#ASK: Marigold Locke

[captainfern]

Dbf!price x reader where he drunk dials her for a lil late night booty call so she sneaks him into the house while her fathers asleep and they’re trying to keep quiet but readers havin a hard time? 🫢😳

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Marigold - The End

dbf!Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Marigold” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - a slightly drunken, late-night meeting ends in some very sober words lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 2.2k • warnings - fem!reader, dad’sbestfriend!price, established relationship?, age gap [whatever you want it to be as long as it's legal lmao], unprotected piv, light fingering, praise, fluff, strong language

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You woke up with a start, your phone on your nightstand vibrating loudly into the darkness of your room. You reached over and snatched it, squinting through blurry eyes, the little time at the top reading just after one in the morning.

Price's name lit up the screen, and you answered the call, swallowing to try and eliminate the early-morning dryness.

"Price?" You whispered into the phone.

"Hi, my pretty girl. Did I wake you?"

"Obviously," you joke, rubbing at your face with your free hand. "It's one in the morning."

"Aw, m'sorry, sweetheart. S'just... s'just I missed you." He drawled through the phone, and you frowned lightly as you listened to him.

"Are you drunk?" You asked, and you could hear faintly that he was walking, possibly outside, along the pavement somewhere.

Price laughed, and the sound, like usual, made your stomach flutter. "M'not drunk, love. Only had a bit."

"How much is a bit?"

"Hmm... about a pint and a half."

You rolled your eyes. "Liar."

"M'not lying, sweetheart," he said, and then he went silent for a moment. You heard him walking again, the light whoosh of a breeze hitting the phones speaker. Then: "Be a doll and open the door for me, hm?"

You sat up in bed, the sleep knocked from your body. "You're here?"

You heard him knock on hardwood through the phone and across the house, you heard the same faint knocking just a millisecond in front. Your eyes widened and you jumped out of bed, pulling your door open as quietly as you could.

"Don't knock!" You whispered into the phone as you crept down the stairs through the dark. "You'll wake up my dad!"

Price just chuckled as you hung up and approached the door, slowly unlocking it and turning the door handle, cringing slightly as it made a louder than normal click echo through the entrance hall. Price, in all his glory, stood on the front step, and was pocketing his phone at the same time he surged towards you, ducking his head to kiss you.

You pushed him away as his lips brushed yours, turning your head to the side. "Price!" You stepped around him to quietly close and lock the door again, and he came up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and bending to press kisses down your exposed neck.

"What're you doing here?" You asked, hands still on the door as Price pressed hot kisses along your shoulder, bare from where your t-shirt fell to the side.

"Missed you..." He whispered against your skin, raising goosebumps. "Missed my pretty girl."

Your stomach twisted. Your core throbbed.

"I– fuck– I saw you three days ago," you told him, dropping your head to the side to give him better access. "Don't you remember?"

He chuckled lowly against your shoulder, skimming his teeth near the neckline of your t-shirt. "Oh, I remember. How could I forget, hm? How could I forget how pretty you are when you come, n' how fucking good you taste on my tongue."

"Price..." You whine, the memories of you and him in his living room three days ago making you hot.

His hands squeezed at your sides, dragging you back into him, gently grinding your backside against his front. He sucked a kiss to the curve of your neck as his cock grew hard against your arse, making you chew on your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud.

When you felt one of his hands skim over your navel and dip towards the waistband of your pyjama shorts, you whimpered. "Price, you're drunk."

"I’m sober as a judge, sweetheart."

His fingers dripped past the waistband, just skimming the soft skin of your lower belly. You bit your lip again, body hot, a heartbeat between your legs.

"You s-said you had a pint and a half."

"S'not enough to get me pissed." Price laughed, trailing his nose up your neck until he could nip at your earlobe, continuing to grind your arse back onto his cock, painfully hard in his jeans.

"Classy." You rolled your eyes, and Price's hand finally moved over your mound and down to your cunt, where he dragged two fingers through your slick folds. He groaned into your neck, and you shushed him, your hands still flat against the door.

"Besides, I walked from the pub. Fresh air always sobers me up." He said, stroking his fingers gently, almost too gently, between your folds, making you arch against him.

You gasped, both from the feeling of his fingers and Price's words. "That's a three mile walk, and at one in the morning! You did that for me?"

"Yes ma’am,” Price uttered, sucking a kiss just below your ear as he began circling two of his fingers around your wet hole, feeling the way you clenched around nothing. "And I'd do it again... Hell, I'd walk a lot further if it meant I could see you."

You whimpered when he pushed his two fingers inside you, and he groaned into your neck. It sounded loud in your ear, and it was enough to make you suddenly self-aware.

"My dad's asleep," you whispered urgently as Price buried his fingers to the knuckle, then proceeded to curl them against your slick walls. Your knees almost buckled, but he was holding you firmly against your body. "P-Price, we need to be quiet."

"I know, baby, I know," he placed a kiss to your cheek before extracting his fingers from your shorts. You turned to look at him, legs shaky, as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, his eyelids fluttering as he tasted you. He groaned, and you gave him a look. Shut it. He smiled, then dropped his fingers from his mouth. "You wanna go upstairs?"

•º•

Price deducted that the bed creaked too much with a lot of movement– something he had picked up over the last, well, several times you and him had been moving on it.

So, the fluffy rug at the foot of your bed was deemed the next best option.

Price wasn't as methodical as he usually was– he didn't make you come once, or maybe twice on his tongue like he liked too. He didn't even make you come around his fingers to prepare you for him. This time, he pumped two fingers inside you for a few long moments and, when a glimmer of your orgasm appeared in the base of your tummy, he was pulling away, and you were almost sad.

But the feeling didn't last long. Not when he was so desperate to have you: he yanked your pyjama shorts down your legs, tossing them to the side. He pulled his jeans down, just enough to free his achingly hard cock– the head red and leaking pre-cum, one of the veins down the side was prominent against the paler skin.

Then, he was pushing into you so hard that a moan was ripped out of your chest, but Price caught it with his mouth. He kissed you as hard as he fucked you: each probe of his tongue, each nip of his teeth matched each deep thrust against your cervix, each slap of his pelvis against yours.

You arched against him, hearts hammering together. He gripped your hips, squeezing tightly as he pulled you back onto him. His cock stretched you open, a delicious burn that had you mewling into his mouth as he had inched in; but now, the burn had subsided, leaving way for nothing but absolute pleasure as he fucked you against your rug.

When he wasn't kissing your mouth, he was kissing the rest of your body. The skin he could reach, anyway. Price sucked and licked kisses down your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, your collarbones. His breathing was ragged against your skin, and you felt sticky, unsure if the cause was your sweat or his spit.

His cock hit you deep, abusing the plug of your womb in a way that had your thighs shaking. Burning, molten pleasure built in the base of your tummy, tingling the very bottom of your spine, making you gasp and whine and whimper out for him, for all but him and the darkness to hear: Price, Price, John.

You were too loud. You knew that, but you couldn't find your off switch– Price had rewired your brain, and now all you could think about was him. You could smell him, too– sandalwood and pine and everything you noticed the very first day you met him. You could smell expensive cigar smoke, rich and bitter, as well as cheap beer, a lingering smell of hops. God, you loved it.

You loved him.

Price placed a hand to your mouth. He knew you were almost too loud. He could feel your cute little whimpers and whines against his palm, and it made his thrusts deepen, rolling his hips against you and using one hand to keep your hips steady.

You were so fucking wet, he could feel it and, fuck, he could hear it. Such a sloppy cunt, so fucking needy for his cock, always sucking him in so well. And your body, constantly reacting to the smallest touches of his, always wanting him. You smelt good, too– sweet, expensive, seductive. But his favourite part about you, although hard to choose, was your face– you looked absolutely regal, so fucking beautiful, so beautiful taking his cock. His pretty girl.

He loved his pretty girl.

"God, fuck, fuck–" He cursed in a low grunt. "So pretty, baby. You look so fucking pretty when you take my cock."

You whined against his hand, his cock slamming into that spot inside you that had you seeing stars in the hazy darkness; more stars then there were outside your window.

Your puffy clit, so far neglected in you and Price's hastily spurred rendezvous, buzzed with your oncoming orgasm, your cunt squeezing Price's cock like a vice. Loud, wet clicks sounded throughout your quiet room, your arousal slick against your inner thighs. The sounds made you moan, muffled by Price's large palm.

Your body was on fire, your heart was on fire. Tears slipped from your waterline as your orgasm neared, your entire body shaking against his. The fluffy carpet beneath you was suddenly burning your flesh, sweat accumulating on your lower back as you arched further and further against him, mewling and whining for him, him, him.

Somehow– you don't really know how– you managed to get his hand to leave your mouth, just enough for you to say: "I love you" as you came.

You'd confessed your love to him before, obviously. But something about tonight was different.

The way he fucked you, so full of raw want and animalistic possession had your brain in a spin, and your violent orgasm was testiment to that.

You came around his cock in a gush of arousal, dripping out and around his cock as he continued to fuck you through it. Droplets dribbled down the curve of your arse, and you didn't even want to think about the cleaning job for your rug in the morning.

You clawed at his back, pulling him impossibly closer, mouthing at the junction of his neck before you were pulling back and whimpering "John" into the darkness of your room.

"I love you too, my pretty girl," he whispered, kissing you. "I love you so fucking much. My pretty girl, my good girl. I love you–"

He stifled his groan in your mouth as he came, his tongue pressed hot to yours. His hips stilled, pelvis flush with yours as he came and filled you, stuffed you full. His release was warm, your tummy tightening as the sensation kicked some kind of fucking hormone into action inside your body, making your diaphragm flush heavy with heat. You felt as though you were glowing.

