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chuluoyi · 6 months ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

the path of love is never easy for you, be it now or back then. love, pain, betrayal and tragedy — you have been through them all. after all is said and done, you just want one chance at happiness. so will your second marriage be what you always want it to be, or will it be one last heartbreak you have to go through?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, hurt/comfort, a lot of fluff, marriage of convenience, explicit smut (semi-public sex), pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of curses

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the final part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.4k ! i'm so happy with how well-received this little series is :') thank you so, so much for reading!

credit header goes to @/poro06625649 in twitter!

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general masterlist | series masterlist

“Satoru...”

Once, to you, love meant complete acceptance. To be able to accept someone so wholly, unquestionably, as they are.

Until you excelled in everything, a stone throw away from perfection even, and Naoya still spurned you.

When you married Satoru out of sheer impulse just to preserve your standing, you thought you had found that kind of love at last. Until it became clear a part of him wanted something else, and you couldn't accept that.

At the same time, you also felt like a hypocrite, because you wanted that love for you, and yet you couldn't give the same to him and even doubted him altogether. Using each other, you had even said.

But right at this moment... none of that mattered anymore.

Not when Satoru forcefully hurled Suguru aside, fought his way through the searing heat, tearing away debris after debris, punching through the remnants of the collapsing pagoda, all while dreadfully screaming your name.

“Where are you!? Gods, answer me!” He looked like a desperate madman. He was hyperventilating, bloodied, and yet he kept violently flinging the debris, determined to find you.

That sight of him struck you straight in the heart. He could've obliterated the whole tower with his ability if he wanted to, but he didn't. Doing so would seal your fate entirely.

He yelled your name once again, pouring his anguish and frustration into the air that his voice grew hoarse. “Where are you!”

If this isn't love, you thought almost tearfully. Then what is?

“Satoru!” and so you forced yourself to walk, despite being on the verge of collapse. Seeing him like this tore your heart to shreds. “Satoru!”

He stopped abruptly, his chest still heaving violently before turning to you. At first, he thought it was the voice inside his head. Everything around him was a chaotic blur, so when he turned to find you standing there, miraculously unharmed, he was stunned.

A shuddering breath escaped him as he gazed at you, the blue in his eyes filled with so much fright you had never seen before. "Y/N...?"

You staggered on your feet, your dress appearing singed at the edges—but you were there, alive.

"What are you doing!?" you admonished, almost in tears. "Why do you hurt yourself like that!?"

Suddenly, it was hard to breathe, but he didn't hesitate. He flung the splinter in his hand away and sprinted towards you, roughly pulling you into his arms.

"—!" he rasped, almost gasping for air, while squeezing the back of your head closer. "Heavens, I thought... I thought you were—!"

Satoru was trembling so badly in your embrace, unable to utter another word as he buried his face in your shoulder. He was beyond shaken—grunting, taking sharp breaths, and holding you so tightly that it left you at a loss of words.

He only pulled back once, albeit shakily, to have a good look of your face. There was one bruise on your cheek and you were covered in soot.

But you were still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"I'm fine..." you tried reassuring him, lips wobbling, placing a hand on his palm that touched your face. "I'm fine now..."

Then Satoru pulled you close again, and you came willingly. Simply holding you, he inhaled the scent of the roses mixed with ash in your hair, feeling your breath on his neck.

To see this man, usually so self-assured, reduced to such a mess out of fear for you touched you deeply. You nestled closer to him, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

In that moment, as you two clung to each other, nothing else matters.

"You've always coveted what I have..."

The ice in your eyes and the chill in your words felt like a curse. Hanabi was beside herself every day ever since she had left Western Empire. No way, she even saw you in her dreams!

Granted, her impulsiveness had almost cost her everything. She shouldn't have placed that curse on the necklace— she shouldn't have dared to attempt it in the first place.

But seeing that piece that had tied you two together—the testament to Naoya's remaining affection for you, however small it was—made Hanabi burn with jealousy. Why did he remember you still? Hadn't he dethroned you and chosen her?

Also, why did you put it as if she had been trying to take all that you had? She was now a royal consort, she was just demanding what she was due!

"...and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

Hanabi shivered as an intense chill seemed to enter her body, spreading rapidly to her limbs and brain, immobilizing her. What is it? Why are your words struck her to the core?

"My lady, are you alright?" her attendant walked up to her as she clutched her chest.

"I-I..." Hanabi faltered, trying to even her breath. "I'm not feeling that well..."

"Shall I get the physician? You do look pale..."

"Please do."

Damn you. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. You must've cursed her, that must be it! Why else did she keep hearing your voice?

"Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

No, she had come this far. Even if she couldn't have Naoya's favor, even if she couldn't become the empress... she would fight tooth and nail to remain a consort.

After all, all her life, she was meant for this.

. . .

And true to her conviction... once again, fortune favors the bold.

"My lady, congratulations! You're with child!"

Hanabi blinked at the cheerful royal physician as he delivered the news. "R-really? Are you... sure?"

"Certainly! Oh, this is great news! The emperor will surely be delighted by this news!"

For a full minute, Hanabi sat there, stunned in amazement. She had really done it, and if it was a boy this time, then...

"Aha..." she burst into a small titter then, before breaking into a full-blown laugh. "Ahahaha!"

You're wrong, Empress Y/N. This time, I will show you.

"Congratulations, my lady!" the ladies around her gathered, showering her with praises. And Hanabi knew that finally, her time had come.

True paradise begins in hell. And now, I've risen from that hell.

Contrary to what you told Satoru, you were, in fact, not fine.

Shoko was the one who led you out of the burning pagoda, sustaining burns herself in the process. Immediately after you found Satoru, who was frantically on the verge of losing his sanity searching for you, you collapsed in his arms.

You had inhaled a significant amount of smoke, there was a gash in your arm, and you were even bleeding due to the stress.

And therefore, you were put on bedrest for the next upcoming weeks by the royal physician's orders and by extension, Satoru's.

However, during those three weeks, Satoru never visited you even once.

. . .

"Are you sure you're well enough to be walking around already?"

After being confined to your bedchamber for what felt like forever, you decided to take a stroll in the royal gardens. Shoko was the one in charge of watching you like a hawk these days. She didn't usually follow you around—you noticed she often went out on her own—but lately, she insisted on being by your side.

"Mm-hmm, I'm perfectly well now, Shoko," you gave her a smile as you admired the blue roses in the bushes. "You don't have to keep an eye on me all the time. I'm feeling better already."

You would be lying if you said you didn't miss your husband. A part of you of course wanted Satoru to check on you, or at least, your baby. Three weeks had passed, and your belly was now rounder and heavier.

"Oh, well... That's good then..."

Shoko seemed a bit unsure, frowning even, and you had your guesses, so you decided to bite the bullet. "How is Satoru these days?"

"Eh?"

"You must've seen him. He isn't avoiding you like he does me."

"Your Majesty..." Shoko let out a long sigh, seemingly exasperated and sorry at the same time, and you knew you hit the mark with it. "He's well, don't worry too much about him."

"Is he taking enough breaks?"

"He— err, I'm not really sure about that."

"Then, next time you see him, along with my general condition, tell him that I want him to do so."

You didn't mean to make Shoko uncomfortable, and if you did, then it was most definitely not what you intended. You just wanted a way to communicate with your brooding husband, that was all.

"You absolute imbecile! This is beyond ridiculous, why are you refusing to meet your own wife and talk to her?!"

If it had been anyone other than Countess Shoko, they would have certainly been hanged for their outrageous words against the emperor.

Satoru actually felt bitter for not visiting you ever since that day of the fire. Truth to be told, he was worried sick, the terror of thinking you might have perished in the blaze still lingered with him to this day.

He wanted nothing more than to hug you and bury his face in yours. He genuinely wanted you to be well and safe, always. Preferably, if he could keep you close too.

So, why did he avoid you on purpose?

First, the utter awkwardness. Second, the very fact that you had allowed those scums from Eastern Empire to be released. He still couldn't accept it, no matter how. In his eyes, you did it out of love for Naoya.

And that, in and of itself, was like a betrayal of his heart.

"She is becoming unhappy," Shoko noted earlier, frustration evident in her tone. "And on some nights, she also experiences hip pains due to carrying your baby. You're heartless if you don't even come to look at her even once!"

But then, Satoru felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. His unborn child.

...he had left you more or less alone now, hadn't he?

In reality, you preferred the secluded comfort of your study over the royal gardens.

And yet, that beloved study Satoru gifted you on the day he married you and you became the empress of Western Empire felt constricting lately. You almost felt claustrophobic.

Maybe it was the burgundy walls, or perhaps it was the sting of bitterness in your chest that you tried to suppress so others wouldn't see. You didn't really care which though.

So, you often wandered through the gardens to enjoy the fresh air, and at times, stopping by the spot where the pagoda once stood.

Nothing. Now that was all that left. The image of a once-beautiful tower reduced to dust and the scorched earth evoked a sense of loss within you, and what made it more painful was knowing that you were the one responsible for its destruction.

But still, what hurt the most was... what had happened to the man who had trembled with fear, believing you might not have escaped the burning pagoda? Why had he spared you with nothing at all?

"Meow..."

You looked at the squirming cat in your arms, his fluffy tail tickling you. "Oh, Sugu-chan, do you want to take a walk too?"

The clear blue eyes of Satoru's pet cat looked back at you demurely before he leapt out of your arms and trotted ahead, as if leading the way.

With nothing better to occupy your time, you often played with Sugu-chan to amuse yourself these days. The cat, with its gentle disposition, frequently curled up next to you for comfort and he somehow made those days better.

"Sugu-chan, don't stray too far!" you called out, trailing closely behind him. Knowing well that you weren't well enough to chase after him should he run off, you watched to ensure he didn't disappear from sight. "Oh!"

And sigh, he did just that. Sugu-chan leapt into the bushes, prompting you to release a resigned breath before navigating through the maze-like foliage.

"Sugu-chan, where are youuu?" you drew a breath, glancing around in confusion. "If only you were calmer like your namesake..."

After navigating several corners, you turned another and spotted a fluffy white fur, and you swore to the skies that you would yank Sugu-chan by his tail if he were to wander off again, when—

"Meooow!"

"Bad, bad cat! Why did you bite me—!?"

—and there you saw your husband, crouching down as he clutched his hand, before he whipped his head to look at you—

"Satoru," you straightened your back by instinct, your heartbeat quickening.

His eyes turned blank for a second, before those blue pools regarded you with a look you couldn't really discern. "Y/N."

. . .

It was awkward silence throughout the way. You didn't even realize when you had arrived at Satoru's study.

You had wanted this unsettling atmosphere between you to end. Why couldn't both of you just be honest already? You were about to voice your thoughts when suddenly Satoru, who had his back on you, suddenly said:

"I will not have a scandal. Therefore, you will behave in a way that nothing is known against you. In return, you will retain your privileges as the empress of the Western Empire, and continue to fulfill your duties."

That? That's the first thing he said to you after those weeks sonorous silence? This stiff, faux nonsense of him pardoning you of your supposed treason?

"Is that all you have to say to me?" you blurted almost immediately, feeling your anger rising. "After everything—"

"After everything— yes." Satoru's back was still facing you, his light blue robes shifted slightly as he tucked his hands inside his pocket pants. "Despite everything, I have nothing but concern for you, Empress. And your act of treason— even if you take no offense, I still consider it a stain on my name to let a pair of criminals go free. Consider it my generosity that I decided to overlook it."

Your body felt like shaking, his strained and formal words irked you, and at the same time, pierced through your heart and tore it to pieces.

"I've told you— I can't let Megumi be condemned for a deed he hasn't committed," you stated firmly, staring hard at his back as if you could bore a hole through him. "He is a kind boy, he used to be my ward. And you know as well as I do, he isn't capable of such a thing!"

"What about that consort—the woman who overtook your place?" he suddenly turned to face you, and the expression on his face almost made you shrink. There was no emotions in his eyes, just a dark hue of blue. "She was the one staging it, wasn't she?"

"I'm not vindictive enough to sentence her to her death here, Satoru." The more you argued about this, the more you felt like you were losing him. "Naoya will deal with her as he sees fit."

The mention of your ex-husband seemed to trigger something in him that his lips curled into a sneer.

"So much trust you place in him. As I thought, I should've never expected the same for me. Granted, we're just using each other, aren't we?"

Your own words thrown back at you, it felt like your shattered heart was being stomped on and reduced to dust, because how could he?

Still, you blinked away your tears, steeling yourself with the one fact even Satoru wouldn't be able to refute. "You said it yourself—you intend to use me for your war against the Eastern Empire. How am I not supposed to see that as you using me?"

You let out a scoff when Satoru wasn't able to answer you, but then suddenly it occurred to you that there might be another reason, one you had suspected, and yet still not able to make sense of.

"I'd think jealousy is insulting to you, so why?" you questioned, suddenly feeling a sense of betrayal. "Why is it that you can't believe that I can love you the same way I did Naoya? Or possibly even more?"

To Satoru, that very thought still felt like a thorn inside his chest. How you managed to see through him almost made his facade falter—

"And if you feel that it's unfair to you how you're the one who keeps proving yourself—then tell me," you suddenly demanded with a gritted teeth. "How am I supposed to believe you've loved me when I know marrying me came at just the right time for your goals?"

"That's not true!" he suddenly raised his voice, all pretentiousness forgotten. Right in this moment, to your surprise, he no longer resembled the cold, distant emperor he seemed to be.

“From the very moment you led me by the hand twenty years ago, I’ve longed for you! And now that I finally have you— it goes beyond mere infatuation or obsession! Heavens help me, but fuck it— I love you so damn much!”

It was everything. Satoru had poured his entire heart out in one go, believing it would be enough, until he saw you trembling, visibly holding back tears.

Your pretty eyes widened as you took in his confession. Your precious lips parted slightly, wobbling in effort to hold yourself together—

—until you felt light all of a sudden, as if the boulder in your heart had came crashing down, as if you had let go of all fears, and a small chuckle escaped you.

"You said, the woman you thought to have a semblance of affection for you doesn't exist," your voice was uneven but you tried so hard to sound clear, a relieved smile forming on your lips. "But she does. I do."

“I love you, Satoru.” The first of your tears fell then, and your voice came out in a sob. “I believe I love you. I'm the happiest while being with you. And so, to hear you say that I'm just a part of your plans makes me so incredibly sad, I—”

“I just want… the honest truth from you.” You took a deep breath to steady yourself, your eyes glistening like diamonds as you fought back the tears.

He swore something inside him twisted and bled at your voice, and suddenly, nothing else mattered—

Not when you have bared everything.

Before he could think, he took two decisive strides towards you and pulled you into his arms.

"Don't cry..." he pulled you tighter into him. "I'm sorry— don't cry, sweetheart, please—"

You kept sniffling into him, and Satoru felt his heart break then, as never had he seen you so utterly dejected that you surrendered in his arms.

How was it possible that the mere realization and sight of your genuine affection and tears reduced him to a man who would give up everything for you?

“It’s true, I have been planning to wage war against Eastern Empire for years. I took measures to keep them in check, and I do think having you by my side would definitely give me an advantage. But that’s not it... when I saw how you were being wronged there, I was even more convinced it was the rightest thing to do.”

He loves you. Even if he had committed various things, be it heinous or deceptive, one truth that transcends all is that his love for you is genuine.

“You mean so much to me,” he whispered into your ear, his hand tracing along your spine. “Everything else might be true, but you— no, I have loved you first before everything.”

Oh. You looked up to him, finding his clear, steadfast gaze on you. So this is how he is like when he isn’t hiding behind that crafty smile. When he is being most truthful.

The overflowing emotions obliterated whatever doubts you had left. You felt full. A profound, pervasive sense of love radiated through your myriad thoughts.

And to him, nothing was more liberating than knowing that you returned his love with equal fervor.

You felt bliss... utter bliss.

You didn't really know when you fell asleep, but it felt like the best rest you had in ages. For weeks, you had been waking up in the middle of the night, either in cold sweat or feeling tingling, barely-there stabs in your growing belly. On those nights, you would clutch the pillow beside you for comfort.

But tonight, you felt warm, and the first thing you noticed was Satoru's hair right in your face. He had laid his head above your chest, and his fingers were gently stroking your visible bump.

"Satoru...?" you asked sleepily, and he immediately turned to you in slight surprise.

"Did I wake you?" he looked almost alarmed. "Or do you feel any kind of pain or—?"

"No, just—" and you bit your lip when that familiar stab of pain shot through your hips. Your hand pressed against the spot as you let out a small grunt.

"Hey, what do you feel now?" Satoru immediately moved beside you, capturing you in the warmth of his embrace. "Does it hurt much? Do I need to call for—"

"No need to, it's fine—"

"It's not fine," he firmly retorted, his jaw set in a tight line. "The royal physician will come here first thing in the morning and that's final."

A faint smile formed in your lips as you curled closer and sighed contentedly into him. "Whatever you wish then, Your Majesty."

Satoru took that as a hint of sarcasm, but he simply pressed you closer and placed his warm hand over the spot where your hand rested. "Shoko told me. How long have you been enduring this?"

"Fairly recently, actually. A few weeks or so..."

I never knew. He berated himself because how would he be aware of this when he had completely shut you down? The stress must've gotten to you, and you were so delicate right now...

"Sorry," he sighed into your hair, his voice so quiet it was almost unheard. "From now on, everything that makes you uncomfortable, please tell me."

You looked up at him, searching his face, and when your innocent eyes met his, he relented.

"I'll do everything in my power to ensure you have a smooth journey in delivering our child." His words, sharp yet genuine, made your heart nearly leap out of your chest. "I hate seeing you in any sort of discomfort."

He fretted over you this much and yet he used to think you wouldn't show him the same affection in return. That was so ridiculous when you thought about it now.

"Ah," you giggled freely, wrapping your arms tight around him, and Satoru was taken aback at how that simple affirmation from you made something inside him feel lighter.

His endearing queen, who loved him back, now right in his arms. As he massaged your waist, he thought back to many years of careful planning and schemes, just for one particular goal...

“Not anymore,” he told you quietly, and you sleepily blinked your eye open. “I love you too much to break your heart.”

“Hmm?”

You were puzzled, and could feel his hot breath at such a close distance. And then those blue crystal of eyes met yours, full of warmth, and the corners of his lips curved into a soft smile, one that caught you by the heart.

“I’m made of many things. The emperor of this land, a soldier of many ambitions... but in the end, just a man.” His voice was languid and yet so gentle that it almost lulled you to sleep again. “If it were up to me, I’d have no qualms with warring the Eastern Empire. But now... I no longer wish to do that.”

Anticipation surged within you at his words, but still...

Noticing your reluctance, Satoru pinched your cheek and smiled. "It's not what you want. I thought I could proceed with it even if it'd leave you heartbroken... but apparently I can't."

And with his next proclamation, you knew without a doubt that this time, they were truer than anything else.

“And do you know? Because I love you, I’m willing to do anything for you. Mark my words, my queen— From now on... Heaven and earth, I would give it all to you.”

"Mm..." Whether it was your hormones or the sheer sincerity that shone through his words, tears were brimming in your eyes as Satoru gave you his oath. "Thank you... for thinking of me."

