#title: after virtue

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

this scene has lived rent free in my head since 2014

[0birdmasta0]

have not said anything here in like a month idk man i just got busy doing things

ANYWAY who's ready for this shit????

[lynnlovesthestars]

Could I request headcanons for Harleep, Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with kind and patient gn s/o? This is quite self-indulgent of me because I have been told I'm too nice & so patient so I'm curious how they would react XD

first of all sorry for being so late, but my small brain has to process things multiple times to make sense, so i wrote this like... 5 times? So it takes me a while, but i hope that waiting was worth it.

Also i saw you sent a second ask to see if i recieved this one, so ill put dammon and rolan there cause this is starting to get a bit long:3<3 thank you so much for your patience!:3

Taglist: @sessils @spacebarbarianweird

Headcanon: BG3 men with kind and patient s/o. (pt. 1)

Zevlor:

Zevlor is emotionally a wreck already, he considers kindness a virtue and it definitely makes him swoon when he notices you put extra care in making sure he's treated with kindness. At the end of the day, he basically got bullied on all fronts when all he really wants is to prove himself worthy of the title he carried for so long.

Zevlor has a short temper too, and he appreciates so much your effort and patience in dealing with his outbursts, whether they are of rage- not towards you of course- or of sadness, you offer always a shoulder for him and he cherishes it so much.

He is lowkey jealous when he notices that your kindness is not mostly exclusive to him, he has learned that people can abuse one's patience and care, and 1. he doesn't want you to get hurt, 2. he wishes your kindness was maybe reserved to him. Call him selfish, but after being deprived of it for so long, he is hesitant to let go of it.

Astarion:

Initially he would be very wary, in his experience being nice always lead to him getting hurt, so why would he trust someone who's default reply is kindness? At the end of the day the last time someone was '''''kind''''' to him, he was turned in a vampire spawn, so he takes it extra slow, he has just regained control over himself, he won't blindly accept kindness. He's lowkey afraid you are just part of a bigger scheme that will bite him in the ass and leave him shackled and caged again.

Once he gets accustomed to your kindness and finally accepts it, he revels in the kindness you offer and your patience, especially the smallest gestures like opening a door for him. He will literally melt for it, he's already smitten, your kindness leaves him like mush in your hands.

Nevetheless every good side, comes with a negative one. He is dead afraid your kindness will bring you to get hurt. He often reminds you to be weary and keep all your kindness for people you trust (HIM), rather than going around and helping every lost soul that asks for help. He will fight you on this a few times- especially if you do get hurt or it is obvious you are about to- he will not bite his tongue and keep it for himself, and that's one of the moments when he's glad you are patient.

You understand where it comes from and you try your best to find a solution that would make both happy. Your patience of course doesn't stop there, he knows he's an handful: he carries an heavy trauma baggage and he has a feisty personality, yet you always show him you don't mind, that you are there for him and that he can take all the time of the universe to sort his problems out.

Wyll:

Wyll would find it so endearing, how you are ready to go to someone's aid, you stop on your tracks to support someone in need, and he would love seeing you being kind to everyone. It's probably one of the reasons why he falls in love with you. Unlike Astarion he encourages you to be kind to everyone, cause he considers it a virtue, he incourages you to be the best version of yourself, and he reminds you that if you do get hurt, he will be there to pick up the pieces.

As far as patience goes, he's grateful to the moon and back, he knows he is an handful, especially if he doesn't break his pact with Mizora and has to leave more times than ever. He makes sure once he's back though that he makes up for lost time, whether it is with gifts or by taking care of you.

Haarlep:

Harleep is so used to Raphael that honestly he's taken aback at first, living in the hells means that kindness is hard to come by and around Raphael? It's either a trick or a miracle, so he brushes it off, not repelled like Astarion would, but definitely not eager like Wyll either.. he would be probably the one that takes it as it is, just.. that. But when he gets used to it? He becomes unsufferable. So unsufferable that he goes around demanding Raphael to be treated with kindness and patience! He purrs whenever you are nice even the smallest, thanking you and praising you like a goddess. He even tries to be nice himself- to you only- and despite it has to be and effort, since he has never been exposed to much kindness, he does become a little more mindful, even asking before taking your form or just with small acts of services.

One time Rapahel makes sure to send a message to you through him. "Tav, Raphael asked you stop being nice to me, cause if i demand it from him as well, he's going to turn me into fertilizer", message delivered with a pout that begs exactly the opposite.

Harleep is another that is deeply afraid of your kindness. Let's be real, you can defend yourself as much as you want, but people tend to use people and your kindness is one of those characteristics evil people would pry on- he knows well since its literally part of what he does, and a facet of what Raphael does as well. He probably scolds you a lot for this reason, he does it in a sweet way- don't get me wrong- he sugarcoats the shit out of it, but he will let you know when you are about to get in peril or you are too careless with your kindness.

Gale:

Gale is touched by your kindness, already from the first days after meeting him.

You had helped him out of his blotched portal, you fed him artifacts, you didn't question his secrets or push him to reveal anything, and he doesn't give that for granted. Once he's closer to you, and he learns that you are unconditionally kind to everyone, he's scared.

He starts warning you to be a little less nice, to use your judgement before you blindly trust a stranger, but he doesn't push it past a warning. As much as he wants to protect you, he doesn't want to take away your chance to grow from your errors.

In matter of your patience he's so grateful, he spends days thanking you when he's still afflicted with the orb condition, he cooks as a form of apology or thanks depending what he did, he gets baths started for you, he's treating you as a queen/ king. He alread would do it, but with you? He's even more protective, he almost feels like he has to match your kindness and patience with as much attentions he can muster.

Halsin:

Halsin is a fair man you think he wishes everyone was kind, but he actually wants you to be fair, he wants you to be mindful of who you give kindness to, he wants you to be a reasonable judge rather than unconditionally nice cause it is the way of the nature as well. Nature is not only nurturing and lush, it's also the poisonous vipers and herbs.

Does he appreciate when you are kind? Absolutely, he thinks it's the best gift Silvanus has ever bestowed him, but it doesn't take away the fact that he wants you to be treated kindly as well, so the moment someone crosses the line and starts abusing your kindness or becomes rude, he's definitely stepping in to s h a m e the other person. "You are lucky you have met Tav, cause they are kind, but nature wouldn't be so understanding and patient" He says it with a rage you rarely see in his eyes.

He will do his best to remind you to surely practice kindness but also to be mindful who you help and who you are kind to, cause there's always rotten that can harm you, and lowkey if you get hurt he will invite you to take back what you gave.

Despite this Halsin considers kindness the bare minimum a person should be, and what stops him from encouraging you to be kinder, its just the knowledge that you might get hurt.

[atlabeth]

bleedin' me dry | luke castellan

runaway with luke ending here!!

summary: luke has a proposal. it doesn't go over well.

a/n: so um. obviously im a huge percy jackson stan ive got annabeth in my name and ive literally wanted to be her since i read the books in second grade and by virtue of being an annabeth stan i hate luke but i also think he is so interesting and so good for angst and i also love the pjo resurgence we’ve got going on here from the show!! so here you go. here's some angst

title from vampire by olivia rodrigo

wc: 2.8k

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. luke is his own warning lmao. pushy and manipulative behavior, not the healthiest relationship! and no happy ending

“You know I love the forest,” you mused, “but you have to have a reason for bringing me out here.”

He gave you a wry smile as he squeezed your hand. “Do I have to have a reason? You said you love it—that’s gotta be reason enough.”

“I love it, but there are monsters here.” You twisted your free hand and flowers sprouted up a few feet away. “It does give me a chance to show off, though.”

You were in your cabin helping Katie clean up everything—it was the last day of summer and most of the Demeter kids had already left—when Luke knocked on the door and asked you to accompany him on “a little adventure”. Despite the teasing of your siblings, you bashfully accepted.

It wasn’t the smartest thing, admittedly, to find yourself in the forest with your boyfriend with a couple hours ‘til curfew when you still weren’t even sure if you were leaving or not, but you had your dagger. Luke didn’t have his sword, but you had been practicing.

It wasn’t like it really mattered, anyways—he probably just wanted to make out with you. It was far from the first time, and for all he knew you were leaving for the school year in a few hours.

He chuckled but didn’t say anything. You looked up at him, a slight frown creasing your brows, and nudged him with your shoulder.

“Is everything okay, Luke?” you asked. “You’ve been… oddly quiet.”

Again, it took him a moment to respond before he just shrugged. “I’ve been thinking, I guess.”

“About what?”

“Life,” he said. “Our lives.”

“Very philosophical for the hour,” you said dryly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

“Have you ever thought about leaving?”

“I’m still deciding whether I want to go back home for school or not, but—”

“Not after the summer,” Luke interrupted. “Leaving camp. For good.”

You frowned, a chill running down your spine. “Of course not. Camp Halfblood saved my life, Luke. I could never leave.”

“Says who?” Luke stopped and your intertwined hands pulled you back, stopping you as well.

“Says all the monsters that tried to kill me last time I went home,” you said slowly. “Don’t tell me you forgot the dracaena that nearly got me on that field trip.”

“‘Course I didn’t forget,” he said, inclining his head. “I just think you’re good enough now to make it without this place.”

“Luke,” you said with a strained laugh, “you— you can’t be serious.”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because if we leave, we’ll die,” you said slowly. “I barely made it on my own out there.”

“You’re more powerful now. And you won’t be on your own,” he said, tugging you closer. Despite it all, warmth bloomed in your chest. “I can protect you.”

“Luke…” You trailed off as he cupped your cheek with his other hand, bringing your gaze back to his.

“What’s the point of staying here?” Luke murmured, an unmistakable softness in his eyes. “Just so we can sit around at summer camp for the rest of our lives? I mean, it’s not like that’s gonna be much longer, the way Chiron tells it.”

“I ha— we have friends here,” you said, huffing another laugh as you took a step back from him. It was easier to think when he wasn’t touching you, when you were still able to sever the string connecting the two of you. “We have a life here. A safe life, Luke, where we don’t have to look over our shoulders constantly.”

“Not me.” Luke shook his head as he moved a step forward in tandem, and he took your hand again, his grip tighter this time. “You’re the only thing I’ve got keeping me here.”

“Please,” you said in disbelief. “You’ve got a whole cabin of siblings that adore you. You’re the best swordfighter here. I’m pretty sure even Mr. D has a soft spot for you.”

“Please,” he mocked, “you can’t seriously believe that.”

You shrugged. “All I know is that when you finally asked me out, I gained a whole lot of enemies.”

“Like that means anything,” Luke said.

“The kids love you too!” you exclaimed. “Their eyes light up with stars whenever you help them with their sparring. You’re a beacon of light to this place— where is all of this coming from?”

“I’m tired,” Luke said roughly. “Tired of the gods ignoring us when all they’ve caused is pain.”

You frowned, but he continued on.

“You’re telling me you haven’t noticed it?” he asked. “When’s the last time you ever saw my dad give me any kind of attention besides some fun-colored smoke? He ruined my mother’s life— he ruined my life! And our cabin is damn near overflowing with unclaimed kids. Where are their parents?

“Luke—”

He shook his head as he forged on. “And you can’t say that Demeter is any good either. I bet she makes your cereal tastes real good in the morning, but she’s abandoned you for your whole life.”

“Luke, where is this coming from?” you asked, your frown deepening further and further as you let go of his hand and took a step back. “You— you know I’m not a fan of them, but you can’t just go around saying things like this. The last thing I need is for my mother to— to smite me, or strangle me with vines or something because I’m not appreciating her enough.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “That would be the most attention she’s paid to you since she claimed you.”

“She’s a goddess,” you said. “She’s got more important things to do than send me emails asking how my day is going.”

“Really?” Luke asked, his eyebrows rising.

“Yes, really,” you enunciated. “I expect it. I consider myself lucky she claimed me at all.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” he marveled as he said your name. “Your mother has never been there for you, and you think you’re lucky?”

“Luke—” you started, but you couldn’t even finish as he continued on.

“Demeter wasn’t there for the year you spent feeling like the scum of the Earth because you hadn’t been claimed yet. Demeter wasn’t there for the childhood she gifted to you then abandoned you for.” He pushed forward still. “Demeter wasn’t there for all those sleepless nights you spent in the Hermes cabin wondering if you were ever going to know who got you into this mess.”

“Luke, stop,” you finally managed to get out, moving back in turn.

“You know who was?” He continued to forge on, capturing your wrist when you tried to take another step back, eliciting a shaky exhale as you flinched. “Me.”

You ripped your arm away from him, fire in your eyes and blazing in your blood. “Don’t ever touch me like that again.”

“I’ve been here for you since the moment you stepped foot into Cabin Eleven!” Luke’s voice rose, and you’d never been more aware of the dagger hanging off your belt. “Through every tear, every tirade, every godsdamned rant about the gods—”

You stumbled back, and your heart stuttered in your chest as your back hit a tree. Your jaw was clenched, attempting to stop your tremors trying to wrack your body.

“And you’re telling me,” his voice suddenly lowered until it was scarily soft, little more than a whisper as he leaned over you, noses nearly touching, “that you would still choose them over me?”

“If you do not get away from me right now,” you said, quiet and even, “what we have, and anything we could have, will be over.”

Luke didn’t move. “Answer me.”

For a moment, it was just that—you and Luke staring at each other. His chest rising and falling just so from the effort of yelling, his beautiful eyes devoid of any previous softness. You thought your teeth might crack with the pressure in your jaw.

“No,” you said. “I wouldn’t choose them over you.”

And for an even shorter moment, his eyes do soften.

“But I won’t leave my family,” you whispered. “Not for whatever cause you think you’re fighting for.”

And just like that, the armor went up again.

“So that’s the way this ends,” Luke said evenly, and when he moved a few steps back, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“You know who I am,” you argued, though you couldn’t make yourself move. “My siblings are my family— my friends are my family. I’d never leave them.”

“Oh, I should have expected it,” he said offhandedly. His laughter was a cruel thing. “I always knew you were a coward.”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me,” you spat. “Why do you even want to leave in the first place?”

“Because I’m sick and tired of all the bullshit that goes on here!” Luke yelled. “We’ve been here for years, and what the hell do we have to show for it? A couple scars? A lot of near death experiences? Some deadbeat parents that ruined our damned lives?”

“I have a family that I never could’ve dreamed of!” you exclaimed. “I have sisters and brothers that love me, friends that understand me, and—”

Your voice broke for a moment and you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing the tears back. Some of the fire burning through your veins had been extinguished as you continued.

“And I thought I had a boyfriend that was there for me.”

It was there again—his eyes softening ever so slightly when he looked at you. But then he clenched his jaw. “And I thought I had a girlfriend that was there for me.”

“I won’t leave,” you enunciated. “I’m not going to help you with whatever crusade you think you’re meant to lead against the gods!”

“You don’t understand,” he insisted.

“You don’t understand!” you exclaimed. “You’re ready to leave all of this behind, and for what?”

“I don’t want to leave it all behind,” he said. “I want you by my side. We could be something truly great together— can’t you see?”

Luke took your hand again and pulled you away from the tree, gesturing with his hand around you. “You can control all of this. The whole world is your domain—we’d be untouchable.”

“Luke, you sound crazy,” you said roughly. “Where is all of this coming from, seriously?”

“I just know that we can live a better life,” he said. “Together, without the gods.”

“Witho—” You couldn’t even manage to finish the word, shaking your head at the pure absurdity of it. You hardly recognized your boyfriend purely because of the insanity he was spouting. “Luke, we don’t need to leave! We don’t need to stand against the gods, or— or whatever this is!”

This time, you took his hand as you tried to smile. “We can make this work, Luke, and we can make it work here,” you begged. “I promise.”

“Things need to change,” he said, voice steely, pulling his hand away. “And they’re clearly not going to change here.”

“Yes, they can,” you insisted, your hands clenching into fists at your side. “I want things to change too, believe me! But going off on your own isn’t going to do anything for it. We can start it here—together.”

His eyes were colder than ever as he looked down on you, and you truly didn’t recognize him. The glint in his eye and edges you would cut yourself on and the insanity he was spouting for no damn reason. You didn’t know what in Hades’ name had gotten into him.

“All we do is sit around and wait for that hag in the attic to spout prophecies, and then Chiron sends some kids off to die, and then we sit around and wait to do it again,” Luke said. “The gods keep making kids and the kids keep dying because they leave them in the world alone— we’re practically grandparents here because we’re lucky to make it past sixteen! The gods don’t do a damn thing about it, and neither does Chiron.”

He shook his head as he stared right into your eyes. “You’re not as smart as I thought if you think you can change anything here.”