Price panted into your mouth, before slowly, begrudgingly, pulling out of you. He was quick to slip your pyjama shorts back up your legs and keep as much of his cum inside you as possible. Then, in a comfortable silence, he stripped down to his boxers, tucking his softening cock back in. He then gently guided you to your bed and tucked you beneath the covers, slipping in alongside you.

He placed a kiss to your forehead, and the two of you lay in each others arms for a long time.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too." You whispered back.

More silence followed. A comfortable, warm silence that had your heart feeling full. He nuzzled his nose into the top of your head, kissing you there. His arms around you pulled you closer, tucking you against him, his chest to your back. He slipped his hands beneath your shirt and rested them across your tummy.

"Sweetheart?"

"Hm?" You blinked back at him lazily.

"I'm so glad I have you." He said, and you couldn't help but want to cry.

You smiled. "I'm glad I have you, too."

He kissed the top of your head.

Then:

"Sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

He hugged you closer, if that was even possible.

"I'm going to marry you one day."

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the end lol x

[your-local-baguette]

Flowers ?....for me ? Thank you!

Blue lock version

Characters: rin itoshi, sae itoshi, Ness alexis, Isagi yoichi, Bachira meguru.

Not proofread!

Itoshi rin

Would definitely be shy!

I feel like he'd give you roses and orchids in a bouquet

He'd hand it to you while looking away because no he totally isn't blushing, he doesn't know what you're talking about

He did a little research for flowers, since it was his first with you as his lover, he wanted it to be the best

Itoshi sae

He was very careful with his choice of flowers but he did trust the florist for hia choice.

He chose amaryllis and Camellias, these flowers mean deep love and beauty and all sort of cheesy stuff like that.

It was a very beautiful bouquet, while he handed it to you with a straight face, he was all giddy inside.

He treated you like the goddess you are on valentine

Ness alexis

Also treats you like a dam goddess lol

He'd give you probably gladiolus and blue iris. Those flowers mean hope and faithfulness

A very ness kinda thing, he'd treat you to whatever you wanted, he was such a sweetheart like always.

It was the best valentines you could ever ask for

Isagi yoichi

Yoichi would so give you marigolds and red irises. They mean derp passion and positive emotions

A yoichi thing lol, i feel like with yoichi Valentine's is more..relax but it's still full of love and affection

Your his only focus today, wether you want to go out or stay inside, he got it all prepared

You enjoyed it until midnight

Bachira meguru

Geraniums and orange lilies are a bachira thing because they mean confidence and silliness/ joy

He'd give them to you with such a big smile on his face, he'd take you around the city to have fun

Meguru would do anything just to see you smile, even if it means tickle attacks in public....

Short and sweet! Hope you enjoyed~

[sweetheartsaku]

—tooru oikawa ; are we better on saturn?

a/n ; [gn!reader] key to peaking on tumblr is writing hq fics :3c (DW IM STILL WRITING FOR TXT)

leilani !

"are we better on saturn?"

"love, not another conspiracy theory, please..."

your brunette liked to ask insane questions about what could be beyond this universe. even on the edge of the most beautiful coasts of argentina's beaches, a haven that people call home, a tropical paradise in a season of cool summer.

opal teal waters glisten under the bleeding sun, horizon line like you could touch ends of the earth. wispy clouds littered over the sky, revealing illuminating, vibrant tones of marigold and honey.

a dawn, where the sun rose low in its graceful warm skies where light and colour intertwine in it's beautiful morning glory.

the waters waist deep, as the ripples sit on top of your hip.

beads of water drip down his chocolate locks, cheeks brushed with dried rosy shades behold a grazed sky of chalk and oil pastel, as if an artist was gently gliding their hand across their canvas.

under a sunset of a blossoming sun, he presses his forehead against yours, breath hitching before letting out a sweet, shared giggle. his smile like cold ice-tea, a salty light breeze that kisses your cheek.

"you wanna kiss me sooo bad."

"and what if i do?"

he whispers, as he smiles into a kiss.

find something worth saving, it's all for the taking.

[bones4thecats]

Hi it's me again if you could can you please do a twst ace x reader fluff but it could be totally up to you 🫶🏻

Future! Ace Trappola & S/O ; Fluff Quote

Character: Ace Trappola Requester: 🫶🏻Anon A/N: OMG THIS IS SO FREAKING ADORABLE ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Bullying and self-image issues (don't worry, Mama Reader and Papa Ace are here to fix it) ⚠️

Disclaimer: Set in non-canon future and Ace + S/O have a daughter

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╚═════ Ace Trappola ═══════════════════════════╝

🪅 You smiled at Ace as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, a familiar song playing on the radio as you both drove to pick up your daughter from her school

🪅 The song was playing relatively lightly, as if it was background music in a movie. Not enough to block out voices and sounds, but just enough to allow the silence to be nonexistent

🪅 Ace parked the car and stepped outside, you did the same and heard as he locked the doors and walked around to go inside beside you. He twirled the keys around his fingers before plopping them down inside your purse while you walked together

🪅 You were excited to see your baby girl. She had gone of a little trip with her dance class at her school and got to see some productions and learn about how everything worked behind the scenes, which was something she was really happy to get to do

🪅 Your husband chuckled as you gripped your purse's strap and walked inside, a little hop in your step as he held the door open for you to pass through

🪅 It was right after you walked inside that you were met by an associate of your daughter's school, specifically the Principal

"Ah, Principal Pip! What can we do for you?"

"May I speak to you both in my office. It's about Casi."

🪅 Glancing at your husband, you nervously nodded and followed after the older man. You knew your daughter was a troublemaker like her father, but she also knew when to be polite and understanding, so why would she in this much trouble?

🪅 Principal Pip sat down in his chair as he motioned for you two take seats across from him. He lifted some papers and straightened them out before adjusting his position in his chair and sighing

"What is your home life like Mr. and Mrs. Trappola?"

"I'm not sure why that's important to something our daughter did." Ace said.

🪅 Adjusting his glasses, he picked up a paper and handed it to Ace, making you furrow your eyebrows and look over what it said in messy handwriting

🪅 You knew this handwriting was Casi's. It was slightly messy like Ace's, but had a slight amount of class in it like yours did

"Do you know what that says?" Asked the Principal.

🪅 As you read the paper, Ace's eyes widened and his grip on the material sharpened, alerting you

"If you are assuming my daughter wrote this you're mistaken." He said sternly.

"Oh, I know Casi didn't write it."

"Then why are you showing us this hunk of shit?!" Ace asked, a slight yell in his voice.

"Ace." You said, holding his left hand in assurance.

🪅 Taking the now-crumpled paper out of Ace's right hand, you handed it back to the Principal, to which he nodded and thanked you before sitting back into his chair

"This paper was given to me by her dance teacher, Mrs. Marigold. She said she found it on the ground after Casi ran outside of the classroom crying."

"Someone gave her that?" You asked, shock being obvious.

"Correct."

"Who?" You asked.

🪅 Principal Pip sighed before running a hand through his hair and grabbing another paper from the small, segregated pile beside the larger ones

"It was given to Casi by this young girl," he said, handing you a photograph. "This is the new girl of the class. Her name's Amaryllis Hawthorn."

🪅 Looking down at the photo of the young girl, you were confused. She looked so sweet here, how could she do such a horrible thing to your daughter?

🪅 You handed the photo back to Pip as you sighed and nervously played with your fingers. This was supposed to be an amazing couple days for your daughter, not an experience that would gain self-image issues...

🪅 Ace bunched his fists and sighed, allowing his knuckles to pop under the pressure of his grip

"Where's Casi now?" He asked.

"She's just in that room on the left, two doors down the hall."

🪅 Nodding, you both stood up and headed for the room. The door opened with a light push, and you both saw your daughter sitting beside another associate, this one being the school nurse, Lacy Teagarden

🪅 Lacy stood up and pointed to you and your husband, telling Casi to go give you guys a hug. Casi stood and ran to you, wrapped her small arms around your neck and pulling you close so she could cry into your neck

"Hey, sweetheart. It's okay, Mama and Papa are here now." Ace assured, his arms wrapping around both of you as Lacy walked out of the room.

"Mama?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Am I ugly?"

"No... you are the most beautiful and sweetest little girl that I have ever met in my life. Just because that Hawthorn girl said that in that note doesn't mean it's true."

"Really?"

"Of course."

🪅 Pecking Casi's nose, she giggled, tears slowly stopping being made while Ace reached up and began tickling her side as you stood up and watched as he picked his daughter up and twirled with her in his arms

🪅 You took out a tissue from your purse and began to clean up Casi's face from any tears. She just sniffled from the previous crying as you tossed the now-damp cloth in the nearby trash can

🪅 Ace saw you pull your hands up and adjust her skirt around her waist, fluffing it out slightly as you looked your daughter dead in the eyes as you spoke once again

"Don't let people discourage you. Just fluff out your tutu and dance away."

[a-libra-writes]

Ok you did rocky and nico but what about Mordecai with widow reader with three kittens? (bonus if you include aunty Serafine and uncle nico)ps I love your writing!

This one is a bit different from the other widow-with-kiddo asks but I hope its still to ur liking ~

Firstly! Regardless if you're working the Marigold Room as a bartender or musician, or you're in the gang directly, the kittens are often at the hotel. The staff knows them, the managers don't mind because they stay away from guests, other gang members are familiar with them and make sure they stay outta trouble. The hotel's back rooms and staff quarters are like an endless maze to the kiddos, and they know the whole place like the back of their hands. ... Kinda.

Not to mention how they're doted on by everyone - Asa gives them candies, Nico tosses them high in the air, Serafine is kind of scary but she gave them these funny bracelets (made of bones??? but theyre funny and she's pretty so it's okay!), various hotel staff cooing over how cute and well-behaved they are.