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He dipped his head to press a kiss on your lips and you were about to snuggle closer to him when you felt that familiar flutter and suddenly let out a gasp—

"Satoru!" you exclaimed, almost startling him, but you immediately reached out and placed his hand on your belly. "Feel it!"

And then, his eyes widened slightly. It was the most wondrous moment he had ever experienced in his life as he felt the baby inside you kick and ripple beneath his palm.

"Ah..." he exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Baby... she moves..."

The very idea of a precious baby girl that was an exact replica of you suddenly made his heart lurch. Satoru swore in that moment to protect her with his life... he didn't know it was possible, but he was already in love with her even when she wasn't born yet.

"Why are you so sure it's a girl?" you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and smooched his jaw when he was rendered speechless. "I want a boy, you know."

Satoru snapped out of his trance and sullenly huffed. "I still hope it's a girl. I want a princess I can spoil rotten."

"I want a baby boy who looks like you." Your sincere wish surprised him, and he turned to you in bewilderment. "That way, even when you're away, I won't miss you as much since I still have the little prince near me."

"Ha." Satoru feigned a snort to cover the faint blush steadily gathering in his cheeks. Good heavens, how cute was it that he wanted a girl who resembled you and you wanted a boy just so he'd look like him? He was so giddy that he failed to come up with a witty comeback for you.

Pure bliss. After everything, this is your life from now on.

Shoko stood in front of your chambers the next morning, her heels clacking like a ticking watch of doom.

Unlike the everlasting frown etched on her face, she was actually in a dilemma, debating her choices outside your chambers. It was late morning already, but she'd hate to go in if you were not alone.

If she went ahead and caught you with Gojo on your bed—and worse, naked—with her own eyes... no, it was unthinkable what the sight would do to her. She would never recover. She would spew unforgivable profanities and Gojo might have her banished for real.

"What are you doing?"

Shoko whirled around so fast to suppress her shriek, and shot a look of distaste as soon as she saw who was behind her—Duke Geto. "Don't sneak up on me like that! You're not small like Sugu-chan!"

Suguru, prim and neat with his tied bun and black robes, raised one eyebrow, clearly swallowing any comments regarding the cat. "What are you doing, loitering in the hallway?"

"The empress hasn't woken up yet, and it's nearly midday. She has engagements with the master of tea parties later."

"Don't bother. Satoru's there. He'll most likely tell you that her schedule can be rearranged, and his word is law."

Shoko barked a laugh and Suguru too broke into a smile.

"So, they're good now?"

"Yeah... seems so."

"Thank fuck. Gojo owes me one for this."

The two friends chuckled again, relieved to know that the cold war between both of you had ceased.

Suguru leaned against the wall, his eyes crinkled at a memory. "Don't you remember those days, when Satoru used to watch the empress at each and every ball we attended, back when she was still the crown princess?"

Shoko crossed her arms, letting out a loud snort. "Oh yes. Everyone talked about him. The prince smitten by a rival country's betrothed... his reputation took a hit, but he never cared."

"I never took him seriously until recently. He was so adamant in his plans for the East that I thought... maybe it was all just to realize his war plans."

"Geto... don't tell me," the countess eyed her longtime friend incredulously. "Have not seen enough of the empress' paintings hanging in the halls? Is that not convincing enough for you?"

Throughout almost one year of your marriage, Satoru had commissioned at least five paintings of you to hang in the palace halls. Servants, members of parliament, and peerage must have seen at least one of your pictures whenever they turned a corner.

"If that's not stupidly in love, I didn't know what that is." Shoko shook her head with a smile. "Gojo has been spellbound for like years. I just never thought he'd really have her in the end though."

Suguru and Shoko had been by Satoru’s side for many years. Suguru was the closest to him still, and he had seen his friend for everything he was.

And knowing that Satoru was genuine in choosing this path, all Suguru could do was be happy for him.

“Life always has its ways… heh, I suppose all’s well that ends well.”

SOME MONTHS LATER . . .

"There, there, Sugu-chan!"

Suguru flinched. Satoru snickered.

"Meow!"

And you continued to tickle the white cat happily, seated a few feet away from both of them with a broad grin on your face.

"Should... Her Majesty be so close to the cat?" Suguru eventually asked, casting a skeptical gaze on you. The presence of the feline was certainly not what he expected when he entered Satoru's study per his summons. "It's dirty often and may affect her health."

"No, no... I never let him walk outside anymore and he has to be cleaned all times before the empress plays with him." Satoru's sly smile was a clear sign of taunt. "Suguru~ Won't you play with him too?"

Suguru shot him a withering look, his eyes twitching again the moment you addressed the cat by his childhood nickname.

"Oh, Sugu-chan, you're so gentle..." you exclaimed with a giggle. Your fingers gently scratched the cat's chin and behind his ears, causing him to purr happily and roll onto his back.

"Meooow~"

"Anyway, why did you call me here?" Suguru let out a sigh, disregarding the background noises and leveled a questioning look at his friend and ruler of the country.

"Hmm, nothing of importance actually, my cat just misses you is all," Satoru shrugged nonchalantly and Suguru really was about to pop a vein at his blatant response.

He then threw a sharp glance towards the pet and Sugu-chan immediately let out a dissatisfied hiss. This was always the way since the first day Satoru adopted him.

"Your cat, evidently, dislikes me at first sight."

"That's because he senses your animosity!"

Seeing how uncomfortable the duke looked, you suppressed a laugh and scooped up the feline into your arms. "Forgive me, Duke Geto. It's my idea to bring you here since I'm curious how you'd react if you and Sugu-chan are in the same room..."

...well, if it was your wish, who was he to deny it? Satoru would come for his head first should he do so.

You winked. "I'll bring him out for a walk, feel free to talk to your heart's content."

"Don't overexert yourself," Satoru warned, his playful expression towards him shifting to a concerned look for you, surprising Suguru in the process. "If walking is too much, take a rest."

"Yes, yes... I'll be fine~"

Satoru never took his eyes off you until you left his study, and Suguru couldn't help but smile.

"The way you always soften around her will never fail to surprise me," he noted with a hint of amusement.

"Then get surprised all your life because that's all I will do," he retorted with a proud smirk. "Oh right... how is the progress for the new courtyard?"

To replace the pagoda lost in your incident, Satoru came up with another gift for you—a private courtyard for your own personal pleasure. It still remained a secret from you, with Suguru tasked to oversee its construction.

"It's expected to be done before the empress' birthday, don't worry."

"Good..." His lips curved with satisfaction, before a blush tinted his cheeks. "And by then, the baby must've already..."

You were far along now, evident from how your dresses were no longer able to hide the curve of your swollen belly. He was to become a father soon, and anyone could see how elated Satoru was.

And suddenly he fixed his sharp gaze on his friend. "And Suguru, what about the other thing I asked? Have you looked into it?"

"Yeah...?"

"Zen'in Naoya's wench—" Satoru's eyes glinted with something akin to malice, as he still had that smile. "What did you find about her?"

Royal Consort Hanabi. A while ago, he also asked him to investigate her background, and Suguru almost forgot about it if he hadn't asked.

"Prior working as a palace servant, she was a former maid for Duke Kamo. As with all servants there, she was not treated kindly."

"Kamo? Interesting..."

The Kamo clan used to sit at Eastern Empire's throne up until Naoya's ancestors usurped it. Now, the heir remained a wealthy duke, and it was well-known that the fates of anyone who crossed him didn't end well.

Satoru hummed, barking a snort. "Well, I suppose that's it then. Suguru, proceed as is."

"I really thought you were done with any of your revenge plans." Suguru really didn't want to bring it up but he wasn't sure if this would bode well.

"I've given up on spilling blood, because that's not what my queen wants..." Satoru's smile froze on his face, yet his eyes sparkled. "But that doesn't mean I'll let that lowly bitch go unscathed. Our empress might be a saint and have chosen to spare her, but I most certainly am not as forgiving."

The chilly white light of the chandelier above him cast an eerie glow on Emperor Gojo Satoru at that moment, and Suguru almost shuddered.

"Didn't I tell you before? Anyone who dares to lay their hands on my empress... they have to pay the price."

Meanwhile in the Eastern Empire's palace, the royal consort still was the object of everyone's praises as of late.

It was almost astonishing how well she was treated recently, all because she was carrying the emperor's child, Hanabi thought with irony. So this was her life now.

Valued when she is able please the emperor, discarded when she fails to do so.

Sometimes it made her wonder, if it were still you in her place, would you be treated the same way? Or would you always be revered just like you were, unconditionally?

No matter. Her thoughts always leaned towards comparing herself with you, despite how much she hated it. Yet it was no use thinking of it now.

After all, now Naoya was in her arms.

She couldn't help but marvel at the sight of his sharp eyebrows and jaw. Hanabi had always thought, he was most handsome when he was vast asleep, when he wasn't hurling profanities at her or anyone else.

At first, she just wanted his love, and then a happy ending. She was never audacious enough to covet the empress' seat. But now she had to, after what you said to her.

"...that will be your downfall."

How could you? How dare you? Hanabi had gone through so much, who are you to dictate how her fates will turn out?

She now carried a son. She had even gone to an oracle to make sure of it. Soon, she would be the empress of this empire, and you would be forced to regard her as an equal.

And she was very much looking forward to that day…

Safe to say... you have long since thrown away any thoughts regarding the one woman who isn't worth a second of your time in your blissful days...

“Satoru, hng— ahh!” a lustful, provocative moan escaped your lips as you bucked your hips against his lips—face—and all the while, you weren’t even properly dressed.

But your emperor of a husband insisted on dipping his head inside your thin bathrobe and devouring you right on the staircase leading to the bathing chamber.

“Ah—aah—hah!” you threw your head back, spreading your legs impossibly wider around his shoulder, as you felt his lips licking your drenched nub.

You wanted so badly to see him, but weren’t able to do so as not only your belly had become such a dome that hindered you from seeing your lower half, Satoru hiding under your robes meant you wouldn’t be able to see him at all.

And so, all you could do was feel, feel and feel.

Feel how sticky wet your womanhood was, feel how his hair was tickling your thighs, and feel how as he eagerly sucked and nipped at you, it almost made you see stars—

“Satoru, the servants… mmrngh! Can walk in!” you tried to reason and yet failing at the same time as a shuddering pleasure washed over you like a rising tide.

“So be it,” came Satoru’s daring reply from underneath. “Let them see… and I’ll tell them— this is how their empress comes to be s-so swollen… with the fruit of my labors!”

You moaned again unabashedly, not even bothering to hold it back as the noises you made echoed throughout the hall, your fingers curling and clawing at the marbled tiles.

And soon, you couldn’t hold it in anymore as you came around his tongue.

“Ah…” you writhed breathlessly, feeling how your cum helplessly gushing out, limp against the stairs. Your body jerked, and cramped as you felt him taking in everything that came out of you.

When he was done, Satoru gently removed your light robe and embraced you, taking in every detail. He admired the cascade of your hair over your shoulder, the softness of your skin—seemingly even softer in recent months—and how your body gracefully accommodated the baby.

So heavy with his child… and yet it only roused his desires.

“Look at you, do I tire you out?” he chuckled, licking the remnants of your juice off his lips. You shot him an unamused look and poked his chest in response.

“Here, let me clean you up...”

After cleaning you, he gathered you and brought you to the bath tub, submerging both of you in the warm water.

Satoru pulled you close from behind, wrapping his arms around your upper body, gently kissing your neck.

“You’re so affectionate,” you giggled as you caressed his cheek. “I had half a mind that you’d be repulsed with how big I’ve become, and yet you never stray far from my bed.”

“Nonsense. Your chamber is the temple and I worship any ground you walk on.”

“You’re not worshipping me?”

“I do more than just worship you, my goddess.” Satoru drawled out with a lazy smile, burning a wet kiss on your face. “You know that.”

At this moment, you felt warm and fulfilled, resigning yourself to your husband's arms with a contented sigh... until you let out a low hiss when you felt the familiar pounding from inside your belly.

"Shh," Satoru warm hand pressed on the protruding spot in your bump, soothing you. "There, there... don't hurt your mama, hmm?"

Soon, you'd have your baby in your arms, and your heart melted at the very thought. That little baby would soon be running the palace halls, bringing joy to this empire.

"You know I'd protect you from anything and everything," your husband said to you in a whisper, lovingly breathing in your scent. "So my only wish for you is to deliver the baby safely. Afterwards, leave the rest to me, hmm?"

I don't want to lose you. That was clearly the fear behind his words. Satoru's grip on you tightened and you kissed his arm, reassuring him.

After everything you went through, this would be your happy ending, and you would do whatever it takes to win it.

And then the day comes —

Your labor pains started at the crack of dawn, and you were immediately brought to the birthing chambers afterwards.

Even within the confines of your chambers, your cries echoed through the halls. Shoko and several of your maids stayed with you inside, while the Archbishop guarded the entrance.

"It's almost a day and a half," Satoru muttered restlessly, unable to go on with his day as he paced outside. He had been with you when you woke up to your waters breaking, and he hadn't been able to think straight since.

A maid rushed outside with bloodied towels and he immediately stopped her. "How is the empress? Is she alright?"

The petrified maid bowed her head. "Her Majesty is losing blood, Your Majesty!"

He lost all reasons that very moment. "I have to come inside—!"

"You can't be in there, Your Majesty!" Archbishop Yaga sternly forbid, standing in his way. "It's women's business inside—you should be ready when they announced the birth of the child!"

Satoru's eyes twitched with fury and he was really about to drive past him when this time, it was Shoko who came out, looking alarmed. "Gojo! She's asking for you!"

"He cannot!"

"Suguru..." Satoru turned to his friend with a look and immediately, the duke went to the man’s side.

The emperor then regarded him with an unsettling smile. "Do you like being the Archbishop?"

"Huh?"

"Would you want to keep your position as the Archbishop?"

"Your Majesty!"

"Do you believe you can keep your position as the Archbishop... by defying me?"

Yaga fell silent, as if he had just swallowed a sour lemon, and Satoru seized the opportunity to push him aside. "Then move."

Even after Satoru had rushed inside, Suguru remained near the archbishop and Yaga looked at him incredulously. "He went inside already, why are you still here?"

"His Majesty's orders. Have to keep an eye for you for evaluation since he has another candidate in mind should he deem you unfit in your role..."

"Who is the other candidate!?"

"Ah, he told me his name was... Priest Akutami?"

. . .

Pain blinded your senses that you fell back to the sheets after strenuously pushing, and the next thing you knew, Satoru's face was in your sight.

"Sweetheart, hey..." he took hold of your hand and planted a firm kiss on it. His cerulean eyes gleamed brightly as he gazed at you. "I'm here now."

"Satoru—" your voice came out as a whisper, before another contraction seized you and you moaned. Your eyes rolled back involuntarily as the intense pain surged through you once more. You could feel how close you were, yet it was so painful you could barely breathe.

"Take deep breath, here—" he helped you to sit straighter and gave you his arm to hold.

"Your Majesty, I can see the head already!" the midwife exclaimed in joy, and Satoru turned to you with a smile.

“A little bit more,” he encouraged you, pressing a kiss on your temple. “Just a bit more, my sweet, you can do it, hmm? Here, hold onto me.”

And with his voice as your lifeline, you groaned and pushed once more, putting a part of your soul into it before you blacked out and collapsed in his arms.

At first, everything was silent, but then a sound reached your ears— a cry. Your baby's first cry.

"I-it's a princess!" the midwife announced, and the room erupted into gasps of wonder.

You looked at Satoru through bleary eyes, and for the first time, you saw him utterly speechless.

He was struck by the sight of that tiny being being gently cleaned by Shoko before his gaze returned to you.

You were sweaty, panting, limp, appearing haggard with tears in your eyes and streaking your face, and yet...

You are still the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes on.

"A girl... just... like you wanted..." you managed to say with a hoarse voice and wobbly smile, and seeing you, without a moment's hesitation, Satoru went in and locked you in a deep kiss.

"Thank you—" even he himself was near tears when he pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, countless celebrations he envisioned, all in praise of you and the heavens above for granting him such unparalleled happiness—

"...!" But suddenly, you curled into him, suppressing a scream and failing that it turned into a devastating wail, and you dug your nails into the flesh of his arm. "Ahhh!"

"What happened?" Satoru looked at you in alarm, then to the midwife who hurried to tend to you once more. "What happened to the Empress?!"

The midwife probed your belly, her expression lighting up with understanding. "O-oh my... there is another baby, Your Majesty!"

He didn't have time to dwell on the revelation when you cried out again. Setting aside all surprise, he aided you once more, and after more minutes of intense effort—

"A prince! The Empress has given birth to a prince!"

Twins. The whole Western Empire rejoiced at the news that their new empress had delivered a prince and princess for the nation.

Amidst the flurry of upcoming festivities and celebrations, you spent most of your days resting, as the birth had taken a lot out of you. Satoru took charge of the planning again, despite his busy schedule, and of course, he never failed to visit you and the babies regularly.

And whenever he did, his breath was always taken away.

Two precious babies lay still in the bassinet, peacefully asleep. Satoru gently poked each of them on the cheek.

The princess... as if the heavens had answered his prayers, she resembled you so closely that he fell in love all over again. She was so precious and small, and he imagined she would grow into a beauty just like you.

Satoru had sworn it before and did so again—he would protect her at all costs.

And the prince... he was so much like Satoru that it made his heart skip a beat. With his hair and eyes, his one concern was whether he had inherited his curse too. But regardless, he was determined to help and guide him should that day ever come.

When the boy cooed in his sleep, Satoru knew he too owned a part of his heart. He would definitely raise him well, teach him how to protect you and his sister, and one day, to succeed him as well.

As of you... you were asleep much like your children, and Satoru failed to hold back a smile. He gently combed your hair and just like that, you were roused from your sleep.

"Satoru, hello," you croaked and leaned into his touch.

His eyes fondly crinkled as he looked at you. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. It's been weeks. I've been feeling better for a while actually." You threw him a meaningful smile. "I might've cheated my way out of royal duties to rest..."

"Heh. Then keep cheating until the allotted time then. I'll permit it."

You raised an eyebrow. "When will my time be up?"

"The ceremony to present our babies..." Satoru played with your fingers. "We're expected to hold them and show them to the masses. You have to be there so they won't forget who the empress is."

"Right..." but you suddenly deflated and your husband tilted his head. "After that... we can't keep them out of the prying eyes anymore, everyone would delve into their affairs too."

Satoru's eyes fixed on you, sincere and true. "We can't avoid it, but if you wish for them to be out of the limelight for a little more time, I can arrange it. Your wishes come first."

The thought that your precious babies would be faced with many court intrigues made you want to keep them inside the protection of your womb a little longer. Yet, just as you and Satoru had experienced yourselves, sitting at the highest seat of monarchy required unbending will. Both of you would have to teach that strength to your children.

As if knowing what you were thinking, Satoru gathered both of your hands and squeezed it with a smile.

“Still, we are going to be there for them, are we not? Don’t worry. I’m here, and there’s no way I’m letting our son face any sort of curse alone.” He caressed your knuckles. “And you will be here for our daughter, teaching her how to become a magnificent lady just like you. As long as we’re here... they’ll be okay, hmm?”

Right at that moment, as you stared back at his deep, sparkling eyes, you could've sworn that you had fallen in love with Gojo Satoru once again.