“So— so what?” you asked brazenly. “You’re just gonna leave?”

Luke shrugged. “I was always gonna leave. It just depended whether you were with me or not.”

He turned around and started walking, and for a moment you were fully dumbstruck, unable to move. Then something snapped inside of you, and you moved your hands straight up through the air. Vines sprouted from the ground and tangled around Luke’s legs, stopping him and nearly causing him to fall.

“You don’t just get to walk away from me after spouting this bullshit,” you fumed as you ran to catch up with him. “What in Demeter’s name has gotten into you, Luke? Gods— this isn’t you!”

“See?” Luke smiled, ignoring your question. “You are powerful.”

“Answer me,” you seethed.

He shrugged, that small smile still on his lips. “It’s always been me. Maybe you’ve just been too stupid to realize.”

“Where are you going to go?” you asked, ignoring his jab. “Not home, clearly.”

It was a deep cut, something you never would have said under normal circumstances, but his expression didn’t change.

“I’ve got plans,” he said, ignoring your jab, and he huffed a laugh. “And I guess they don’t involve you anymore.”

All you could do was stand there, stunned as you stared at him. It was cliche, but it really wasn’t him, because you loved Luke and he loved you.

He’d always been a bit spitfire, always a little sharp around the edges, but you loved that about him—and he softened those edges for you. He was strong-willed and caring and passionate about everything, and you didn’t want to lose him. Not like this.

You knew what he’d been through. You knew what happened to his mother, what happened to Thalia, everyone he’d lost and every reason for every scar. But you never thought—

Gods. You never thought he’d actually do… this.

“Let me go, will ya?” Luke asked, tilting his head. “Or else what we have will be over— or whatever it was you said back there.”

The vines receded against your will, like his words just connected to your subconscious. You stayed rooted in place as he continued walking away.

But then he stopped. Turned around, looked right at you.

And for a moment you were fourteen again, feeling alone and forgotten going into your third month in the Hermes cabin. Grumbling your way through sword practice because the excited camp counselor who just happened to be your age refused to let you sulk for another day.

It was days after your fifteenth birthday, and the golden sickle with sheaths of wheat had finally appeared over your head at lunch. Luke had lunged at you, wrapping you in the tightest hug possible, and looked at you with all the stars in your eyes as he congratulated you. He helped you move your meager belongings into the Demeter cabin the very next day.

It was the first time you decided to go home since arriving at camp, and Luke was sidled outside your door, making wry comments every so often as he kept you company while you packed.

It was him kissing you right before you went over the hill because he said he couldn’t keep his feelings in any longer. It was you kissing him right back wondering why he waited so damn long.

It was three years of the best thing you’d ever experienced, of the most steadfast companion you could’ve had by your side—three years of Luke Castellan’s love.

Then you blinked, and you were back in the woods. Luke’s expression had softened, but the brimming tears in your eyes blurred your vision.

“I really did love you, y’know,” Luke finally murmured. “But you should know that love isn’t ever enough.”

He was out of your view before you could even muster the strength to move again, and then you were running through the forest faster than ever before.

But when you reached Cabin Eleven, there was no sign of him. And when you checked the pavilion and the forge and the amphitheater and the training arena and every other godsdamned place, you were just as disappointed.

But by the time you got to Chiron and found out the chaos that had spouted in his wake, that he had wanted you to be a part of, it was much, much too late.

Percy Jackson was fighting for his life. Camp had been left in complete disarray. Luke was working for Kronos.

And the man you loved was truly gone.

[sigweiner]

⌁₊˚ Shiver ˚₊⌁ {P1}

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!/Gnc!/Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: There's a dance party for Isha. Jinx blows stuff up and you end up taking her (virginity) virtue. Also this has quite a bit of your bg story.

Warnings!: fluff, smut, swearing, angst, t06!c relationship, substance use, mentions of dark ses and physical stuff.

a/n: Arcane literally altered my brain chemistry so I had to put this out. Also English is not my first language, sorry for the weird punctuation and sentences. Minors and creeps dni.

{P2} {P3}

“You know what we need?!” Jinx exclaims with a wild look on her face, completely out of the blue. “A dance partaaaay!!!” She shouts excitedly, throwing her pale arms in the air and spinning on her stool chair, blue braids swirling around her and all.

She had been working on Fishbones for a while, quietly talking to herself here and there as usual, when she suddenly announced her idea to everyone present. Isha jumped up from where she was sitting on the floor, seeming very excited by the prospect of dancing around to strobe lights and loud music. You rolled your eyes unimpressed, asking yourself how the hell was she planning to pull that off since none of you could be seen in public. You were supposed to be dead, Jinx was a wanted criminal and Isha… well she was an easy target for being associated with Piltover’s number one enemy.

It's been three months since you have failed - somewhat intentionally - a mission assigned to you by your mother after you fucked up majorly with a job she gave you. A job that involved escorting the head of a highly respected and ridiculously rich family from Piltover. Madam Margot though, is one of the last remaining chem barons, and she only really held the title of your mother because she gave birth to you. The relationship between you two was downright abusive and toxic while she raised you to be the epitome of perfection – perfect posture, perfect manners, perfect body, absolutely submissive, extremely feminine and pleasant. Not to mention the extensive training for you to become the best courtesan at the Rapturewalk, so there would be no one you wouldn’t be able to pleasure.

The cruel irony of life though was you were the complete opposite of all that. Poor posture, disregard for manners, chubby, defiant and full of masculine energy. So you suffered greatly, mostly by her hands but also by any object she could grab around to discipline you. You had to learn to compartmentalise yourself and your feelings to survive but you reached your breaking point when you met Jinx, basically. You were supposed to capture her and kill Sevika in the process but you ended up in a human sized cage in her hideout. You could have done it, finished the mission successfully and returned to your mother seeking her praise and approval, but that would never happen anyway, she was too much of a narcissist to give you that satisfaction.

Margot did sponsor all your implants and shimmer “treatments” though, so you could turn into a living walking weapon, her weapon, which is the only thing you’re really grateful for other than receiving training to become a blade master which was also a requirement because you needed to learn how to defend yourself, she always encouraged you in that regard. So you became Shiv, choosing this alias to represent your "chemgoth assassin who wears too much leather and harnesses" personality. It would be pathetic if it wasn’t your entire existence, or maybe it is but you try not to think too much about it. But anyway, back to your more recent reality: a very empathetic little girl took a liking to you while you were caged and convinced Jinx to take you in, since she believed you didn't represent any real danger to them. So here you are in yet another dysfunctional “family”, though you rather this a thousand times than go back to Margot.

“What are you talking about? We can't go out in public, Jinx.” You say with an unamused scowl on your face.

“Hah! Don't be stupid, trinket! We're having the party right here.” She flaunts her arms flamboyantly referring to the space around her. Isha jumps up and down, unable to contain her excitement. “Now, I'll take care of the music and lights, Isha will take care of decoration and Trinket…” She points her wrench at you, making a dramatic pause. “Will take care of food and drinks.” She finishes with a smirk so you scoff.

“Why do I get the hardest task?” You ask rolling your eyes at her but already knowing the answer.

“Consider it a small payback for trying to capture me.” She replies through gritted teeth. “Plus you're a really good thief, I'm sure you can get your hands on some top shelf stuff for us.” She adds nonchalantly, reminding you why she still keeps you around.

“I'm not a thief.” You say stubbornly, the complement going over your head.

“Great! It's settled then, let's get to work!” She jumps off her stool and starts rummaging through a bunch of crates full of messy junk.

You cross your arms over your chest and sink further into the couch. You had no intention to start on your assigned task anytime soon. And who does she think she is anyway to order you around like that? What a stupid idea, a dance party. Sure that would make little Isha so happy. She often got bored sitting around the hideout with nothing to do other than tinker with unfinished bombs and draw on any surface she could find. But dancing and parties are really not your thing, you’re more a moping around in the dark kind of person which makes you realise you might be a little too depressed actually.

So you start brainstorming places to raid where you know there's a good stash of food and drinks and you immediately think of your mother's warehouse. But that was definitely a bad idea, since there would be a small probability you could get caught by the Vyx or be seen around, although you're pretty sure you could get in and out without any effort, since you know the place like the back of your hand. Plus thinking about the kind of food your mother had laying around made you salivate, not to mention the booze, that could definitely cheer you up.

Jinx suddenly plops down on the couch next to you interrupting your thought process by man spreading in those distracting tiny shorts and thigh high socks. You avert your gaze quickly and try to ignore her presence altogether but your hormones get the best of you. Did she have to walk around in so little clothing? Doesn’t she get cold or something? Although the shimmer probably altered a lot of sensations for her but this was just maddening. She nudges your leg with her boot lightly, refusing to be ignored.

“You know opting out of the party is not an option for you, right Trinket?” She says in a surprisingly calm voice and smirks when you glance at her sideways.

“Whatever.” You scoff, continuing to look anywhere but at her stupidly attractive grin.

“So where are you planning to snatch the goods?” she ignores your dismissive tone while playing with the ends of one of her braids. 

“Maybe… my mother's warehouse. But that's a dumb idea.” You reply pointedly. Jinx suddenly gasps and gets closer to you.

“That's a perfect idea, Trinket! Margot has stuff the Pilts eat, dude. You have to get it for us, it's gonna be epic!” She grabs at the traps of your harness that hugs your collarbones and shakes you slightly. 

“Get off!” You push her hands away with an aggravated look on your face but she just laughs at your reaction. “I'm not putting myself in that kind of danger for your stupid party.” You tell her sternly, but it lacks any real bite.

Jinx feigns a surprised look of insult and reclines back on the couch spreading her slender legs even further. “Don't be selfish, Trinket! This party is for that kid over there, who by the way, has never tasted anything like what people on the other side of the bridge have. So stop being an insufferable brat and get going!” she moves to shove you off the couch but you manage to dodge her swiftly. 

In a second you're standing in front of her, arms firmly crossed against your chest. “Fine. But just so you know I'm only doing this for her, not for you.” You let out with more anger than you intended to. There's a flash of hurt on her features before she manages to mask it so you hold her gaze a second longer before turning around and vanishing from sight.

If you were being honest with yourself you had to admit that this little rendezvous Jinx sent you on made you feel alive. Sure, the safety of the hideout brought you immense emotional comfort, even though the blue haired girl could get under your skin most of the time. But this, the adrenaline of the mission, the possibility of getting caught or even running into your mother, is simply thrilling. And you love the simple things in life.

So you are selfish after all. The motivation behind your actions, completely forgotten by you. You learn the patterns of the guards, patiently designing your path through isles of containers then you proceed to move swiftly and blend in with the shadows. You lockpick your way into a large container in seconds and your double bladed dagger cuts through the mesh nets that are covering large crates filled with aliments. 

You stash as much as you can on a makeshift bag you brought with you and when you start to tie it across your chest and back, you sense movement behind you. You move so fast your own brain can’t recognise who you suddenly have caught by putting your dagger under their throat and tightly securing one of their arms on their back. The person is wearing a hooded cloak but you get a whiff of a familiar scent coming off of them and immediately recognise the intruder.

“Gee, didn't know you were this kinky.” Jinx says putting her free arm up in redemption. You release her from your grip and push her away. She turns around with a big grin on her face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You whisper harshly but she gives you a look of feigned innocence.

“I came to help you carry stuff.” She says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Her hands lower to rest on her hips and she winks at you. Damn her.

“Shh, you're going to alert the Vyx.” You reprimand her. She just rolls her eyes and turns around to steal more food from the open crates. 

You stare at her back in complete disbelief as she collects honey, chocolate, sugar, candy, meat and all the soda cans she could fit in her backpack. How in the hell did she manage to get over here without you noticing? She must've followed you, or more likely stalked you all the way over here. It is understandable that she wouldn't trust you and wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure you wouldn't run from her, but this was just a whole nother level of mania.

“I wasn't gonna run, y’know.” You say quietly. She stops what she's doing but doesn't look at you.

“I know.” She replies in the same quiet manner. “But you're so much fun to follow around, I can't help it.” She turns sideways to look at you with her signature wicked grin that you love to hate. God, sometimes you wish you could kiss it off her face.

You scoff, but look away. “More like stalking.” You mumble under your breath. “Let's go, there's a round of guards coming this way.” You warn her.

“Fineee.” She drags her response. “But I'm leaving your mother a gift, ya know, in exchange for her generosity and letting us take all this stuff.” She giggles mischievously at the confused look on your face. “15 seconds, let's go!” She warns, then runs past you.

You hear the familiar ticking of one of her monkey bombs and your eyes widen. Shit, why does she always have to make an event out of everything? Your body moves faster than your brain yet again, and you manage to see a pink colored flash of light moving alongside you, bolting to the exit. A few seconds later you hear as well as feel the blast in the not so far distance. And chaos ensues.

Back at Jinx’s hideout, the only sound that can be heard is of the girls laughing while Jinx reenacts in the most flamboyant way possible what happened an hour ago. You lay lazily on the couch, your head propped on one of the armrests, trying really hard not to stress over the consequences today's recklessness will bring. You should've known better. Of course Jinx would follow you and try to explode something just for the fun of it. Also she never did get back at your mother for sending you on a mission to try and capture her so you kind of have to admit she had the right to do so. You cover your face with one arm and try your best not to let anxiety take over. After a brief while, you hear someone approaching and by the heavy sounds of boots on the metal ground, you know Jinx is coming to bother you, again.

“Not right now Jinx.” You warn her, but the last thing you could expect is her climbing on top of you and casually straddling your legs. You look at her incredulously, your gaze jumping all over her body and her face. “What the hell-” You start to say, but she cuts you off.

“Cheer up Trinket! We're about to have the time of our lives!” She lets out one of her outrageous laughs and starts tickling your sides with her slim fingers. “Isha help me out here!” She shouts for the child to come join in on torturing you.

“Stop! You're insane!” You try to hold her hands on a tight grip but Isha is already climbing on top of you too. “Traitor! I thought you were on my side!” You try to shout with bravado but the tickling gets to you making you giggle uncontrollably.

“Raise hell!” Jinx commands and manages to free her hands from your grip. You all end up falling to the floor when in an attempt to escape you throw yourself off the couch.

Everyone is laughing now at your utter defeat, tears coming down your face, all worries and anxiety forgotten momentarily. The girls stop attacking you and you try to steady your breathing, giggles dying down slowly. Isha throws her little arms around you and lays on your torso with a big smile on her face. Following the small girl’s action, Jinx also places her body on top of both of you, though her face is close next to yours. You can smell the intoxicating scent of her hair and you can feel her breathing tickling your ear.

“Guess you're not so tough after all.” She whispers into your ear and you have to suppress a shiver that threatens to course through your body. 

“Alright, alright you got me. Now let me breathe please.” You admit defeat and the girls start pulling off of you. Isha gestures for the party to start so Jinx gets up and offers you a hand. You hesitate before taking it and she puts more force than needed to pull you up so you end up flushed against her, faces inches from each other, her hand swiftly finding the small of your back to steady you.

“Time to shake those ol’ bones of yours.” She whispers. You can't help but stare at her plum colored lips as they move. She smirks and you sigh, pulling away from her. You let out a shaky “right” and walk past her to join Isha by the work station. 

The lights are turned off and Isha's doodles glow in the dark of the hideout, making everything fluorescent. Jinx turns on colorful strobe lights, and music starts to blast through a gramophone speaker, giving life to an improvised dance floor. Before everyone starts dancing though, Jinx covers Isha's eyes as you walk over a makeshift table covered with a cloth. Jinx counts to three and you lift off the cloth to reveal a banquet to a very excited Isha, who wastes no time and dives right in.

You pour yourself a cup of a lightweight liquor, not intending to get wildly drunk tonight, or any night for that matter when you're around Jinx. You fear you won't be able to hold back your annoying crush on her if you don't stay sober. Surprisingly (or not really), Jinx doesn't drink alcohol, preferring a sugary soda instead. She is the first to start dancing, followed by Isha who has her mouth full of chocolate. You don't remember ever seeing her this happy ever since you met her, even though that wasn't that long ago.

You start bopping your head nonchalantly, lingering by the table, just watching the girls having fun with a dopey grin on your face. You decide all of that ordeal earlier was worth it because of this moment. Jinx twirls Isha around once and they giggle happily jumping up and down to the rhythm of a rock song. Your eyes catch Jinx’s gaze for a second and she starts strutting over to you.

“This is a dance party, Trinket! You need to dance!” She leans close to your face. Your stupid heart skips a beat but you manage to steady it. “C’mon! Just pretend like it's a club!” She shouts through the music. 