And then there's Mordecai. He's pretty scary to adults, let alone kids. When he sees them skittering around in the peripheral of his vision, he has to frown even more. Who let these wayward children in here? He hears them running about the halls and empty offices while he's trying to do accounting. And as much as Mordecai wants nothing to do with them, he's a figure of great interest to your kittens. Someone who isn't cooing over them? Whose in an office way in the back, only one light on? The one who follows Mr. Sweet and dresses in all black? Their little imaginations run wild, even if you've plainly told them that "Mr. Heller" is your colleague and to leave him be.

The oldest one approaches him first. Which is to say, she lingers behind the doorway, peeking in and thinking he can't see her tail and ears sticking out. He hears the younger ones shushing each other. As much as Mordecai wants to be annoyed, instead, a painful deja vu comes over him. Your oldest finally patters in with a nervous "Mr. Heller?". Before he can ask what she wants, she plops a candy on his desk and runs off, the other kittens right behind her.

As much as the shadowy cat doesn't want the trio bothering him, he's torn about them being so fearful of him. All three of them stir up painful familiar memories of his sisters, but the youngest especially reminds Mordecai of Rose. He tries not to think of how old she and Eshter are now, if they miss him the way your kittens miss you when you're away. It's hard for him to keep up his cold exterior when those painful memories bubble up to the surface.

So when the oldest comes by his desk, he finally sighs and says with a frown, "All three of you, just come in and show me what it is." And the other two shuffle in, with their big eyes and hand-me-down clothes and it's just. Very difficult not to dismiss them.

The two youngest have decided he's their "secret friend", even if you were well aware of how they liked to pester your overly serious colleague. You'll watch your girls draw him alongside other people they know (why does he always look so shadowy and sketchy, even in crayon form?) but you don't know they like sneaking their drawings into his satchel or desk drawers. They'll leave wrapped candies and pretty strings and buttons too, to his exasperation. Eventually Mordecai walks over to you and drops a handful of the little treasures at your table.

"Gee, Mordecai, I'm flattered. You know what a guy/gal likes."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm returning what your snooping progeny keep leaving me. Tell them to stay out of my things."

"Looks to me like they're trying to add some color to that depressing office you hole up in."

And so on, and so forth, you two really like to bicker, don't you?

(Oh, and Mordecai starts keeping the door shut and locking it, but then he hears giggles and sees them shoving the pictures and little things under the doorway.)

Now they aren't afraid of him at all, which means they want to run about Mordecai and get his attention. They'll giggle as they dart between his legs or "hide" under his coat. Their fur gets all over his black clothes. When they inevitably tumble and fall, he picks them up by the collar or under the arms and scolds them for running indoors. And he yanks them down when they get too rowdy and climb up furniture, or sometimes he finds the youngest one crying because she got lost and takes her back. If he catches any of the kittens with an unlaced boot or messy face, he stops them immediately.

"Stop! Lace up your boots immediately. You'll trip and crack your skull open. Don't run in the hotel lobby, either. This is an establishment, not a wild jungle you can traipse about in - keep still, what is on your face? Is that - syrup? Did you not think to wash your hands and face after - no, there will be no giggling about breaches of hygiene -"

(A few people are staring as Mordecai fusses over her, which he doesn't notice until a woman walks by and says, "oh, it's so hard at this age, isn't it? Don't worry, you're doing great." And he dies a little a lot inside).

He tried doing these things in secret, but inevitably one of the Savoys or Asa or you would spot him, and the youngest one loves prattling on about him. Asa, Nico and Serafine find "Nanny Heller" to be hysterical. He's going to throttle someone or plan a murder swear to god-

There's been several moments when you hear a high-pitched squeal that sounds like a scream, and you run over in a panic ... and oh, it's just Nico dangling one of the kittens upside down and pretending to lose his grip. False alarm - wait, why is Mordecai here too?

If you're a triggerman with the gang, it means you're keeping all sorts of odd hours. You've been with them for years and you're more than useful, so having the children set up in an empty office isn't looked twice at. They've got their bedding, some books and toys, and ... sometimes they're sleeping there more than they sleep at home, which you aren't proud of. It's not just the cost of childcare, but the odd hours and questions being asked about your job, especially if you're a woman.

The first time Mordecai came across this office was by accident, but he knew the children had to be staying somewhere. He walked up very quietly, and looking through the open doorway, saw the oldest doing her homework at the big desk while her two siblings slept under it, curled up with their pillows and blankets and stuffed toys. He didn't think he'd be affected so strongly, but it was painful. A very, very painful reminder, and maybe he saw himself a little too much in that girl, furrowing her brow and making sense of numbers.

You and Mordecai have had strange arguments about the the children, which was odd at first. You wondered why the so-called unfeeling triggerman cared at all. If he felt you were being too reckless during a job, he'd tell you as much, but there was more bite in his voice. He never outright said 'you have others depending on you', but it was in his tone. Many times you felt judged, or looked down upon - but a lot of these fights weren't about you specifically. It was the situation that upset him, the lengths one had to go to keep their family fed and safe in a clean environment. He was definitively projecting, and not always aware of it, or just in denial about it. Mordecai tried not to dwell on his own mother and sisters: what they felt when he didn't come home one day, when they read that letter explaining where all the money was hidden, when the realization sunk in for Eshter and Rose that their brother wasn't coming back. If they were sad, or angry, or resigned, or didn't think of him at all anymore. Or maybe they'd resent him forever.

Look he really doesnt want to be thinking about these things -

After long jobs, you'd wash the blood off and change shirts and tiredly walk all the way to the back rooms where your kittens were sleeping. Sometimes you stir the oldest awake so she can help you carry the other two to the car, but honestly, the only apartment a single parent with three children can get is pretty shit. So most times you just curl up on the floor with them, catching a few hours of sleep before you need to wake up the oldest for school.

You hold her hand as you walk through the back rooms and out the staff exit. Sometimes Mordecai sees you. You wear the same tired but persevering expression as his mother did, looking a mess compared to your well-put together daughter. He knows she washed up and dressed herself, and packed her own bookbag. She has that look of responsibility and eyes that are a little too old, and it's too familiar, so he looks away.

(Sometimes the oldest finds an extra sandwich in her bookbag, or new pencils and one time, a new pair of mittens. She feels like it's magic, so she doesn't want to tell anyone, otherwise the magic will 'break'.)

You and Mordecai already have a very strange relationship (can you call each other friends yet? You'd consider him that, or something more, but his feelings are something else entirely), and your kiddos would certainly add another layer of strangeness onto it. You might actually get to know him a little faster and closer than most do, or at least see a side that most people have never seen or even considered him capable of.

[intriq]

hotch being jealous heheehehehe

HEHEHEHEHE YOU GOT IT POOKS

i also request that you all go check them out because their writing is just MMM CHEFS KISS

they also joined my beta reading team recently so >:)

Character: Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner

Theme: ??? Fluff???

Word Count: 658

Title: French Marigold

french marigold; jealousy

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

The case that the team had just finished took days. Took them days just to find and apprehend the suspect. A series of headaches and hours of lost sleep, pouring over file after file over what had been discovered to be a reawakening serial killer that had done a disgustingly good job at staying under the radar for years.

And what better way to celebrate apprehending the culprit other than going out for a few drinks the moment they landed back in Quantico? What better way to relieve the stress that had accumulated other than going out for a night on the town, drinking shitty liquor at a shitty bar?

Hotch had certainly thought it wouldn't be that bad of an idea. He wasn't the type to drink, not often at least. But he figured you could use the break, so he stuck around just for you. He figured he'd just stay sober and be the one to drive you both home.

What Hotch hadn't taken into account for, however, was that just an hour into this precious bit of time of freedom away from stress and catching killers, was one thing. Other people hitting on you, doting on you. Buying you drink after drink.

Hotch stares from where he sits with the others, drinking a water he was now wishing was something stronger as you wait for the next round of drinks. Reid is spouting some fact in his ear he can't be bothered to listen to, or it's something about his regular games of chess with Gideon. Morgan and Garcia are also talking, but it's nothing but mindless buzzing in Hotch's ear.

His focus is on you, entirely and utterly you. On the man that had the nerve to scoot a few seats down from where he originally was, body language displaying disgusting over-confidence. A narcissist, he thinks. Hotch can read him like an open-book from here, and he only has a view of him from behind.

Hotch watches as you push away what is probably the fifth drink that guy has ordered and offered you in the past thirty minutes. He doesn't understand what is taking so fucking long for the drinks you're waiting on to be done.

Narcissist. Over-confident. Die-hard momma's boy whose never been told no in his damn life.

Those are all things Hotch reads within seconds.

"Hotch, you okay?" Morgan asks, nudging him. But Hotch only responds with a curt "yeah, I'm fine" while his eyes remain locked on you. Not even glancing away to answer Morgan when he speaks. He says something to Hotch after that, but it's just white-noise. Hotch doesn't care enough to pay attention; not right at least.

Hotch is on his feet in seconds when he notices the slightest change in the guy's body language. That subtle shift that screams confidence that is soaring far too high for Hotch's liking.

By the time the guy's opening his mouth to ask for your number, Hotch is there. He's not one for PDA, but in this situation he'd give a whole fucking show if it meant he backed off. Which is why Hotch brings just one arm around your waist.

"I think it's time we go home," Hotch speaks, keeping his eyes focused on you. He's not gonna give the pathetic guy behind you even an ounce of his time, especially not when he seems so crest-fallen at how easily your attention is immediately on him. How enraptured you are by him.

You open your mouth to protest, but quickly have your words die in your throat when you see the look on Hotch's face. It's one you've never seen before, if you could correctly recall.