You used to think that to love is to be accepted wholly, but after everything you had experienced, you realized that it also came with a load of worries, and you used to fear them, until...

A smile so pretty bloomed in your face as you squeezed his hand back.

“I love you,” you held his gaze unwaveringly, your eyes shining like glitters. “So long as we’re together, there’s nothing we can’t do, yeah?”

He seemed taken aback at first, before breaking into a smile so dashing it was almost blinding.

“Chasing after you and making you my empress is possibly the greatest deed I’ve achieved my entire life,” Satoru declared with a grin, and you knew your heart was truly his in every sense then.

“So, right. From now on and forevermore— You and me. Always.”

. . .

The presentation of the new crown prince and princess of Western Empire was an unforgettable affair. The grandeur of the celebration rivaled even the festivities of your wedding itself.

Given that it was both a ceremony for the babies and also nearing your birthday, Satoru decided to host a grand ball to mark the occasion. This lavish event ensured no one would dispute your position, regardless of how you came to hold it, and it was also befitting the bestowal of official titles upon your children.

Your son and daughter squirmed in their crib as they were brought forward, and once again, as you stood before the assembled court, you felt a twinge of reluctance to finally present them to everyone.

But Satoru's eyes held you with so much certainty that you found reassurance in his gaze.

And by the moment he cradled your son and you held your daughter, and he declared to the court—

"Here I present to you, the Crown Prince and Crown Princess of Western Empire!"

You feel wholly sure. With Satoru by your side, you let go of all your fears. Time and time again, he had proved the extend of his love for you, and as you ushered a new era with him, you believed all was going to be well.

Just like your coronation not long ago, the crowd cheered in joy.

Gazing upon the sea of people roaring and cheering below… a familiar warmth surged within you.

Once again, it was a sight beyond belief for you, as they chanted praises and acclamations—

“LONG LIVE THE CROWN PRINCE!”

“ALL HAIL THE EMPEROR!”

“LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!”

SOME WEEKS LATER . . .

"We've received a very strange invitation..."

You looked up from your baby boy and curiously peeked at one of Satoru's aides who was on duty today, Todo Aoi. He had come bearing news.

You had always thought he was quite eccentric, but today, he looked uncharacteristically serious.

"Strange, how?" Suguru questioned.

"From?" Satoru added with a totally uninterested expression.

"Eastern Empire," the man coughed awkwardly, as if thinking hard. "Apparently, a prince has been born and the royal consort is to be crowned as the new empress..."

"Who!?" Shoko, who was holding your baby girl, whirled around in surprise.

"Royal Consort Hanabi, I believe her name is. She is to be the Empress of Eastern Empire."

It was such a deafening silence all of a sudden that you could hear a pin drop. Suguru and Shoko gaped. You were stunned.

Only Satoru who didn't seem to show any reaction to the news.

Suguru cleared his throat, feeling the need to double-take. "Empress of... where?"

"That conniving hag..." Shoko muttered under her breath, before her gaze accidentally landed on you.

You were surprised, but strangely, you didn't feel anything. Long ago, you would've been heartbroken by this turn of events, but now, it just eluded you how she could maintain her position as long as she could. Well, when one is favored by luck, anything is possible though...

Satoru suddenly clapped his hands, letting out a mocking laugh.

"Is it really that surprising?" he asked with so much sarcasm, catching all four of you off guard. "When the emperor can barely fulfill his duties, even a scullery maid could rise to become the mother of the nation. The real question is..."

It was as if a sudden chill descended upon the room when he next spoke:

"How long... will she last?"

The question is answered soon enough.

Empress Hanabi's reign in the Eastern Empire lasted for only seven days. It was known as the greatest scandal ever gracing the history.

She had given birth to a son, who was appointed as the crown prince on the same day as her coronation. Emperor Zen'in Naoya personally led the ceremony. At first glance, it really seemed well...

Until seven days later, he suddenly erupted in fury.

The palace walls have ears, and behind closed doors, servants whispered about the incident. It began with Naoya launching into a tirade, claiming that the princess born to Hanabi previously, as well as the newborn prince, were not his by blood.

It was of the highest form of treachery to deceive the crown, and so a death sentence was about to be imposed on Hanabi for this… until the emperor suddenly fell ill due to a stroke, rendering him unfit to rule. Prince Megumi ascended the throne as the new emperor.

Despite his stern demeanor, the young emperor showed abundant kindness. He considered the plight of Hanabi's children, realizing they would be in peril without their mother, so he chose to banish her instead.

. . .

How did it end up like this?

Hanabi didn't know how many days and nights she had cried, cursing fate and her life, as she was being sent away from the palace.

Everything was in her grasp. Her very grasp! Until... until—!

She sobbed her heart out once again, mourning her short-lived life, before it was cruelly robbed from her.

Her children... they were all of Naoya's blood. Despite doubts surrounding them, she was faithful to him and to the crown. All of this... was all a whole scheme to trap her!

...was it you? Could you have orchestrated this? Could you truly be so wicked as to ruin her life entirely?

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

Was this the price of defying her social status, just like your omen, after all...?

"That can't be!" she screamed inside the wagon set to bring her to the unknown, her voice drowned by the sound of the rainstorm happening outside. "Empress Y/N... you're a horrible human being!"

With every fiber of her being, she hated you so much for ever crossing your path with hers.

Even until the end, she never realized that it was all her own doing.

After hours of journey on the road, she was brought inside a mansion she failed to recognize due to the storm at the first glance. She had given up on resisting because it was futile.

But upon realizing who awaited her in the room, she trembled in fear and backed against the wall.

Hanabi wished she could lose her sanity amidst the whirlwind madness happening to her, because really, it might be better than all of this.

His impressive height gazed down at her from above. It was impossible to hide from his piercing stare.

Duke Kamo Choso, with his crooked sneer, greeted her.

"Well, hello, Hanabi... it has been a while, huh? Did you miss me?"

- END -

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laurashapiro-noreally · 1 year ago

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Good Omens S2 fic recs

Need something good to read?

it's written all over by @et-in-arkadia, who never fails to grab me by the throat. Aziraphale comes back that very night and gives Crowley exactly what he wants...sort of. (E)

A Million Times by @chamyl. A breathless, tender reconciliation with excellent Muriel in. (E)

Not for All My Little Words by @mia-ugly and soft_october. For everyone who wants to see Aziraphale apologize. A lot. (E)

I'll Wait by @copperplatebeech. Could've chosen any of a dozen of Copper's sharp, shrewd pieces. Whether you like them funny, aching, hot, or tender, she's got your number -- often all at once. This one's (T)

A Bit of a Gray Area by @princip1914. Look, I for one was waiting for bad angry standing-up sex in a bathroom. The fact that it's one of my favorite authors providing it is the icing on my eccles cakes. (E)

(Do eccles cakes have icing? Is the E in eccles capitalized? I am not doing research for this Tumblr post.)

Five First Kisses And One [5+1 Things] by @werpiper. If you need to believe that there were many kisses before That One, this is a great story to enjoy, and if you need to believe they were banging through history, @werpiper is a great writer to get acquainted with. (E)

in the french fashion by @giddygeek. Were you wanting that 1941 "something I can do for you" hot, romantic, in-character, and intellectually intriguing? Step right up. (E)

the soft animal of your body by @focusfixated. A short but powerful take on the ox rib situation. (E)

An Invitation to Dance by @lavraiemonchichi. Another short take. What if the apology dance, but kinky? (E)

Covenant of Salt by @twwings. Make it long, make it deep, do it in the dark. Hard, complicated like fine wine. Yeah, that's the way I like it. Get acquainted with twings, she's dynamite in this or any other fandom (ask me about her MCU novel!).(E)

the two shepherds of uruk by @inkatesbush. WHAT a story, OMG. A slow burn in the context of the Tower of Babel. These two hardly know one another, but they'll learn, oh, they'll learn. Agile prose, storytelling like a blow to the solar plexus. (E)

White on White by @twilightcitysky. What could be a more appropriate erotic awakening for Aziraphale than a sad wank in Heaven? Well, I could tell you, but you'd have more fun if you read this story and its sequels. (E)

The Butterfly Effect by @plaidadder. A master storyteller at the top of their game, this Doctor Who crossover works even if you don't know Doctor Who and aren't excited about crossovers. Why? Because what could be more satisfying than putting Aziraphale and Crowley in a time loop until they work out their nonsense? I'll tell you what: humor, stunningly romantic prose, Revelations-inspired eldritch horrors, and happy endings for everyone. (T)

Have fun and don't forget to leave comments!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #doctor who #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fic recs #good omens fic recs #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfiction recs #fandom is my fandom

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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 1 year ago

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With Them, Who Swallowed a Star

PAIRING: Professor!Task Force 141 X F!Student!Reader WORD COUNT 5.3k CONTENT WARNING: NSFW! group sex, age gap, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, facefucking/blowjobs, unprotected sex, p in v, anal sex, slight usage of nicknames, reader is a pianist/student, tf141 are professors, smut with plot SYNOPSIS: A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried to be poetic. This fried my brain and I'm not going to write something like this again. That's a lie because I have a series that has 5 love interests. This one was supposed to have Graves as well since he's actually my inspiration for writing this shit, but I ended up not adding him. I might do it on Drabbles if someone asks though. And yes, I have changed my username from DontFearTheReaperAzura. Here's the Masterlist for more! Also on Archive of Our Own / DISCORD SERVER

Your fingers fluttered slightly as you lifted your hands to the keys, blocking out the rustling from others as they sat in the grand auditorium. Long and drawn, you began to tell a tale you had held for a long time. Notes swam in the air, old friends that played with your tresses and caressed your skin.

The story started slowly, the sound of the beginning, the beginning of the end. Longing clashed with trepidation, your fingers sang a song of despair. You swayed with the music, lost in the whims of unspoken words—of a world you owned. Quicker and quicker, the notes climbed in sync with your heart, growing joyful in hopes of masking the mournful melody surrounding you.

It filled the emptiness deep within your chest for a moment, before like the heavens shed tears upon a barren land, you showed—you poured out the lore of your world, and with heavy reluctance to leave what you created, you played the last few notes.

For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed, and when a series of claps reached your ears, only then you opened them. You were shackled back to reality just as you held back your work.

You looked at the people, who in your eyes were nothing but shadows at the beginning, now enamored, yearning for the rest. You knew they felt it, too. Pulled, as though you were the center of the system. Like the Sun, a star.

And one man stuck out more than others, gazing at you, blue eyes almost ravenous. But it didn’t last for long, just like a song in the wind, he faded among the standing crowd, drowned out in the flurry of praise.

You breathed out a sigh as you stared at the towering structure before you, now your second hell—in replacement of the ramshackle place you call home—after you had gotten a scholarship to this prestigious university after years of a couple of years of working your ass off. Students rushed past you on their way in and out of their classes, but you stood frozen.

Suddenly you felt awfully unprepared for this unfamiliar place, of socializing and strangers, and of university. Of life. What did Google say about socializing with people your age again? How about impressing a professor? Good lord.

You shrugged off your thoughts and sauntered to your class. A large lecture hall welcomed your sight and you found an empty seat at the front row. Not the perfect place for observation of the whole place, but good for listening to the professor.

The sound of expensive shoes echoed throughout the hushed room and you kept your eyes down as you took out your notebook and pen. As the quiet dragged on, you glanced at the professor and found your brows raising at his sight.

He was tall, seemed to be fit, and in his thirties. He had a few wrinkles, a beard, and brown hair, but no sign of graying.

Above all, you could remember those eyes. An endless swirl of blue. The man at the concert hall.

You put your gaze down as the professor looked down on you, your heart hammered against your ribs, sudden nervousness springing in your nerves. You wished he wouldn’t recognize you, but at the same time, you hoped he did.

Yet, the silence remained, and in curiosity, you looked back up. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, gaze shining with something you couldn’t decipher, and a smile formed on his lips.

You forced yourself to mirror it and batted a glance at the door. You wanted to get out.

The professor introduced himself as Jonathan Price, and told the class a few things about himself, before diving straight into the first lesson of Philosophy.

Time seemed to flow fast throughout his class and you kept your fingers busy, writing down his words. He was easy to understand, bringing out intricate details in his lesson, and asked questions now and then if he was going too fast while walking around the room.

You couldn’t help but notice his slacks fit in a certain area. Then again, that thing wouldn’t give you a brain cell even if you suck it off.

The bell chimed and you gathered and stuffed your notebook and pen inside your bag, jolting up to your feet. But as you approached the exit, his canorous voice called out to you.

“Pardon me, young lady.”

You turned to face the professor, keeping a respectable distance from him, which he closed off, only standing a couple of feet from you.

“Yes, sir?” You asked in a small voice when he remained silent, his eyes studying you with disconcerting intensity, just like how he gazed at you at your performance.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, he asked. “What’s your name?”

You spoke of your name in a steady voice, equally confused and intimidated, you gripped on the strap of your bag. Everyone had already left, now bringing quietness to the hall.

He smiled once again, his head tilting a bit to the side. “A pretty name.” His voice sent goosebumps on your skin, making you breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of his pleasant cologne. “Such a shame I couldn’t catch it after your performance a couple of weeks ago.”

He remembered you.

Your cheeks began to burn.

Oh, how he yearned to caress your tinted cheeks, place a kiss on them, and mutter praise against your soft skin.

“Ah, you were there, weren’t you, sir?” You offered him a smile and a pause. “I think I caught a glance of you in the front rows.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for watching, sir,” you said, not knowing what to speak of next, and nodded at him, reaching out to the knob to leave. But he reached for the door, making you blink at his unexpected actions, caged between the door and him.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” he fessed, bodies now closer to yours that you almost touched, and you gulped. “You were magnificent.” He opened the door, a hand motioning at you. “See you on Wednesday. And I hope we see more of your performance.”

We?

You jolted awake at the loud laughter of a raucous group outside of your room and grunted at the sudden pang of pain in your head when you stood up. You glanced at the alarm clock by your bedside and muttered a crisp curse, hauling your bag. You burst out of your room, slipping past students in the hallway like a breeze, hurried apologies were called out to those poor victims she bumped into.

The morning had been long and tiring, and you decided to take a nap earlier, only to end up sleeping for a couple of hours. Now, you were about to get late for your next class, and the usual ten-minute walk turned into a five-minute run and an uncalled exercise.

You glanced from left to right in the hallway, glancing at your phone to make sure you were in the right building, and turned to the right, following the signs. You halted before a room, strangely closed even though the class was supposed to start in five minutes.

You used your phone as a mirror and patted down your hair, before turning the knob and opening the door. You walked into a softly lit room and realized the mistake you had made as you spotted a man splayed down on a couch across the room. A hand behind his head and over his stomach, and over the lower half of his face was a black mask.

Inside was a personal office, belonging to one of the professors.

You immediately turned away, about to exit the room when an angry voice echoed.

“Have you got no manners?” The man rose to sit, a scowl painted on his face.

For the nth time in your sorry life, you wanted to bury yourself alive. You dipped your head low in embarrassment. “I’m very sorry, sir. I thought this was the room my class was in. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You frantically fumbled on your phone, inputting the wrong password one time, and read your schedule.

You read the room number wrong.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

The professor fixed his crooked mask. “What class were you supposed to go to?”

“Uh, a math class of Mr. Simon Riley,” you read on your phone, keeping your head low.

A hum escaped past the man’s lips, making you glance up at him. His dark blond hair slightly ruffled from his apparent nap and coat a bit crooked. He ran his hand on his hair, fixed his coat, and patted down the invisible wrinkles on the fabric.

He stood up and you inched back, surprised at his stature. A tall man with broad shoulders and arms noticeably strong, (massive honkers) and eyes like a pool of honey, swirling like molten gold under the light.

“You’re in luck, sweetheart. I’m Simon Riley. You’re in my office, our class is in the next room.” Unlike earlier, his cold voice had turned a bit softer, but the fact that he was your professor made your sweat run cold.

You nodded, inwardly wincing at your dumbass. “Again, I apologize, sir.”

He stood before you, next to the opened door. Gladly, there were no students passing by in the hallway.

“What is your name, love?” he questioned, his hands going to his pockets. His eyes narrowed at the way your head dipped, refusing to meet his gaze. Like a meek little bunny, scared of the world and what all those pretty eyes could see.

He wanted to place a finger under your chin and lift your face up to look at him.

You never knew introducing yourself could feel like an interrogation until now. You told him your name, averting your gaze down at his shoes that shifted slightly. “Nice to meet you, Sir Riley. I’m sorry it wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

He hummed once again and stepped out of the office. “Pleasure’s all mine."

You followed him out of the room and he swiftly closed the door behind you, his being a bit closer to you than comfort.

With a nod, Professor Riley led you to the classroom. Dozens of students had already occupied the room and you silently made your way to a vacant seat on the second row, placing your bag next to you.

Just like Mr. Price, the masked professor went straight to the point, briefly introducing himself to the crowd, and began his lesson. He, too, was easy to understand, repeating the equations some couldn't get well, and was kind enough to let the class take a few minutes of break, before continuing. You had also come to notice he would fix his mask every once in a short while.

And when the bell chimed, he bid his students goodbye, yet called for your name. You halted on gathering your things as he approached you. His eyes glanced at the students who last left the room before he spoke.

"Feel free to come by my office whenever you have a question or need anything. Can't have you lose your way again, do we?" He asked, a bit of amusement in his voice as he leaned close.

You smiled at his offer. "Thank you, sir."

Sure as shooting, you asked him where your next room was for Chemistry. By good fortune, he knew where it was and who the professor would be.

"Ah, there he is." Sir Riley abruptly came to a stop, making you halt in your tracks as well and follow the direction of his gaze, to see a man with a mohawk.

"Simon!" The man jogged towards the two of you, a grin playing on his lips in contrast to the man who never took off his mask. Another person with blue optics, but his were bluer as though someone took a piece of the briny deep and placed it in his optics.

He kept a smile as his attention swept to you. "And who's the little bird?"

You frowned a bit at the nickname, nonetheless gave him your name, and watched his eyes light up with fascination. The man began to tell the pull he felt by the notes of your music, how enamored he was by the unspoken words of your tale.

He was there, too and Sir Riley was along with them.

Your face flushed as he ranted and they both noticed, taking note of the shades painted on your skin, bashful of the sudden recognition.

"He is John Mactavish, your Chemistry professor," Sir Riley piped in, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, before bidding his farewell at the moment, marching down to his next class.

Left all alone with Professor Mactavish, you turned to him. He grinned at you and he beckoned at you to follow him. The man was, well, talkative and wasted not a second expressing his applause of your performance and how he never expected to see you in the university.

You could only mutter small words and nod, already feeling exhausted. But it was pleasant to hear him compliment you. You could get used to it.

And you could get used to his enthusiasm for teaching. His first lesson went straight to an experiment and dragged you to his side as his assistant, instructing you to mix chemicals. Occasionally, his fingers brushed over yours as you passed vials.

Your eyes met, and sparks flew all around.

Literal spark.

And fire.

Professor Mactavish pulled you to the side, hand remaining on your arm as the chemicals were set ablaze.

With a couple of ticks of the clock, a giggle erupted from your lips and like there was a pull, his chuckles followed.

In the sea of awes, his laughter floated on the surface.