“I'm not a good dancer!” You retort. She gives you an unimpressed look and then you feel tiny hands pull on your own. Isha is guiding you to the middle of the dance floor so you can dance together.

Is there anything you wouldn't do for this little girl? You can't think of anything as you start moving a little unsure of how you're supposed to do this. Isha's energy is contagious so you can't help but let yourself be free as well. Jinx appears next to you after a moment and hands you a chocolate covered strawberry, munching on another one herself. You take it and savour the sweet contrast of flavours in your mouth, Gods it's been a while since you had food like this. 

You catch Jinx licking chocolate off the tip of her thumb and you're suddenly hypnotised. You wish it was you licking the sweet off of her, or the other way around would be great too. Her lips curl into that god awful smirk so you look away, thinking the liquor is already getting to your head. Isha grabs your hand and makes you twirl her around just like Jinx did so you concentrate on the small child again, happy to oblige.

After a while of just the three of you jumping around, mimicking an assortment of animals and you and Jinx singing loudly to popular songs together, you decide to take a break, sitting down by the floor with a chicken thigh on one hand and half of your cup of happy juice on the other. The girls join shortly after, eating like they haven't seen food for months. And to be quite honest, food was really scarce in the hideout since you couldn't be going out often to steal meals, so yeah, they probably haven't eaten this well in a while.

You don't let yourself dwell on the hardships of everyday life for long though, the girls are already finding a way to entertain you. This time they play with the remains of their food, making funny faces. Jinx pretends to be a vampire by sticking chicken bones under her upper lip as if they were her fangs. Isha uses the bones as horns on top of her head. You just laugh wholeheartedly at their creativity but don’t join in on the food play. After eating as much as you could though, it was time to get back to the dance floor.

A more sultry song starts playing and Jinx really gets into it. Swaying her hips effortlessly to the beat like she knew the exact moves to it. You were yet again mesmerised by her, slowing down your movements almost to a halt, just moving your body side to side. Jinx locks eyes with you, pupils completely blown by the lack of light, probably. She starts moving closer but this time for some reason you couldn't look away.

“If you think I'm pretty, lay your hands on me.” She mouths the lyrics once she is standing in front of you. Your hand lifts magnetically towards her hip, but you hesitate pulling it away slightly. “I know you can’t stop thinking ‘bout it.” She sings again, taunting you. Your head feels hazy in the best way possible when she moves even closer to you, but your body knows exactly what to do.

You rest your hand on the hip she has covered with powder blue clouds, and her skin feels electric. She wastes no time laying her hands on you though, running her fingers almost reverently through the tender skin of one of your arms. Jinx checks you out shamelessly, pink spinel eyes coursing through your body with hunger. You feel a shiver course through your spine when her hand travels from your shoulder to the back of your neck, holding you there steadily so you find yourself frozen under her spell, unable to think any coherent thoughts when she has her hands on you like this.

Jinx takes your free hand and guides it to lay on her waist, making you feel the sensual sway of her body. You swallow hard and her eyes follow the motion, making her carom her skinny fingers through your choker necklace and towards your shoulder, before brushing a strand of your hair behind it. This time you can’t help but shiver when the tips of her fingers graze the skin of your neck in the process. She puts her hand on your waist right after, guiding you to sway like her, but it's hard to do anything when your body feels like it's on fire. She giggles at your apparent lack of coordination, seemingly oblivious to the real effect she has on you.

You snap out of it when fireworks suddenly burst out of nowhere illuminating the space pink and blue. The song changes and you both hesitantly remove your hands from each other. You try to hide the scorching heat creeping up your face by grabbing your cup and downing the last remains of your drink. Jinx moves away from you to start spinning aimlessly around with Isha, who seems hell bent on making herself dizzy just for fun.

“Careful, you’re gonna get sic-” You don’t get to finish your sentence because Isha throws up all over the floor, making a mess. Jinx lets out a surprised laugh and the kid hugs herself for a moment, looking embarrassed, before her mouth turns into a frown and tears start pooling around her eyes.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay kid, don’t worry about it, let’s get you cleaned up.” You’re immediately by her side, cradling her head and wiping at the tears falling down her face. You take her hand and start guiding her to the “bathroom” right outside the hideout.  

“Ugh fine, I’ll clean up the mess!” Jinx shouts from a distance. You glance back at her and give your best apologetical smile before disappearing out of sight.

Later that night, you’re at the top of a nextdoor building trying to get some fresh air, or as fresh of an air as Zaun can provide. Your legs dangle on the edge of the long forgotten structure as you watch the distant glow of the progress city. Jinx was putting Isha to bed as she always does every night, and you didn’t want to intrude on their little ritual, besides your head was still swirling a bit with the effects of the alcohol you had earlier, making your mind keep going back to the dance you shared with the wild girl.

This was getting out of your control, which scared you shitless. You knew for certain Jinx wasn’t the kind of girl who falls in love, or she doesn’t seem to be, so she would never reciprocate your little infatuation with her, which in your opinion is childish at best. You sigh heavily, thinking back on how her skin felt under your touch, and about her damn barely there clothes, and about how her tattoos adorn her body perfectly.

“Slow down or your head is gonna explode.” You hear Jinx’s playful voice behind you. “Y’know, from all the thinking you’re doing.” She continues. You turn sideways to glance at her, and unfortunately she still looks wildly tempting. You scoff, turning away.

“Get yourself a mirror, will you?” You banter back. She giggles and plops herself down next to you so close your thighs are touching, making you tense up.

“Aw Trinket, you’re no fun! Just when I thought you were starting to loosen up a little.” She purrs her last words, propping her forearm on your shoulder, face close to yours.

“My name is Shiv, y’know.” Your voice trembles, nerves betraying you. She lifts her eyebrows and smirks at you.

“Is that so Y/N?” She whispers, her warm breath brushing the side of your face. Your eyes widen slightly, how the hell does she know that? But you quickly recover.

“Been digging up my dirt, huh?” You say casually. She smiles sweetly and moves so her head is resting on your shoulder.

“Heh yeaah, I might have…” She chuckles, watching the city ahead. You stay silent, because of course she has. You think it’s only fair since you know everything about her past too, about Powder. You take a deep breath catching a whiff of her scent, rusty with hints of something sweet you can't quite identify. It nearly drives you insane.

“Sooo… you think I’m pretty, huh?” She interrupts your internal turmoil only to cause a full blown panic in you. You tense up when she lifts her head to look at you.

“Stop fucking around, Jinx.” You warn her but it comes out more like a plea. You chance a furtive look at her and regret it immediately since she has that damn knowing smirk on her face.

“I’m not. I um… liked the way you touched me.” She says almost shily, slowly placing her hand on top of yours and squeezing it lightly. You honest to god do not know what to do with that information. You glance at your hands together and back at her face, trying to figure out what is going on here.

She’s just trying to rile you up as usual, right? There’s nothing more to this than her trying to toy with you, right? That’s what you are to her, a trinket, right? She probably just wants to use you to satisfy her needs and then throw you away, right? You can admit she is hitting on you but it’s not like she has other options, right? She just needs a quick fuck to make her forget all her problems momentarily and let off some steam, right?

Maybe then she would stop randomly blowing shit up and stop talking to herself like there are invisible people around. Maybe you should give in, perhaps this would do you good as well. But what about afterwards? How could you move on knowing how it feels when your bodies are tangled together? Or the taste of her on your tongue? Or the sounds she makes when she reaches her peak? You don’t think you could ever get over that, it would definitely break you.

“Y’know for someone who’s so quick and swift, you’re surprisingly slow witted.” She brings your attention back to her making you frown before biting your lower lip, a decision forming within you.

“What do you want from me Jinx?” You ask her seriously. The look on your face letting her know you are definitely not messing around.

“I want… you, silly.” She says tentatively, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. The tenderness of the gesture almost made you flinch, fuck you can’t deal with softness.

You lunge forward, grabbing the back of her head as you slam your lips together in a desperate kiss. She lets out a surprised 'umph' sound but kisses you back, throwing her arms around your neck. You brush your tongue on her lower lip before deepening the kiss, and Gods she tastes so sweet somehow, you can’t help but let out a low moan against her mouth. That seems to spur her on because she sinks her fingers on the back of your head, massaging your scalp making your eyes flutter.

One of your hands paws at her chest while the other grabs her waist roughly, pulling her towards you. The salacious nature of your kiss makes you both let out breathy moans, increasing the heat that threatens to burn your insides. You two part momentarily so you can push at her shoulder making her lay down on the rough concrete floor. You move so you’re hovering above her and you can’t help but admire the mess you’ve made of her. Kiss swollen lips, chest heaving trying to catch her breath, her pretty lipstick all smeared around her mouth.

Jinx rests her arms on the floor beside her head, and swallows harshly waiting for your next move. You straddle her hips before lowering down your upper body to kiss her again, hands raking through her sides, appreciating the feeling of her firm waist. Then they travel up her stomach right around the time your tongues swirl together, making her squirm underneath you.

You let go of her mouth to lavish her neck with kisses and bruises, biting down at her pulse point hungrily. She lets out small whimpers and quiet moans at what you’re doing to her neck, and when you move your hands to pull up her bralette above her chest, she gasps and arches her back towards you. You start kissing a path down her collarbone, towards her chest, tasting the salt on her skin. One of your hands pinches her left nipple making her moan loudly.

You take the opportunity to soothe the pink areola with your tongue but bite lightly at it soon after. Jinx is a squirming mess underneath you, hands balled into fists beside her head. You take her wrists and guide them to wrap around your shoulders, making her suddenly remember how to use her hands. You huff a chuckle and kiss her hard again, her fingers tangling on your hair.

You paw at her right breast only to be surprised by a feeling of metal lodged in her nipple. You break the kiss to get a better look at it and you spot a silver piercing on her boob, Gods as if she couldn’t get any hotter. You raise an eyebrow at her but she only guides your head towards it, so you waste no time on lavishing her nipple with attention. The sounds coming out of her, a delicious tune to your ears.

You rake your free hand down her side until you reach the hem of her shorts and she bucks her hips upwards. Her thighs are tightly clasped together which is unacceptable, so you snake your hand on the back of her thigh to pull it around your hip. She lifts her other leg and snakes it around you without coercion and you finally let go of her breast with a pop. You lower your hips on her crotch, giving it a tentative grind to watch her reaction, and she rewards you with an obscene moan. Jinx holds your back tightly and claws at it every time you roll your hips into hers.

“Should I stop?” You realise she hasn't said anything ever since you pounced on her like a feral cat. And even though this was supposed to be strictly physical, you couldn't help but check-in on her.

She frantically shakes her head no, desperation crossing her face. “Please don't.” She down right begs and cradles your face, beckoning you towards her lips. You chuckle but kiss her lewdly anyway.

You rest your weight on an elbow and maneuver your free hand to skillfully unclasp the buckle of her tiny shorts, snaking your hand inside to find no other barriers to her saturated heat. You both moan at the sensation of your lithe digits caressing her folds. She was so wet and soft under your touch but you wasted no time on this heavenly feeling before teasing her swollen bud and sinking a finger inside of her. She cries out with a hiss so you freeze your movements studying her face for any signs of pain. This confuses you a bit, since you assumed she was quite experienced at this. But she is so tight, which doesn't add up.

“Does it hurt?” You ask quietly. Her eyes are clasped shut and there's a frown between her eyebrows. Her mouth agape panting slightly. She lays a hand on your wrist and guides you to start moving again.

“S-slow…” She manages to say between whimpers. You acquiesce and start rubbing her engorged clit with your thumb as you slowly start pumping inside of her.

“You feel so fucking good, Jinx.” You whisper against her cheek, peppering kisses all over her face, before reaching her lips, kissing her sweetly.

You can feel her relax a bit, the distraction seemingly working to ease her into pleasure. You start moving a little faster, burying your finger deeper and try to find the spot that will make her eyes roll. She cradles the nape of your neck, and scratches her nails there making you shiver. You try to maneuver your fingers inside her shorts to add another one but the piece of cloth made it hard to pull that off. You ask her to hold on before giving her a quick peck on the lips, then you carefully pull your hand from inside her. She whines and pouts but you reassure her you'll be quick.

You sit on your knees to the side of her and start pulling off her shorts down her legs so she lifts up her hips to help you get rid of it. You also take off her boots in the process leaving her only in her thigh high socks. A breeze swifts by making her shiver, or was it the weight of your gaze admiring her comely body? You graze your fingers reverently through the cloud tattoo adorning her waist before laying down next to her and pulling her close towards you. One arm snaking around her shoulders and the other lifting her leg to rest over your hip.

Jinx cradles your face with her hands again, ghosting her lips on yours before kissing you softly. You caress her thigh before sneaking your hand up to grab her ass, making her gasp into your mouth. You finally move your hand to her throbbing core, massaging her salient clit, which you noticed was a lot larger than the average you have seen in your lifetime. The way it responds to your ministrations, like it has a mind of its own, pulls wetness from your own body. You feel her bury her face on the crook of her neck trying desperately to muffle her loud moans.

“Don't try to hold back, I wanna hear you princess.” You whisper in her ear, the pet name escaping you before you could stop yourself. She lifts up her head and looks at you through half lidded eyes, hazy with pleasure.

You’re cradling her on one arm when you tease two fingers on her entrance, giving her the time to stop you if she wants to. But she just grinds on your fingers making them slip in a bit, her legs already starting to tremble. You carefully push your lithe digits inside of her again, waiting for a brief moment so she can adjust to the stretch before picking up the pace. The combination of your fingers inside of her and the palm of your hand brushing her clit is enough to make her reach her climax, dripping fluid all over your hand. You slow down your movements, helping her ride her high until she gently pushes your hand away.

You wipe it off on your own clothes before you embrace her, making soft patterns on her bare back. She takes a moment to steady her breathing then pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. You smile at her eagerness but her hands start to roam your body so you have to stop her. This has gone far enough and you don't want anyone touching you like this, especially because of what happened 5 months ago with the rich Piltover dude. Even if the person who's touching you is Jinx, you can't do this, not right now. She looks at you with a confused frown on her face.

“But it's your turn toots.” She tries to explain but you're already untangling yourself from her.

“You should head back inside, Jinx. It's getting cold.” You say sitting up, not looking at her. You gather her clothes and hand it back to her. “Don't worry about me.” You say ending the conversation.

You're a coward, you don't dare to look at her because you know the look of hurt on her face will break you. Damn your self control, you don't know why you thought this was a good idea. You think you deserve to suffer for treating her like this. But this is what she wanted, right? Just a quick fuck to forget her problems. So you gave it to her, you tell yourself it doesn't have to be more than that even though your heart is beating so fast inside your rib cage it hurts. You hear her putting her clothes back on quickly as she sniffles, wiping away under her nose with her forearm. You just sit on the ground with your head low.

“Did I… do something wrong?” She asks with a shaky voice. You swallow hard.

“No, you were perfect.” You say honestly. And that was part of the problem wasn't it?

“Then why won't y-” She starts to protest but you cut her off.

“You got what you wanted didn't you? Now leave me alone.” The harshness of your words cut through the night like one of your sharp blades.

She just stands beside you, stunned probably or pissed off, you didn't dare to look her way to find out. You just wanted her gone or for her to force you to look at her and tell the truth, you didn't know which option was worse really. She finally turns away and storms off the roof but not before kicking an innocent piece of scrap metal that was on her way. You wince and bury your face in your hands, putting pressure on your eyes as if that could prevent the tears from coming. What a mess you’ve made, it's all your fault.

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws and @cafekitsune.

[uwmspeccoll]

Typography Tuesday

GIOVANNI BAPTISTA VERINI

Sometime between 1526 and 1527, Italian calligrapher and writer Giovanni Baptista Verini published his noted 4-part handwriting manual, Liber Elementorum Litterarum, probably at Toscolano on Lake Garda. This very rare book stands between the great manuals of Albrecht Dürer's Four Books on Measurement (1525) and Geoffroy Tory's Champfleury (1529).

The images shown here are from a 1947 printing of the third part of Varini's manual, published as Luminario or the Third Chapter of the Liber Elementorum Litterarum on the Construction of Roman Capitals, with an English translation by English librarian and typography expert Alfred F. Johnson (1884-1972) and an introduction by the master type historian and designer Stanley Morison (1889-1967). It was published in Cambridge by Harvard College Library and in Chicago by the Newberry Library, and printed in London by the Office of The Times in an edition of 510 copies.