So you just agree with a quick nod, letting Hotch lead you out of the bar with a hand resting on your lower back. You let him drive you both home.

"What about everyone's drinks?"

"Someone else can handle that, I'm sure."

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

[comatosebunny09]

intermission | r. kyojuro

cw: nipple sucking, language, modern au, needy!kyojuro

He’s a needy little thing, red-faced and pouty-lipped whilst he stands in the doorway of your home office. His gaze is downcast to his feet as he toys with the drawstrings of his joggers. Uncustomary of him, no?

“What’s up, love?” queried over your monitor, the clacking of your keyboard petering out as a smile dons your lips.

You have an inkling of what he needs if the pretty shade of rouge inhabiting the tips of his ears is anything to go by. But, you’re a devious little shit who gets a thrill out of making him beg. It isn’t often that your husband subjects you to this side of him, all squirmy and avoidant.

His oncoming laugh is nervous and light, tugging a smirk onto your face. You watch him work his tongue around an excuse momentarily, his incandescent eyes flitting every so often to the deep cut of your tank. A pang shimmies through the pits of your gut. God, he can be the cutest thing when he wants.

Catching on, you carefully shut the lid of your laptop. Quietly maneuver yourself around the desk, padding over to your husband to encase his hand in yours. It’s warm and saturated with sweat as you lead him to the futon tucked into the office’s alcove. The leather squeaks beneath you whilst you plop down, legs cross, grin shit-eating.

He falls into the space beside you, averting his stare to the flatscreen mounted on the adjacent wall. You bite back a doting coo. He’s just the sweetest thing. You could never deny him the simple pleasure of your body, especially when he comes to you with his defenses buried in the sand. And, of course, he makes you weak-kneed with how shy he becomes when matters of the flesh are involved.

As if it’s second nature, you drag the hem of your tank top skyward, your breasts springing free from the restrictive cloth. Your top tucked beneath your chin, you reach for your husband. “Here,” you say, a tender hand at the nape of his neck, drawing him closer to your chest. “Suck.”

His gaze flicks to you momentarily, silently asking if this is alright. You nod, relaxing against the sofa whilst a mop of feathery, blond hair nestles into your lap. He gives you one final look, offering you an out. When you make no move to push him off, his lashes shutter, and he takes your hardening nipple into the hot suction of his mouth. Your approving moan causes an eager hand to knead the lonely, doughy flesh of your other breast.

Pleasure burrows deep into the center of your thighs. You bite your lip against the swell of it, your head thumping against the headrest. He suckles on your teat like a man starved, occasionally lapping at your nipple and adding the perfect amount of teeth whilst his thumb skates over the other. You gently cup his cheek, observing through hooded lids as your husband delightedly samples from your body, his airy little keens tickling your ears.

A grin rounding your lips, you proceed to comb through locks of marigold, fondness dancing alongside ecstasy in your belly. This break is much needed for you and the love of your life if the wet suckling and needy groans are any indications.

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 21/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 22

Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------

When Lucifer awoke again, Alastor was no longer there. He shifts to find Marigolds all over his bed with a note.

'To keep you from missing me, my lonely King. - Alastor'

Lucifer lets out a chuckle, picking up a Marigold to smell. He doesn't remember falling asleep but it was probably the best sleep he had had in a while. No dreams, no memories- just sleep. He would cry if the circumstances were different.

There's a bowl of cold gumbo on his bedside table and the sight made his stomach growl. He takes a bite and almost moans. Man, was he really this hungry? He didn't even think he could still get hungry as he doesn't need food to survive.

The opening of his door interrupted his gumbo filled thoughts to reveal Charlie who was carrying more flowers.

Lucifer: Char-char?

Charlie yelps in surprise, dropping the newly arrived flowers on the ground. He moves to help her but she hastily stops him.

Charlie: No, dad! It's fine, I got this. Sorry, you just surprised me. Haha. When I came back you were asleep again.

Lucifer: Sorry for startling you, sweetie. Are those still for me?

Charlie: Really, it's okay dad. And yes! From Uncle Leviathan. I think he's competing with Alastor of who can give you more flowers plus some denizens leaving some too, which is a problem because I think we're running out of room here. But I don't mind! I'm just glad you're appreciated.

Lucifer: oh..

Charlie, noticing her father's change in demeanour, gave him a sympathetic smile and comes closer. She holds his hands in hers and locks eyes with him.

Charlie: You saved all of Hell, dad. And a lot of people want to thank you for it. They want you to see that they care the moment you wake up. These flowers? This was actually Alastor's idea. He kind of let it slip that you're love language is gifts and he always appreciated when you gave him one. Don't tell him I said that.

Lucifer: It is?

Charlie: The hotel was getting a bit hounded of demons who wants to see and thank you. It was getting out of hand but then Alastor went on air.

She pulls out her phone, tapping her fingers until she found what she was looking for.

Alastor: Salutations, citizens of Hell! To commemorate this joyous day, the Hazbin Hotel is accepting gifts that one wish to give to our beloved King as a sign of appreciation for his valiant efforts! Gifts will be screened by hotel residents/staff first. No sneaking past our eyes now!

Alastor's voice through the recorded broadcast blares from her speaker.

Alastor: Failure to comply to this simple rule and you'll earn a special guest appearance in my radio broadcast. I'm very much excited to see anyone who tries haha!

Charlie: A lot of people were asking what you would like. But as soon as they saw royals coming in with flowers, they just went with that too. I've never seen Hell be this united before and it's because of you, dad. It's not perfect but... it's a step in the right direction.

It warms Lucifer's heart that his actions are helping his daughter's dream even by just a little. He didn't even care about what people might think of him after the whole thing but his daughter seem happy and that's the only thing that matters.

Suddenly, a thought came to mind.

Lucifer: Goodie!

Charlie: Goodie? Was that the woman you brought from Earth?

Lucifer: Yes. Where is she?!

Charlie: I don't actually know. Last I heard, she disappeared.

Lucifer: Huh?

Charlie: As still acting Queen, Uncle Satan told me that he managed to capture Goodie and put in custody but then a day later, he said she's just....gone. Some of his imps are out looking for her.

Lucifer: Knowing her, she may have already been on Earth. Damn it!

Charlie: Dad... what happened in there? I passed out before you went in and when I woke up, you guys were already here.

Lucifer: You passed out?! Are you okay, applepie??

Charlie laughs, pushing away her dad's fussy hands.

Charlie: I'm fine, dad. I was just worried about you. You really scared me.

Lucifer: Sorry.

Charlie: I said it's okay. But stop avoiding my question.

Lucifer: What question?

Charlie: Dad... You went to Earth to find this Goodie, to ask her for help. Help she couldn't give and in the end you're the one who still had to risk his life. Angel and the others said you were there for hours and then when you did come out, you look- You're not you! Aunt Bee said your aura was so bad, she couldn't stop vomiting. Please dad. Something happened in there.

Lucifer: .... Goodie's seal didn't work because it apparently needed to be in close contact with what you are using it for. As the strongest there, I was the most viable to perform it in close range. We couldn't risk losing someone just to see if it would kill them.

A little white lie would hurt no one (biggest misconception ever). But he couldn't bring it up to Alastor and definitely not to his daughter. Roo never said it has to be a secret but Roo isn't dictating his body yet so he'll make this one tiny stupid decision himself.

Lucifer: As for my appearance, it looks like Goodie's seal had side effects. Maybe being exposed to the toxic environment that closely altered my body. In the end, I'm not so sure. And this?-

He gestures to himself.

Lucifer: -Is a small price to pay for Hell's safety. For your safety.

Charlie: I'm sorry.

Lucifer: What? What for, honey?

Charlie: For what I said that day. I hurt you and I'm-

Lucifer: We both hurt each other, Charlie. As the parent, I should've done better. You were just a child. You were my child. And I abandoned you as much as Lilith abandoned us. I lost a wife but you? You lost both of us. And I could never blame or hate you for thinking that way.

Charlie: But, I would never wish that! I want you here as much as I want Mom. But the difference is, you're actually here, supporting me. Even if you weren't there from the beginning, you're here for the future. And I- I can't be more thankful you're still here.

She's sobbing now. The tears just won't stop and she feels herself being pulled in a hug.

Charlie: So stop punishing yourself, dad.

The King of Hell looks up at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears threatening to fall away. Why now? Why when he's finally reconnecting with his daughter? When he has a partner who loves him again? Why did Roo choose him? Why is this happening just when he's just learning to care and love for it?

He thinks about Roo's words-how his life will end one way or another, about the daughter he's going to make an orphan, the partner he's going to eventually widow, the found family who wormed their way into his heart, and a Kingdom he'll leave in ruins.

Lucifer can only hope that they come out alright, even if he doesn't.

Lucifer: I'll try my best, sweetie.

Charlie: Don't leave me again, dad.

He hugs tight like it's the last as he lets her continue to cry on his chest.

'Oh, Father. Is there anything more undoing than a child?'