You sprinted on the hall, navigating through the winding routes of the structures, and arrived at one of the most exquisite auditoriums you had ever set eyes on. Your eyes took in the magnificent chandeliers and the divine paintings stretched across the ceiling.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your stupor.

“Are you just going to stand there?” a voice called for your attention to where he stood near the stage. The man basked in the warm glow of the concert hall, skin as though molten caramel, and eyes like embers.

“Oh, forgive me, sir.” You straightened yourself up like a soldier before a superior. “I was just, well, this place is beautiful.” You couldn’t help but glance around once again.

“Isn’t it?” A soft smile crawled its way to his lips and he approached you. “I am Mr. Garrick and you are . . .” your name rolled out of his tongue like a serenade, gentle to the ears, a sight to see the way his lips moved, and he extended a hand to you.

You clasped it gently before realization dawned on you. “Pardon me, Garrick as in the Kyle Garrick?”

In a flash of a moment, something sparkled in his eyes and searched yours. “Yes, it is me.”

You nearly squealed and ran around the room in excitement. “Oh my God. Wow. I-I’m a huge fan, sir. You were such a huge inspiration to me—and, and, I wished I could have watched your performance at the concert before, but I was busy preparing for mine. Oh, that must be why Mr. Price, Mr. Riley, and Mr. MacTavish were there! You are friends!” Your words tumbled out of delight.

"Yes, well, thank you for the kind words." His hand sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, his smile becoming wider.

You gazed at him for a few moments before you snapped out of it, your brain slapping it to your face that you just rambled in front of this gentleman. "I'm very sorry, that was unprofessional of me."

"No need for apologies. But I do want to get a feel of your play today as soon as possible." A hand landed on your back, his warmth slipping through the fabric as he led you towards the grand piano patiently waiting for you at the stage.

Your fingers itched in anticipation.

Sir Garrick gave you a comforting smile and sat on the front row seat. "Feel free to play whatever your heart desires."

What your heart desires.

With a shaky breath, once again, you began to tell a tale, the notes sounding like a human voice as it wove its sonorous song.

A ballad to tie what dream your heart made. An andante at first and increased tempo at each heartbeat.

Lightning striking and thunder howling, Kyle was consumed with the way you swayed from one note to another. He couldn't peel his eyes off you as though you had him in your grasp, a puppet for you to control. And only when the last of the music hung in the air, could he snap free of the strings.

He walked towards you and dropped to his knee, taking one of your hands in his palm. "You were truly astonishing."

"I'm telling you, she was marvelous," Kyle exclaimed, pacing around Price's office and pointing at his fellow professors. "Blimey, if only you guys were there the other day, you'd feel chills."

Simon kept a straight face as he sat on the couch, legs spread, his knees bumping with Johnny who took a seat beside him, sipping from his mug of coffee. Whilst, Jonathan inclined on his chair behind a mahogany desk, decorated with intricate carvings and souvenirs he had gathered as they traveled across continents.

"I get that you're delighted, but could you quiet down?" Price grumbled on his desk, a pang of pain shooting his head.

"No, I am not shutting up." Kyle raised a hand, shaking his head. "She recognized my name. My name.” He pointed at himself.

“Anyone would recognize your name if they’re yer fan or hater,” Johnny quipped and placed the mug down on the coffee table.

Kyle turned to him. “You don’t get it, mate. She said she’s a fan of mine. I was a huge inspiration to her—”

“Was a huge inspiration to her,” Simon echoed, leaning back against the couch. “Used to be, not anymore.”

Kyle glared and stomped towards the masked man, grabbing his collar when the other merely raised his brows in a challenge. “I swear to God, Simon, I swear to—”

“I swear to God if you three don’t shut the fuck up—” Price paused, straightening himself from his chair as Kyle shook Simon, and glared at them— “I’ll have you asinine blokes chopped into bits!”

Kyle let go of Simon, who simply fixed his crooked collar and tie, and raised a brow at the man behind the desk. He sat down on a vacant chair, his eyes not leaving Price, and asked, “Are you jealous she recognized me, Price?” he was answered with another glare, which he shrugged at. “Or not.” He definitely is.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their train of thought. All centered on a certain lady, whom they had watched from afar, now within their grasp. They only acted as though it was their first time meeting you.

Each born to a wealthy family, presented interesting things which soon died down as they broke them down into pieces, they had grown bored. And had found that there were only a few they could put their trust in this world. Though not related by blood, they shared everything since they were younger. They knew one another strengths and weaknesses. Their faults. Their passions.

Their desires.

A knock pulled them out of their reveries.

Johnny being the closest to the door, got up and opened it. A smile was brought to his face as he found you. “Hello, bonnie. C’mon in.” He swung the door open, a hand motioning at you.

You hesitantly stepped in as you saw your professors inside the office, eyes all settled on you. You put a hand on your other arm to hold down your nervousness as the door behind you shut.

Four men who were strangely overly friendly to you. You could think of a couple of reasons. The first being a musician they had watched and the second, being their student.

A hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you further in, making your face flush. “Have a seat,” Sir MacTavish waved a hand at the sofa, where he and Simon sat.

You kept your gaze low as you obeyed him, sitting between him and your math professor, red cheeks going in a deeper shade as you met Kyle’s gaze. Embarrassed, you finally faced Price, and asked, “What is it that you called me for, Professor?”

Price put his elbows over his desk and intertwined his fingers. “We have a proposition for you . . .” Your name rolled sensually out of his tongue.

The proposition was to be their assistant. Given their overlapping schedules these days, it was hard for them to handle them. At first, you refused the offer, telling them you had a part-time job to do, along with practicing your skills in piano. But they had already thought about that and said they could pay you for your work.

A tempting proposal. Perfect for a student like you who got into this prestigious school through a scholarship.

You tapped your pen on the table and heaved a sound sigh, slouching on the chair. You were in a cafe near the school, in an attempt to change the atmosphere and help you write a report for Sir MacTavish's and Sir Price’s classes, but it didn’t seem to be helping at the moment. A pleasant music came from your earphones to block out the background noises and you closed your eyes to lull yourself.

When you opened your eyes, you jolted up your seat. “Shit!” your hands immediately flew to your potty mouth and straightened your spine at the sight of one of your professors, Simon, across the table. “Ah, uh, I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t notice you—”

“Why do you apologize so often?” his rough voice was low and he placed a cup of tea on the table. His eyes landed on your notebook, full of notes, written clean as though it was printed.

You pursed your lips, unable to think of an answer, and ran your tongue over the soft flesh, catching Simon’s attention. “I . . .”

Simon glanced around the empty cafe, the only other person within the area was the staff over the counter, who kept her eyes on her phone. And you had perfectly picked a secluded spot. He looked back at you and reached out a hand, placing it under your chin. He lifted your face to bring your eyes to his.

Your heart raced at his actions.

“An angel as brilliant as you are should carry yourself with confidence, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your lips. “Perhaps, we could teach you that.”

Your lips parted at his touch, warmth pooling at your stomach. You knew this was strange—wrong, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

But he let go and leaned back, and you found yourself gripping on your thigh. “Have you thought of our proposal last week?”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I have, sir.”

“What do you say?”

“The offer is good, and I don’t think it will clash with my schedule under normal circumstances, either.” You paused, letting him wait for your answer as you gazed into his caramel eyes. “I’ll take it, professor.”

You were fond of puzzles. You were interested in mysteries. And you were drawn to danger.

Being their assistant had more perks than you initially thought it was. You talked with them about their terms and added some of yours, and they seemed to be pretty considerate about it.

Maybe, a bit too much.

You had moved to an apartment they got you, so you wouldn’t be distracted by your roommates. When you had breaks, they would call you to their offices and give you desserts and snacks.

And more often than not, their touches lingered, turning into hugs, caressing, and pinching when in private. To close, seemingly the start of a taboo, a risk, and yet when Professor Price had you pinned between him and Professor Garrick in his office one late night when most of the people at school had gone home, you didn't want them to stop.

You wanted the heat to rush over you, like a forest fire, unwavering.

Didn't pull back when he planted his lips on you. Didn't stop the very professor you looked up to as a musician to bunch up your skirt and grind his dick against your ass. Didn't stop even when the other two entered and Sir Price had his hand rubbing against your clothed cunt. Didn't stop when Professor Riley locked the door behind him as Sir Mactavish joined in.

Johnny’s snaked a hand around your waist, a bit harsher than the ones he’d always done, but you didn’t mind it. Not when his lips were gentle against yours, patient and exploring as he led you on his lap when he sat on your couch, stealing you from Price and Garrick. He drank on your gasp as you felt another pair of lips on your nape, dusting kisses along your flesh.

Simon breathed against your shoulder, hand grasping the swell of your breast and performed maddening massage that got your nipples pebbling under the fabric of your top. You flinched when he took them by fingers, the rolls languid, and shifted on the other man’s lap as you felt a poke underneath.

Johnny groaned against you, parting the breathtaking kiss. He removed you from his lap, only to turn you against him, now facing the professor who had shed his mask. His fingers dipped under the band of your panties, into your untouched bud and your wet folds. He rubbed with a hum, spreading your filth.

“You're so wet, hen,” he commented and inserted a digit, rubbing it against your slick walls.

Your teeth sunk to your lower lip, biting back a squeal at the sudden intrusion.

Simon placed his fingers under your chin and leaned down on you, his tongue running over your lips, something he had always wanted to do before. “Don't bite your lips. That's something we're supposed to do, yeah?” He whispered on your lips and explored your mouth, savoring the echoes of your pleasure, and left to plant his marks on your collarbones. Hands gathered your shirt and lifted it, exposing your chest to his sight.

His mouth dropped to the nipple, sucking while his hand went to work on the other.

Johnny began to pump faster, making you throw your head back to his chest, moaning out in pleasure as you shot a glance at other professors.

“You are not so innocent after all, hm?” Price took your jaw and ran his thumb over your lips, before pushing it in, muffling your cries.

“No one's that innocent nowadays, Price,” Garrick remarked, watching the frown on your face and the flutter of your lashes at every jerk of Johnny's hand made and Simon’s tongue did. His tongue ran over his lips, hand cupping over his hard-on, palming himself through his pants.

You began to suck on Price’s finger, making his dick twitch in his pants—his brain wondering how good your mouth would feel around him. He pulled his hand away to work down on his belt and pants, hands pulling out his shaft. He gave it a few pumps, chuckling when he noticed the way your tongue ran over your swollen lips before a groan escaped from it as Simon planted a bite on your neck and Johnny's thumb began to work on your clit.

Price brought his tip to your mouth. “Open up, dove,” he demanded and grunted as he pushed his shaft in, breath hitching at the warm feeling of your tongue and your throat. Your face twisted a bit at the taste of his precum. He let you adjust for a couple of seconds, hand going to the back of your head before he began to thrust.

One of your hands flew to hold onto his hip as you let him use your mouth, eyes fluttering closed and focusing on breathing through your nose. Out of the blue, Johnny pulled his fingers out and Simon stepped away, eliciting a whine from you. Vibrations ran down Price’s body and he groaned.

Unbuckling of belts echoed in the air, and you were pulled away from Price, making him curse. The next thing you knew, you were staring into the eyes of the man you had admired for so long.

“Sir—”

Kyle put his thumb over your lips, cutting off your words. “Not sir. Call me Kyle.” He positioned his cock under your cunt, rubbing the tip on your entrance.

You gasped at the sensation. “Kyle . . .” Your jaw slacked as he slowly went in, hands pulling you closer to his clothed body, fingers running on your flesh, gentle just as how he played his instruments.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, hands sliding down to your ass to guide you up and down on his length.

Now, he made music out of you.

It didn’t take a few ticks of the clock until they fucked you with all they had.

Simon’s cock was buried in the confines of your mouth, fingers tangled on your tresses, watching the curls of your lashes get soaked by the tears that rolled down on your cheeks as they relentlessly pounded on you—Kyle on your pussy, Price on your ass, and Johnny on your grasps. You had never felt so full, so complete.

You feel your legs shake—the sign you have reached the pinnacle of pleasure and exhaustion when Kyle hits the spot deep in you. You whined against Simon’s cock, groaning as beg for the overdue orgasm that they had been keeping from you.

You felt a hand slide down your thigh, finding your swollen clit, before the rough pads of the fingers rubbed aguishly gentle and slow. If they weren’t your professors, you would have cursed at whoever the one was doing it. But your wish had been heard and he picked up the pace until you were crying, arching your back.

But they weren’t done.

You felt Kyle and Price become rougher at each of their thrust, Simon tugging on your hair harder, and Johnny losing his rhythm on your hands, until they all pulled back, coating your skin with their cum.

You slumped on Kyle’s chest, limbs like a stringless puppet as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm. Your heavy lids fell close, tired from the deed, but you fought back the drowsiness, not wanting to fall asleep in the state you were in.

“You did good, love,” Kyle cooed into your ear and planted a soft kiss on your temple.

Johnny leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “Yer amazing, bonnie. Can’t wait to have more of ya.”

A hand caressed your flushed cheek, swiping the transparent mix of tears and sweat. “Let’s bring you back to your apartment, dove,” Price said in a gentle voice.

Gentle fingers scraped your scalp, gaining a hum from you, must be Simon with how his fingers feel on your head. An unspoken apology about the way he tugged on your locks.

Like the sky glowing, your skin glittered in the ruins they drew up. A masterpiece you were, vulnerable, vincible in their sight, like walls that had fallen. And yet as though a book which held thousands of words, they still had more things to know about you.

Like every start of a relationship. How fortresses were made. Each beginning of a story.

You basked in the echoes of their praise, letting their words bring you comfort and slowly help you regain your mind and strength.

Like after a fire, new maps were drawn. A new tale was written, with them, who swallowed a star.

Taglist: @itsyellow

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writing-fanics · 10 months ago

Text

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

[Before Lucifer got cast out of Heaven]

[prompt by: @saturncodedstarlette

[warning: self-harm: major angst: blood: mentions of panic attack]

You were angry and heartbroken, and felt betrayed by someone you thought to be yoursoulmate. Feeling used by them, having just found out that Lucifer and Lilith are together.

You stormed over to Lucifer outside the gates of the garden, hands balled up into a fist. “You lied to me!” You shouted angrily, and he turned to look at you.

Lucifer who you thought to be your soulmate, a red string tying the two of you together. Your face red and tears rubbing down your cheeks, “You told me that I am your soulmate!” You screamed, and he just stated at you almost annoyed that you were, taking his time away from being with Lilith

You guarded the gates of Eden, and Lucifer flirted with you and toyed with you just so he could see Lilith. “Just get back to that other woman!” You were angry fuming and felt used.

He just stared at you arms folded across his chest, as he raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Don’t you understand? You’re the other woman.” said Lucifer, looking at you.

You shook your head vigorously, your frustration apparent. "No no!" you exclaimed, your voice rising in anger. "You're supposed to be with me!" You pointed in the direction of the garden, your true form as a seraphim revealing itself with multiple eyes on your head and wings.

Your figure seemed to grow in size and stature, towering over him and filling the space around you with an awe-inspiring presence.“She’s the other woman!” you shouted, glaring at him.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and saw Lilith in the distance. She had heard the commotion and was walking closer to the gate. "Why can't you understand?" he said, looking down at the ground and clenching his fists. He glanced over at her for a moment.

“It was a mistake, I would never be with you—” He said, Your entire body froze in shock, and you stood there motionless with your arms falling limply to your side. Your lips slightly parted, forming an 'O' shape as you struggled to comprehend what he had just said.

As soon as the words left his mouth, you could see the regret in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to reach out towards you, but then suddenly pulled his hand back and turned away. He entered the garden and walked away with Lilith, leaving you alone.

You couldn't help but fall to your knees, gripping your chest where your heart is. It hurt so much - not just the physical pain, but the emotional pain of being betrayed. You had broken the rules to let him into the garden, thinking that he cared for you. But this is how he repays you - by ripping out your heart and leaving you to suffer.

The words seemed to rip your heart out of your chest, leaving you feeling completely devastated. As tears began to trickle down your cheeks, you couldn't help but sniffle and sob softly. Your lower lip quivered as you looked at him, trying to make sense of the situation and find a way to process the overwhelming emotions coursing through you.

He used you. He fucking used you just so he could be with Lilith, he toyed with your emotions your feelings and your desires. To get what he wanted in the end. You saw a future and hoped he'd be there to fill that empty spot, in your immortal life. Be he saw as nothing but a obstacle, for his true goal. Lilith.

Your angelic weapon dug into your flesh drawing yellow blood. As you tried to carve the L off of your hand, the inital of your soulmate. That was on your hand when you were first made by angels. Your very own soulmate wanted nothing g to do with you, he never wanted to be with you. Only wanted to use you for his own selfish needs.

Your wound would just heal and the initial stayed, as much as you tried to dig it out. Nothing, it would appear again and again. You screams and cries of frustration being heard by Lucifer and Lilith, but he did nothing just sat there with his lover underneath the tree.

You wailed, staring yo at the sky and sobbing. Yellow blood seeping from the gash in your hand, you couldn't breathe unable to take a full breath. All you wanted was for Lucifer to comfort you, but he didn't. Your vision started to blur as you breathed heavily, gripping the fabric of your clothes.

“I would never be with you”

You whimpered, curled up on yourself, and cried. You didn't know how long you were there for and eventually passed out. When you opened your eyes, you saw a bracelet that you had given to Lucifer a while ago. You stared at it blankly for a moment, not noticing someone approaching you from behind. Suddenly, you felt cold and shivered.

As you turned around, you heard a giggle coming from behind you. Suddenly, the grass around you withered and died, and an ominous presence leaned over you. "Has that little dreamer shattered your heart?" the voice asked as you looked up to see the personification of evil itself - your sister, Roo. She had a Glasgow smile on her face as she stared down at you.

#lucifer morningstar x reader #Lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #x reader #fanfic #angst #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar

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tiredspacedragon · 9 days ago

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Ranking the Metru Kanoka symbols by intelligibility

#1. Ko-Metru: First place goes to Ko-Metru for a fantastically clear image representing the district. The clearly discernible shape of the Knowledge Towers, the Metru's most iconic feature, even cleverly arranged to match the silhouette of the the Coliseum on the Metru Nui skyline, and the two dots on the sides possibly representing Metru Nui's dual suns/moons, emphasizing Ko-Metru's focus on astronomy, astrology, and all else to do with tracking the motion of the heavens. It doesn't get much better than this, folks.

#2. Le-Metru: Coming in at a close second place is Le-Metru, its symbol instantly recognizable as a collection of Chutes filled with cargo, a simple and elegant means of of showing of Le-Metru's status as the transportation hub of the city. Straightforward and to the point, exactly what we want to see.

#3. Onu-Metru: Third place starts to get a little more abstract, but the artistic intent remains fairly clear. The Onu-Metru symbol appears to depict a hallway of the Archives, with exhibits on either side and a steady stream of Matoran visitors and/or workers filing through the corridor. It is slightly less obvious than the two above, but if understood correctly, it is an excellent representation of exactly what Onu-Metru is all about.

#4. Po-Metru: Fourth place is where we start to see these symbols go off the rails, and where I'm going to have to start providing visuals to illustrate my interpretations. Po-Metru's symbol had me stumped for a long time. It is carved in the notch that held the Po-Metru Great Disk, but that isn't much to work with. I think I've finally figured it out though. I believe it speaks to the Po-Matoran's sculpture work, specifically one of their favourite subjects: maskless faces.