Next to nothing is known about Verini himself. In his introduction, Morison writes:

The meagre details concerning the career of Giovanni Baptista Verini provide material for few positive statements. He was young, he was a citizen of Florence, . . . and a bookseller there. . . . If Verini's "Luminario" . . . was not reprinted, if was a disappointment he was prepared for, as witness the text he chose to place on the title page of part three, here reprinted after four hundred and score years: OMNIA LABUNTUR SED VIRTUS SOLA VIRESCIT [Everything slips away, but only virtue remains verdant].

View a post on Albrecht Dürer's manual.

View a post on Geoffroy Tory's Champfleury.

View more Typography Tuesday posts.

[saintsenara]

Are you a Voldemort (“more”) or Voldemort (hard “t”) girl?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i'm a hard t girly without deviation, and i have two reasons as for why.

the first is that - as i've expanded on a little here - there's no way that a child from tom riddle's background would ever have formally encountered the french language and its phonetic conventions, and there's no way this would have been remedied at hogwarts, since the school doesn't [appear to] teach modern languages.

but riddle could have taught himself [some] french from books, meaning he'd be able to read the language, but not necessarily speak - and certainly not correctly pronounce - it. that is, he wouldn't realise the "t" in "mort" should be silent, and would pronounce his new name according to english phonetics.

this is a very neat distillation of who voldemort is. someone who would seek out the linguistic knowledge which many of his pureblood peers - who would very probably have been taught french as children by their governesses - had by virtue of their births to create the french-inspired moniker he uses to demonstrate his blood-supremacist importance, but who is restrained by his childhood and his class background from getting it completely right.

poor thing...

except the second reason - which is my preferred explanation - is that the hard t pronunciation is both deliberate and correct on voldemort's part, because we aren't supposed to think of "voldemort" as a french name at all.

there seems to be a fanon tendency to assume that many of the pureblood families we meet in canon have close, recent ties to france - that is, that they have french cousins or second cousins, own property in france, and speak french fluently as a native or heritage language.

and i do understand why this is, since many of the pureblood surnames we meet in canon - malfoy and lestrange being the most obvious examples - appear at first glance to be french.

but here we have something that i suspect gets lost in translation for readers outside of britain and ireland - which is why the fanon of purebloods having recent french heritage has developed - which is that these names are not [contemporary] french.

they are anglo-norman.

this is term which stems from the linguistic development which took place after england was invaded in 1066 by william the conqueror, a nobleman from normandy in northwestern france, who overthrew the reigning king - harold godwinson - and took the throne for himself.

harold and his people were speakers of old english - a germanic language, from the same language family from which dutch would emerge - while william spoke old norman - a romance language, from the same language family from which modern french and other langues d'oïl dialects would emerge.

the crashing together of two peoples, speaking languages from different linguistic families, resulted in the strange mongrel language anglo-norman, which gave way to middle english, and then to contemporary english - and it's the direct cause of why english has such a broad vocabulary, with subtle distinctions between words with ostensibly similar meanings like "deer" and "venison", "sheep" and "mutton", "kingly" and "royal", "ghost" and "spirit", "hopelessness" and "despair", "woods" and "forest", and "thoughtful" and "pensive", where other romance languages [french included] do not.

[a point which borges made far better than i do.]

to secure his position on the throne, william elevated his fellow norman conquerors to aristocratic status alongside - and often above - the existing anglo-saxon nobility.

these parvenu families had names which persist in britain today - baskerville, beaumont, clare, courtenay, d'arcy, de vere, devereux, gascoigne, harcout, lacey, latimer, lucy, mandeville, percy, purfoy, sinclair, vincent, and so on - including among families which continue to hold aristocratic titles, and among families who are not titled but who are nonetheless rich and socially prominent.

[the common joke that the royal family are, by the standards of the aristocracy, nouveau riche upstarts is because they have a germanic name - saxe-coburg-gotha - rather than an anglo-norman one.]

and within the world of harry potter, many of the pureblood [or recently pureblood] families we meet in canon have anglo-norman names which were historically aristocratic or gentry - avery, burke, crouch, fortescue, gaunt, lestrange, montague, sayre, travers, and so on. malfoy is a name jkr invented, but it conforms to the same principles - since, it should be noted, it's a play on an existing anglo-norman noble surname, purfoy [which means "pure faith" where malfoy means "bad faith"].

so names like malfoy are intended by the text to communicate that the people holding them are from old, posh, and very probably wealthy families - but from families which are nonetheless supposed to be understood as historically and culturally british.

[although not necessarily english - burke is a name widely found in ireland, for example, due to ireland's own anglo-norman colonisation.]

and one reason why these names are understood as british is linguistic - they're not pronounced in english the way they would be in french, not because they're being pronounced wrongly, but because they're part of languages which have evolved separately over the course of a millennium.

[the best examples? beauchamp - pronounced "bee-cham" - and mainwaring - pronounced "manner-ring".]

we say "malfoy", rather than "malfoi", and "lestrange" rather than "l'étrange" for this reason. and so we would - if we want to think of it as an anglo-norman, rather than a french, word - say "voldemort" rather than "voldemore".

the canonical voldemort is, without a doubt, a sincere blood- and magic-supremacist. he genuinely believes that the malfoys and lestranges are superior to those with muggle blood [even if he doesn't consider himself to fall under that category], and that this should give them social importance and power over the muggleborn and mixed-blood underclasses.

but what he isn't is someone who is deferential to the wizarding world's established class system, which assigns social importance and power on the basis of name, financial status, and adherence to social custom - since, of course, he is directly disadvantaged by this because he's born "tom riddle" and he grew up in an orphanage, no matter the antiquity of his maternal line and the immensity of his magical talent.

blood purity and magical power is certainly a significant part of this class system. but we can draw out of the text that its significance is clearly not expressed in the way voldemort thinks it should be.

we see throughout the latter half of the canon series that voldemort loathes the death eaters - such as anglo-norman legend lucius malfoy - who pretended not to have served him post-1981. and we also know that what he particularly dislikes is the idea that these death eaters disavowed him in order to continue enjoying the comfortable lives the established class system afforded them, rather than committing to his clearly more radical vision for how power relations should work in the wizarding world by refusing to disavow him:

"Lucius, my slippery friend," he whispered, halting before him. "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius... Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay... but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?"

a huge amount of voldemort's relationship with the death eaters is based in his distaste for the esteem in which they hold the established class system. but, above and beyond this, it's based in the pleasure he gains from mocking them for this esteem.

he squats in their houses, refusing to follow the social conventions expected of guests by commandeering their domestic space as he sees fit. he insults his hosts when in company. he emasculates the male head of the families he has insinuated his way into by behaving like he's the person in charge of the household. he fucks at least one of their wives. he regards their children as his to do with as he wishes. he has no interest in manners or deportment or "correct" self-presentation and behaviour.

he makes them call him - a half-blood orphan who could never hope to outrank them in the system they revere - "my lord", and bow to him, and kiss the hems of his robes, and debase themselves for his favour.

we know that - as a teenager - voldemort spent a huge amount of time researching wizarding genealogy. without a doubt, the etymology of wizarding names would have been mentioned by the books and documents he used to do this.

and so it stands to reason that - in becoming lord voldemort - tom riddle deliberately assumed a name he intended to be understood as having the same anglo-norman flavour as those of his pureblood servants. whether he knew how voldemort would be pronounced in modern french or not is irrelevant - even if the hard t comes from a poor boy's ignorance of french phonetics, it doesn't diminish the actual purpose of the name in the slightest...

because what calling himself lord voldemort signifies is his contempt for - and his mockery of - the death eaters. it takes something they're so proud of - that their names indicate antiquity and nobility; that they are conferred social importance on the basis of their names alone - and shows that he considers both of these things singularly unimpressive.

why - it croons - would someone like lucius be so proud of bearing the malfoy name that he'd lie to the wizengamot and pretend he never prostrated himself at lord voldemort's feet just so the family reputation didn't have to take a hit?

why would he bother? when lord voldemort can invent a name which alludes to exactly the same linguistic principles whenever he likes and have it afforded infinitely more respect [so much respect that people literally fear to speak it!] than any of his servants' names ever have been or ever will be.

a diva!

[yandere-romanticaa]

Recently, the surge of AI has caught everyone's attention and I've been working on this little experiment.

Down below the cut are two fics and this is how I planned it - one was made up by using AI (more specifically, Chat Gpt) while the other one was written by yours truly. Below both fics will be a poll and I would like for you, my dear readers, to guess which one was AI. Personally, I don't think it'll be a difficult challenge but seeing your reactions and comments on this should prove to be an interesting endeavor.

This was posted on April 17th. And, in 7 days, I shall reveal which fic was written by me, and which one was done by AI.

Now then, let's get on with the show.

🥀 Story One.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Yokohama, Fyodor Dostoevsky stalks his obsession, (y/n), with unwavering determination. His fixation transcends reason, driving him to extreme lengths to possess (y/n)'s affection.

Fyodor's obsession with (y/n) began innocently enough, a mere curiosity sparked by their untapped potential and innocence. But as time passed, that curiosity twisted into an all-consuming desire, festering within Fyodor's mind like a venomous serpent.

Each night, Fyodor would follow (y/n) from a distance, his heart pounding with anticipation and longing. He would watch as (y/n) laughed with their friends, oblivious to the dark presence lurking in the shadows.

But Fyodor's love was not the gentle, nurturing kind. It was possessive, suffocating, and dangerously obsessive. He couldn't bear the thought of (y/n) belonging to anyone but him, couldn't stand the idea of anyone else basking in the warmth of (y/n)'s smile.

As his obsession deepened, Fyodor's mind became consumed with dark fantasies of possessing (y/n) completely. He would spend hours meticulously planning every detail of their future together, envisioning a life where they were inseparable.

But fantasies were not enough for Fyodor. He needed to make them a reality, no matter the cost. And so, he began to weave a web of deception and manipulation, carefully orchestrating events to bring (y/n) closer to him and drive away anyone who dared to stand in their way.

But as Fyodor's plans grew more elaborate, so too did the danger. (y/n)'s friends grew suspicious of Fyodor's intentions, sensing something sinister lurking beneath his charming facade. And as they delved deeper into Fyodor's past, they uncovered secrets that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed world.

But Fyodor was not about to let anyone come between him and his beloved. He would do whatever it took to protect their love, even if it meant resorting to violence.

🥀 Story Two.

Shimmering waves of starlight engulfed the man in white as he monitored his target from a safe distance, hollow purple eyes gleaming with excitement. He could feel his long fingers twitching with anticipation in his warm pockets, a stark contrast to the chilly wind on this fine spring evening.

He needed to be patient. Because patience was indeed, a virtue.

And Fyodor was a virtuous man. Perhaps not a good one, but he would gladly take the title of virtue.

Would you bestow upon him such a title? Would you do so, if you ever found out that he had taken such a keen interest in you? The rational part in his mind said no, of course not. Unlike him, you were blessed with normalcy. There was nothing extraordinary about you - no ability, no wealth, no status.

Nothing.

You could have been squished like a bug beneath his heel and the world would just keep on going as it always would. Sure, there would be some individuals who would miss you dearly but even they would move on at some point.

Such was the nature of humanity. How cruel, he thought to himself.

Fortunately for you, Fyodor was no ordinary man. Despite his predicament, he had grown fond of you. He was not sure why but after a while, he stopped asking such trifling questions as to why he troubled himself by giving you so much attention.

It was pointless to make sense of the senseless.

Right here, right now, all he wanted was to enjoy this quiet evening by his lonesome, as he tailed behind you like a creeping shadow. He would reveal himself to you properly when the time was right, when he felt you were strong enough to take him.

Fyodor just needed to wait a little bit longer, just long enough to see how he should proceed with you in case things went south.

In the meantime, he would gladly spend every waking moment simply watching you for his own personal pleasure.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enoojnij, @ishqani, @osachiyo, @bluepeanutharmony, @kaithegremlin, @fyodorscockslut, @wcayaw, @luna-mariko-akatsuki, @lovelyyz, @queenofspades403

APRIL 24TH - Story One is AI.

[second-wife-playbook]

@helluvaoutlaw

The household staff was lined up around the estate in tidy rows, like soldiers. The manor itself had belonged to a gruff old imp for many, many years after his ascension to General of the Legions, the second highest position in the military after the King. The staff had looked after his needs for quite some time...but he met his end two months ago, and a new General had been elected.

Coronis stood with most of her family in the line. They had been assigned to this household by virtue of their family lineage centuries ago. It was always one family of Goetia to tend to those in positions of power. The wings of the Satanic Army, the brutal forces that kept Hell in check.

Though she wriggled a little bit as they waited for the new General to arrive. They would be serving those one a great deal longer...if he survived the appointment. This one was new. This one was young.

General Striker had a name even before Satan appointed him the title. I just hope he's not as scary as the rumors say. Coronis sighed a little, still waiting.

[wesstars]

sorry, baby x (i)

wednesday addams x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: you’re friends-with-benefits with wednesday (maybe a bit more on your part,) and you can’t help but push her buttons a little. wc: 5.2k tags: explicit, MINORS DNI. nevermore ‘university,’ all characters are 18+. kinda ooc wednesday, top!reader and bottom!wednesday, light D/s dynamics, praise, boots, strap-on referred to as both ‘cock’ and ‘strap,’ crying, biting, denial, light choking, begging, reader shushing during sex, all that good stuff. a/n: i’m very rusty. please forgive me haha. title from killing eve. this iiissss inspired by/for someone, you know who you are ;) say hi if you find me!

read part two here!!

masterlist

The last class of the day was always the worst.

Even as the afternoon sun streamed in through the windows, casting the quiet classroom in a white gold glow, you could barely focus enough to remember what subject you were in. The instructor droned on about something or other—you were never the best at paying attention, relying on your subconscious and review session to get good grades. How could you listen when the lesson was just so boring, and you could steal the review from a certain Addams later on, anyway? You blinked slowly, trying to yawn discreetly. Calm was the atmosphere, as everyone was nearly falling asleep as the hour stretched on. 

A note fluttered through the air to land gracefully in your lap. 

Meet me after class.

Wednesday’s neat script, immediately recognized, made you grin, and you looked up. You spotted her, sitting next to Enid. Almost as if she could sense you looking, she spared a precious second from her notetaking to cut you a glare that could fell an army. You only laughed, covering your mouth to hopelessly hide your snicker.

The note had given you a bout of deja vu—it all started with a note, really. By virtue of you being Enid’s friend, you started in Wednesday’s peripheral circle, but you were always unafraid to confront her and eagerly prodded her to bicker with you. Enid would roll her eyes once the two of you would start again, but the way Wednesday’s neutral expression seemed to relax just a bit, made you think she didn’t mind as much. 

The first time you gave her a friendly shove during a mock argument nearly had you apologizing, as she’d frozen as soon as your hand touched her shoulder. You didn’t want to actually cross her boundaries, but when she shoved you back, nearly pushing you into a bush, the ice was broken. Your friends now often had to give the two of you the wide berth as the arguments would escalate into shoving and chasing, and one time, almost a full out siege where you were to defend Jericho and Wednesday was to defend Nevermore. 

All of the back and forth you two had was nearly as intense as you and Wednesday each were—she liked that about you. At least, that’s what you told yourself. She liked it enough to drop a note in your lap during class, some three months ago, asking you to meet her in an empty class “for warfare.” You had come with a knife hidden in your sleeve, but it ended up clattering to the floor as Wednesday pulled you in by your tie and bluntly asked you if she could kiss you. Before she could change her mind, you had kissed her hard enough for her own hidden knife to fall to the floor next to yours.

Wednesday Addams didn’t have friends. You, certainly, were not her friend, not in the way you touched her and not in the way she let you. Enid called you friends all the time, but she didn’t know about how Wednesday would pull you into a broom closet and push you down to your knees. You were sure that Wednesday would rather die than have a proper conversation about the… hooking up? late night meet ups? booty calls?? that the two of you were having. But you thought of her as your friend, and decidedly not anything more. You gave a lazy smile as you spotted Wednesday looking at you again. You knew why she had slipped you the note—the last time you’d been at her dorm room, rushing to give her an orgasm before Enid returned, you had stolen her favorite pair of Louboutin boots. You figured that the gods had given the two of you the same shoe size for a reason. No harm, no foul, right? Kicking your feet, you scuffed her shoes against the ground, knowing she could see them, knowing she could recognize them.

The sudden shuffling of books and scraping of chairs broke you out of your reverie. Class was dismissed, and you put away your supplies neatly, watching Wednesday leave first. She didn’t even look at you when she brushed past, but you knew she’d be waiting in the hallway outside. Sure enough, as you hitched your bag higher up on your shoulder, slipping your tie off, you spotted a head of raven dark hair amongst your classmates.