[h2llish]

assigning obey me characters plants to get out of my writing slump. we start with the brothers.

lucifer -> lucifer my love. i assign him two plants. first is the forget-me-nots, which symbolize remembrance and love (familial). he loved his sister and his brother deeply, so much he went to war, and then swore loyalty to diavolo so she could be reborn. he also couldn't live without his brothers and asked them to come with him when leaving celestial. the other is the purple hyacinth, which means sorrow and mourning. lucifer held his sister as she died, he was the one to watch he die and then be reborn. he had to say goodbye. he mourned and felt immense sorrow, including when he had to lock away his little brother to protect him.

mammon -> for mammon i assign him bluebells, meaning constancy. while he is the sin of greed, he followed lucifer because he was loyal to him. when micharl handed him off, it was lucifer who seen him as his brother. bluebells symbolize constancy, and i believe this is most fitting for mammon regardless of what the fandom or others think of him. he is incredibly loyal.

leviathan -> for leviathan, i assign him grief. it means a lot of things, one of them being jealousy. however, despite his sin, this isn't why i assigned him marigolds, because they also mean grief. grief comes in many forms, leviathan grieves a lot, from the death of his sister to the life he no longer has, and the new life he has as a shut in. he grieves.

satan -> for satan i assign him the butterfly weed which symbolizes independence. satan is made from the wrath of lucifer, he wants to be separate from that. to not be known for his creation and his sin, so he has thrown himself into books and studying.

asmodeus -> asmo <3. i assign him rosemary, for remembrance, he remembers many things from his life in the celestial realm, and lilith, and while he remains positive, it is obvious he does grieve. i also assign him morning glory, for its meaning of love and affection (familial/platonic). he started painting his brothers nails because he wanted them to feel like their old selves again. he cares for his brothers a lot and does his best to remain a positive individual.

beelzebub -> i assign him (and his twin) forget-me-nots as well, but mostly for its meaning of "i will never forget you". they were closest to lilith and they mourned deeply. there is a belief with forget-me-nots that if you plant them on the grave of a loved one they will bloom as long as you are alive, so i think it's fitting for them. i also assign him willow for its meaning of grief. grief comes in many forms, and for beel he latched onto his twin brother, who he deeply cares for and relies heavily on.

belphegor -> i hate him but alas, as stated above i assign him and beel forget-me-nots. i also assign him the black dahlia, which means hate, betrayal and death. he hated lucifer for locking him away and felt betrayed, he didn't think that lucifer was locking him away to protect, but rather because he was more loyal to diavolo than belphegor and his brothers. and death, because, well, lilith.

okay um. yeah. if there's any mistakes then sorry.

[melodiclune]

Boo!!! Have a curse on ye!!!

To breakth the spell, name thou mutuals and what you like about them!!!

(not all of them. Minimum 5)

Melmel do you hate me. What if I forget someone. They're gonna hate me forever. I'm literally going to go through my mutuals list and have to do this. FEAR. PLEASE I DON'T MEAN TO FORGET ANYONE I SWEAR I LIKE ALL OF YOU OR ELSE WE WOULDN'T BE MUTUALS

1. Marigolds Buddies, 2. Discord Gang, 3. Blue Lock Gang

1. @noname-nonartist Hi you're the menace to society and thorn in my side (affectionate) for the past three years. Your art is stunning and you're an awesome person to talk to and it's always a chill great time when I get to brainrot with you over ShuAke. Even if I'm not into Project Sekai it's hilarious seeing how into it you are and I'm happy for you

@himi-wiz Do I really need to tell you what I like about you? You already know my heart inside out, there's really not much else to say. I love you to the moon and back. Drink water, Fool.

@sunflowerswithtea MY TEA BUDDY you're the best friend I've had in our academic suffering together. I'm so proud of you, you never give up and try your hardest in everything. You're one of the actual nicest people I know :> I love waking up to your absolute spam of texts on discord even if we don't share the same fandoms atm! I know for a fact that you're going to drag me back into MLB with you though. FEAR.

2.

@rainingstorms1220 Total bean. Take care of yourself more. Your art is stunning, you have some amazing stories and I can't wait to see more of them. Despite all your downs you've never given up, always held your head high, and you're one of the most dedicated, passionate people I know. You're welcome for the hermitcraft brainrot <3 Love you lots Stormy

@chibihobbitlore MARIAAAA MY BELOVED Your art is inspirationally beautiful!! You're so positive every time I talk to you, one of the nicest people ever and it's always such a nice time hanging out with you. Bullying Elder with you is one of my favourite past times :DDDD You're not on Tumblr much but seeing you on discord always makes me go "!!! HI MARI ILY" hehehehe

@eldestofdragon You. You are most definitely not on Tumblr much, part of why I'm tagging you here. Little shit. You're witty, always pull a laugh out of me every time we talk, and I love hearing you ramble about your DnD campaigns and lore filled stories. You're not positive, but you're not negative either, which is right up my alley when I need someone to talk to. <3 I'll see you on discord later today! Worry less, sleep more.

@a-mel-tomelts Menace to society x2. Do I need to tell you too, why I love you? You're witty, happy, excitable and so passionate about the stuff you love. Despite your ups and downs every time I get to chat to you about our shared interests and experiences it's always a great time. Hange to my Levi, Sumi to my Akechi. Nothing else says it better! :D You already know why I love you, twat, ask me on discord if you want details again

3.

@someprettyname THE most chaotic person I know. Passionate, determined, steadfast, and really proud of what you stand for. It's really nice to see that. Every time I open tumblr and see like 30 texts in my message box I'm like "oh no, what's happened to nami this time," and no matter what I see, I like chatting with you when I get the chance <3 Seeing you in my notifs always makes me happy

@blue-thief I swear sometimes it's like we're telepathic with how often we have the same views on things. It's always great chatting chaos or media analysis with you. It's so easy to fall into conversation with you, and seeing you be so certain in your skin sometimes is honestly really nice. You care about your friends so much it's so wholesome. I hope your exam went okay!! I hope I can support you in any way you need from me :3 I'M STILL WAITING ON THAT ASK I SENT TO BE ANSWERED, BEN /j

@zendersenders Fellow Rinsagi enjoyer, again shares a lot of the same views as me so it's always a super fun conversation to have. Fanfic buddy, I have almost dragged you into Persona hell with me. Whenever I see you in my notifications it's like "oh hey, zender's here!! hi!! :DDDD" little dopamine hit. You're a total sweetheart. Except when you decide to terrorise me with Mel, then not so much smh

@galaxynajma Fellow birb enjoyer, has the same media taste as I do which is great to see on my dash, one of the most lovely people on this damned website. One of the rare other KaiSae enjoyers. Talking to Najma is like.. a peaceful chat on a picnic blanket, with a clear sky and cool lemonade in our hands. It's like a moment of reprieve amongst all the chaos of the Blue Lock community. I love these moments dearly :>

@getosugurusbangs Plushie Menace #1. A great person to talk to, even with all the chaos that you dump into my inbox lmao. One of the few people here that understands my Persona references!! I haven't interacted you with much outside of that, but the little interaction we've had has been absolutely lovely. We seem to have the same media taste again, although I'm not too surprised considering everything else hehehe. Your art is absolutely beautiful!! It has a uniquely Eli flavour to it that I always love seeing on my dash :D

I got Kitkat, Elle, and Chen on discord so that this post doesn't get ridiculously long 😭 I should've done the discord people on discord too but it's too late now I'm too far into this.

Good lord. I hope I haven't forgotten anyone? If I have, my deepest apologies, send me a DM or a reply or something and I'll reply immediately or else I will be a very very sad Lune

MEL YOU LITTLE SHIT JUST YOU WAIT UNTIL I POST THIS AND FINALLY LOG BACK ONTO DISCORD TO RIP INTO YOU ABOUT THIS

[psystirene]

WC x Rain World Art Month

Little intermission before I make and post my Hunter design for Warriors x Rain World, a little family tree including Goldenheart (Monk), Yarrowleap (Survivor), as well as their parents and third sibling!

You can consider these relatives to be background characters, none of them are part of the clans, or at least not yet. I'll try to go in order (ramble under read more)!

also if anyone has questions about my AU. Feel free to ask <3

Hemlock - The father! Lock is a ginger shorthair cameo Mackerel (I know he doesn't look like it very much, I find "gray base with orange stripes" a bit hard to pull off). He was the loving mate of Carob, before he went missing and presumed dead. Taken away by Twolegs, never to be seen by his little family again... In reality, Hemlock was TNR'd. He is trying to find his mate and kits, but I feel like he's the sort of guy to get pulled into side quests along the way. Maybe run-ins with the Scavengers, helping some random cat, whatever.

Carob - The mother! Carob is a longhair fawn-and-cream calico, though she's mostly white. I'm gonna be honest, the poor she-cat is going through it. Raised in an underfunded, understaffed shelter, she has learned to cut her losses, no matter how much it hurts, especially when she's not the most well-versed in survival. First, Hemlock was captured by Twolegs, then, she lost two of her kits, (whom she had named after flowers in his honor, fun fact). No matter how devastating this loss was, she didn't think she had any chance of successfully going after Marigold and Waterlily (/Golden and Yarrow). She had to keep Yucca safe, who very much seemed like the runt at the time. Carob is still wandering around, now much older, with Yucca in toe.

(You know about Goldenheart and Yarrowleap already so I won't go into more detail now, this is already quite long. For what it's worth, though: Goldenheart is a longhair cream ticked tabby, Yarrowleap is a blue smoke shorthair with high white.)

Yucca - The fabled third sibling, Yucca is a silver ticked tabby. They are sort of a more adventurous and cheerful counterpart to their mother, though less blindly optimistic then one might consider Goldenheart. They were born the smallest and seemingly weakest of the lot, as such being quite coddled. Whether it be from not growing up alone or simple genetics, Yucca grew up to actually be quite a large and strong cat, moreso than Yarrow. Yucca, similar to their mom, doesn't have much hope in finding their siblings, though unlike her, they believe that they survived. In the midst of keeping themselves and Carob alive, they try to suss out any information they can. It hasn't been working out too well though, as the pair linger closer to the Twolegplace than the Clans.

[mudandmire]

wanna cut out both your eyes

….I should not be held responsible for what happens when I listen to Glass Animals.

So. There ya go. A firefighter, a boxer - one pulls the punches and pays the price.

...

The boxing ring exchanges hands when the sun goes down. A slip of marigold satin on the horizon, the final blink of the suns round eye before it disappears completely. Eris watches it from the floor to ceiling windows in the third floor of the gym. Each descending shade of indigo, painted on the blank stares of the office buildings across the street.