To my eye, the Po-Metru symbol appears to be six of these^ pieces arranged in a circle, or at least faces of similar shape. If that is indeed the case, then I commend the artistry, and the choice to use it as Po-Metru's symbol, as using the Po-Matoran's art to represent them is perfect. However it loses points for being less immediately recognizable than the preceding three symbols.

#5. Ga-Metru: And in fifth place, Ga-Metru veers further into obscurity. While simple and elegant, this symbol lacks any easily recognizable features to connect it to aspects of Ga-Metru's culture or architecture. At best, I can offer theories.

Perhaps the top-heavy shape of the blue section is in reference to the Ga-Metru lighthouses? It's possible, but seems unlikely as the shape is not an exact match and only bears superficial similarities.

Then perhaps the connected circles represent the connected pathways here at the Protodermis Falls, and likely across many other of the Metru's canals? Or even the long bridge from the coast to the island where the Great Temple sits? These possibilities seem more likely to me, but not enough to say it is either for certain. Regardless, the fact that the best I can do is offer some maybes is enough to land Ga-Metru squarely at the bottom of the list, kept out of last place only by...

#6. Ta-Metru: What is this. What-- What am I even looking at here? Is that a disk launcher? An eclipse? Is it meant to be the foundries pumping out the clouds? Is it an extreme close up of Lhikan's Hau or some other mask?

I don't know, I just don't know. I'll grant you that out of all six Metru, Ta-Metru is the most lacking in terms of iconography; the Great Furnace is not a terribly inspired building, nor are molten Protodermis vats exactly visually striking, but there had to be something that could have been done. If it is meant to be a mask, that's actually a fantastic idea. Kanohi are Ta-Metru's primary export, they'd be the perfect way to represent the Metru. But if it is a mask (zoomed in way too far), it's not at all recognizable as one, or as anything else for that matter. And had all six Metru's symbols been similarly abstract, that wouldn't be a problem! There's nothing wrong with a good old-fashioned Shape. But when at least three of the other symbols do such a quality job of showing off aspects of life and work in their Metru, Ta-Metru's symbol being so undefined places it firmly at the bottom. Last place.

#bionicle #bonkle #bonkles #metru nui #kanoka #it's always bugged me how some of these #are so obvious #so crystal clear and perfect for the metru they represent #and there's ta and ga-metru #being nothing in particular #and it doesn't help that they look so similar #even before i figured out what i think the po-metru symbol is supposed to be #at least it stood out as its own thing

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astoryofsiren · 15 days ago

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new world | prologue

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: A tragic accident left you unable to use your wings and, with that, claimed your father's life, leaving you in the care of your noble uncle. In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 1.6k | 7 minutes Warning: wings, weapons A/n: Hello everyone! i'm very glad to you meet you! I hope you enjoy reading this as much i loved writing it.

Beneath the vase expanse of the golden-hued sky, where the sun and moon dance in harmony, located in the heart of an endless sapphire sea lies Hala.

A chain of islands said to be molded by the hands of ancient gods, each whispering a story of creation, balance, and power.

Its skies shimmer with the iridescent glow of the Aetherion, whose bearers are gifted the ability to soar between earth and sky and serve as the stewards of the land.

At the center of the land, Kaizo Kingdom, the Heart of Hala, stood tall and unyielding, its golden spires reaching for the heavens. Its black bat-winged ruler was renowned for his keen intellect, ensuring that the kingdom remained both the center of commerce and an untouchable entity. Ruled by the sovereign Kim Clan and led by King Hongjoong, descendants of the Shadow Monarch, Kaizo was a beacon of unity and wisdom.

Kaizo city is alive with activity, its streets teeming with merchants, scholars, and travelers from every corner of the seven kingdoms. Though neutral in the wars that raged around it, Kaizo’s alliances carried weight, and Hongjoong’s choices could shift the tides of battle in an instant. Proudly safeguarding the Pact of the Eight Kingdoms, the kingdom was heavily guarded, as its borders touched all seven kingdoms. The bustling markets of Kaizo showcased goods from every corner of Hala, and its rulers, known for their impartiality, served as mediators in times of strife, making the city a beacon for those seeking opportunity—or refuge—if they could survive the journey.

To the Southeast, Leon kingdom stands proudly. Ruled by the Choi Clan, where endless golden sands meet towering forests and deep, labyrinthine caves. Its ruler rumored to possess the strength and cunning of a lion.

King Jongho, adorned with powerful wings veined in shades of earthy brown and sunlit gold, rules quietly. Known to have mastered their diverse terrain, using it as both a sanctuary and a weapon. Their castle, built high within the caves, overlooks the forest canopy and sprawling deserts, offering an impenetrable vantage point against any threat.

These landscapes are more than barriers—they are the foundation of Leon’s economy and culture, offering rare gems from the caves, unique herbs from the forests, and spices from the desert.

To the northeast, dense forrest and rolling fields mark the lands of Caius.

Presiding over this serene paradise is His Majesty King Seonghwa, whose gentle yet unwavering leadership mirrors the tranquility of his lands.

Caius flourishes as a fertile haven, where crystal-blue seas and shimmering lakes weave through lush forests and vibrant fields. The kingdom’s unique geography provides abundant resources year-round, renowned for its blooming herbs and medicinal flora, which grows in endless cycles, fed by the fertile soils and pristine water resources.

These natural gifts not only sustain its people but have made the kingdom famous across Hala for its healing remedies and restorative traditions.

Southern to this estate lived the Kingdom of Satriya. Famous for their silver-armoured knights known as the most disciplined defender in all of Hala, their fortresses carved into unyielding stone. Every path through Satriya is a calculated defense, its people prepared for any threat.

Presiding over this fortified kingdom is King Yeosang, a ruler whose strict discipline and formidable presence inspire both loyalty and fear. Known as the Demon of the Silver Wings, his piercing gaze and unrelenting expectations command respect. Tales of his terrifying battlefield strategies and unwavering enforcement of order have spread across Hala, deterring enemies and ensuring Satriya remains impenetrable.

Satriya remains as the most private of all kingdoms, its gates closed to anyone who is not born of Satriyan blood. This exclusivity fosters a deep sense of unity and loyalty among its people, but also shrouds the kingdom in mystery to outsiders. Despite his fearsome reputation, his people trust him implicitly, knowing that his rule is the cornerstone of their survival.

Satriya’s eastern border meets Kaizo, while its westernmost cliffs descend into treacherous seas. The kingdom’s trade in sturdy weapons and tools extends its influence far beyond its borders, solidifying its position as an indomitable force in Hala.

Bordering the southern of Kaizo lay a united land of Charadyn and Kian. Despite their distinct identities, the two kingdoms share a deep bond, their rulers united by friendship and a shared appreciation for life’s riches.

Charadyn Kingdom belonged to the prestige Jung Clan. Notorious for their eternal bonfires, Charadyn thrives on the never ending celebration and wealth.

From a young age, King Wooyoung embraced the lively spirit of his kingdom, forging a reputation as a leader who rules not just with authority, but with the joy and vitality that inspire his people. Festivals in Charadyn are legendary, attracting visitors from every corner of Hala, who come to revel in the kingdom’s unending celebrations.

Charadyn’s economy is built on its vibrant cultural exports. Its exotic spices, rare jungle plants, and handcrafted artifacts are sought after across the realm. The kingdom’s thriving tourism, driven by its grand festivals and fiery traditions, further fuels its prosperity. Its northern border touches Kaizo, while its southern coast provides access to maritime trade routes, strengthening its position as a cultural and economic powerhouse.

Not far from the buzzling, lively, vibrant city of Charadyn lies the Kingdom of Heritage, known as the Kingdom of Kian. Ruled by the noble Choi Clan, Kian’s people hold a deep belief that their lineage is blessed by divinity. Adorned in jewels and celestial artifacts, King San governs with pride. The kingdom flourishes through its abundant natural resources and exceptional craftsmanship. As a leading exporter of diamonds, sacred relics, and luxurious textiles, Kian’s wealth is unparalleled. Its fertile plains provide plentiful harvests, sustaining its people and fueling trade with neighboring lands.

Far to the Northeast of Kaizo, high above the clouds, nestled among breezy mountain peaks, lay the Aeros Kingdom, home to the dragon breeders. Composed of multiple floating islands suspended in the skies, Aeros is a breathtaking spectacle of nature and magic. At its heart, perched in the middle of the heavens, stands the grand palace of Aeros, a shining beacon visible from every corner of the kingdom.

King Mingi, with his tundra-like wings, presides over this aerial wonderland, where the roar of dragons harmonizes with the gentle whispers of the mountain winds. The skies are alive with the majestic flight of dragons and their caretakers, whose unbreakable bond with the creatures defines Aeros’s spirit.

The kingdom thrives on the trade of dragons and their rare, coveted scales, used for crafting armor, ornaments, and magical items of extraordinary value. In addition, Aeros exports sky-bred textiles, lightweight yet durable, imbued with the essence of the breezes that carry the kingdom’s legacy across Hala.

Bordered by the icy seas and blanketed in perpetual mist, lies the Reed Kingdom. This land is cradled by the ocean, its shores wrapped in an ethereal veil of fog that rarely lifts. Yet Reed’s true majesty lies above, connected to the lowlands by a towering, frost-covered bridge. High in the frigid mountains stands Reed’s capital, an unyielding fortress of ice and stone nestled among snow-capped peaks. Here, the cold is relentless, and the winds howl like the spirits of the mountains themselves.

King Yunho, with his indigo wings, embodies the kingdom’s cold, unwavering resolve. His strength and endurance mirror the icy resilience of his domain, and his piercing gaze leaves little room for doubt or defiance. Under his steadfast rule, the people of Reed have flourished despite the harshness of their environment, adapting and thriving where others might falter.

Reed’s economy thrives on trading its unique resources to other kingdoms. Rare ice crystals, harvested from the deepest caverns, are prized across Hala for their enchanting properties, beauty, and magical applications. Additionally, frost-forged metals, tempered by the frigid climate, are crafted into tools, weapons, and armor of unparalleled durability, making them essential for kingdoms facing harsh conditions. Reed’s expertise in producing cold-weather goods sustains its prosperity, exchanging its treasures for resources it cannot cultivate within its icy domain.

Reed is a kingdom of stark beauty and unrelenting strength, where the sea meets the mountains in a breathtaking display of nature’s extremes. To venture into its icy wilderness is to face a world that demands respect—and a king who commands it. Outsiders who dare step into Reed often find themselves frozen in more ways than one, humbled by the cold and the unyielding presence of King Yunho.

The royals held immense power over Hala for a reason. The rulers of the eight kingdoms were no ordinary beings; they bore the mark of True Aetherion, a glowing imprint on their foreheads that pulsed with celestial energy. This blue blood, shimmering with the essence of the heavens, set them apart—not just in authority, but in being. It granted them the ability to command the skies, their wings reflecting the power and pride of their Country.

You paused in your step, the vibrant hum of life around you fading as a sudden stillness overtook the air. The faint glow of the Aetherion above pulsed rhythmically, and a powerful gust swept past, bending the trees and rippling the waters in its wake. A dark silhouette descended from the clouds, cutting across the horizon like a falling star, its form too grand, too perfect, to belong to mere mortals.

Your breath caught as the figure moved with otherworldly grace, its wings glinting with hues that mirrored its domain—golden like Leon’s sands or indigo like Reed’s icy peaks. As it passed overhead, you caught a glimpse of the faint glow on their forehead, unmistakable and radiant, the mark of their celestial lineage. It was rare to see a royal so far from the cities, their presence in such remote lands a reminder of the power they carried, bound to the skies.

Though you couldn’t tell which kingdom they hailed from, you knew without a doubt it was one of the eight royals.

Since only they bore the mark of the Aetherion carried from the blue blood of the Primordials, their very existence was tied to the elements that shaped Hala.

They are Hala Core itself. 1 | 2

Taglist (OPEN):

@caratiny-latte @pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchling @dumplingsyum

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peachylynnie · 2 days ago

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garlic

word count: 1.4k

synopsis: in which sylus feeds you too much garlic

contains: sylus x reader (doesn't have to be mc, gender neutral), an obscene amount of garlic (slight crack fic), mentions of cooking, eating, and love of food, suggestive at the end, and cussing.

a/n: i was rewatching wgm the other day and the male star did this to the female star. couldn't help but feel inspired to write this for sylus since he would totally tease us. do NOT copy or translate my work. sylus does NOT endorse plagiarism. reblogs and comments always appreciated :)

you love sylus' cooking. even before you started dating, you always thought his cooking was immaculate—so immaculate you can't help but wonder why he even had a private chef. rich people shenanigans, you like to conclude. you also wonder if rich people put a lot of garlic in their food. because there are a shit ton of garlic slices on the linguine pasta sylus just served you.

by no means are you a picky eater. heck, you love garlic. it's a blessing to humankind. garlic bread, fried rice, pesto, you name it. so many foods have garlic in them, and you enjoy all of them. but this? this was way too much.

sylus raises a brow as he sits next to you, wondering why you haven't picked up your fork yet. "something wrong, sweetie?"

"what's with the garlic, sylus?" you turn to face him, leaning back in the leather high chair.

he looks at your plate, then back at you. "is there something wrong with the garlic?" picking up his own fork, he goes to inspect your food. you stop him by holding his wrist.

"no," you shake your head, laughing a little. "it's just... this is a LOT of garlic." you nudge your head towards the incredibly noticeable pile of garlic slices. "did the tutorial really call for this much?"

sylus chuckles, returning to his own plate. meticulously, he twirls the pasta with his fork, leaving you to admire his sturdy forearms. not only do you love sylus' cooking, but you also love WHEN he cooks. why? because this absolute godsend, silver-haired, ruby-eyed, strong-nosed, supple-lipped, and deep-voiced of a man rolls up his sleeves when he cooks. his veins protrude and his muscles flex whenever he chops some vegetables with a knife. you don't pity the buttons that hold on for dear life to keep his sleeves together whenever he maneuvers a pan. resting an elbow on the kitchen island, you set your head on your hand to admire the current view.

you're taken aback when sylus holds up his fork to your mouth. normally, you would gush at such an action. the ruthless and relentless head of onychinus, offering YOU the first bite of HIS food. oh, you would happily accept, eager to taste absolute heaven in your mouth because sylus always makes great food. but, this time, you frown, noticing the mini TOWER of garlic slices on top of the noodles wrapped around his fork.

"i didn't take you for a picky eater, sweetie." sylus teases as he tilts his head. your jaw drops, flabbergasted by such an accusation. not that there's anything wrong with being a picky eater; it's just that sylus should know you by now. he's cooked for you plenty of times before. he's seen you eat plenty of times before. he should know by now you generally enjoy most food, and it takes a lot for you to even hesitate to pick up a utensil.

"i'm not picky," you cross your arms, a slight pout forming on your lips. "there's just too much garlic."

"there's no such thing as too much garlic," sylus quips. as if to further prove his point, he lifts the fork closer to your mouth. you begrudgingly accept, not without giving him a look, of course, because only you would accept a mouthful of garlic offered by sylus himself.

it's not necessarily bad. that's the first thought you have when you close your mouth. except you immediately change your mind after you bite down. holy shit, it's just straight garlic. you grimace, immediately uncrossing your arms to cover your mouth. you can't even taste the linguine. groaning, you try not to spit out the food. no matter how bad a dish may be, you wholeheartedly believe it's rude to spit it out in front of the person who made it. furthermore, this was sylus we're talking about; you're fricking boyfriend. you scrunch your shoulders as you painfully swallow, instantly reaching over the counter for a glass of water. after you relieve your mouth of garlic hell (it didn't help at all), you face sylus, glaring at him with all your might.

"that's too much garlic!" you snap, using one hand to slap sylus' shoulder and another to cover your mouth, overwhelmed by the smell. trying to ignore sylus' snickers, you drink more water. this motherfucker dares to laugh at your agony. you swear the next time he calls you over for some parmesan garlic linguine, you're going to tell him to shove a garlic braid up his ass.

"oh come on, sweetie," sylus jests as he twirls some more noodles with his fork before offering them to you again. "it can't be that bad."

you look at him with wide eyes. there's no way he's serious right now. "why don't YOU try then?"

"gladly," sylus says smugly. he takes a bite and lets out an obnoxious "mmm!" you scoff when he goes back for a second bite, unable to believe the audacity he has.

"there's no way it tastes that good," you say as you jerk your head away, determined to stay mad at him. "you just want to flatter your cooking."

"you're missing out," sylus says nonchalantly as he takes another bite. "besides, garlic is good for your health. it can provide a lot of strength. in fact, laborers were fed garlic back then, so they could have enough stamina. "

you roll your eyes. of course, he brings health into this. not that there's nothing wrong with it. you actually admire how much sylus takes care of himself. he's quite the competent man. but you know what he's doing. he's making fun of you. your eyes can't help but twitch as you look down at your plate. good for your health, my ass. no way an entire plate (sylus has massive plates by the way) topped with heaps of garlic is good for anyone. not even five serving spoons can rid your plate of its garlic slices.

suddenly, you get an idea.

"hey, sylus," you say as you reach over the counter for the serving spoon he used earlier to serve your plate. "since you like your linguine soooo much, mind if i feed you?"

sylus doesn't look up from his plate, clearly too occupied with his own making. "sure, sweetie."

you giggle, setting the spoon against the edge of your plate before scraping only the garlic slices onto it. given how much garlic there was, it doesn't take long for you to fill the giant spoon with it—garlic and garlic only.

"don't do that."

"don't do what?" you don't stop scraping.

"that," sylus answers as he warily eyes the spoon your hand is now holding up to his face. that was, indeed, too much garlic.

"come onnnn," it's your turn to tease. "there's no such thing as too much garlic, right? besides, it's good for your health. what good is the head of onychinus if he doesn't have enough stamina?"

"i have plenty of stamina," sylus insists. "and that," he juts his chin towards the spoon, "is too much stamina."

you snort as you nudge the spoon closer, ignoring him entirely. "say ah! eat and gain lots of stamina! you need it!" you chirp as you lift your free hand and extend it underneath the spoon, hoping to catch any stray slices.

sylus' eyes flicker from the spoon to your face. he leans in, acting as if he's going to listen to you. though, not before asking, "where will i use all this stamina? will you use it with me?"

you choke, immediately retracting the spoon. "what?!" you dump all of the garlic back onto the plate, avoiding the amused look on sylus' face and also the imagery of exciting... stamina-related activities involving him. "pervert," you grumble, a rosy hue appearing on your cheeks.

"i was talking about training, sweetie," he smirks.

no fucking way. you gape at him, not believing a single word.

sylus stifles a laugh, enjoying the hilarious expression on your face. look at you, so cutely flustered over the idea of taking your relationship to the next level. yes, he was talking about whatever was going on in that head of yours. no, he wasn't talking about training. but hiding such a fact was worth it, given your embarrassed state. wanting to admire your adorable face some more, sylus grips your chin before tilting it up.

"although, i'm not against what you have in mind, sweetie."

#i can't believe i just wrote a 1.4k word fic about sylus feeding us garlic #it's clear this man has me in a chokehold #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x you #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fic

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ladythornofrivia · 10 months ago

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Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part One)

word count: 2,733

author’s note: i’m sorry that i didn’t post much stories, as I’ve been reblogging and changing themes in my profile. i’m trying my best, but I’ll make up for it.