Wednesday looked at you evenly, ignoring all of the students filing out of the room. “You have what is mine.”

“Well, hello to you too,” you smiled brightly. Hearing her monotone voice always made your heart beat in technicolor, something chronic that you probably had to go to the infirmary for. 

She only stared, eyebrows raising a centimeter. Turning to start towards the dorms, she waited for you to catch up to her before saying, “do not play dumber than you already are.”

You shrugged, wide eyed and used to her empty insults. “What do you mean? I’m innocent.”

“No one would ever accuse you of being innocent,” she shot back. “You are a thief, at best.”

“A thief?” You asked, in mock surprise. “What do you mean?”

She pointed down between the two of you, at the red-soled boots on your feet. “Give them back.”

You cackled, unable to keep up your façade any longer. “No.” You made a heart with your hands, winking at Wednesday through it. 

Her hand collided, hard, with your wrist. Her grip was nearly painful, but you just smirked down at her. “I will only ask you once.” Her voice, still flat as usual, had a dangerous edge to it. 

“Make me.” You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t help yourself. You were selfish, always forcing Wednesday’s attention to you. Even though you knew you probably annoyed her to no end, you didn’t know how to stop. Of course, if she ever told you to stop—seriously, not by way of her customary glare—you would. 

You only just had time to finish your thought before Wednesday nearly tore your arm out of its socket, dragging you across the grounds towards your dorm room. How such a small girl was so fast, you had no idea. Before you knew it, you were in front of your room, with Wednesday reaching into your pants pocket to take out your keys and push you inside. 

As soon as the door shut, you could visibly see Wednesday relax, which was saying something. You drew her smaller frame closer, wrapping your arms around her waist. She turned her head to tuck it into your neck, letting out the smallest sigh. Feeling her hand come up to grab the hem of your shirt, you leaned back a little.

“Wednesday.” At your beckon, she unfolded herself from your neck to look up, eyes as dark as wood immediately on your lips.

“This is not forgiveness,” she told you.

You reached for her bag, dropping it and yours to the ground. “Mmm,” you hummed as you tilted your head down to kiss her, slowly, enjoying the burn in your stomach as she kissed you back. “Maybe you’ll forgive me later, after I’m done with you.” She pulled away, giving you an unimpressed look. 

“Arrogance does not become you.”

You just laughed, taking off your jacket, leaving you in your shirt, slacks, and last but not least, Wednesday’s very important boots. Leaning into her space, you nosed along her neck, nipping playfully with sharp teeth. You felt her arms drop back to her sides. “We’ll see about that, Weds.”

This time, she pushed into you first, all soft lips and razor teeth on yours. You sunk down, somewhere in the lowest deep as you kissed her, but your bliss was short lived, broken by your hiss of pain as she bit down on your tongue. Her hands were cold on the back of your neck, trapping you close, and you had no complaints. “Boots. Now.”

“If you want them back so bad,” you muttered, ducking your head to leave a dark bruise on her collarbone, “take them yourself.”

Wednesday put both hands on your shoulders, a glint in her eye the only warning you get. She pushed you, hard, so the backs of your knees hit the bed and you landed on your ass.

“Oooh, what’re you gonna do, Weds,” you goaded, even as she grabbed you by your shirt collar.

“I’ll take your ankles off with those shoes,” she snapped lowly, but she let you kiss down her neck again, that pale column of skin too hard for you to resist. You took your time, leaving murky violet constellations, and with each mark that you sucked into her jawline, you heard her breathing grow shakier.

“Alright,” you said amusedly. “Take them off, then.” You bit down on that spot on her neck while pushing her shoulders down, and she gave surprisingly easily, landing with a thud on her knees.

“Do not go too far,” she hissed, trying to push you off, but you kept her there, her narrow shoulders bracketed by your legs. Her gesture was empty; you were confident that she would simply throw you off if she wanted. The many times you’d ended up tossed across the room showed as testament. 

“Sure,” you agreed easily. Leaning in, you whispered, “can I take this off?” You thumbed the lapel of her jacket.

She nodded her assent, even though you could tell she was plotting a way to get you back. You went slow, leaning over her as you slid her jacket off, kissing the crown of her head. 

“Very good,” you whispered into her hair, loosening her tie. Wednesday attempted to suppress her shiver at your words, but you felt it anyway. It gave you the courage to go to her shirt, sliding the buttons open hesitantly. She straightened her back, showing you her simple but elegant black bra, which was probably from some niche French designer and worth more than the boots you stole.

But the look on her face as you slid your hands slowly into that expensive bra was priceless: her eyes shut, eyebrows furrowing the slightest bit as her lips parted. You squeezed gently, letting out a small moan of your own. She was so soft, and—

“You’re so perfect, Wednesday,” you growled unevenly in her ear, your composure slipping just a fraction. You sealed your lips with hers and thumbed her nipples, licking up against her teeth as soon as she let you. Breaking apart from her for one unbearable second, you stuck your fingers in her mouth, coating them in saliva. The affronted look on her face disappeared quickly as you pinched her nipples again with sticky fingers, the whine she let out going straight through you like whiskey.

She shuffled closer, seemingly content on her knees despite her earlier protest. Her grip was tight on your thighs, bordering on blissfully painful. Wednesday was nearly pulling you off the bed with how hard she was yanking you in to kiss her, teeth clacking with yours. She sat back on her heels and grabbed your ankle. 

“What’re you doing?” You rolled her nipple between your fingers. “Finally getting your—”

You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale as she spread her legs, stocking covered knees sliding. She lifted your leg and planted your foot between her thighs, the heavy boot slamming into the ground. You raised an eyebrow, head swimming with the direction she was going. 

Wednesday was a pretty picture in front of you, shirt open, chest flushed, skirt bunched up around her hips. Uncharacteristically demure, she leaned her cheek against your knee, palm sliding up your clothed calf.

“What?” She asked, her turn for faux innocence. “You said to do it yourself, did you not?” Wednesday shimmied forward, her chest up on your shin. 

You felt her start to press up on the laces, something hot and slow, and your mouth went dry. Her knees spread more as she adjusted, her hand grabbing yours to place it on her cheek. She grabbed your belt loops, the pressure on your boot heavy. Just the mere idea of Wednesday’s pussy grinding against your—her—boots was something you could never imagine, but her shiver as she got settled made you nearly combust.

“You’re so needy, my girl…” the words slurred their way out of your mouth, likely more loving and adoring than you’d intended them to be.

“Looks like you’re the one fucking yourself,” she huffed out, a rare twisted grin gracing her face. Wednesday’s head tipped back again, a pleased little exhale falling from her lips as she pressed harder.

You cupped her jaw, pushing her shirt from her shoulder to bite, something possessive, with no inhibition, in you rising to the surface. “You do that to me, darling.”

You shift your boot closer to her, meeting her grinding circles, making her gasp and cry out your name. You were content to watch her like this, chasing her own high on you like some sinful temptation. With just the sound she was making, and her lip, bitten red, you knew she was getting her slick everywhere. Her breaths came harder with each time she pressed herself into the laces, her gentle rocking becoming more and more erratic. You almost wanted to see if she could cum like this, but as her eyes got hazier and her movements more erratic, you couldn’t help yourself. 

“That's enough, Wednesday.” She barely has your clipped tone as a warning before you pull her off your boot, rough as you hoisted her up, but keeping your grip gentle.

“Come here.” Surprisingly, she did as you asked, throwing her clothes off with the air of a girl who knew what she wanted. You watched her, every inch she uncovered sending prickles of heat up your collar. Her panties, thin and damp, landed in your hand, and you knew she saw your jaw clenching when the corner of her mouth quirked up in the smallest of smiles.

You tucked the thin fabric into your pocket and reached for her, her cool skin soothing the burn in your chest. You turned her around to tuck her into you, sitting on your lap. Manhandling her easily, you could feel her muscles, taut from fencing, under your palms. You hooked her knees over yours, and spread your legs. Unable to resist a smirk at her sharp inhale, you kissed up her neck, scraping your teeth against the shell of her ear. 

“You look like magic,” you murmured. “So good for me, Wednesday, letting me spread you open like this,” you continued, tilting her head to lean it back on your shoulder. 

“Consider yourself lucky,” she rasped out as you mapped your hands along her ribs, sliding them down her tense stomach to grip her thighs, thumbs rubbing circles. 

With each circle, you pulled your hands higher, close enough to her pussy that your fingers were sticky from her inner thighs. “Oh, I am.”

You cupped her pussy, already feeling her wetness coating your fingers. Forcing her legs wider, you rubbed up and down, purposefully avoiding her warmest spots as your other hand skimmed up to her chest. But you never were able to keep yourself from Wednesday for very long, testing your own patience as much as hers.

“Fuck,” you whispered, and as you pushed a finger in, her hand shot up to grab the back of your neck with a quiet oh. You crooked your finger, her slick making it easy on you. Letting your palm graze her clit with every motion, you smiled as her hips lifted, searching for more friction.

You take your time, knowing that Wednesday’s pussy was the softest thing you’d ever touched, and it was likely to remain that way. Pushing another finger in, you made sure to grind your palm against her clit every time you curled your fingers. Her soft noises were enough to have you on your knees, and you would’ve, if she didn't sigh out your name, getting your attention. She squeezed your fingers, jaw tight enough to creak.

“What is it, Weds?”

“I…” Wednesday cut herself off with a whine as your fingers twisted, the high sound shooting straight through your stomach. You beckoned with your fingers, hard, and she keened in your ear.

“I need you to fill me up.”

Her words snapped something already delicate inside of you. You took your fingers out, smearing her slick all on her hips as you flip her over. If you had it your way, you would be able to see her face, but you knew this was her favorite position. You saw her swallow in anticipation as you stepped briefly away from the bed, kicking off those catalytic boots and rummaging under your bed for you and Wednesday’s box.

Everything in the box you kept meticulously clean, knowing Wednesday’s routine of cleanliness. It would only be Wednesday Addams, a contradiction in her black heart, that loved to be as messy in your bed as she was clean in hers. You picked a black strap, one that you two used frequently. Pulling it on and adjusting it, you get on your knees behind her. For a moment, you watched her, captivated by the sight in front of you, grasping her hips. She arched her back, getting comfortable, as if you weren’t already trying not to fold and just take her like a ship to water.

You pushed yourself up against Wednesday, hips flush to her ass, letting the silicone glide against her clit. To her credit, Wednesday’s breath only came out the slightest bit shaky, even as you guided her thighs apart with a knee. You hummed as she pushed herself up onto her forearms to rock back, head turned to look at you. Wednesday had to grind down past your strap for her pussy to touch your thigh, and you laughed lowly as she flushed with the action. She froze.

“What’s wrong?” You rubbed a hand over her lower back, ready to pull away if she gave even the slightest signal.

“Do you…” she swallows, eyes flicking from you to some distant spot in the corner of the room. “Do you not want me to do that?”

For a second, you couldn’t believe your ears. There was a rush of indignation on Wednesday’s behalf, that she could ever think you wouldn’t love her desperation. Then, the wave of understanding broke over you—Wednesday wanted your approval, over an action that was decidedly un-Wednesday-like, and the final flick of her nervous gaze towards you told you that this was important. 

You grabbed her hips, hard enough to leave shadows that you hoped you’d see tomorrow. Anything physical, Wednesday would undoubtedly best you, but this was something you could hold your own on. You pushed her pussy down onto the strap, onto the rough fabric of your slacks. 

“Why would I ever not want you to show me how much you want it, mmm?” Your question was a growl wrought with satisfaction and a winner’s unapologetic glee, and the effort you put into your tone was worth the way the tension vanished from Wednesday’s eyes. She rolled her hips again, her Addams confidence returning, letting you guide her into a smooth rhythm. 

“Besides,” you leaned forward, one hand letting go to come down a hair's breadth from Wednesday's nose. You folded yourself over her body, your tight grip still controlling her hips. “I know you can’t cum like this.”

The whine came unbidden from Wednesday’s throat, high and breathy and perfect. Nevertheless, her hips and keening gasps followed your even rhythm, and you saw her grip on the pillow go white-knuckled.

“I’m pleased with you, my dear. I do love to watch you suffer.” At your words, sunk roughly into her ears like cannonballs on kindling, Wednesday moaned, loud, into the space between the two of you. You ignored the burning torch that her sounds dropped into your lower stomach, choosing to murmur: “you can take it, right?”

“I can take it,” Wednesday whispered back, almost mindlessly. “I can take you,” she continued. “I want it.”

You settle back on your heels, satisfied. The sudden quickening of your heartbeat was only to do with your physical exertion, and nothing with how you felt for the girl under you. I can take you, not I can take it, I want it, not I want you.

You pull your thigh from under her roughly, making her yelp. Reaching around her narrow hips, you trailed your fingers down from her belly button to her clit, rubbing small circles. “Ready?”

Wednesday nodded, another whimper escaping at your touch.

“I need you to tell me yes, Weds.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

You push in, slowly, giving her body plenty of time to adjust. She was still prepped from your fingers earlier, but you didn’t miss the chance to gather her wetness and smear it against her clit. Wednesday was taking deep breaths beneath you, just like how you taught her the first time you two had used a strap. The rush of endearment you felt for her at that memory was distracting, you decided, and you pushed it away.

You slowed yourself down as your hips were once again up against her ass, hands moving to squeeze her shoulders. You saw her eyes shut tightly, the corners growing shiny. Wednesday always needed a moment once you put the strap in, something you were happy to give her.

She was still inhaling deeply, thighs trembling. “It…”

“It what?”

Wednesday opened her eyes; they were brimming with tears, dark lashes sticky. “It hurts…”

Your body tensed, already about to pull away, but with a surprisingly strong twist, she forced herself back onto you. A whimper rose high from her throat, and you had to take a breath to keep yourself from flipping her around to kiss her right then.

“Hurts good,” she whispered. You close your eyes, near involuntarily. Fuck, this perfect, perfect, girl would ruin you, just as much as you wanted to ruin her. You lean forward, pressing your chest into her back, forearm across her shoulder blades to ground her. 

“How does it hurt, love?”

“It’s—I’m full,” Wednesday gasped out, glossy eyes sliding shut as you shifted on your knees, cock shifting inside. 

“It fills you up, huh?” You breathed into Wednesday’s ear. 

She nodded.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” she said, almost immediately. Experimentally, she swiveled her own hips around, and it made her hiss and bite her lip. “You fill me up.”

You exhaled through your nose, resisting the urge to just grab Wednesday and slam your cock impossibly deeper. “And?”

“And it’s good,” Wednesday whined out. “Hurts good.”

The knot in your chest loosened, the tension in your body broken like a wave. Surely, it wasn’t healthy to hang onto Wednesday’s every word the way that you did. You pulled out almost all the way, and snapped your hips forward, hard, burying yourself into her.

“Good girl.”

Wednesday let out a breath that bordered on a moan, and you smirked to yourself. Maybe she was right, and the arrogance was getting to your head, but you couldn’t help it. You set on a steady pace, gently brushing one of her braids aside to grasp the back of her neck. You felt yourself slipping into it, drunk on the way she let you touch her, your world tunneling down to just Wednesday—everything was Wednesday. 

Every time you pushed in, it was punctuated by her gasps, and you could feel her breathing start to grow uneven. It stirred up something innately protective in you, for Wednesday. Her shoulders were shaking, tension pulling her taut. 

“Wednesday, baby,” a pet name she would only tolerate in her hazy, lust filled state, “I need you to breathe for me, alright?” You slowed down, following your intuition on what she needed.

Still flush to her back, you listened to her stuttering inhales, deeper but not enough for her to catch her breath. “Shhh,” you cooed low into her ear, covering her eyes, and taking her hand, still tight on the pillow. “Breathe, my love.” Inexplicably, Wednesday let go of the pillowcase and intertwined your fingers, squeezing your hand and your heart tightly. She listened to you, for once, slowing down and softening her breaths. You could feel her tears on your palm, and you shushed her again, pressing kisses on her temple where her hair stuck to her forehead.

“Alright?” You slid your hand away, watching her eyes carefully.

She nodded. Skimming your fingers along her cheekbone, you let the warmth in your heart for the smaller girl seep into your words.

“Just say the word, Wednesday, and we’re done.”

“No,” she murmured back. “If you stop now, I’ll throw you out the balcony.” Though she was out of breath, a sticky, flushed mess under you, you had no doubt she’d follow through on her threat. You smiled.

You pick up your rhythm again, this time covering her smaller body with yours again to suck hickies into the back of her neck. Your other hand brushed down between her thighs to rub her clit in circles—she was so wet that it was hard to keep up with your thrusts, but it was worth the choked cry that escaped from her throat as you hit that spot, her fingers tightening around yours. 