There's still a sticky trace of sweat along his back and face. He's sure the ring behind him remains secretly streaked with the culmination of his and his opponents earlier fights.

All he'd done to soothe the agitating itch of it was rub a wet towel over his body. It had to be enough, there was no point in showering—he wasn't yet done tonight.

Eris wraps his hands. Methodical and practiced to the point of perfection. He doesn't even glance at his slowly clearing reflection in front of him.

As the last breaths of day sink, and an encroaching dusk comes to share it's space, Eris' eyes lock onto a figure on the sidewalk below.

A mere silhouette under the fluorescent spotlight of the streetlamp, carrying a duffle bag at his side. Eris can only see the top of his head; dark, before he disappears inside the building. The gym is practically deserted now, and the top floor stays empty. Yet Eris cannot help but think that for this, even the walls grow ears.

If it were cold out, Eris' shuddering exhale would fog onto the window. His wrapped hands tense at his sides, mimicking the tension lining his shoulders under the thin hoodie he wears. Despite continuing to face the window, he turns every sense toward the door behind him. He knows how long—in seconds, in feet, in the rapid, anxious knocking of his pulse—it takes for someone to get from ground level to the third floor of the gym.

Specifically; how long it takes Azriel.

Even though he's been there for hours now, Eris feels the change as soon as the fluorescents overheard become the primary source of light. It's his ring, his stage, when the sun is up. As if asking for one last confirmation that it'll return to him tomorrow, Eris taps one of his wrapped knuckles against the window.

When the sun sets, and the ring is empty apart from the one lonely soul that haunts it—it belongs to Azriel.

A shiver rolls down his spine like beads of sweat at the sound of footsteps down the hall. Then, right in front of the door when it opens.

"I'm on call." Azriel says, and it may as well have been the first hit thrown between them.

Eris pinches at his taped hands, "you can spare me an hour," he says.

The itch of his skin beneath the wraps is unpleasant with dried sweat and a tender soreness growing from the joints like roots.

The duffle bag drops at his feet, the only sound between them before Azriel says lowly. "I'd give you the whole night," and then pauses, even the sound of his rifling through the gym bag stops. "Ask me to."

Azriel asks because he knows Eris won't answer—not that one.

It takes him a deep inhale before he's ready to turn around.

Back to the window, to the night shuttered city that crawls out of view of his reflection, Eris' eyes find him.

Every time, he wishes it was easier.

Azriel's shirt is halfway off, rising up the expanse of bronzed skin. The flex of his arms when it comes away from him completely makes Eris' stomach plunge. Every part of Azriel is hewn, hand carved with the kind of underlying strength that comes from hard work. Eris thinks if they ended up locked in this room, he wouldn't even break a sweat with worry. The breadth of his shoulders are enough to make the thick wooden door with a thin slit for a window look like soft clay.

Indulging in his trailing thoughts, Eris' eyes fall to Azriel's hands—scarred horribly from a fire long ago. It's not the kind of scarring one can easily look away from, it demands attention. Every ridge whitened and tight, a mottled patchwork of scraped and clumsily chiseled marble.

He still finds it ironic—a completely different kind of illness—that Azriel turned to firefighting in the face of it.

Maybe that's what some people call courage, bravery in the face of challenge.

Eris calls it madness. Not even the good kind.

Azriel begins to wrap his hands, a diligent silence taking over the two of them as he twines and tucks with single-minded focus that proves how much he's done this. The muscles in his exposed forearms flex as he works—Eris looks away quickly, keeping his gaze fixed on the empty ring.

It's a near dangerous thing, watching Azriel work. Eris has found his attention pried up by the roots again and again just to focus on him.

The fabric is between Azriel's teeth as he tugs it taut on his hands. Eris finds the skin of his bottom lip pinched between two fingers as he catches Azriel's dark eyes from under the fan of his sooty lashes. A direct contrast to the bearing of his teeth: pearl white, sharp points at his canines—Eris hopes he draws blood tonight.

He walks forward, ducking under the boxing ropes and padding barefoot onto the canvas. Shaking out his fingers, he doesn't glance over his shoulder where Azriel is. The charge pulses through him, from the non-slip canvas to the windows and back—body attentive to where Azriel is. It's a magnetic forcefield, how Eris' bends apart when Azriel's bends forward, the opposite draw addicting as it is frustrating.

This is ritual; this place, this time, this silence.

Until Azriel, as always, breaks it.

He levers the boundary ropes up, the underside of his arms tensing. Eris strips off his thin hoodie, heat building under the surface of his skin like a fever.

"You pulling punches today, Vanserra?" Azriel's stance is low. Balanced and ready even as his shoulders stay loose and his dark eyes glint with the hint of a fight coming on the wind—a storm brewing on the horizon.

Eris scoffs. "Don't count on it."

Banter has no room in his head. The ring's turned over it's hand, it belongs to Azriel now and Eris is going to have to work twice as hard to keep his feet beneath him tonight. A pleasant buzz hums through his worked muscles, biting at the bit for a challenge.

Eris raises his hands, positioning them in a way so innate he does it without thinking.

"Come here," he says, and then his mouth goes dry. Eris swallows hard, trying to find words to follow up with what sounds like an invitation, a plea, yet comes up empty.

Azriel doesn't give him time to, anyway. He's on call, the stopwatch had already started. The ring belongs to him in the meantime.

There's a flash of a grin, tucked behind raised fists, near feral. Eris is given a minute to appreciate the fall of his raven hair over his forehead before Azriel strikes.

Strike is a good word for it: cleaving from heaven to ground in a split second.

Eris molds his body effortlessly into a slip. Turning his head and shoulders away to dodge it quickly, but is back up, coming around with his left arm for a swing at Azriel's side.

Though he absorbs it, his arms coming up to shell the sensitive muscle and skin of the side of his abdomen. Azriel shoots him one, quick flicker of a grin, before it disappears behind the shutter of his concentration.

From there, it devolves. Eris had learned over the years, and many, many won fights, that he strikes like a snake. Quick and decisive, unpredictable unless his opponents eyes are keen enough to spot the tells. His fist lashes out, body coming in for a follow-through, and a poisonous pain sinks into every sensitive, tender part of the skin he makes contact with.

Planning his steps comes easy when he can debilitate someone's lungs with a well-placed blow—leave them gasping, leave him circling like a vulture.

With Azriel, it is entirely different. If he is a snake, then Azriel is a wolf. Wild with the way he strikes out, the force behind him something that would snap Eris' bones if he wasn't experienced. He does not keep his arms to his body, does not mind if tender, vulnerable places are hit—just continues to advance, teeth bared, snarl on his face and a bloodlust in his eyes that Eris is ashamed to find time and again, leaves a firm impression in his shorts.

Eris manages to block one of Azriel's blows, but it rattles up the bone in his arm. He grimaces through it, coming back up to roll into his next punch, keeping most of the force on his back leg instead of letting it power through his swing.

Azriel parries easily, eyes narrowing into a glare even as he pants hard through his mouth.

"Don't," he grunts, arms coming to cover up his face in the second of rest, the muscles in his lower abdomen tightening. "Give it to me, Vanserra."

"Christ." Eris' breath leaves him in a rush of strength as he aims low and punches hard. His chest is heaving, slick with sweat. The only consolation is that Azriel seems to be just as out-of-breath as he is. The dew of exhaustion on his bronze skin glints like gemstones. It should not be as attractive, distracting, as it is.

The next breath between them is used up entirely in a quick series of movements. A force of push and pull where Eris has Azriel on the defense, until a well-timed slip leads him to grasp at his throbbing ribs.

It must be anger, or something deeper that burns low in his stomach, flushing his cheeks bright. Eris strikes out, sure and strong, grunting low with effort as he catches Azriel in the chin through a feint. The throb of his knuckles irrelevant in the face of Azriel's gleaming, dark eyes.

One of his hands leaves position guarding his chest, and reaches up to thumb away a drop of blood beading at the cut on his slack mouth.

"There," he says. Eris stumbles a step when the thumb and the droplet disappears between his lips.

He tries to regain control over his breathing, the tightening at the base of his spine. Tries not to think of where else Azriel could say that—how else. The brush of a split lip on the shell of his ear, Azriel's hard-won pants of air pooling warm in the hollow of his gleaming collarbones.

Azriel's head tips, stomach swelling with each breath he takes, and through his parted mouth he clicks his tongue.

"Head," he grunts as he swings, Eris barely managing to dodge it, "in the ring."

It shakes him enough to grit down on the rising tide of coal-hot desire, seamlessly falling into a series of movements so quick he could've missed one for the other if he didn't know Azriel so well. Every time he moves, it's with a pained breath of effort. The spot on his side that Azriel had so expertly targeted and won with it's yellow and green blooms of bruises, aches and stings against his ribs.

He must've stumbled, or gotten distracted by the sharp twist of the tender skin at his side. Eris doesn't know what he had faltered on, feet or hands or head. Next thing he knows Azriel has two large, hot palms on the back of his thighs, feet no longer touching the floor. His face is close for a second, features nearer than they have been the whole night. Azriel's eyes are glazed when he looks at him through the pinch of his dark eyebrows and bared teeth.

The ground meets Eris' back with a sound like thunder. Every breath, every inch of air looses from his lungs with a hollow gasp and his wrapped hands digging his nails into the sweat-slicked skin of Azriel's back. The pain doesn't register, not before the all-consuming feeling of suffocation that molds him in between his empty lungs and Azriel's heavy, hot, looming weight.