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye. (there will be three parts).

There hasn’t been a day that you never left your homeland. All in prosperity. All in solitude, all in mindful thoughts that even the castle walls were unable to perceive. Oldtown is known for the oldest kingdom within Westeros.

We light the way, those are the words from House Hightower, a tall, silver tower with a green light of flames atop. Members of the Hightower court are known to be proud and resilience. Perhaps too greedy to your taste. Less fickle to their needs, their desires, their secrets, their ambition.

All minds think alike, as they said. But your mind is unalike from theirs.

There hasn’t been a single day where your life change—steady as it goes. But when your older sister, Alicent, sent a letter to you from a raven fled from miles, you instantly ripped the seal and unveiled her letters, written in neat cursive. In the days where you can recall that Alicent taught you to read and write, before accompanying your father, Otto Hightower, to aid the ailing king and his throne.

In King’s Landing, where Aegon has set and had trees felled after his conquest in Westeros. The stories of dragonlords and ladies has caught you into a slighted dot of peculiarity. But with your father, you knew that your father wanted more than being as the Hand of the King. Like any folk in Oldtown, he’s all in the same cloak of mind and heart as the rest. The only difference is he has resided in King’s Landing with the Targaryens, warming the throne with Alicent’s political stead.

With you, as Alicent’s half-sister, one thing you adored about her is her resilience, no matter how the power struggle may have been, Alicent held her head high, it inspired you to do the same cause, not for the greater good, but for you to steady your heart. With Alicent’s brown eyes, anyone would be easily swayed at her beauty. With your eyes like glowing water, the subjects were to assume that you’re either a sea creature in the ocean, or have been reincarnated as a woman. Common folks assumed that you’re a goddess sent by Maiden herself. But others theorized you’re born in the sacred pond within the forest.

Despite the nonsensical rumors, you carried out your duties dulled within life, but with your brother, Gwayne Hightower, entered in your chambers without a warning.

“Sister!”

“Good heavens, you gave me a fright,” you screeched, hand clutching over your chest.

“A word from the raven,” he resumed, pulling out the letter. “It’s from our dear sister.”

She hasn’t written you a letter for months. Understanding of her high authoritative position, thankfully enough you aren’t the queen. You couldn’t bear to think about gifting children into the world from your maidenhood.

“Alicent!” Departing from the chair, you snatched the letter from Gwayne’s hand and ripped the letter open, straightening the scrolled paper.

My dearest sister,

I regret to inform you that I cannot visit in the Oldtown due to personal circumstances that our father has been trifled with the matters in King’s Landing. As queen, I must fully prioritize my duties and smite the inconsiderate undutiful thought of others. My dear husband, King Viserys, has been unwell as of late, growing slower day by day, but still the same man who loves his histories and shed upon endless favoritism on his daughter and her plain-featured sons, as well his miniatures he rarely finished. As of this moment, we are preparing the feast for the upcoming celebration. Misery and dread and politics has been my company, and I’d be happy if you come to King’s Landing and stay here for more than a month. I also send Gwayne and his men to escort you back. I hope you still have the new dresses and jewels the seamstress sorted to your taste; I always know that you hated attire that itched your flesh or suffocating. Words cannot expressed about how I miss the sweetness of your smile and laughter. We shall meet soon.

Signed,

Alicent Hightower

Jumping with joy, your body lunged at Gwayne, locking him into a tight hug, slightly hopping in place with a big grin stretched onto your lips.

“Have my things ready, brother,” you said, hasting, forgetting about the silks and fabrics in your hands.

“But you need more time. You’ll stay in King’s Landing as our queenly sister instructed.”

“Send the maids, then. I can’t do this alone.”

“You mustn’t make haste!” Gwayne shouted as you ran off, never minding the silks on the ground only for him to pick up.

“The sooner the better,” you shouted back.

~~~

The trailed ship took no more than three days to reach King’s Landing. Alicent hasn’t mentioned anything particular to the celebration. But you have come to acknowledge that Alicent lessened the details.

By the time the ships rested at the shore, you rushed down to the clear path and greeted your father, who was rather cold and emotionless. Nevertheless, you gave the courtesy of shallow inclination of your neck bent down. Though your heart shattered at the motionless greeting; a chilled wind spiraled on your thickened sleeves.

“Father,” you said, grinning ear to ear.

“Queen Alicent awaits,” is all he said, then left without abiding on you.

“But—”

“Ser Gwayne, escort this lady in the Red Keep,” he wasn’t saying it with care.

This lady.

Months without communication and souvenirs, you’d ought it’ll soften your father’s resolve regarding onto the estrangement.

Another clash of heartbreak has struck again. But it comes as no surprise.

Both of you hadn’t spoke since of his second wife—your mother’s—passing.

As numb as it may be, the small pang in your heart resolved again as Gwayne Hightower escorted you to the high steeps close, reaching the royal grounds of Red Keep.

~~~

Infiltrating from climbing the steps until reaching the indoors, the green queen appeared.

Your sister.

“Alicent,” you rushed and clung her to embrace.

“Sister, how good of you to come,” Alicent replied.

The halls greeted you in cold and dreaded air clinging onto your sleeves, goosebumps flooded over your skin, the thick air of candles and torches has impaled your stomach. You didn’t like this feeling. These halls, darkened in heralds of statues and stars that your pupils recognizant.

Faith of the Seven.

Hightowers held their religion in the highest regard, while you, don’t cherish the ideologies of the religion, filled with fanaticism and hypocrisy. Even Targaryens have the queerest customs, of marrying brother to sister, relative to relative since Aegon I. It dire consequences of genetics and birth, and the fruition of a child birth into an unshakable world of politics and desires. According to the Citadel, in secret debate, those who are born of incest are nothing but sort of monsters lurking, a defect to a bloodline.

The Targaryens disagree—couldn’t care less, of course. As you often heard of keeping the bloodline pure.

Bloodline pure. People speculated that the Targaryens are closer to gods than men. Thus their words ‘Fire and Blood’ is in order. In Valyria, their source is magic and dragons, long before volcanic eruptions swept the lands and dragons into ashes. The last Targaryens resided in Westeros, and thus, their last kind is dwindling, hence creating pure bloodline. As theatrically hysterical as it is, you trudged along the halls.

“It has been so long since I saw you last,” Alicent began.

“It has, but we rarely sent letters as of late.”

“Being a queen is no simple task. Our father’s ambition has gotten stronger.”

“Your father,” you said bitterly.

“My dear sister,” Alicent resumed, her voice soothed. “Father is doing his best to stabilize the realm.”

“Cold, cruel and calculated,” you answered. “Your strength and dutiful as queen is one of the things I admire about you. But, sister, it feels as if my existence is no longer needed. I feel as if I’m useless. My mother received no love from your father.”

The doe-eyed look in Alicent’s eyes protruding. “Sister, I—“”

“Half-sisters,” you reminded. “Everyone thought I was some sort of creature that shouldn’t belong in the realm. I’m no fool; I could hear everyone whisper, even closed doors.”

“Creature or not, you’re still a Hightower. We share the same blood. Nothing will ever change between you and I.”

“But your father will never accept me,” you replied.

Alicent clasped her hands onto yours. “The next time we see each other, I’ll be visiting the Oldtown.”

“You said that the last time on our previous letters,” you chimed. “Let him stabilize the realm alone.”

“That is why you’re here. I needed time apart from the council and subjects,” Alicent reasoned. “Men are often ambitious with their politics and trifling over gold than their wives.”

“It appears so,” you agreed, huffing.

Ironically, Alicent served men, and still is. First Jahaerys, then Otto, then Viserys. Though you wouldn’t so recklessly give your personal opinion away to Alicent.

“We have yet to explore the grounds. We must rest at the gardens. I know how much you love staying in the gardens.”

Your cheeky smile was showing. “I do.”

Alicent squeezed your hand. “Let us be off. It’s considered bad luck if we let our food grow cold.”

“Never knew that it involves bad luck.”

“I’ve been told.”

“By who?”

Not once, Alicent answered.

~~~

“Make yourself comfortable,” Alicent said, indicating the spare chair, and watched you sat with ease, eyeing the lavish outdoors where the Weirwood stood as main view.

“Quite nice out,” you complimented.

This was Alicent meant when she said gardens.

“I chose this spot for a reason,” Alicent said as the servants settled the meal over the table—bowed and left. And the last servant entered, placing a stacked candied almonds and candied plums on a gold platter, alongside of Dornish wine.

Alicent watched your eyes lit up.

“I took the liberty of having the kitchen staff ready for your sweet-tooth,” she clarified.

“You know me well, sister.” You grinned.

“My lady,” a soothing masculine voice said behind you.

“Ser Criston,” Alicent addressed, glancing. “I’m occupied as of this moment.”

“There has been urgent matters regarding to your son.”

Puzzled, Alicent spoke with, “Which son?”

Appalled, your eyes darted at her. On the other hand, you never retain information from Alicent.

“Aegon,” Criston answered, eyes turning away. “I’m afraid his excursions have rather been…” Then his dark brown eyes flicked to yours, his mouth opened, choosing his words carefully.

“We’ll speak no more of it,” Alicent pleaded. “I’m under the liberty of entertaining my sister at the moment. Do ignore Aegon’s excursions for now.”

Somewhere in between the lines, you knew Alicent’s calm demeanor struck hard when the excursions take place, wrath kept within, as you read between Alicent’s lines furrowed on her forehead. Ser Criston glimpsed at you and bowed before withdrawing from the outdoors.

“My apologies,” Alicent said to you in a dreaded voice. “The excursions in the daylight hour upon King’s Landing hasn’t ended.”

“I never knew you had a son,” you said, munching on the candied almonds.

Alicent swallowed the contents of the food. “I mentioned it once before in the letter. That I was having a babe in my belly.”

You pondered for a moment. It was back when Alicent married Viserys and carried a child in her.

“But you never mentioned that it’s a son,” you commented.

“But I’m sure you heard Aegon’s name the moment he arrived into the world.”

Your teeth clenched. “I can assure you I did.” The Oldtown spoke of Aegon in high regards, but as you grew older, you never hear much of Aegon’s doings, hoping to meet your nephew, you waited, but as usual, you sister never once sent letters to offer you an invite.

“Things have been hectic for the past years, and I doubt that’ll cease. With the Iron Throne empty and with all that it stands, we’re keeping the place intact with politics and debate,” Alicent reasoned.

You stayed in silence.

“If you would like,” Alicent continued, “I would be happy to take you to the gallery. The Red Keep has been nothing but a dread. I shall escort you and give you a tour to the Red Keep unless you want someone else to—”

“No, I’d be thrilled if you were to accompany me,” you paused, then said, “sister.”

Alicent gently beamed at that.

~~~

When you and Alicent both went inside the Red Keep, the royal subjects and guards bowed before the green queen as their eyes lingered onto yours, and an incoherent of whispers were passed to your ears.

The sister of the green queen.

And as you ascended the staircases, from there, you saw the shaded eyes of violet and curled hair—a young girl, a few years younger than you.

“Mother, have you seen my—” The girl’s youthful stare darted to yours, backing away gradually.

“This is my sister, (y/n), your aunt,” Alicent introduced. “This is Princess Helaena, my daughter,” Alicent said to you.

“A pleasure.” As you made an inclination to your neck, smiling to the princess as you hadn’t realized that the others accompanied none other by two young men behind Helaena, both with Targaryen features.

Your heart stopped—leapt with warmth—when you first glanced at the tall prince with gold, lithe hair as his other eye covered with eyepatch.

“These are my other sons…” Alicent said, searching for the third son with a slight frown on her features. “Where is Aegon?”

“Drunk as usual,” Daeron rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“That blasted fool…” Alicent hissed, then smiled merrily in a way to appease herself. “I hope you and Lady (y/n) would get along.”

“Yes, I remember now! You’re that boy—that cupbearer in the council!” you said to Daeron.

Daeron beamed. “I am proud to serve my mother’s family in Oldtown. Ashamed we never met circumstances in the Reach, yet here we are!” he chuckled. “For my dear father’s name day contained in private ceremony, I’m glad you came.”

You sensed the sarcasm in the word “father”, but shrugged it off.

The dread of unwanted unwelcome washed away with glee. “Indeed. I shall look forward to the festivities.”

Aemond lifted and placed his kiss upon the back of your hand. A kiss placed with gentle fire ignited your dulled soul, envision with flames of blush blaring your dewy cheeks. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Breath caught in your throat, eyeing on his hand still lingering his intertwine fingers to your skin. “Likewise, my prince…”

For the first time in your life, the gentleness of a dragon has captured your heart and soul.

As for Aemond, with the slighted news of your presence, there’s nothing more than mere maiden who needs to be soiled with his perversions trapped and coiled and enflamed in between his legs. When he first laid his gaze on you, he pictured your flushed skin wrapped with his own, his lips captured yours as his presence trapped into your mind for eternity. But alas, with a wandering thought just now, it wasn’t like him. He mustn’t be capricious and avarice on the spot.

With your grand arrival, Aemond had already decided you’ll become his.

One day at the time, he reminded himself.

“It’s unusual for you to be courteous to someone,” Alicent commented.

“I never wish to scare anyone with my presence, mother,” Aemond said. “It is my duty as a prince to make our special guest comfortable.”

A hot tingle between your legs stirred as you eyed on him—on his lips—how rolled off words with his tongue, finding yourself imagining at the thought of your nephew tasting your folds as you ride him, warming the bed—riding him whilst lace and corset of your precious dress torn apart by his own rugged and young hands.

“He’s only being courteous like Prince Daeron,” you noted, clearing your throat. “Everyone must fulfill their role to the realm. We mustn’t decay our customs to rudeness.”

Aemond’s eye gleamed at your flushing features whilst you looked at Alicent in the eye, you speak with assurance yet your body wavered, dying for your hungered coil in you—the scorch caged within your dress to be set free.

You cannot fool me, my princess, he thought.

In the end, nobody can fool a dragon like him.

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snippychicke · 9 months ago

Text

Poppy Seeds--Part Three

Inspired by TooManyPsuedonyms work, which in turn was inspired by @semisolidmind fanart/cabin!Au for Playtime Poppy. Especially these works today

Master post

Seven: Music

As soon as Kissy found the old radio stuffed away, she was in love. Especially when you found the vinyl records and 8-track tapes stored away. Old records your grandparents had loved like The Mamas and The Papas, Abba, John Denver, and others you weren’t so familiar with.

Soon music was always playing in the house as long as Kissy was awake. To the point that every time you were in town, you had raided the second hand store and old music shops for more.

Because it not only made the pink giant happy, but seemed to lift everyone's spirits, even on the bad days. And if that’s what it took, you would be all too happy to accommodate.

-+-

Some old song played, and something about it had everyone up and dancing. Kissy had Ollie in her arms, and the boy was giggly as the giant spun him around. Poppy was swaying by herself on the kitchen counter, though she seemed quite content by the smile on her face.

Dancing with Dogday was a bit challenging considering your size difference, but he was determined to make it work. And well, you had no complaints as he held you close with an arm around your back while his other hand encompassed yours.

Actually, you were in heaven, you just didn't want to admit it. The feelings in your chest had been slowly growing warmer and fonder for Dogday, but burying your face in his soft chest was making you realize what exactly those emotions were.

Surely this was just another side effect of the horrors you survived, right? Or just having someone so openly affectionate with you after being somewhat socially isolated the last decade as you hid from the truth you accidentally had uncovered at Playtime.

It didn't help with him always calling you angel, or following you around like a shadow. And right now, some of your favorite moments were just laying together in bed, snuggled closely and basking in the moment.

You were starting to fall in love, and you weren't quite sure how to deal with it.

His deep voice started to sing softly along with the chorus, and you knew you were in deep trouble.

Eight: Hunt

Feeding four people was going to strain your meager funds as a small farmer/rancher. Especially when two of those ‘people’ were towering creatures with an appetite of 2 each.

You knew they could ‘survive’ off less, and they both tried to hide the fact the typical portions were leaving them hungry. But after hearing both Kissy and Dogday's growl loudly several meals in a row, you deduced that it wasn't quite enough. And while you had a large garden planted, it was going to be at least a few weeks to a couple of months to benefit from that.

You knew there were plenty of deer and elk in the woods this time of year--along with things like bears and mountain lions. So you had your gramps' old shotgun hanging off your shoulder by the old strap, unable to see either Dogday or Kissy but you knew they were still within shouting distance. Surely between the three of you, you'd be able to bring something in, even if it was something smaller like a rabbit or one of the wild turkeys.

Hunting was not your favorite thing, but it put food on the table. Besides, you knew Ollie needed more nutrition too if he was ever going to get rid of that sallow tint and put meat on his bones.

There was a grumble along with a crack of a branch that gave you half a second warning. You turned, not expecting the giant grizzly bear that somehow got behind you.

You swore as you fumbled with the shotgun-- you had been more familiar with the old Grab Pack than you were the gun. The grizzly huffed again and lumbared towards you far faster than you thought something that size could. You attempted a shot, which fired with a harsh crack, but it went far too wide.

You were dead.

But in a blur of deep violet, the grizzly was knocked to the forest floor. It took you another second to recognize Catnap as he tore into the animal.

There was a brief moment of relief… and then you realized you had just traded one deadly situation for the other.

Catnap eventually released the grizzly bear and looked towards you. You took a step back, even though you knew there was no way you could outrun him. Not here in the open where there were no places to hide. You could try and shoot him, yet that weighed too heavy on your conscience, even if it meant saving your life. Never mind you couldn’t even shoot the grizzly at point-blank range.

Catnap suddenly stood on his back legs, easily switching to be bipedal… then kneeling before you. “Savior,” he breathed with more reverence than Dogday which was… was something.

“Uh,” you answered intelligently, blinking at the giant cat. Savior? You?

With a sense of deja-vu, Catnap was tackled in the same way he had tackled the animal moments earlier. Dogday’s giant paws were clenched into fists as he wailed upon the purple cat, a deep thunderous growl echoing from his chest.

Before he could do too much damage, and before Catnap could start fighting back-- you rushed forward and grabbed Dogday’s fist and held it back. You knew he could easily overpower you, but thankfully he paused, looking at with narrowed eyes.

“Stop it,” you begged, “please. He-he saved my life.”

That seemed to get through to him. Dogday looked towards the lifeless form of the grizzly, then at Catnap beneath him. The other giant Smiling Critter was glaring up at the dog with the same hate Dogday was glaring at him.

You gently pulled at Dogday, and he slowly followed your lead, unpinning Catnap and allowing him to climb to his feet and brush off the dirt and leaves.

"Why are you here?” Dogday snarled, placing himself directly between you at Catnap just as Kissy arrived, her smile dimmed as she bared her needle-point teeth at Catnap.

Yet Catnap seemed unaffected, his eyelights focused on you, peeking out from behind your friend. “They saved us. They are The Savior who defeated the false-god.”

Dogday relaxed somewhat at his word, though just a little. “Ah, just as much of a fanatic as before.”

“You deny their works?” Catnap growled back. “Even after the many works you saw yourself, you are a heretic of the true savior?”