Wednesday arched her back into you, burgundy lips bitten blood red right before your eyes. “Keep going,” she told you. You had no intention of stopping, watching a flush bloom on her neck as you kept up your ruthless pace. 

But despite that, you wanted to take your time with her. Every time she would tense up, you would slow down, making it impossible for her to reach that peak you knew she wanted. You forced yourself to slow down on both her pussy and her clit, just as she was starting to shake, and in spite of herself, she cried out in frustration, a tear slipping free. 

“Sorry, baby.” Your tone edged on cruel, desperately needing to see how much she could handle. “I know you can handle it, just for me, okay?” Strap still fully inside, you bent to kiss the juncture of her neck, lips and teeth leaving a bruise. Her skin was hot to your touch, even though your shirt. You bit down again, matching all of your other marks that graced her skin.

Wednesday whined again, inhibition cracking faster by the second. “Don’t stop…”

“Don’t stop what?” You asked, voice turned mocking. “Use your words.” You reached up to clasp the back of her neck, rubbing the tension out. “And be good.”

Her breath quickened, and she squeezed her eyes shut as another tear rolled through her mascara. “Don’t stop…”

“C’mon,” you cajoled, hand coming around her neck to squeeze her throat. “C’mon, my love.”

“Please… don’t stop fucking me.” The words tumbled out in a rush, and she mewled as you nuzzled your lips against her shoulder, your fingers starting up on her clit again.

A shiver shot up your spine, making you curl protectively around Wednesday, the hot burn of possessiveness, to mark her again, near unbearable.. “Anything you want, darling.” You slammed back into her, hard enough to push the both of you up the bed. One of her hands grasped at your forearm, pulling your grip from her neck. She wrapped your arm across her shoulders. Your breathing came hard, but you didn’t stop, each whine in your ear making your head spin. You had no idea how much time was passing, or if it was even night or day; your entire world was hazy and fuzzed with raven black.

“I’m—” Wednesday cut herself off, biting down on your arm for a moment, leaving a smear of lipstick.

You let out a noise that was more of a growl than anything. “Let me hear you, baby.”

She gasped when you pressed a hand to her lower stomach, briefly feeling the bulge there from your cock, before going back to her clit. You didn’t pause, each thrust pushing Wednesday closer to the edge. “Use your teeth,” she choked out, her cheeks flushing. “Now, please.”

You complied, eager. Scraping your canines down her ear, you stopped at a tender spot behind her pulse point, the skin already marred with purple and red. A sailor’s delight, you thought, a bit hysterically. You sank your teeth in, not holding back, knowing she wanted it. The effect was near immediate; her eyes slid shut, and her body tensed against yours, an unrestrained sob tumbling out from her lips. She reached for you, nails digging into your arm. Your hands shook, all of her tightening the coil in your stomach. Wednesday’s orgasm crashed down, and it shattered something in you, deep and addictive.

Far down in you, below what you were willing to admit, Wednesday’s unknowing grip on your heart tightened even more. You felt like you’d just jumped off your own edge, inevitable as the eternal separation of sun and moon.

“I came,” Wednesday’s voice was a ragged whisper, a ghost of her earlier whimpers ringing in your ears.

“You did, my love,” you shushed, gently sliding your cock out, catching Wednesday as she seemed to melt into the bedsheets with no support. You guided her into her back, relishing in the way she trustingly let you. Tucking the strap away to clean later, you massaged her thighs, thinking they’d be sore later. She seemed to be in a daze, dark eyes fogged with the afterglow. Her cheeks were streaked with mascara from her tears, and the rims of her eyes were a fuschia pink. You’d never seen anything more beautiful.

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve said that her gaze behind her slow blinks as she watched you was just as possessive as you were. You did know better, you swore, but it didn’t stop you from nuzzling your face into her stomach, intoxicated on the smell of her arousal, delaying the clean-up for just a moment longer. 

“Have you forgiven me yet?” You teased, unsure if she could even hear you. You smoothed her fringe off her forehead, already moving to sit up and get her a bottle of water. But before you could move, Wednesday’s hand grabbed your wrist with lighting speed, a shadow of the earlier afternoon.

She cracked an eye open, and though her eyes were shot red, there was a challenging shine, blade in moonlight, there. “Who says you’re done?”

--

reader: i fuck her good but i don’t think she likes me back :(

wednesday: if you don’t hold me right now i Will murder

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, or take from my work in any way without express permission. thank you!

masterlist

[blackbleedingrose]

Long Lost Morningstar - Part Two

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing(s): Charlie x reader (platonic), Vaggie x reader (platonic), Charlie x Vaggie

Genre: Fluff

Warning(s): minor cursing.

Notes: This is the second installment of LLM. This one will be going more in depth in (Y/N)'s life in Heaven and her relationship with Michael and Charlie. I will also be working on another Hazbin mini series (the one I mentioned in my last post) so part three will take a little longer - so, please, bare with me.

Words: 2215

"This is one of the reasons why I wanted to meet you in the first place. . . My full name is (Y/N) Demiurgos. Daughter of Archangel Michael Demiurgos".

(Y/N) Demiugros have lived in Heaven her entire life among the archangels, seraphims, and winners (human souls who ascended into Heaven after they died).

She, herself, was a seraphim - one with very large and beautiful wings; six in total.

Her father, Michael, was one of Heaven's archangel's and one of the Seven Virtues. He was the one who had created her from stardust.

At least, those were the stories she's been told her whole life.

Though, it was strange. . .

Her father had crafted her in his likeness and yet the two couldn't be more different.

Not to say Michael was a complete stiff or was lacking any sense of humor - in fact, all of the archangels had their own strange quirks. (Y/N) loved being around them and often shared their humor.

The problem here was. . . her curiosity.

She was a naturally curious being and would often dream of things most of Heaven would frown upon - like six-winged ducks.

As a child her curiosity would sometimes get the better of her and she would try to venture beyond the archangel's castle (where she lived with Michael and the other archangels).

Of course, Michael was always there to stop her from wandering too far.

It became evident that (Y/N)'s curiosity and wonderous spirit would only get worse if he didn't stop it right there and then.

He didn't want her to end up like her real parents.

What (Y/N) didn't know was that almost everything she has ever known was a complete lie.

Or that Michael was not her real father/parent.

That title rightfully belonged to Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar.

But, of course, no one who knew ever planned on telling her; so, instead they twisted the truth.

Michael told her all about what Lucifer and Lilith had done and how the two brought evil into humanity. An act that got them a one-way dropped elevator ride straight to Hell.

Obviously leaving out the part where Lucifer and Lilith were her real parents, and instead told her they were her estranged uncle and aunt.

He had hoped telling her this would stifle her growing curiosity and wandering enough to keep her out of trouble and from ending up exactly where his twin brother and his lover had all those years ago.

It also helped that ever since Lucifer and Lilith's trial, Heaven has been cracking down on teaching their residents obedience and the consequences of straying too far.

And for a long time it worked.

(Y/N) was one of Heaven's top students and a role model seraphim to all angels alike.

On the outside she was grace, obedience, and perfection personified - just as she was taught and just as Heaven wanted.

But on the inside, she was still that curious and wonderous spirit who would secretly write her dreams in a private journal she had to hide away in a pocket dimension with her magic.

(Y/N) yearned to venture outside of Heaven and explore all the different realms to see what they had to offer. Like the ones she's read from the books in Heaven's restricted section that she may or may not break into in the dead of night (she's a sneaky little sneaker :P).

Tales of archons, unique planets, and realms with distorted human desires would fill her head - her heart yearning to one day travel to those places herself.

But for now, her life was in Heaven as a role model seraphim whose curiosity and wandering was kept in check.

. . . Until she caught wind of the Princess of Hell's meeting by her fellow seraphim, Emily, during their weekly hangout.

(Y/N) was aware Lucifer and Lilith had a child born in Hell, but she never expected her demon cousin would ever be granted permission to enter Heaven.

She couldn't help but wonder what her cousin wanted with Heaven.

Whatever it was, it was big enough to warrant a whole trial with the Head Seraphim, Sera.

Oh, no - there goes her curiosity.

(Y/N) knew her father would frown upon her interacting with the daughter of the ones who damned humanity. . . but she couldn't help it! She really wanted to meet her cousin and see what she was like.

Maybe people in Hell weren't as bad as Heaven made them out to be.

Luckily for her, Emily was quite the chatterbox and told her all about how she and Sera were going to give a tour to the Princess of Hell and her partner, the hotel they were staying at, and the exact room number.

Before she went on her way, (Y/N) managed to get one of her doting simps friends to cover for her and her duties to avoid raising suspicion.

When Emily and Sera had finished talking to Heaven's demon guests and brought them to their hotel room, (Y/N) was hidden away in the hallway waiting until they left.

As soon as she was sure Sera and Emily were gone, (Y/N) quickly rushed to the door.

She silently psyched herself up before knocking.

Charlie and Vaggie, who were skeptical to hear a knock so fast, hesitantly opened the door.

"Uh. . . Hello?".

When Charlie opened the door she definitely wasn't expecting to see a very tall angel with long blonde hair, purple eyes, red cheek circle's, and a big smile on her pale face standing outside. For a moment Charlie could have sworn she was almost looking at her mother.

"Hello! You must be Charlie and Vaggie! Emily's told me all about you - well, the only things that she knew before meeting you. Haven't had the chance to ask her about you after meeting you, but since I'm here now I might as well as you yourselves!".

(Y/N) snapped out of her trailing thoughts and rambling, "Oh, shit! My bad! I got a little carried away and forgot to introduce myself. Sorry. My name is (Y/N). I'm a seraphim. It's so nice to finally meet you!"

Charlie and Vaggie had to recover from the whiplash of the seraphim's personality and onslaught of words. Not wanting to offend her and mess up her chance before the trial, Charlie invited (Y/N) inside. (Y/N) eagerly accepted and walked into the room admiring it - she's never been in a hotel before.

"So. . . why are you here?" Vaggie asked rather rudely suspicious of why a random seraphim would go out of their way to talk to people from Hell. "Vaggie!" Charlie whisper-yelled afraid she offended a potential high authority in Heaven.

"Oh, well, I was hoping to get a chance to meet you both. When Emily told me about how the Princess of Hell wanted a meeting in Heaven about her hotel to redeem sinners, I'll admit my curiosity was peaked and I knew I had to see who you were in person".

Charlie gasped, her eyes shining, "Does this mean you think it's possible to rehabilitate demons?!". Vaggie glared at the angelic being, "Why would a seraphim care to meet people like us?".

(Y/N) gave the two a gentle smile, "Well, I tend to be a naturally curious individual - which I'm sure you can imagine isn't something Heaven is too fond of. As for redeeming sinners - I'm not sure. Personally, I would love to see souls in Hell given the chance to be redeemed and enter Heaven. Especially the ones who truly do not deserve eternal damnation. Which is why I'm excited to see how your trial ends. Hopefully you have evidence to prove your hotel works. I mean, if the Princess of Hell is willing to vouch and put in the effort on giving sinners a better chance at an afterlife in paradise, then maybe not all demons are bad after all".

Charlie and Vaggie were awestruck. Sure, Emily was really nice but (Y/N) was the first angel to actually be willing to give them a chance. Charlie had tears in her eyes, "D-Do you really believe that?". (Y/N) smiled and laid her hand on Charlie's, "I do".

Charlie and Vaggie smiled at the seraphim. It was nice to see that there was one angel here in Heaven who wasn't going to shut them down right away - someone who genuinely supported their cause.

The three chatted some more - mainly Charlie and (Y/N) with Vaggie chiming in from time to time. Now that the three got more comfortable with each other, the conversation was going a lot smoother. Despite just meeting one another, Charlie and (Y/N) felt like they've known each other for years.

"So, what do you do here in Heaven?" Charlie asked (Y/N). "Oh! Well, I sometimes help the archangels with their duties, but I mainly work in court trials", (Y/N) answered. Charlie's eyes lit up, "Court trials?".

(Y/N) immediately caught on. She shook her head, "Oh, no. Not in the actual trials; that's for the higher seraphims. In this case, Sera and Emily. I'm just a stenographer and record keeper. I help keep and maintain the court records and sometimes record the trials in person".

Vaggie raised a brow, "A seraphim as a stenographer?". (Y/N) nodded, "It's actually a very important job. . . but, I won't lie and say it was my first choice for a job. It was my father's idea. His way of keeping me busy, entertained, and out of trouble".

Charlie blinked, "Oh! Who's your father?". (Y/N) bit her lip nervous, "This is one of the reasons why I wanted to meet you in the first place. . . My full name is (Y/N) Demiurgos. Daughter of Archangel Michael Demiurgos". Charlie and Vaggie's jaws dropped.

"Archangel Michael?! A-As in my dad's twin brother?!".

(Y/N) nodded fiddling nervously with her hands. Charlie did a double take, "Woah, woah! Wait! Then doesn't that make us-" "Cousins," (Y/N) confirmed. Charlie gasped placing her hands on her cheeks, "OMG! That's amazing!". (Y/N) smiled in relief, "Yeah. I guess it is".

"Who's your mom?" Charlie asked eagerly. "Oh, I don't have one," (Y/N) said rather casually. This made Charlie and Vaggie feel a bit bad, "Oh".

(Y/N) waved her hands, "Oh, it's not like that! I've never had one! You see most angels are typically created here in Heaven using stardust, which is how my father created me. He used his likeness and the female reference of Lilith - your mother. And thus, I was born".

"Oooh - that makes so much sense! Now, I understand why you look so familiar!" Charlie smiled at her newly found relative. She couldn't believe she had a cousin in Heaven. One so kind and beautiful.

(Y/N) was relieved at how fast Charlie accepted her. She was worried she might not be too fond of having an angelic relative.

Vaggie was a bit nervous to discover that (Y/N) was the daughter of a higher ranking angel, but it quickly went away when she saw how happy her and Charlie were talking to each other.

She's only known (Y/N) for a short while, but she truly believed the seraphim had no ill intentions towards them and genuinely wanted to get to know them.

In fact, (Y/N)'s personality reminded her a little of Charlie.

(Y/N) admired her cousin for her big heart and the confidence she had in her own dreams. She was ashamed to admit she was a little envious.

How she wished she could act on her dreams like her little cousin; but, Heaven would never allow it. Her father always had to remind her not to stray too far, or she might end up just like her uncle and aunt. . . Fallen.

This was why she had to always keep up appearances when she was in public. No one other than those closest to her knew of the dorky, cheerful, and quirky side of her personality. To everyone else she was poised, graceful, and elegant.

When Charlie had asked her about her dreams (Y/N) told her seraphims weren't allowed to dream, or at least have dreams that would go against Heaven's rules.

Despite trying to hide how much that bothered her, Charlie and Vaggie noticed the small shift in her behavior. They felt bad for her wishing Heaven could be more open minded.

(Y/N) quickly waved it off claiming she was okay and that she was used it. She understood her father just wanted to keep her safe and out of trouble.

Soon it was time for (Y/N) to go to avoid making her father suspicious of her whereabouts.

Before she left she and Charlie shared a tight loving hug. (Y/N) wished her good luck in her trial and that she would be rooting for her.

Hearing her cousin support her dream and wish her luck made Charlie feel a lot better about the trial.

Being around (Y/N) made her feel comfortable and safe. She felt familiar, which now makes sense seeing as the two were family.

Her dad couldn't be here, so it felt good knowing there was someone in her family here in Heaven who believed in her.

With those thoughts in mind, she was ready for the trial and positive she would change Heaven's mind and prove the hotel's credibility.

. . . Too bad things sometimes don't go as we hoped.

Taglist:

@soobryu @kyo-kyo1 @miyako-night20 @charliecharlie65 @unknow-sama @myluckymoon @lbcreations-blog @moonchaos18

[fancyfeathers]

Content Warning: yandere content, period sexism, implied r*pe/noncon

Fancy and I were watching Queen Charolette tonight and they mentioned the main Bridgerton show with season one with Daphne and Simon.

Vincent Phantomhive would be the type to get his darling to agree to a ruse, pretending to be in a fake courting with him during the aristocracy’s marriage season to make her look desirable to suitors and him unavailable, but this was a trick all along. He does all of this to gain her trust, her friendship, making her feel safe around him.

She will be on his arm sometimes at balls, picnics, and parties, chatting and laughing as if they were already married. Then she will be asked by another suitor if he can steal her away for a while and the answer is always yes but the hesitation becomes clearer and clearer as the ruse goes on. The only reason Vincent lets her go so willingly is because he knows that she will be his in the end, that is until an actual threat comes into the picture…

A prince, an actual prince, sure he is not from England and was born abroad but such a person cannot be ignored, after all what is an Earl to the title of a Prince?

