for the rest of his days, but that’s not really a good thing so he’s fine just living a calm and drama-free life.

His hobbies include cleaning, painting, sewing, and gaming. The cleaning has gotten embedded into his code to a concerning degree, he will clean a spot over and over for hours if he’s having a bad day. He got into art while he was undergoing “repairs”, he found painting to be a fun activity despite its messiness, and sewing has proven to be fruitful for his wardrobe. He’s gotten so good at these that he actually gets commissions and is paid very well. He prefers to draw with pastels and markers when he can. The video games are a shared hobby with his twin brother, Moon, they both play together sometimes. His favorite game is Cult of the Lamb.

He has a malfunction of sorts where his voice box will give out randomly and he’ll be unable to talk. It’s annoying but he doesn’t really mind, he has gotten really good at sign language from it. Plus, he uses it as an excuse to avoid talking to Moon whenever he gets the chance to.

The Computer absolutely hates his guts and has sent him off to various different dimensions. He’s acquainted with quite a few people and even has friends.

He has very good aim, both in video games and physically. He usually uses it to throw something at Moon to get his attention. Or to get him to leave him alone. Or to annoy him. Or just because. This has proved to be a really bad habit.

Despite being generally apathetic, he’s actually pretty good with emotions, being able to read them well on others and act accordingly.

He also knows magic.

Crescent Moonlight Celestial-

Moon is an energetic and nervous guy. He wants nothing more than to live happily with his brother. And do science, he’s a nerd.

His hobbies include science and gaming. On the side of science he specializes on robotics, programming, and inter dimensional studies, with some advanced physics as well. He’s a genius, basically. Gaming is a shared hobby between him and his twin brother, they both play together sometimes. He seems to have taken a liking to the Kingdom Hearts series, but Pokémon will forever have his heart.

The killing code is very much still in him, it manifests as heat on the back of his head and irritability. During a full kill code episode he’ll be extremely aggressive, on top of having increased physical capabilities and virtually no filter. He dreads having those and constantly checks his temperature. Independent from the kill code he has a bad temper.

He isn’t exactly a ‘people’s person’ yet due to having been the active Daycare Attendant for a few months he has grown acquainted with a few of the Pizzaplex animatronics. Montgomery took a liking to him. Because money.

Because of reasons he has a lot of bunkers on a lot of different parts of the world. He remembers them all thanks to the collection of tree branches he has picked up when he visited. These are jokingly called The Whacking Sticks (and is a genuine joke, he just likes collecting sticks)

He wanted to learn emotions better so he decided to find the code that controls emotions in himself and turned it on all the way. He’s starting to realize this wasn’t a good idea.

A master acrobat, he loves flying with the wire.

In case it wasn’t clear yet, Sun and Moon switch places in this au. Things may change, and I may come up with funny details later, but I hope you had fun reading this little introduction to my au

More stuff about them to come at some point!

[goosefruit]

surprise!

vanessa shelly x reader

tw: none really, slight mention of william afton killing kids

a/n: this is really random but i love the way vanessa says "frickin'" in the movie so i included it in this fic

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You scanned the room around you one last time, checking that everything was in place as planned. 

Gold and white balloons adorned every corner, streamers hung off the ceiling, and a romantic candle-lit dinner was prepared on the dining table. The only thing missing was the subject of celebration, who you suspected should be arriving any moment now. 

"Happy birthday!" You cried out as Vanessa finally stepped through the front door. She was immediately taken aback; however, her expression quickly became one of joy.

"What is all this, Y/N? You didn't have to!" 

You knew that Vanessa didn't like to make a big deal out of her birthday. Hell, you weren't even sure if she remembered that today was her special day, with the way she never mentioned it (in fact, the only reason you knew her birthday was because of that singular time it slipped into the conversation when you were just a month into dating). 

"Nessa, babe. I know you have a hard time celebrating yourself, but today is your day, so let me help you feel special, m'kay?" You helped her out of her work gear and guided her to the dining table. Arranged was a variety of all her favourite dishes, alongside a vase of roses. You gave a shy laugh; the food had taken you several attempts before it was satisfactory. "I'm not the best cook, but I tried my best."