“My angel saved us; I’ll agree with you on that, but I know they’re not going to be happy about that new title, or your worship. Unlike the prototype, angel doesn’t exactly like sacrifices.”

“N-no fighting,” you agreed, holding on to Dogday’s hand as you stepped up to his side. “No killing--other than for food,” you tacked on, seeing Kissy pause. A deer in one hand that she had dragged like a stuffed animal along the forest floor. “Or for protection. And that goes for both of you.”

It was probably seeing you try to boss the two--both of whom were about twice your height.

You squeaked indignantly as Dogday suddenly lifted you up and pulled you close to him. “Only for your sake, angel.” he murmured, nuzzling against the crook of your neck and shoulder the best he could due to both his size and also undoubtedly glaring at Catnap over your shoulder.

You could feel your face burn hot, but still gave an exasperated expression to Kissy, who hid her teeth and instead looked far more amused than she should have been.

Nine: Close

You escaped into the porch, desperate for some fresh air. It had been about a week since the Incident in the woods, and if you thought Dogday had been your shadow, you had been sorely mistaken. Knowing Catnap.was somewhere in the nearby forest left him on high alert and even more protective.

At first, you could understand it. You were more than a little shaken yourself. Especially when you would find random animals dead on your porch, ranging from rabbits to a moose. Dogday was sure Catnap was taunting everyone but…

But you had cats before. And yes, Catnap was not an actual cat, but neither was Dogday yet there were traits that seemed too much of a coincidence.

For example, Dogday loved to be petted. To the point he often rested his head in your lap while you both sat on the floor to watch tv. He had that ‘magic spot’ where his ear and head joined that when scratched would make his leg kick. (You avoided it most of the time, knowing he was self conscious of it… but sometimes temptation was too great to see that blissed look on his face.)

So you had to admit, Catnap acting like a cat… was not so far fetched. Bringing food (because they had all been fresh kills of edible animals) was a sign of affection in most cats--even moreso, you were sure, for a giant cat who had endured a decade of near starvation.

But convincing Dogday that Catnap meant no harm… that would be a challenge.

You rubbed your eyes hard with an aggravated sigh, hard enough you saw stars when you opened your eyes.

…or maybe not. You noticed a pair of eyes reflecting the porch light, far taller than any animal you could think of…

Slowly Catnap stepped out of the shadows, though didn’t pass the treeline. Instead he seemed hesitant to draw too close, his gaze flitting between you and the house behind you.

Probably expecting Dogday or maybe one of the others to come out in a rage. Yet you could hear them talking and laughing as they played one of the board games (that you purposely lost for a chance for some fresh air.)

You didn’t feel comfortable enough to approach Catnap, but… something about the lonely creature tugged at your heartstrings. Without really thinking you scooted to the edge of the porch, dangling your legs off the edge, and offered a hand.

“Psspt ppsspp ppsspp.”

The giant cat blinked at you, and for a long moment you felt like an idiot. Trying to call Catnap like he was just an old farm cat? Really?

Yet it seemed to work as Catnap slowly stalked out of the first, slinking low to the ground with his attention split between you and the cabin.

He really was an overgrown cat.

The thought made you relax some, even ast Catnap eventually loomed over you, head tilted in curiosity as if to say: “Okay, I’m here. Now what do you want?”

“Thank you for the presents?” you offered awkwardly, not sure yourself what had compelled you other than pity. “The turkey especially, even if we had feathers strewn about for a while. They were quite… novel to everyone.”

Catnap appeared to accept the praise pridefully, standing a little taller. Without thinking (which was certainly a common theme tonight) you raised your hand to scratch his chin. He paused for a moment before sinking into your touch, a slow and deep purr resonating from his chest.

Oh. You don’t bother fighting the smile as Catnap slowly slumped to the ground, looking as blissed with the soft scratches as Dogday. Though the purring was quite new, and where Dogday allowed his eyes to close completely as he rested his head in your lap, Cat nap’s were only half closed, though the expression in them was full reverence and tenderness.

It was a rather peaceful moment--until the door slammed open. “Catnap!” Dogday snarled as the other giant Smiling Critter jumped, back arched and a hiss on his lips. “Angel! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” you answered as you jumped to your feet, stopping Dogday from going after Catnap as he retreated back into the woods. “He didn’t hurt me, see?”

It took a moment for Dogday to tear his gaze away from the shadows where Catnap disappeared into and look down to you. You reached up with the same hands you had petted Catnap with and cupped his face. As always, it helps him relax, though only somewhat.

“Angel,” he sighed, leaning into your touch, though not as deep as before. “Why do you have to be so kind?”

You're pretty sure his question was rhetorical, but you smiled anyway as you rubbed the pad of your thumb along the curve of his cheek. “Because no one else was.”

That caused the last bit of stress to ease, and he sunk deeper into your touch while wrapping his arms around your waist. “Angel, my sweet angel, you're going to be the death of me.”

---*--

Dogday knew logically that his angel was as kind and merciful as their namesake. They wouldn't be his angel if they weren't.

But they were als very brave and foolhardy.

It drove Dogday up the wall to see them be so kind to Catnap for some reason. They had all done things they weren't proud of, the only innocent one among them being Ollie. But they had done so to survive. There had been no pleasure in it.

But Catnap… he killed because the Prototype told him. He had killed so many in the name of the Prototype.

He may call their angel ‘savior,’ but Dogday didn't trust him. He didn't like how his angel would leave portions of food out, going as far as to yell for Catnap to come and get it before the other wild creatures did. He didn't like it when they'd scratch Catnap behind his ear, laughing as the giant cat rubbed his face against them with a deep purr.

He really didn't like it when his kind hearted angel made a space for Catnap in the barn. Filling the area with blankets and pillows, and even a spare radio and lamp.

“I can't just leave him!” You argued with a huff later that night, dressing yourself for bed. “It's going to get cold at night--winter comes early to these parts. I know that letting him in the house would be a bad idea--if he'd even accept the offer.”

Dogday knew he would--if just to spite him. Everything Catnap did, Dogday swore was for the sole purpose to annoy him.

“He doesn't deserve you, angel. None of us do, but especially not him. Yet your so kind to him, going out of the way to make sure he's okay…”

“I'd do that for anyone, ‘day. You guys didn't deserve the shit you went through, the least I can do is make up for a bit of it.”

Dogday hesitated as you climbed into bed, an uncomfortable feeling welling up in his chest. “Is that why we're here, angel? For you to try and repent as well?”

He could tell he struck a nerve as you flinched, and almost apologized, except the words got caught in his voicebox, twisting themselves into barbs to cut deeper. “Is that the only reason you let me stay with you every night?”

Your eyes were watery when you looked up at him, though there was that steely resolve as well. “You know it's not, Dogday. You're… you're special to me. I wouldn't let anyone else share my bed… except maybe Olie if he had a nightmare.”

Something twisted and knotted in Dogday’s chest relaxed at your reassurance allowing him to sigh. You echoed his sigh before patting the bed beside you. “Come here, big guy. It looks like you could use a hug.”

How were you so perfect?

Instead of crawling in beside you, Dogday decided to take that hug by crawling halfway atop of you, head pressed against your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

He could hear your heart beating, quick but strong, and simply presumed it was from emotions running high like his own. He didn't even realize he had nestled himself between your legs until he felt the soft weight of your thighs press against his hips.

Oh. He may not be human but he did recognize a compromising position when he saw one. Yet before he could pull away, your hands reached up and scratched behind his ears. “Oh ‘day,” you sighed with such a hint of fondness he felt his tail wag in response. “You haven’t been feeling jealous, have you?”

His tail froze as he tensed, and he tried to hide his face in your chest. “No,” he lied.

Your laugh made it clear you didn't believe him, but you didn't call him out on it. Instead you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Good, because that would be silly. No one can compare to you, no matter what.”

His face felt like it was on fire, yet his tail was wagging faster than ever. His arms tightened around your waist as he tried to press himself closer to you. You were his angel, his guiding light, and for you to say that he was special to you.

Well, he couldn’t be happier.

#dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime #dogday/player #dogday x player #dogday/reader #dogday x reader #dogday #catnap #catnap poppy playtime

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babybratzmaraj · 28 days ago

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You Don’t Know My Name

Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond

You as Yourself

Summary: Today was the start of your day which already wasnt worth a lick of shit, but what if someone changes that?

A/N i gave the nigga a full name, yall gone see, but SURPISEEE! @megamindsecretlair you clocked me and it is Mr Terry that was in the coming soon, hope you enjoyed yet another cameo in this series and i hope you like it!♥️ also @violetmuses ik i gave you this idea, but i stole it back and i hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: Nothing, just pure cuteness and family time.

For Boosted Experience, Heres the Official Soundtrack. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2K7IeGXgQq7K16YP1Jb7yN?si=UCA3v7yZQieKWNRrBg0wdA&pi=u-4AXbUCgzR42u

Your eyes fluttered open at the annoyance of your alarm clock blaring in your ear, you looked over to see it was 7:45, 45 minutes past your time to get ready for work.

Over today already, you slammed your hand onto the clock, not giving a damn if the thing broke or not. You looked outside to see the sun’s beautiful attempt to wake the people of Earth, the vibrancy of the colors making you jealous that you have to work at 9:30 but choose to get up to prep for it.

You glanced in the mirror and almost gave yourself seven years of bad luck, The one time you take your braids out is the day you decide to get five more minutes of sleep, Luckily, you washed and blow-dried it the night before, so it shouldn’t give you a hassle, but your hair never agrees.

You turned off the alarm clock before the snooze timer exploded your eardrums, grabbing your phone to put on your get-ready-for-work playlist.

Summer by Kenya Vaun blasted through your pink headphones, enjoying the outside before heading to work which would take the whole song, but it was just a nice way to start today.

The vibrant colors scrambled away as the blues paraded throughout the sky, the clouds playing tag and creating little symbols and animals, you could stand still and watch the sky all day and not get bored, even the heart-shaped cloud winking down at you.

You approached your job with a fake smile, Westside Diner! Home of one of the best coney dogs in your opinion, the 1950’s 1950-inspired diner was filled with memorabilia from the past and fifties like decor, you admired how much time and effort was put into making the wonderful restaurant if only there was one for us black people.

You scurried across the street, smelling the breakfast scents that lingered out into the air and slapping you dead in your negro nostrils, envy filled your body towards the people who were enjoying themselves at this establishment.

Pushing open the door, the door suddenly became lighter, shooting your hands forward as you braced your fall, an arm flung around to catch you, a small ‘oof!’ flew from your mouth.

‘Please get off me, I’m finna clock out’ You said calmly in your head, closing your eyes to not see if there were any witnesses.

Your despair was vocal enough that a deep chuckle shook you straight, “No one saw it,” he said, low enough to be quiet as a church mouse. You turned around to see if the voice matched the face and whew!

This fine… Heaven sent of a man completely towering over you, he sported a brown sweater with khakis with black dress shoes with a gold buckle on the side, gold gracefully complementing his skin tone, and not too much gold to wear it drowns the color from his eyes, good lord his eyes! as ethereal as the sky.

“Alrighty buttercup,” you snapped your head around to see Ms. Olaynika, the manager and your third mother you have collected like a Pokemon. She snapped her fingers and hurried you, “It’s 8:54, Times’a ticking and food is ready to go in stomachs!” she finished before going back to her table like she didn’t just rush you, the professionality, you loved it.

“Thank you, hope you enjoy your day.” You thanked the man before scraming away from him.

“So you mean to tell me,” Your best friend Nicole stood there with a face with her arms crossed with her eyebrows scrunched up and away like her braids, “You had this fine ass man who saved you from embarrassment, held you for a long time, and had nice eyes?”

You smiled while rolling your eyes, “I just know that isn't what all you got from that.”

“No!” She tilted her head to the side as her voice went up an octave higher than normal, “I’m just saying I don't know how you standing right here talking to me instead of going downtown.”

“I wish, but I need a ‘you deserve it’ weekend, I’m tired of being cooped in the house.” you sighed walking up to the counter with Nicole trailing you. “I can’t have Mr. Bigshot to distract me.”

“You know that’s a damn lie,” she told you in a sing-songy voice, “You gone think about him all day and that's ok! You deserve that along with your ‘you deserve it weekend’.”

She was right, but you couldn’t let her know that she wouldn’t let you hear the end of it even after your shift. You checked the notebook to see whose section was where and when the time switch was. “And how do you know he finna be on my mind?” You asked without looking up from the notebook.

“Because he is currently, at your section, Have fun!”

You finally looked up from the scribbled on paper to see that he really was in your section, his glasses placed on the tip of his nose, his gaze fixated on the book, and he had a good pick! White Smoke by Tiffany D. Jackson, Your smile flipped inwards as you admired his taste in books.

You straighten your posture, checking if your shirt was ok and decent for the eyes to absorb. You pranced towards his booth with a smile on your face, clicking your pen to hide the fact that you were absolutely scared to talk to this man without your stuttering sneaking through the flaps of your mouth.

You stated your name with a smile and snuck glances at his book. He was at the part where Marigold was sneaking around her mom and her stepdad to make her very own weed farm, but it was destroyed by something or someone? Who the fuck knows, you never got to finish, maybe you can go to the library soon to catch up on it.

“Passionate reader huh?” He asked, noticing your desperate attempts to read along with him. You hid your smile behind your notepad, “You caught me, That is my favorite author, even though I only finished one book.”

“Really?” His eyebrows were hunched, sticking a napkin in place of a bookmark. “Yes! The book was called ‘Grown’. It was such a lovely book and-” You started to ramble about the book but you’ve realized, you don’t get paid for sharing interests, you get paid for working.

“What would you like?”

“Oh, you can’t do that to me.” he covered his heart as if he was just insulted, “You can’t leave me like that, I wanted to hear about this book.”

“Maybe if we meet again, I do look better outside my work clothes,” you joked and he laughed, your toes spazzing out inside your black Nike huaraches, He laughed! And he had a nice one, a very cute one along with his ear-to-ear smile.

“Coffee, Please, and whatever food you think I would enjoy.”

“Ooooook.” You jotted down his order, “And how would you like your coffee?”

“Sweet, Like you.” he winked.

“Give me 5 minutes and I’ll be back with your coffee.”

It’s been 20 minutes since you last gave Mystery Man his meal. Since he let you be the judge of what he ate, you gave him one of your favorites at this diner! The Western Omelette with crispy hash browns on the side with a smiley face in ketchup. While waiting at other tables, you observed him nervously, scared that he might not like your selection of breakfast foods, that you put too much sugar and whipped cream in his coffee, which you also made a smiley face on as well, he had you anxious and you didn’t like it, he was a cute stranger after all.

After a while you sucked it up, shaking your jitters away as you walked up to his booth. “Everything alright with your order?”

“Mm!” He signaled you to wait for a little minute as he took a sip of his coffee, licking his lips as he gently set the mug down, “I loved it, the hash browns may be my new favorite here.”

You felt relieved, your muscles that you didn’t even know were tensed eased, “I’m glad I can make your morning better! Would you like anything else?”

“Uh, A To-Go Box and a Fruit Punch To-Go please.” He smiled, grabbing a napkin to dab the sides of his mouth.

“I can start on the fruit punch and if you want, you can follow me to ring out your order.”

“No need,” he said, digging into his pocket and handing you his black card. This nigga is fancy.

You looked at the card almost dumbfounded. You never really saw a black card, only heard about it from Fabolous and movies and shit, but never seen it in person.

You carefully grabbed his card from his hands, “I’ll be back.”

You walked away and checked on your other table that wanted your attention before him. Making sure everyone was ok with their needs met, you walked to the cash register, punching in his food and coffee, sneaking a peek at the name on the card, Terrance Richmond. A sophisticated name for a sophisticated man, a wonderful sight to see.

You slid the card with the receipt into your waist apron as you asked one of your co-workers to ring in a new customer while you started on his fruit punch with light ice. The fruit punch here was delicious and it didn’t need to be watered down with hella ice.

Swiftly grabbing a To-Go box on your way out, you happily waddled towards Terry’s table. “Your Box, Punch and,” You dragged your last word as you pulled out his card and receipt out the apron, “Card, Mr. Richmond.”

“Oh! I see you snuck a peek for my name, it's only right I know your full one.” he teased you as he examined the paper.

“I don’t get paid for that, I get paid to service you.” you teased back as you can only hope you get to do that for free.

You gave him your pen and pointed to the line below the total, “Since you did pay with card, You need to sign here, for fraud protection purposes. While you do that, I shall be back with your copy.”

He silently thanked you, his smile growing wider and more innocent. You looked around and made eye contact with Nicole, making matching faces as you two met at the counter.

“Sooooo,” she started, “How’s Tall, Black, and Lightskin?” she asked as you covered your mouth, silently howling in the semi-busy environment around you two. “He has a name, it’s Terrance.”

“I’m not calling him that long ass name!” she huffed as she rang in her customer's order, “That nigga name will be Mr. Pretty Eyes.”

“Terrance too long of a name but Mr. Pretty Eyes is just right? Kinda backwards shit is that Yoda?”

“Care about that shit, I do not!” she perfectly said in Yoda, causing you both to snicker, tapping each other on the shoulder. “Plus must I remind you of that alien ass nigga you had a crush on in 6th-”

“Eugh!” You verbally voiced your displeasure with yourself, his face just flashing into your head. “We don’t speak about that vermin.”

Nicole threw her hands up, taking a pen from the clean cup to scratch her head full of braids. “Aw, Shit. I gave him my pen.” you reminded yourself scooting past her to go to his booth but he was long gone, all that was left was his fruit punch, your pen, and a 50 dollar bill. The writing on the cup said ‘Enjoy Yourself:)’. You looked around for his silhouette, but he was long gone, you smiled at his nice gesture of leaving you a fruit punch.

What a way to start off your morning.

Home, 8 pm,

You closed your eyes as your bed welcomed you back into its arms, the savory smell of chili floating around in your room.

You finished your shift with ease after your little encounter with that man. That’s rude, his name is Terry, Terrance, but permanently Terry. You have got to stop beating yourself up over something small.

But it wasn’t small, everything that flowed off that man was so intoxicating, a mystery in a good book or show that you just want to solve, but not so quickly, you needed some fun in your life.

After your shift, You and Nicole walked to your house to talk for a few and according to her, you were a daydreamer. Every few minutes or so, you would zone out, even her calling you Buttercup didn’t snap you out, and that’s close to an army vet being awoken by ‘At Ease’.

You denied it but you definitely were. You just couldn’t stop thinking about how his reading voice is, Was he gentle? Was he passionate? Would he carefully rub the pages before turning? Does he lick his index to turn it? Many outcomes, Many Possibilities.

A tickling sensation jolted you out of your trance, your eyes zapping to the culprit, which was your grandmother, “I’ve been yelling your name Cupcake!” she sarcastically smiled, waving the clean black spoon around like a mad woman.

“Sorry Mama Moonie,” You bounced to your feet, grabbing your phone off the bed before extending your arms towards her.

“Yeah, Yeah. When we get to this table you gone tell me what boy got my baby acting like she’s Tiana.” she pointed the spoon in your face, giving you an up-down before she walked away leaving you speechless. “Who said it was a boy!”

You trailed behind her as she grabbed two navy blue bowls out of the cabinet, peering at you like you must’ve forgotten who she was.