Knuckles red, raw, he digs his fingers in further to the muscle of Azriel's shoulder blades and relishes the hiss that slips from his pink lips. A dull ache spreads up from his spine to his shoulders and down to his tailbone. Eris' head tips back, features crumpled in what may have looked like pain if he weren't burning alive, skin stuck to the canvas floor.

The spread of Azriel's shoulders between his pale thighs sends his pulse into a furious thrum. Bronze and glazed like pottery, every crease of muscle and skin wears like the finest finish and Eris finds himself struggling to swallow.

When he does get his breath back, it's to glare straight up into Azriel's hazel eyes and heave out a breathless, "cheater."

Azriel's mouth tightens, dark brows furrowed into a shadow over his lidded eyes. The molten press of his palms, even through the wraps, says everything about his disappointment Eris couldn't see through his shuttered gaze. They follow a pre-determined path; one stays on his side, the bruised one, where his fingers rest in between the slots of his heaving rib cage. The other wanders, a teasing brush here and there, down the sweat-slick skin of his stomach, the sensitive strip above the waistline of his shorts, when it finally stops to rest at his hip. Pressing down slightly in warning.

"What did I say, Eris?" He asks, looming closer until his thighs are stuck to the backs of Eris'.

Eris finally finds use for his hands. Where they had dug trenches into Azriel's back, they take a particular kind of vengeance in the damp locks of his raven hair.

"You brute," he says, a scratch in his voice, "you must get tired of repeating your braindead demands." His fingers had curled into the hair at the base of his neck, where he tugs hard enough to send a tendon feathering in Azriel's dewy jaw.

Silence rings in place of it, but Azriel's hand moves quickly further down on his ribs until the weight of his palm presses hard on the blossoming, tender bruise on his side.

Eris holds in a whine, his fingers going limp then tightening in the span of the hard kick of his heart against his chest.

"I—" a whimper slips out of the loosening iron control over his mouth, "go to hell."

The pressure on the contusion increases, Eris' lungs working hard to take short, shallow breaths.

His hands fly away from the safety of Azriel's hair, mussed and carded like he had been fucked well. They land like startled birds at his shoulder, the flexed muscle of his bicep as he presses down.

"I could do this until I get called into the station." He says easily, head tipping to watch Eris writhe. "But then we'd both go home losers tonight. It's really up to you."

Eris gasps, mouth wet and parted even as he grits out, "maybe I wouldn't mind that, seeing as I could nullify your victory—"

"No, Eris, this isn't my victory."

The pressure lessens slightly, the heartbeat of the tender ache crying out in relief as Azriel pulls back just enough for Eris' to breathe fully. His lids blink heavily up at him, dazed and stinging.

A calloused, scarred thumb rubs gentle circles on the soft skin of his hip. "Now, what did I say?" He asks again.

Through the fire in his belly, the smoke in his head, Eris finds it in himself to arch wildly into Azriel's solid frame. Making every effort to dislodge him even as his cheeks flush a rosy pink up to his ears.

"Oh, absolutely fuck you." He spits, nails digging crescents into the meat of his shoulders.

Azriel doesn't dignify him with a response. Instead he bends in closer and Eris' thighs are forced wider from it—it distracts him enough that he doesn't notice when the hand on his hip comes to circle his neck. Heavy like a marble necklace, but Azriel's skin is rough, warm, and then the pressure returns to the contusion on his side and Eris' head falls back hard enough he can hear the noise of it echo in his skull.

The fingers don't tighten, but the threat of them has heat spilling down the line of his spine, pooling at the base of it.

"What did I say?" Azriel's demand is stone in the face of Eris' disobedience. His eyes dark with the pupil expanded wide enough Eris can barely make out the lingering ring of hazel around it. Despite his cool features, barely a wince passing across his face even as Eris' nails mark him bloody. Eris watches the controlled heave of his chest, his stomach, and finds that he wants the barely leashed power pressed against him.

"You, fuck," it comes out breathless, rushed, as pain licks along his warming side. "You said don't hold my punches back."

Azriel leans more weight onto the hand against his ribs. "Exact words." He says quietly.

"I—Azriel, God, wait—you said," he wets his lips, panting, a hand circling Azriel's wrist though making no effort to move it. "You said to give it to you."

He hums approvingly, shifting his knees where they're red pressed to the canvas floor. "Could've had me on my ass three times by now, but you didn't. Wanna know why?"

"Why?" He croaks, a wetness gathering in his eyes he doesn't want to investigate.

"Because you don't listen, do you sweetheart?" His head dips, face parallel to Eris' to the point where he can't choose one eye to focus on—so his gaze falls to his lips instead. A shaking, raw hand coming up to thumb at the bottom lip.

Azriel's breath falls over the touch, warm, shuddering.

"Azriel," the name comes from the very base of his stomach where the urge to taste his mouth comes roiling up his spine with a vengeance.

A sharp ringing cuts through the haze in his head. So loud he thinks at first he's imagining it, or it's a siren from outside.

It's only when Azriel's whole body tenses, and his head falls to rest on Eris' chest that he understands what it is.

"Shit." Azriel swears into the dip between his pectorals quietly, but with no less vehemence.

"That wasn't—" Eris' trembling hand falls to his hair. "That's not an hour."

"Yeah, well, tell my boss." Azriel grunts as he begins to move away. Peeling the heated press of his weight and presence from Eris' own body like a horribly stuck band-aid. He keeps a whine tucked behind his teeth even as the corners of his brows pinch upwards.

Azriel's shoulders duck out and away from in between his thighs, and his eyes near wet with frustration as the air conditioned cold of the room seeps into his warmed skin. His legs fold without him there, pressing together as if that will restore the heat lost. It's then, almost an accident, that Eris discovers the culmination of every touch and word from Azriel as a firm afterthought in his gym shorts.

The outline of it rankles him. The fact that it's his hand and not Azriel's that sweeps down the plane of his abdomen, sweat-cooled and tacky.

Azriel had crawled out from under the boundary ropes to look at his pager—at least that's what Eris thought.

A harsh, scarred hand grabs his before it can reach the hem of his shorts. Eris' eyes snap open, darting to meet Azriel's crooked mouth and dark eyes.

He ducks low so his lips brush against his ear, halfway out of the ring. "If you touch yourself, I'll make sure to fracture a rib tomorrow." He says.

Unbidden but by the sound of Azriel's voice, the heat seeping into his skin around his wrist, Eris' arches his back with a shameless whine.

His cheeks go pink. "Wait, but—Azriel."

Azriel's hand falls away from his wrist, ducking back out of the ring with a teasing nip to his earlobe.

Dazed, lingering in the sweat gathered on his back and the tender pulsing ache on his side, he watches as Azriel scoops up the handle to his duffle bag, pager in hand.

Eris' brows furrow slightly when he stops before the door.

"And to think," he says, gazing over his shoulder at Eris through the dark soot of his lashes, "we could've both been winners tonight." His grin is sharp, slicing through Eris and burying it's blade in his core.

The door closes with a soft snick behind him, and Eris is left entirely alone again.

An arm comes up to sling over his face as it burns through the heated pulse of arousal under his shorts.

As much as his fingers itch to slip under, find the heat that's been missing since Azriel left, he stops himself.

How would he know?

Eris' head tips back till he faces the ceiling. Black and white patterns and fluorescent lights blinking hollowed images in the back of his eyes.

The answer comes to him easily; as innate as wrapping his hands or slipping into that first stance of a fight.

I would tell him. He thinks.

Again, his head tips back, throat bared and cold in the unforgiving, dry gym air. "Fuck," he says quietly, unable to bring himself to move.

He may just stay here, stuck to the canvas floor in a concoction of lust, shame, and sweat. He may just wait until the sun rises, lightening in soft ribbons over the floor until it hits the boxing ring and Eris knows for certain he can stand on his own. Once the ring turns its hand over to him.

He'll spend the whole day waiting, wishing, for darkness to come quicker so he and the ring can belong to Azriel again.

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, he finds one of his hands pressing against the thundercloud bruise on his side. The hitch in his lungs is half pain, half remembrance.

Nightfall can't come soon enough.

...

This devolved very quickly and I'm not entirely sure where it came from??

But also Glass Animals has the magic juice that makes me write feral things. So maybe it's not entirely out of the blue. Anywayyy hope you enjoyed!!

Also, the song is 'Wonderful Nothing' by Glass Animals 🤌

[witch-oftheflowers]

How the boys react to altars?

(Ximena x Simon.{COD} Morgana x Marc y Altars.{Moon Knight} Enjoy this multi fandom chapter I wanted to see how this went!)

Simon x Ximena Riley:

The crisp air hit Simons face as he returned home. Seeing his little house covered in yellow and orange flowers

Marigolds

His brown eyes looking to the driveway. Loose petals leading to the doorstep. A tradition he has grown used to around this last week of October.

His wife coming from a small town in Mexico. Still celebrating day of the dead. Seeing it the first time was confusing. He got used to it as the years have came.

He grabbed his bag, and a few bouquets of flowers he got on the way home. Holding the large bag in his arm as he walked inside.

Seeing garlands of flowers coating their living room. Hallways to the bedrooms the same.

But the living and kitchen-

He smiled a bit. Locking the door behind him as he took his boots off. Setting his bag down.

Looking around as the house was empty. But the pathway of flowers lead outside to the garden.

He set the flowers down. Remembering to tell his wife when he finds her.

The house had candles around. Not yet lit.

Bread was on plates. Multiple meals cooked, many he likes or haven't tried yet. His eyes landed on the photos.

His eyes shaking for a second as there was many of his own on there. His whole family

Besides his sperm donor. Thank god-

"You're back early."

His head turned to met her. His eyes soften as he smiled to her. Ximena was in a simple white dress. Her flat ballade sandals on. She had twin braids down to her knees.