Vincent tries to tell himself that he is not a threat until the signs become to clear to ignore, the necklace the other suitor gave her, the way he, a prince, knelt before her to pick up her fan that his darling had dropped on the floor, the discussions he had with his darling’s mama and elder brother, it is all too obvious now.

When the party comes along where Vincent believes the Price will propose and Vincent sees his darling chatting and laughing while hanging on the arm of the Prince as if they were already married, just like she used to do when with him. Vincent help but let the jealousy build up in his chest. Then he approaches his darling ever so sweetly and asks her if she would like to join him for a stroll in the garden and she has no reason to refuse the man who has become such a dear friend, but the thing about the garden is that no one can hear by her scream…

The next thing is that her courtship with the Prince is called off and she is engaged to be married to the Earl Vincent Phantomhive as to not marry him would be a scandal on her family as she is without her virtue and with his child, or rather children, two twin boys.

[thecameronchronicles]

Lessons With Mister Cameron

TW: sex without a condom, "public" sex, surrender of virtue, manipulative behavior, dirty talk, vulgarity, rafe is a warning all himself, isn't he?

SUMMARY: You always thought it was a fantasy until he calls you after class to discuss your paper and decides you need a more hands-on approach.

Lessons With Mister Cameron

"Y/N?"

Your eyes rise in a swift snap that stabilize where you actively evade every day in your second class of the day.

Cool blue eyes appearing ready above a smirk widen your own to the particular focus he leaves for you to discern. But it is the particular fullness of those tempting lips on topics that should bore you to death that make you the avid scholar. Only now, the sudden attention from him makes you question the last five minutes of class as you were busy in a daydream of his touch.

In what would be your first touch.

"Once the hour is over, come see me...yeah?" His gold pinky ring catches the light as he rubs his lips, drawing an unfair attention. You can only nod as any words feel jumped on the tip of your tongue. A sheen of something mirroring pride cast in his eyes and it leaves you going over everything you have done for his class.

You wonder if you made a mistake where he will offer extra credit, your mind drifting to a more illicit way your inexperienced body was willing to give it. You fidget in the worry of your lip and fingers in rush through your hair before ultimately coming to the dreaded final moment of the class.

"Remember that my office is closed on Tuesday." He calls to the class, most in a rush to carry on with whatever collegiate party is already beginning across campus. Meanwhile, you wait until the room clears until finally standing.

Your legs feel unstable as you come to his desk as he has his back turned but a smirk in the tilt of of his head as he pulls up a paper.

Your paper.

Of those you have aced, you understand precisely why it is that he holds it with such regard.

"I dont want to have to fail you..." Your breath squeezes only the gasp of an exhale.

"Please Mister Cameron-" His brows knit and his jaw clenches in anger.

"Mister," he unwinds his fists at the title and pulls tension from his neck with a cock of it. "Cameron was my father..." He issues a step forward, expensive cologne awakens your want to humor whatever mischief dances behind his eyes.

"You can call me sir." The swallow is heavy as you nod.

"Y-yes sir."

"You're an innocent little thing aren't you?" He asks in a turn around his desk, the words almost unbelievable if not for the grin lifting half of his mouth in amusement.

"I-"

"You would have to be to misunderstanding the subject. Almost like you haven't...been intimate." You swallow and it meets somewhere against the attempt to breathe until you are rigid.

You wonder if it is obvious.

How can be possibly know you're a virgin from the lacking detail of a paper? Why not just assuming you're a prude?

"Now I can't send you into the world," he extends his hand before leading it back in and loose at his side as if exhausted, "with such a misunderstanding. I need you to sit for me." You begin to step in the direction of the front lecture chair before he makes some call between a whistle and distaste. You see him tapping the edge of his desk.

"Here." There is no honey in his tone. It's more like whiskey and you have an overwhelming pull to be intoxicated by it.

You place your silhouette on that which he summoned before he turns away and begins to write. He could have written the answers to an upcoming test and all you could focus on was the muscles working against the tight fabric of his shirt.

A snap of his fingers tore you from a vision of the fabric around you as you climbed the length of him as he lay outstretched in bed. Maybe this desk-

"Where is that mind running off to? Hmm?" He asks using his pinky to force a look from you. His touch is limited but enough to send sparks instead of blood through your veins.

"I'm...nervous, Mister-" his brow flexes, "sir..."

He seems pleased. Deeply, sinfully, pleased.

"Let us begin with the act itself as you seemed to glaze over the necessary details..." A diagram stands before you; a man and a woman.

"Have you ever been aroused, Miss Y/LN?" You slowly nod. A moment of silence lay between you as if he wants details. A fire behind his eyes validates this before he moves on.

"It happens as the body's response to stimulation. Foreplay can heighten the response-"

"Foreplay?" You almost whisper, the word somehow dirty.

"Yes. What a boy-or girl does to turn you on..." His expression shifts from contentment to intrigue, almost astonishment.

"A kiss, if done right...a caress..." His head cocks as he steps just against the skin of your legs. "Dirty words for innocent minds needing it to get, in your case...wet." You struggle to breathe. His scene, his proximity, the tension, it's all too much.

"It can be anything tender or vulgar, up to the taste of the person. In my experience, it's the gentle stimulation of a girl that makes her the most ready..."

"L-like what s-sir?"

"Like... rubbing her nipples....kissing her neck....juuust tracing her clit." The images flash for all but the last.

"You've never had anyone touch you there before have you, Miss Y/LN." He is impossibly close, the features you managed to fantasize over are amplified until you're breathless.

You can only shake your head, too embarrassed.

"Mmm...There are different kinds of people. Some who like to rush. Some who prefer to take their time. Me, I'm a proactive type of person, but I digress...I prefer to show...not tell...May I?" He motions for your thighs and you nod, your body alive by its own ambition as you can only wait in awe.

Your first touch. From HIM.

"Take your hand and feel." You shouldn't. Someone could come in. Someone could report you or him. He could lose his job. You could get kicked off campus. But the heat behind his eyes makes you tempt the reasons and worries until you're obeying.

"There's so many sensitive little parts there, but my favorite is that little button-" When your eyes are heavy he grins. "There...." His hand is over yours, not touching more than the skin of your fingers and yet it is erotic beyond that of your own touch.

"Do exactly what feels good..." He leans over you, dragging his nose along your shoulder as he inhales.

"Dammit..." You whimper as he looks with lustful eyes narrowed in need.

"Foreplay for a man?" He unbuckles himself, the sound of buckle and stretched vinyl resonate through you.

"To stroke..." He gently escorts your hand, giving plenty of time to pull away, but you only feel beckoned. Only it isn't to wrap around him, he holds your palm upright.

"Spit on it. Get it really wet." You pause before he uses his other hand to your jaw, his thumb guiding your mouth open.

"Tongue out." He spits and you are tempted to swallow the taste of him. You obey instead, as he motions exactly where he wants it. You then lubricate his hand in your dual spittle until he drives it against him.

"Oh yeah...." His head comes back, eyes closed, apple of his throat bobbing in unkempt pleasure. "Rub your thumb over the head-ohhh yeah...yeah yeah yeah..." His brows clench and his jaw falls slack as his eyes open to you, unrecognizable of the man who taught you since early fall.

"Did I say to stop touching that sweet little pussy?" You heat to his words, never heard them towards you, or at all for that matter.

"Keep. Fucking. Rubbing." He issues his order, falling victim to the novice touch sending him into orbit. Such a soft hand on his hard velvet and you feel high knowing you're causing this to him.

"Wh-what else can I do for a man?" He has you standing in a second.

"Your mouth." He pushes you onto your knees, his thick cock dripping and glistening for you.

"And not just a man. Me. Only me. Now open that pretty little throat." He is gentle with your hair in a pet before sliding over your tongue.

"Fuck! How do you know to do that with your tongue?" His eyes turn into slits as he has you against his desk, a cautious hand around your throat.

"Fuck, yes, baby." He manages, the grip worsening but for guidance.

"Just breathe through your nose." The feel of him is madness. You should feel degraded and dirty but you feel empowered and confident, enough to test him. You wrap your tongue around him, using it to taste the veins struggling in pulse against your devoted muscle. You claw at his thighs as he struggles to keep his moans silent and yet neither of you bother to care.

"You lying to me? You let someone between those perfect little thighs? Hmm?"

"N-no!"

He scoffs.

"I bet not even your little fingers know how tight you are. But you're gonna let me know, aren't you?" You nod, hesitation lasting only the duration of doubt silenced by his fingers pushing aside your panties and sheathing inside.

"Oh fuck's sake." He sighs.

"Is it...okay?"

"Okay?! You're so fucking tight I need to get you close or I'm not bust the second I get inside."

"You're gonna..."

"Say it."

"You're gonna fuck me?"

"Just like I've imagined since you first walked into my class. But first. I'm getting you ready because I don't wanna hurt you. At least not yet..." He lowers himself and uses two fingers to beckon you to the edge of the desk. Sitting in his chair as it screams beneath him, he pulls you dependent on his arms as he keeps his eyes on you.

"Another way to stimulate a woman..." He uses the tip of his tongue as his finger holds the panties aside. It's explorative at first until purpose comes when he meets your clit.

"Do not fight it. I need it." He pulls you against his face. "I fucking need it." He proves it in the starvation of his taste. He savors and attacks in equal measure, his mouth never leaving as his hot breath only amplifies the sensation.

"Ohhh yeah baby...ride my fucking tongue." Your body obeys that which you struggle to rein in. He forces your hips when you still, until your body buckles.

"Come! Now!" He growls, vibrations from his order pull you to the edge as his two fingers inside stroke a patch of nerves send you over.

"Oh!" You cry out, his name burning in your throat. "Sir" feels too distant for the way you feel so vulnerable to him.

"I need to be inside you right fucking now." You nod viciously as he stands, not caring to wipe his mouth, as you see yourself having wet him. Curious and looking for an excuse, you pull him to you and kiss him.

"A way to please a girl...kiss." You manage as he growls.

"Fuck!" He takes you against his mouth, pushing himself inside you at the same time to cause a distraction. Immediate pressure stills you as pain lingers in the horizon.

"Fucking is meant to be for procreation but we have fun trying." He scoffs. "You. Nobody else fucking gets to try with you. Got it? You need it, you come to me! Shit!" He recants, pulling out enough to see you coat his cock. "Say it."

"You."

"Good girl." He thrusts, your breath taken as a stinging pain surprises you from the pleasure he brought you.

"That was your hymen. You're gonna be sore and you're still gonna fucking take it." You grip onto his shoulders and feel him take you as he pleases. Your body is wound tight until he kisses your neck, your collarbone, and up around to your ear. You can't adjust to anything as he leads a hand to your throat and guides you backwards until you meet the desk. Papers shove beneath you as he moves with fluid abandon.

Like waves to a shore, if the waves were turbulent from a storm that was Rafe Cameron.

His weight pins you flat in the thrashing you wish to make freely, your thighs shake, and he continues. You try to speak but feel compressed in the need to hear his grunts, so eager and delicious. You wish to taste them but in the try see him reach over you and to the rim of the desk, gripping it tightly.

"Mine. Fucking mine. Pussy-ass, lips, say it. Say you won't leave." There's something sad behind his eyes, former neglect bleeding from his desperations that still come out more as orders.

"I ..I won't."

"Good-ah girl." He hoists your leg over his hip and dives into you.

"That pressure building is an orgasm. Since you already got one...you're gonna wait until I come before you get your next one." He stands between your legs, the sight of him inside you making you gape. His grin should be illegal as he licks his lips and drags his thumb along the swollen bottom half.

He takes your ankles and leads them beside his ears as he uses his forearm to pin your calves to his chest.

"Deeper is always better. You can change angles."

"How many?"

"Don't worry, baby, you're gonna know them all." He leans forward, constricting your breath as he pounds.

"Oh fuck yes..." He seethes behind clenched teeth, such passion masked in vulgarities.

"You feel me? My cum wants to fill you up until it drops down your thighs. Gonna take it? You can also let me...ahh shit ...you can let me fill your mouth or just cover you ..."

"Wherever you want, Sir."

"Ugh fuck-you need to tell me. I need to hear you say it." He grips your neck again, slowly teasing you with slow depth and shallow speed. "I need to see your innocent little lips dirty for me."

"Come inside me!"

"Yeah? You want it inside?"

"Please!"

"Ohhh you're gonna fucking get it...so...fucking...deep." He becomes unhinged, his muscles tightening as he pounds you into the desk. Reports and essays crinkle in ruin beneath you as he burrows into your neck, kissing only to bruise your skin.

"Say it again."

"C-come inside me, sir. Please."

"Take it." He growls. "You're gonna feel it and you're gonna come because I fucking said so. So...come!" He growls, a pressure building from your toes now surges through you completely. The tight coil in your stomach unwinds between your legs and you coat him as he spills inside you.

"Fuck!" He erupts, the tremors of release coursing through you both.

"And now... you have me inside you. And since I didn't use a condom..." Your eyes widen.

"Sir..."

"Naive little Y/N, you're mine now.."

You struggle to rise, half in astonishment and half in fear. Your body aches in the pull he made to your virtue, in smithereens at his hands and beneath his devilish grin.

"You will come back on Tuesday..." You remember him telling the class his office was closed that day.

"But you said..."

"Tuesdays are for us." He kisses your lips, leaving behind a softness unexpected and almost forbidden. He doesn't even bother to look over your shoulder as he leaves but you long to follow him. If not for his words you may have assumed this was a one-time thing. Thankfully in the promise of a few days, you won't have to wait long.

But you know it will slowly chip away at you.

Consume you.

And you look forward to Tuesday above all else just to be touched by Mister Cameron.

MASTERLIST

[fraugwinska]

I'm so in love with your writing!!!! If you are doing requests could you write about the first time Alastor and his darling spend the night together? Maybe they are up late listening to music and his darling suggests he stay the night. They are new to the whole relationship thing and Alastor is awkward but agrees. Could be a touch spicy but mostly just fluff. <3

I did a unique take on this, I hope you don't mind, my lovely Anon? I had the inspiration for it in a fleeting moment and just started to type, remembering your ask... And I kinda love what came out of it! :> As always, @macabr3-barbi3 was my rock and my anchor during the writing process - you have too much patience with me, love! <3

And a huge 'Thank you' to the lovely, ever-so-talented @minkdelovely for prereading this for me to find the perfect title for this story. You are both an inspiration and a delight, and I truly appreciate you, my darling!

Kissing was something Alastor had slowly gotten used to. Kissing you, that is.

You had made it easy for him, he'd give you that. Patience is a virtue rarely found in hell, but when the turning point in his friendship with you tipped the scale to the side of more amorous realms, the Radio Demon, normally superior and confident, had found himself to be exceedingly useless. The lines between companionship and partnership were drawn by his mind rather than physical barriers, and crossing them alone had been a tremendous effort for him. Alastor had never thought he'd feel anything for another sinner, hell, the bare concept of feeling was generally strange to him.

Love was something that had been intimately intertwined with the feeling he had for his mother. So pure, and so lost and unretrievable after her untimely death. To feel this similar yet completely different kind of love for you? Unimaginable, and yet, there you were. And with an unbelievable ease you slowly took root in his mind, weaving your way into his thoughts and settling in his heart without you putting in real conscious effort. Had your encounters been mostly accidental and brief at first, Alastor found himself longing to walk into you more and more before actively seeking your company. To you, he was never unwelcome, in complete contrast to the other residents of the hotel, who tended to avoid or flee from him whenever they could. Whether he would be annoyingly chatty in amusement, hurtful in cold anger or buzzing with excitement (and sometimes murderous glee) - you entertained his whims, listened intently or soothed him with a few chosen words, always finding the right ones.

You shift in his arms, your head leaning a little in to grant his hungry mouth better access to yours with a small, delicious sigh, ignoring or maybe even blissfully unaware that your lips must've caught on his teeth somewhere along the line and ripped open, thin, beautiful crimson lines slowly running down the sides of your mouth. He always said that red suited you best.