“Cupcake lemme tell ya,” she started, ready to tell you information you already knew by saying:

“I have been on this earth for 63 long ass years, that's 6 decades’ worth of knowledge compared to the few you have. You don’t think I have had those experiences where a man would have me ina spell! His aura haunts you in a way that makes you paralyzed, the masculinity he possesses within himself, and to not be an asshole in the same breath. I could go all day but you don’t wanna hear about my pussy being wet.”

“MOONIES!” you yelled as she started howling, your body shuddering at the thought of- That! But she is always so blunt in everything she does, you have no choice but to love it.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, swatting her laughter away, “But I’m saying, I’ve been there, so you might as well spill that tea before I clock that tea.” she finished, hitting the spoon on the pot before turning around with two full bowls of chili as she headed to the table.

“I have got to get you off of instagram reels,” you said aloud, popping the top on the pot and running water on the spoon before placing it over a towel to dry. turning around to see her shimmy into her way into the dark oak dining chair, her hands await yours.

“Let me grab crackers, I’ll join in a second.” you hurriedly opened the cabinet to grab the open box of ritz crackers, your feet shuffling to the left and the right before shimmying yourself into your seat, setting your crackers next to your bowl as you joined hands with Mama Moonies as you bowed for prayers.

“Lord I thank you for returning us to our safe and humble domain, may the food we are about to eat gives us the nutrients we need and the energy to finish our day strong, Lord I ask you for anything we don’t feel like talking about, to be in your hands, bless us with what we need, rid us of what we don’t. Lord, I also ask you to let our questions that need to be answered, be the answers that keep us sane. In Jesus name, Amen.”

The prayer ended and the tea quickly began to be spilled. You told Mama Moonies about everything, the one thing you loved about dinner time in this house, it was a time of love and happiness to be spilled around, with a lil bit of judgment here and there, but all harmless.

You told her about how the man basically saved you from embarrassment, wanted to know more about you, even made you get your own drink with a tip and a message, even telling her how you hoped he would become a regular. Her face stuck on a smirk as she downed her chilli. “Oh what Mama!” you exclaimed after having enough of her looks and giggles from time to time.

“Seems like you have a crush.”

“That I don’t!” Yes you did.

“You definitely do, and I don’t blame you, because you are either that or delusional, and my baby ain't that bullshit!” Welllllll.

“That man looks nice, is nice and the pockets right, of course I’m not saying you should go for his pockets, that would be wrong. But go for your heart child, open yourself, be free!” Moonies smiled as her arms expanded as big as the galaxy she was imagining, her wrinkled hand resting peacefully on yours, rubbing your knuckles with tender care. “I know you are shy, but it’s time to let it be known that you are here! be known that you deserve love and hey! God will bless you with a man, or that man. And hopefully, he packing.” Moonie's bluntness slipped out at the end, filling the room with belly laughter.

As the laughter died down, so did the food, bellies protruding out of their correct spots. “I’ll clean up, you go take a shower and enjoy your evening.” Moonies pat your hand, swiftly taking your bowl without your knowledge.

“You don’t have to!” You protest but she shot through your sign with a glare that will make a christian do Satan's stare. “Enjoy the rest of your night. I shall see you in da murrning!”

You blew a kiss towards her direction, pushing yourself up as itis started to race with your energy, and your energy was losing, but at least you can spend what you have left daydreaming about Mr. Richmond, something tells you that wasn’t your last time seeing him.

You Got Mail!: @megamindsecretlair @thecapodomme @harmshake @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @kimuzostar @yaachtynoboat711 @miyuhpapayuh @nayaxwrites @planetblaque @darqchilddaydreamz @henneseyhoe @slippinninque

#told by bratz #bratz be writing #terry richmond x reader #x black reader #x plus size reader #fluff #spotify #Spotify

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k-nayee · 2 months ago

Text

Fallen Hazbin Hotel i

wc: 3.3k a/n: this will be a slight au goes cause ngl i never really made it past episode 2💀

Traveler M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The creation of your soul was unlike any other.

In the hallowed space where human souls were molded, Seraphim Sera worked beside the successor of Lucifer in the celestial sanctum dedicated to new life.

Though Emily had grown adept at forming souls over the eons, she still found herself studying Sera's technique with curiosity and deference.

This time, however, she noticed an unusual stillness in Sera. There was a hint of sorrow in her—deeper than any Emily had seen before.

The state of humanity weighed heavily on Sera's heart. It was something even the sacrifice of Jesus had not remedied.

Where she had hoped to see more unity and compassion, humanity continued to stumble.

Devoted to creation and guidance and yet here she was: moved to a grief that seemed to reach even her divine powers.

Without Sera's knowledge that sorrow imprinted itself on the soul she was forming.

As her fingertips hovered over the amorphous light, her unspoken worries and heartache transformed it, seeping into the essence she shaped.

You were different from the start—a rare blend of purity and compassion, a hope born from despair.

No other soul had quite the same resonance as yours. It was as if each fragment of light carried Sera's lingering wish for humanity's redemption.

Emily remained silent as she observed. For all the thousands of souls she had seen, none had been like this. She could sense Sera's guarded admiration as well.

Though Sera (ever the professional) did not show overt favoritism, there was a lingering gaze—a brief stillness, every time her eyes fell upon you.

And then, just as quickly, she'd retreat to her disciplined demeanor as though she could not allow herself the luxury of attachment.

Once your formation was complete, you were sent to Earth with no knowledge of the watchful presence behind your existence.

From the beginning the world proved to be harsh and unforgiving.

Abandoned as a child and abused by those who should have protected you, you were thrust into a life of struggle.

And yet in spite of it all no bitterness clouded your heart nor did hatred take root; instead you grew wise to life's difficulties, meeting each day with a kindness that was resolute.

Each act of goodwill, every kindness you extended, seemed to spark a subtle ripple effect—something that shaped the lives of others and sent positive changes flowing into places you couldn't see.

Having never grown hard or cynical to life, you were granted angelic ascension upon your death.

Upon your arrival Sera awaited you at the gates, a subtle smile softening her usually serious expression as she guided you to your new position before going off to her own responsibilities.

Life in Heaven felt nearly surreal.

Though the celestial realms were as awe-inspiring as they were vast, you felt a strange pang of loneliness among the hierarchy of angels—most of whom seemed untouched by the hardships you remembered from Earth.

Your days was spent in quiet work under higher-ranking overseers with often yourself as company in the towering halls of Heaven.

That was until you were summoned to Adam's chambers.

You had heard much about him from other angels beyond his legacy as the first man. He was someone who had a commanding presence—sharp wit.

But as you stood before him, despite his evident authority, he exuded an oddly modern charm—a confident, slightly arrogant air that might have been more suited to a CEO than an Archangel.

He looked you up and down, his piercing gaze sizing you up as if deciding whether he could work with you at all.

In those first weeks Adam had made his displeasure known. He rarely missed an opportunity to grumble about the favor he was doing for Sera.

You were a lower-ranking angel after all. And Adam made no secret of his annoyance over this fact. It was shown through your tasks.

They were menial at first: simple records and errand-like duties—which unbeknown to you, was actually ordered to test your resolve rather than develop skills.

He was meticulous and unyielding, a mentor who would not accept anything less than perfection and barely acknowledged your efforts even when they met his exacting standards.

But as the days weeks turned to months there were subtle changes. Sometimes he would sit back and watch you with a look that lingered a bit longer than he intended.

You'd catch him softening in brief moments when he thought you weren't watching with a slight curve of his mouth when you managed something especially well.

And over time his critiques mellowed into an almost playful teasing. The conversations once clipped and formal took on a different tone.

He would linger after giving you a task—recounting stories of the early days of humanity, speaking of his own creation and the burden of his role with a tone that almost resembled confession.

Then one day he invited you to walk with him in the gardens—an invitation that you knew wasn't extended to just anyone.

As you strolled among Heaven's flowering vines and ethereal fountains he casually asked about your Earthly experiences, or as he put it, the "domino effect" Sera mentioned in your file.

You told him of your life as a human and the trials you faced and the choice to meet the world with kindness despite its many hardships.

Then, for the first time ever, a full fledged smile graced his face. Its tenderness filled the stillness around you.

That unspoken bond grew.

Even the other angels began to notice Adam's (in all his aloofness) distinct warmth that was reserved only for you.

He still carried himself with that familiar arrogance and exuded his usual authority, but his eyes softened when you were near.

His usual cutting words now had an underlying fondness that only the two of you fully understood.

You didn’t speak of it—didn’t dare name it. But when you were alone there was an undeniable closeness.

It went beyond his usual dismissive flirtations or occasional compliments. His hand would linger on yours a moment too long, his touch warm and grounding as he guided you through the grand halls.

You still felt the guarded edges around him even as he allowed this closeness. Almost as if he were keeping a part of himself hidden.

Though you yearned to know more, knowing the gentleness Adam has for you was reserved for no one else made up for it.

For now that was enough.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The revelation came upon you like a sudden storm.

It seemed ordinary enough—one of those rare quiet days where Heaven’s peace felt genuine and untouched by schemes or whispers of unrest.

You had been looking for Adam, searching the grand halls where he often spent his time in secluded contemplation or strategy.

Upon entering his quarters you stumbled upon a series of records and texts you hadn’t seen before—drawings, schematics, plans filled with the details of an endeavor you could hardly comprehend at first.

Shock locked you in place as your eyes darted over the pages, the full picture beginning to take shape.

Adam was planning to eradicate all of Hell in a brutal purge. His intentions scrawled out plainly with plans to make it a bi-annual devastation.

His motivations seemed focused—almost obsessive: he desire to destroy Lucifer for corrupting both his wives and damning humanity to sin.

The righteousness of it felt sinister in a way that clashed with everything Heaven should represent.

It was the sound of footsteps that pulled you from your horrified trance. You look up, catching Adam’s steely gaze as he entered the room.

He stilled, his eyes narrowing as his lips twist into a brief condescending smile before disappearing just as quick. “Eavesdropping now are we?”

“What...is all of this?” your voice shaky but resolute. There was no hiding your distress nor the raw betrayal evident in your tone.

He watched you carefully, his silence stretched painfully long with each passing second drawing his gaze sharper.

“It’s necessary,” he finally replied, each word precise and calculated. “You of all people should understand that.”

You shook your head with disbelief flashing in your eyes. “Necessary? Adam you’re talking about genocide. A-an endless cycle of destruction! How can you say this is the right thing?”

His expression darkened.

“This is for the greater good. Lucifer’s actions have damned humanity, cast shadows over Heaven itself.” Irritation seeped into his voice. “The world would be purer without his influence infecting it, without Hell festering beneath.”

The certainty in his tone left no room for negotiation and you felt the depth of the chasm between you.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “I can’t be a part of this Adam. I...I won’t.”

He watched you as a flicker of something like disappointment shined in his eyes, though it quickly cooled to an unnerving calm.

“Perhaps you’re just not seeing the full picture,” his voice smoothed as if he were offering comfort. “Meet me at our usual spot. I’ll explain everything. Trust me.”

There was a note of gentleness in his words, a familiar echo of the kindness you’d come to know.

Against the shadow of doubt that churned in your chest, you wanted to believe him. You wanted to think that somehow there was something you’d misunderstood.

And so you went to the place that had become yours over the years—a quiet grove within Heaven’s gardens where the two of you spent your time together.

The serenity of it now felt almost mocking.

As you waited you searched for a sense of reassurance, for the feeling that this was all some awful misunderstanding.

That Adam would arrive, put a hand on your shoulder, and explain everything away.

But instead when Adam appeared, his presence felt cold—almost mechanical. There was no trace of the man who had once softened around you nor a lingering warmth in his gaze.

“Adam...” you began only for your words to die on your lips. He raised his hand, and suddenly you felt an unfamiliar pull.

It was as though gravity itself had turned against you. Your wings flared instinctively, but they were useless against the force drawing you downward.

Realization gripped you as you looked up; this wasn’t an explanation. This was a sentence.

Adam’s face was the last thing you saw before the Fall: a sharp tooth grin stretched across his lips.

He raised his hand in a mock salute, almost playful as if he were bidding farewell to an old friend rather than sending you into damnation.

That look—that chillingly gleeful expression was imprinted itself in your mind; searing a deep wound of betrayal that would never fully heal.

Your voice caught in your throat, eyes wide with disbelief as you fell. He hadn’t wavered. Didn't hesitate.

The one who had been your confidante, who had once looked at you with something like love, has casted you down without so much as a flicker of remorse.

Tears escaped and scattered into the wind around you. Just as Heaven faded from sight, darkness fully enveloped you and your world went black.

.*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

You plummet from Heaven like a comet; a streak of searing light tearing through the thick red skies of Hell.

Your form was enveloped in flames as you crashed down with a force that made the very ground tremble.

The impact was like a small explosion—flames erupting, leaving a crater scorched and steaming as debris scattered for yards around.

Slowly you regained consciousness, faint prickles of pain tingling at the edges of your senses.

Your entire body felt heavy. Every inch of your body throbbed with the reminder that you’d been ̶b̶̶e̶̶t̶̶r̶̶a̶̶y̶̶e̶̶d̶ casted down by the very person you trusted most.

Suddenly, you feel warmth pressing against your cheek. You blink, finding yourself face-to-face with a strange malformed creature—a bird if you could call it that.

It had way too many eyes that blinked in eerie unison with a beak far too sharp as it pecked at your face.

You instinctively swat it away with more force than you intended. The creature squawked in protest before flapping its leathery wings and vanishing into the smoky distance.

Looking around you find yourself lying in the center of a deep crater as steam rose from the ground. For a second your mind struggled to reconcile where you were.

Then realization crept in slowly along with a numb sort of disbelief. Hell. You were in Hell.

As you shifted to sit up, soft murmurs above made you snap your head upwards. There on the edges of the crater stood gathering figures— Hell denizens that drawn to the commotion.

Sinners and demons, the curious and wicked souls damned to this place, they all watched you in curiosity.

That is until they caught sight of the faint remaining glow of your halo and pure white wings.

Their gazes turned alarmed before they scattered away in screeches and shrieks, stumbling and tripping over each other in their desperation to flee in the mistaken belief that your arrival was the start of an unexpected purge.

The silence that followed was almost jarring, leaving you alone in the crater as the echoes of their hurried footsteps faded into the distance.

Your body screamed in protest as you slowly rose to your feet.

You try to open your wings in attempt to take flight, but the moment you flexed them, a searing pain flared down your back making you clamp your wings shut with a wince.

It seems flying wasn't an option right now.

With painstaking effort you hobbled toward the crater’s edge, eyes fixed on the steep walls.

Your teeth grit from the pain when you reach out and grasped a jagged piece of rock jutting from the crater wall.

'Okay,' a grim look of determination cross your face. 'Guess I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.'

.*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

With a weak but firm grip you grasped the edge of the crater, using every last ounce of strength to pull yourself up onto the cracked pavement.

A heaving gasp tore from your throat as you collapsed onto solid ground before scooting yourself away from the crater’s edge.

It had taken longer than you’d hoped, but you’d done it. You were out.

Lying back, you let your head fall against the pavement to stare up at the crimson-tinted sky above.

Clouds churned in dark ominous shades of red as a massive pentagram symbol loomed high above—it glowed sinisterly, slicing through the swirling clouds in sharp precise lines.

Hell’s “moon” hung beside it—a twisted scarred orb that looked as though it had been dragged from the depths of something far darker than night.

And even higher in the distance, just barely visible against the hellish skyline, was the faint shimmer of Heaven’s gate. A cruel and unreachable mirage.

You closed your eyes, letting out a long shuddering breath as you try to gather yourself before reluctantly forcing your exhausted body to move once more.

Just as you managed to stand a strange warmth flickered above your head. Your fingers reach up to touch your now sputtering halo.

The steady glow dimmed as it pulsed weakly—and before you could fully process it, the light extinguished altogether.

The once radiant halo fell and clattered to the ground with a hollow metallic ring.

You stared down at the cold dull metal lying lifelessly in the dust. Your legs buckled and you sank to your knees, reaching out with trembling fingers to pick it up.

The weight of it felt foreign now, devoid of the light and comfort it once radiated.

A sad hollow laugh bubbled up from your throat; a weak attempt to mask the sharp ache of loss.

“...and it was such a good reading light to use,” you murmured, voice barely a whisper.

The familiar warmth of Heaven was gone and replaced by an oppressive heat that clung to you as the air around filled with the bitter scent of sulfur.

The betrayal, the Fall, and now your halo—each piece hammered at your heart, leaving you grasping at the edges of your composure as the weight of this new reality pressed in on you.

Fortunately you didn’t have time to dwell on it for long.

“Hello!” A voice cuts through the stillness.

Startled, you look up to see a young girl standing at the edge of the abandoned street, her bright eyes wide with wonder.

She was small, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders as she wore a frilly red dress that looked almost too pristine for a place like Hell

She moved before you could process her intentions, darting toward you with surprising speed.

You instinctively opened your arms, catching her as she flinged herself into your embrace with childlike trust.

Her weight was slight with a warmth to her that felt strangely comforting. She nestled against your side, tiny hands exploring your feathers as her eyes sparkled with awe.

“Oh wow!” she squealed, brushing her fingers lightly over the downy feathers of your wings that had unconsciously curled around her as if to shield her from the world. “Your wings are so pretty! They look kinda like my dad’s!”

You blinked, still processing the fact that a child was not only here in Hell but clinging to you like you were an old friend.

Her innocent curiosity and lack of fear threw you off guard. For a moment faint memories of the children you had in your human life resurfaced and a bittersweet warmth filled your chest.

“Who might you be little one?"

The girl looked up at you with a giggle, eyes wide with innocence. "My name's Charlie, Charlie Magne!"

You couldn't help but smile. She reminded you of them in a way—of the tenderness you’d once known.

"And why are you out here alone?” concern was heard in your words. It was dangerous even for a child who clearly belonged here.

“I just wanted to see if it was really an angel causing all the fuss. I overheard my dad talking about it and well...I got curious! So I snuck out and—bam! I found you!” She gave you a triumphant grin as if discovering you were her own special accomplishment.

“Your...dad?” you echo softly causing her to frantically nod.

“Charlotte!” A booming voice calls out sending a shiver down your spine. Charlie looked over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up even more.

“Oh! There he is!” she chirped. Wriggling out of your arms, she hops down and began waving enthusiastically in the direction of the voice. "Over here!”

You quickly got to your feet, bracing yourself as you saw him: Lucifer Morningstar—The King of Hell himself striding down the street with an air of authority.

His softened gaze was locked on Charlie as she ran to him. But the moment she pointed back at you and exclaimed, “Look Daddy! I made a new friend!” his expression shifted.

The smile he’d given her vanished and was replaced by something far darker. In a flash he was in front of you, his crimson eyes piercing through you like twin blades.

You barely blinked before you were slammed to the ground.

The impact stole the air from your lungs, you were left gasping as his weight pressed down on you, a foot planted firmly on your chest.

Charlie's pleads of Daddy stop! seemed distant, almost muffled as you struggled to catch your breath.

'Geez...What s up with this family and tackling?'

Your dry thought is interrupted by the cold bite of metal on your throat. The sharp blade is pressed against the skin of your neck making you give a wide-eye stare up at the man towering over you.

His expression hard and unforgiving with an air of suspicion around him.

"Who sent you to the land of the Damned?"

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