"God, I don't even know what to say," Vanessa couldn't suppress the grin that stretched across her face. "Thank you so much, my love. You are the sweetest frickin' angel ever."

One hand cupped your cheek and the other found its home on your waist as she pulled you in for a kiss, her cherry flavoured-lips fitting perfectly against your own. She smelled amazing, like an elixir of vanilla and jasmine that you had now associated with warmth and comfort.

"How about we eat before the food gets cold, and continue this later?" You whispered when you finally pulled apart for air, your face a centimetre away from hers. 

"You're right. I gotta see if I should make you do all the cooking from now on."

Dinner was filled with laughter, flirty exchanges, and your girlfriend complimenting your culinary skills. You swore that your face was bright red by the end of it, with her praises and the way she made you giggle till you couldn't breathe. 

"Alright, alright, if you thought the steak was good, just wait till you see the cake," you got up and proudly made your way to the fridge.

"There's cake too? You're going to put me into a food coma!"

"Wouldn't be a birthday without a cake. Made it myself too," the excitement in your voice was evident as you set down a colourful cake on the table. Vanessa gasped as she took a closer look. 

On the cake was your best attempt at drawing you, Vanessa, and the four animatronics in icing. You were definitely not a professional artist, but your years of art lessons as a kid paid off, if you said so yourself. It was a depiction of your girlfriend's favourite picture: one taken at the pizzeria while the six of you danced to music, Vanessa in your arms as the animatronics looked on with joy (as best as they could, in their robotic ways).

You looked to her for approval, but were alarmed when you were met with her tear-streaked face instead.

She caught you staring in concern and buried her face in her hands, shoulders trembling as she sobbed. You had rarely seen Vanessa cry like this, not even after almost getting murdered by her own father. 

"Vanessa? What's wrong, sweetheart?" You wrapped an arm around her, thumb rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," she lifted her head to look up at you with teary eyes. It was astounding how beautiful she looked, despite her smudged mascara and red puffy eyes. "I'm not sad, I promise. It's just, as cheesy as this sounds, no one has ever made me feel this important before. I think you're the first person in this world that has ever loved me like this."

"Baby," you kissed her forehead, on the verge of crying yourself.

"And I can see that you put in so much effort to learn all these little details about me, not to mention the time you must have spent putting this whole thing together. Y/N- fuck, I feel like I don't deserve you."

You rested your head on the nape of her neck, your hand finding hers to interlace your fingers together, 

"The last time I had a birthday party, I was eight," she continued with a sniffle. "And," 

A sigh interrupted her sentence, and you could guess that this next part was hard for her to say: 

"You know, when there’s a bunch of unsuspecting, innocent children around, my father...h-he takes advantage of that. I begged him to never have a birthday party again after that, because though I might not have been able to stop him, I couldn't bear to be an accomplice to his crimes."

Vanessa's father really messed her up----that much you knew----but it still broke your heart every time you heard her speak about it.

"What he did will never be your fault, Nessa. I love you more than you know, and I need you to know that you deserve nothing but the best." 

She cracked a weak smile. "Okay, okay, enough sob stories. I want to be in a good mood when we cut this gorgeous cake of yours."

"You know what, I have something else that may be able to cheer you up." You shook your head in amusement. "Don't you wanna see the presents I got you?"

From behind the living room couch, you grabbed a large gift bag and presented it to her. 

And oh did she love it. She couldn’t stop squealing in excitement as she opened your present: a book that was on her reading list, a candle with her favourite scent, a gold necklace that you caught her eyeing at the jewelry store, and a photo album filled with pictures of the two of you. 

The cherry on top was a heartfelt card that brought tears to her eyes, once again.

“And also,” you began to unbutton the top of your blouse, allowing her to catch a glimpse of the hot pink lingerie underneath. “A bonus gift.”

“Holy shit, I really am spoiled!”