Your differences made you quite an odd sight in hell's scenery. What many could only admire with a good dose of fear was never scary to you and the fact you openly regarded the Radio Demon with polite respect and genuine endearment left quite an impression on the others - so much so that it had earned you the hushed title 'Daddy-Deer Whisperer', bestowed by the ever-so-childish Angel Dust. It was when he caught you scolding Angel for using that expression and spreading his usual slander about him with a rare display of open anger that he first felt the gentle tug in his chest that has since remained whenever you were near Alastor. At first, he had shrugged it off as another of his eccentricities, or perhaps hunger pangs he hadn't fulfilled for a while (A very likely thing given his... appetite). But it persisted whenever you looked at him with that little smile on your lips, and he knew. Knew that he had to have you, and that you would be his, in good time. He could never have imagined how easy that would turn out to be, how accommodating to his needs you were from the moment you acknowledged his advances, and were able to keep up with his admittedly glacial pace from then on. While no one dared to ridicule him to his face, the others were comfortable enough around you to tease you for having a partner that seemed so uninterested in physical attention. Well.

While they were not completely mistaken, they didn't know all there was to Alastor the demon with the eternal smile. The foreignness of what it meant to touch and love and the, he had to say it, pitiful lack in experience made Alastor hesitant for the first time in both of his lifes. How could he publicly display his affections when he could barely bring himself to show them in the confines of your company alone? Yet you never demanded anything physical from him, and he realized with a startle that you were perfectly content with just being with him. Where it had taken him weeks to consider kissing you for the first time, it took another couple or so to slowly allow his touches to drift from a brief grasp on an elbow or waist to a tighter grip, resting a hand at the small of your back, enjoying the sensation of your hip bone gently pressing into his palm, pulling you a little bit closer as your hands ran over his arms. In his embrace your arms found their natural place on his shoulders, the weight becoming familiar and calming to him. Until one day, it wasn't anymore. One day he noticed, truly recognized the feeling of you in his arms and found himself struggling not to pull you even closer. And without much thinking, his lips had been on yours, chaste almost and testing, savoring the contact and tasting you without the need to devour. And he found that with you, only you, just a taste was so much more satiating.

It was the first of many kisses shared, but to Alastor, this one held a special significance. You had been stunned, yes, but when he withdrew, overstimulated and unsure of his actions, he found neither judgment or reproach, only a silent smile and a hint of blush on your cheeks before you had returned the affection in your own, respectful way that he appreciated so much - soft pressure and warmth enveloping his hands - and a change of topic, easing him into a lighthearted conversation that had lasted hours, just to calm his nerves. Since then, Alastor has held on to these memories, his firsts with you. And there were countless - all kept near to your heart. Charlie, Angel and Niffty could pester you with any intrusive, interrogating question, you would only smile at them and repeat the same sentiment: What you see is the only thing you get to know.

"Alastor?"

"Hm?" Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and his eyes focus on your beautiful face where he sees your brows furrowed with what he learned is concern.

"Is everything okay? You seemed to be somewhere else."

Ah, you were worried. For him. As you always were, so susceptible to his needs, as if it was natural to you. Another peculiarity and yet an incredibly welcome thing for a creature like him who found himself on the receiving end of unreciprocated concern very, very rarely.

"Just a little lost in thought is all, my dear."

"We can stop you know, it's almost midnight anyway." you say softly, your hands streaking soothingly over his arm as they slowly retreat from his shoulders.

He pauses, debating if the sensation of your fingertips touching the soft skin below his buzzed undercut, coupled with a very, very warm and inviting kiss had been enough. Had it ever been? Enough? It wasn't that you ever had any expectations of what would come after, seemingly content with anything he'd allow you to have - a softly spoken praise, an elegant compliment or even just peaceful silence before he'd take his leave. And knowing this Alastor suddenly is... displeased with the idea of this moment not lasting.

His claws wrap around your hands, a gentle pull guiding them back to their rightful place, back to the nape of his neck. He enjoys the rare sight of your surprised and red-flushed face before he let his lips trail your jawline, relishing in the way your skin breaks into goosebumps under his mere breath and fleeting touch before he speaks.

"I'm not so sure about that. Being able to stop, that is."

And he's true to his words. A searing fire is lit when your lips meet his again and his body tenses as he tries and fails to restrain the feeling it coaxes within him. Alastor wants to stay this time, wants to hold this miraculous thing that loves him so undeservingly close, wants to experience the feeling of skin on skin in your pristine bed sheets as he allows himself a rare night of sleep, with your sweet sighs as his lullaby and soft body as his covers. Another first with you, to add to the collection. And while you were always willing to indulge him, he feels, in the way you were pressing into him in cautious urgency, the whine that slips beyond the restriction of your bitten lips and the tremble of your fingers that you weaved into his hair, that this is - finally - what you, maybe for the first time, selfishly crave for, too.

Patience is a virtue, yes, but after all this saintly time he'd allow the both of you the sin of greed for a night.

[lxkeee]

⋆.˚ ⭒˚FLY ME TO THE MOON ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

—part two

pairing: lucifer morningstar x fem! archangel raphael! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: friends to enemies, so it's angsty

notes: hehehehe idk yeah, this is now a series of sort 🤯 also, eat well simps /affectionate. I'll be basing off the seven virtues' appearance off from esbellesantos' Fanart but I wouldn't like fully follow their headcanon personality and make a different personality for them.

Part One | Part Three | THE SEVEN VIRTUES

So many years have passed after Lucifer's trial, during those years [y/n]'s gigantic and majestic wings finally grew. Three pairs of majestic wings now prodding on her back, a golden halo on top of her head. The [y/n] that was just a background character has now risen up the ranks, God seeing her potential and granted her the title of archangel, now one of the seven virtues of heaven.

[y/n] who was once upbeat and cheerful has now grown cold and mature as she took the responsibility god has placed upon her shoulders. Heart closed to other immortal beings but opened to the mortal ones.

She rules a specific area of the skies, as the seven virtues are tasked to watch their own territory and to make sure to maintain peace and order with the heavenly beings.

She sat on the chair just by her balcony, a small table in front of her. A cup of steaming coffee on the table as she read a newspaper containing some daily heavenly news. A gold wedding ring on her ring finger. She stared at the bright, white, and blue scenery outside her home. Clouds all over the place, other lower ranked angels flying around.

She lives in a huge mansion by herself despite being married.

“Darling I am here~!” a male spoke as the sound of the door to the living room was slammed open. Speaking of her husband, familiar footsteps tapping on the pristine white and gold marbled tiles as the person arrived to the balcony of the living room.

“Azrael, to what do I owe you the pleasure?” [y/n] asked, gently placing back down her coffee cup on to the table. Tilting her head to look at her husband. Tall, slender, mischievous.

Don't get her wrong, she and Azrael don't like each other romantically but they are more on platonic. They only got married... Well... Because of boredom and they did promised each other to marry each other if they remained single even when they've reached a certain age. They promised to divorce each other if they find the one that is right for them. Despite their odd friendship, the two trust each other a lot. Azrael was one being there for her when Lucifer fell from grace.

“I just have some news to share with you, I think this will catch your interest dear.” Azrael winked at her, leaning against his black staff. Eyes half lidded as he awaited for her reaction.

[y/n]'s eyes stopped moving along the words of the paper she was reading, tilting her head to look at the taller angel with curiosity, eyebrow raised. “Really now? Tell me dearie.” she says with a smirk, lifting her coffee cup and bringing it to her lips.

“Lucifer apparently wants to have a meeting with heaven. He wanted to propose another idea of his.” Azrael says with a smirk, his smirk widening as he watched [y/n] choked on her drink.

She clears her throat, getting the caffeine out of her esophagus. The revelation brought back so many memories that it caught her off guard.

“I'm sorry, what did you say?” she asked again, eyes blinking. Having second thoughts whether she heard him wrong.

Azrael crosses his arms and smirks, “You heard me, he's coming up here to tell us about his plans for the wayward souls down there.”

“Really now?” [y/n] asked with a scoff, wiping her lips with a clean white cloth. She lost her hope in humanity, she believes that the people who didn't properly use the free will gifted to them by Lucifer, shouldn't be given another chance as they wasted that opportunity to live a good life.

“I doubt that the others would agree to whatever plan he has to show.” [y/n] says, sipping her coffee once more.

Azrael laughs, wiping a tear off his eye. “My, you used to agree with his views. To see you disregard his plans before even hearing is just too cruel, [y/n]” he says with a mischievous smile on his face, a sing-song tone in his voice.

“They got gifted free will and look what they have done with it. I believe those souls are better off staying down there and looking back at the times they could've done better.” [y/n] says coldly.

Azrael shrugs, the smirk never leaving his face.

“Well, I don't really care about mortal life that much considering I am the angel of death. My duty is to guide them to the afterlife.” he says, shrugging. Walking to the railings of the balcony and leans his back against it.

“Well, that's the only reason I came here. I have duties to attend to and the meeting will be happening in a few days. I'm sure it would be quite a lovely reunion with all eight of us.” Azrael says with a smirk, excited how the meeting will go with all seven virtues plus Lucifer in the same room. He can tell it would be tense and chaotic.

“Good luck in your work.” [y/n] says with a lazy shrug making the taller angel laugh.

“Adios~” he says before disappearing in a puff of sparkly black smoke.

Turning back to the world outside her home, dull [e/c] eyes looking over the blue horizon. She sighs, closing her eyes as she sighs.

“A meeting huh, it's been awhile since I've last seen him.” she mutters, eyes opening. Cold and calculative. “This should be interesting.”

Timeskip to a few days later...

Lucifer paced back and forth inside his room, a guest room heaven prepared for him. The meeting would happen in two hours and he is beyond nervous. It took so much time to convince them to listen to him but they finally agreed because he persisted.

He expected that it will be only Sera to judge his plans, the anxiety and fear he felt when Sera told him that the seven virtues themselves would grant him an audience to his plans for hell.

He doesn't know much about the seven virtues as it was only implemented a few years after his fall but he knew that it consists of powerful angels that kept the order and peace of heaven. He can list a few angels that are probably one of the seven virtues.

But despite all this, his heart has been aching. He's in heaven, he's standing on the same ground as [y/n]. He misses her, so goddamn much.

Did she miss him too? Probably not.

Remembering how bad their goodbye was, there wasn't any to begin with.

Lucifer sighs, patting up his dark pink suit to ease up the creases. Despite the years that have already gone by, [y/n] never left his heart. He never forgets, every detail of his world no matter how miniscule it is... He can't help but think, [y/n] would've loved this, this is her favorite color, her favorite food, and etc.

He loves Lilith but he also loves [y/n] (more even!) and he knows it's too late to admit that and he's afraid to admit to himself that... He may have made the wrong choice of ignoring her advances.

His gloved hands moved to his collar, adjusting it. “Don't think about her Lucifer, you have a meeting to do and this is for the sake of your people and family.” he says to himself. Taking deep breaths to calm his fast beating heart.

He is ready to propose his plan on making a hotel to redeem sinners.

The seven virtues of heaven sat in a u-shaped table, all seven virtues wearing a mask that hides their faces. In front of them stood a very nervous Lucifer.

Not a single one of them aside from Lucifer talked, they listened to him talk about his plans for hell.

It is a good plan but without proof, it is useless.

“With the hotel, I am sure sinners would find a way to redeem themselves and join you guys here in heaven.” Lucifer says, a nervous smile on his face as he ends his presentation. Standing in front of the seven virtues is a real nerve wrecking. He can sense the power emitting from each and every one of them. One wrong move and he's done for.

“The idea is cute and all but without evidence, this... This is completely useless.” Gabriel says, a bored tone in her voice as she lazily held the folder filled with the details of Lucifer's plan and letting it fall into the table with a loud thud.

Lucifer flinches from her remark and the sound of his hopes and dreams of his people hitting with a loud thud on the table from Gabriel's actions.

“I agree.” Michael says, removing his mask. A mischievous smile on his face. “Lucifer, you don't know what these mortal souls are capable of. How can you be so sure the hotel would work if you yourself aren't sure they wanted to redeem themselves in the first place?” Michael asked, voice filled with authority, eyebrows raised as he asked the question, looking down on his twin brother, Lucifer.

Lucifer flinches, starting to get nervous.

“Well... We wouldn't know if we'd tr—” he says but getting cut off.

“You've never seen the horrors and atrocities these mortal souls commit with their free will. War, corruption, death, murder, drugs... Anything you can name it. What makes you think these people would want to make themselves better?” Jophiel says, his voice shaking. A laugh escaping his lips as he remembers the horrors he's seen on earth, a mocking laughter.

“They're truly terrible, these souls don't have a place here in heaven.” Michael sneered.

Azrael just smirked as he watched the scene unfold, [y/n] keeping quiet beside him. His hand intertwined with hers to comfort her.

“But they're souls, human souls just the same with the one's up here in heaven.” Lucifer defended, clenching his fists.

“They are not the same, the souls here in heaven have earned it.” Camuel says with a smile, finally removing his own mask.

“Ugh, the work I have to do carrying each soul to their destination is quite tiring. Annoying even. Especially when a soul curses at me for bringing them to hell when they only have themselves to blame.” Azrael says with a groan, smirking as he removes his mask. Looking at Lucifer challengingly.

Lucifer's eyes widened at the cruelty of their words, six virtues now staring at him face-to-face, aside from one virtue who kept quiet.

“Well, each one of us already said our opinion aside from Raphael here... Or should I say, [y/n]? Do you have something to say?” Azrael says, a teasing smile on his face. [Y/n] glaring at Azrael as she slightly squeezed his hand.

Lucifer's eyes widened, heart beating faster than ever before when he heard the name. Even more so when the last virtue removed her mask.

Cold, bored, calculative, and dull.

No longer the bright sparkling [e/c] eyes Lucifer loved before.

“Is this even necessary? All of you had already said what needed to be said.” [y/n] says, removing her hand from Azrael's as she leans her elbows on the table. Putting her chin on her knuckle. A lazy and bored look on her face. A shiny gold band on her ring finger, a wedding ring.

She's married? He asked himself but that question isn't too important as he is focused on something else. How cold she is. That something Lucifer isn't quite used to.

The others looked at [y/n] expectantly making the woman sigh, “Very well then, I would have to agree with the others.” she says coldly.

This isn't his [y/n]. Where was the [y/n] who used to be so kind, bright, cheerful, and had hopes for humanity? What happened to her?

Lucifer stood in fear, not knowing how to act now that [y/n] is revealed to be one of his audience.

“Humans. They are selfish and vile creatures. Destroying the planet our creator had given them, killing and hurting their own kind. Poverty, hunger, corruption, death. If you haven't given them the apple, they would be living in peace and harmony and with no worry in eden but you took that away from them and now they're doomed to suffer.” [y/n] coldly explained. “You cannot see it personally and that is your burden to carry, your punishment.”

Lucifer can't speak, mind blanking as a loud ringing was heard on his ears. Hands shaking, he couldn't breathe.

Where was the one person who believed in him? Did he fucked up so much to even lose her too?

“You're really mad huh?” Azrael says, placing a hand over his cheek. A similar gold band on his ring finger. Lucifer's eyes widened.

Azrael is married to her. Lucifer thought. Defeated.

“Well, this court finds no evidence that this hotel would be effective. I suggest you leave now or you'll face the consequences.” Michael says, voice is booming and filled with authority. The other virtues glaring at him. Halo's shining down on Lucifer as if to mock him, to show him that they are in power.

Why do you still look so disappointed in me? More so even?

Lucifer asked, looking at [y/n] who avoided his gaze.

Azrael showing off his wedding ring to him with a smirk on his face, making Lucifer's eye twitch.

“This meeting is over.” Michael says, glaring down on Lucifer. “Leave or else you'll suffer the consequences.” Michael says, angelic weapons now aimed warningly at him.

Fear coursing through his veins, Lucifer left. Despite wanting to stay and talk to her, he couldn't. Poofing away in a cloud of sparkly red smoke.

“You okay?” Azrael asked beside her as they flew back to their respective territories. Passing by many clouds, the skies now have a dark shade of blue as the sun has set a few hours ago.

“Nope, but I will eventually.” she says with a sigh making the dark haired male smile.

“You know, I didn't expect him to be so small. You used to be the same height but now you're taller than him.” Azrael mutters with a small laugh.

“They don't have the sun there, Azrael. They don't have the necessary vitamins to grow taller.” [y/n] says with a small laugh. The joke making the male angel laugh hysterically.

“HAHAHAHA! Since when did you make such jokes [n/n]? A really dark one too!” he says before winking at her, “No pun intended.”

The unintended pun making the girl chuckle. Azrael smiled, happy he got to make her smile after that stressful meeting.

I based off the seven virtues here aside from Raphael and Azrael image.

Also, I based this off from the "more than anything" song that Lucifer tried to look for ways to help his people and also based off from that one panel of an episode (I forgot which one) where he was wearing the same outfit Charlie is wearing, the pink suit? Yeah, I imagined he did the hotel concept and told Charlie about it.

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