A kinder smile to her lips as she grabbed a tray. Setting the food on it.

"I was hoping to have this done. Surprise you even. Kiddos are outside setting up and having fun. Luna's with them too." She was softly speaking. Grabbing some of the pictures.

Even the one of her father that passed recently.

Her eyes stilled as she set it on the tray. A small tear slipped as her smile softly faded.

Simon walked over as he gave her head a gentle kiss. Pulling her in by the side

" 'M home. That's all that matters luv. And what surprise?" He asked her as he peer down at her.

"I was adding your family for this years altar."

His eyes met hers. Seeing the kindness she had for him. He never took her up on the offer. Scared if he'll disrespect his family. Or if waking them from their deserved rest was selfish for a few nights

He learned a bit of the holiday with his wife. And her loving family. He felt at ease as she wanted to do this small act for people she met a few times. Because she understood how much they meant to him

" Such a lovely idea my luv. Need any help?"

"Can you bring out the candles? I'm almost done."

He nods his head as he grabbed he ones from the kitchen she had set.

Walking out after her. Seeing their garden to life even as the sun was setting.

The stringed lights flickered on. Lanterns set in the pond, the garden had fireflies floating around. The many plants they had for fall flourishing in the still warm night.

Anna was playing with the twins keeping the toddlers distracted.

Johnny was helping his mum. Setting the photos on as they chatted a bit.

Simon smiled as he walked behind hearing his wife chatter on as she taught her kids about the tradition

"Once a year our ancestors visit us. For a few nights they come and enjoy the company. They're our family, so we cook food for them they loved while alive. We put their favorite things like bread or trinkets, or anything really"

She spoke on and on as they finished the most. Taking the candles from her husband as she set one each with a photo.

Most of them filled with her family. Aunts he met a few times. To her godparents, to her tia's and tios. Even her grandparents.

On the top of the tiered alter, her father sat. And then his mother. Underneath was his brother and his family. And her brother with his daughter.

A few years dripped, her hand shook as she finished lighting the last ones.

Stepping back she stood there admiring the table theys set.

Johnny grabbed his mum's hand. As she softly cried at the sight.

Simon came besides her as he squeezed her shoulders. Giving her a kiss on the head as he smiled.

"They would love this... Thank you for taking the time." He whispered as he gave her arms a rub. Letting her cry a bit.

He knew why she was crying more. It's only been a month since her own father untimely passing.

The girls came over as they admired the alter. Giving their mum a hug as they smiled.

"It's ok mum. They're visiting us tonight." Johnny said as he beamed with his sweet smile.

Making Ximena chuckled as she gave a kind smile back.

"Yeah.. they're always with us mijo~"

Morgana x Marc and the boys

Steven came home first before his wife and kids. The young man fidgeting with his backpack as he hanged it up.

He was tired from their trip back from New York. They had a few months out there dealing with Khonshu's deeds.

"Blood hell. Those stupid wankers in New York." He mumbled a bit as he noticed how the usual cleaned Victorian house looked.

Clothes and robes everywhere. His eyes flicker to his wife's library of books being litter on the floor.

He noticed even her crystal ball. Usually covered and tucked away was smashed on the floor.

The mirrors she had hung up were smahed and broken.

"Lads- You gotta see this." His voice was a bit shaky as he let Marc front. His eyes flickered as he stood straight. His hands flexing as he took it in.

Marc's eyebrows furried in confusion as he looked around the rest of the house.

"Girls! You're not home right?!" He called out trying to make sure none of his family was home.

Thankfully it was quiet.

Besides the bird coming in as he noticed his avatar being deranged

"What are you doing?" Khonshu's voice boomed as Marc sighed

"Can't you see I'm dealing with something? And you!" He pointed his finger at the god

"Can't be inside this house! Or aren't supposed to be!"

"Whoever or whatever did this. Broke her protection circle and her work. So I'm here now." He sassed the human as he stood in a corner. The bird looking around at the damage

"Someone knows what they were doing."

"Well that someone is gonna be murder if she comes home to this."

Khonshu laughs as he sneer at his avatar

"You fear that woman?"

"Fear? God no. But I do know not to piss her off. Have you seen what she can do? She took me out one night because a civilian was hitting on me."

He stared at the god as he stared back

"She banished me from your house"

"She really hates you. You should know that after what five years?" He gave him attitude back as Marc started to clean. He flinched when he felt a small burn.

"Ow!"

Khonshu walked over as he used his staff. Nudging the broken mirrors.

"Someone was here. Smarter than you even. Cursed all her objects. Only she can fix this. Or her gods."

Marc held his hand as he groaned. Knowing his wife was gonna be a storm to handle.

As the time did arrive. Marc cleaned what he could. But all her magical objects were out of his field

Morgana came home alone. Wearing a long frilly dress. She had meetings all day with the other clans -

"Marc Specter!"

Here it goes.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was gentle as she rushed into the kitchen. Seeing her husband as she noticed all her items broken

"I'm fine. How was the meeting?"

"It was a trap."

He moved and shook his head at her declaration.

"What?"

"Clearly it was. Because I know you value your life more than break my items."

Marc gentle nods his head as he sipped his espresso. A wince in his face as he hated the taste alone.

His eyes flicker as Steven came forward. Finishing the cup as he set another to brew

He smiled as he walked to his wife, grasping her hand as he spoke

"I'm terribly sorry my love. Those wankers deserve whatever you serve them back."

She smiled gently as she looked up to him. Her waves swirling as she stood on her tippy toes. Her little fangs brushed against his lips as she gave him a kiss.

"And that's why I love you boys. Always good at keeping me calm."

"I say other reasons too"

Her eyes widen as she wiped her head to the dreadful bird

"You're not supposed to be in my house!"

Khonshu sighs as he ran a boney hand down his beak

"Your protections got destroyed!"

"I know! No get out you good for nothing bird!" Morgana sassed him as she tapped her foot. Her house swirled and spun as the bird was thrown out

The broken items swirled as they picked up. Restored even as they set her things to their rightful spots. She was calm again. Her curls landing flat against her back. She brushed a few strands out of her face.

Everything was fixed. Her protections, her items, and her house. But she would have to find out who did this.

"I'll be in the attic. The girls are coming home with Adrian later. He took them out for dinner."

She seemed peeved, as she ascended the stairs. Her steps seem more eerie as she was out of sight.

All three knew something was wrong.

Jake pulled to the front as he told the others to shush

"I got her~"

Marc rolled his eyes at him as he sighs

"Oh you got her? What about us?"

"You two haven't seen... Everything she can do."

As Jake walked up the stairs. The attic seemed cold, he got a glimpse in as his wife was lighting her candles. She was in a black fluffy robe. Her hair in braids as she wrote on the floor in chalk.

Marc and Steven peer with Jake as they saw how cold she seemed.

"It's her worship room... Usually I don't bug her. Unless she needs help with something."

"What kind of something?" Steven asked as he noticed Jake scratched his cheek

"Sex rituals."

"And she's only asked you?" Marc asked as he seemed upset.

Jake smiled as he shook his head.

"Hey you two would freak out from the things we've seen."

The trio got silent as they noticed the room shaking. Morgana was moving with the air swirling around her. Her eyes shut as she was thinking.

Her hands ran through the chalk ward she made as she chanted

"Gods above. Gods below. Come and aid this witch. Come from sea and off the mountain peaks. I becon those I seek to aid me in my defeat"

Her eyes flickered open as she smiled. Seeing her two favorites floating besides her.

And Jake just watched. Seeing the gods in view.

Poor Marc and Steven were slightly confused why they could see them.

"Why can we see them???" Steven asked as he watched his wife talk.

Persephone and Hetec

The pair eyeing the woman. But small smiles to their lips as they took her offerings and her speech.

"Those clans should know better than to cause distrust with the Aradia clan. They left their own clues to know who it is child. Seek those clues. Find it and they'll reveal whom you seek." Hetec was calm as she gave her piece.

"If they seek to start a war. Knowing those other groups. All acting like children during these trying times for our kinds. But if they seek a war. They will receive one" the goddess vanished.

Leaving Avatar with her goddess

Persephone beamed as she floated over.

"I'll need a better offering child. You know the kind. And I think your husband's do too. But hear my words. If they believe a war is important during these times. They're mistaken. As fall creeps in, they might think this is the best time to strike. Keep a keen eye on your enemies my child. Anything can happen~" the goddess gave her a cryptic speech. Leaving her be as she floating away.

Morgana sighed as she didn't get what she expected. Her eyes flickered to the doorway as she noticed Jake

"Come here my love. We got some offerings to make~"

[my-cabbages-gorl]

Zukaang Week Fic Sneak Preview

@zukaangweek approaches! Here's a snippet of a fic I'm preparing for Day 6 prompt: Fear. I’m so excited about this story, it has a little bit of everything that drives me insane about Zukaang. It’s chaotic and charged, Aang is allowed to be dark, and Zuko bears witness to it all. Title: Throwing Stones at a Mirror Blurb: The war has been over for 14 years. But, some debts remain unsettled.

The madness and the mystery of Aang’s arrival had finally taken Zuko- captured him in its jagged claws. Aang was here because of what Zuko had done. Aang had come to exact his punishment, to collect his toll. Through all these years, they were always a team.   What changed?    Zuko wasn’t sure. But, perhaps, like a slipping, liminal memory of a past life, he did know. Whatever it was, it was here with him now. Whatever it was, it scoured the diplomacy from his skin, rid him of strategy, and left him with nothing but rage. 

The last time they sparred—no, fought—like this, like enemies with everything to lose, Aang was 12. Aang was nimbler then, but weaker. Now, Aang’s chest was broadened and his muscles taut with the full realization of all four elements. Aang has him. Zuko knows it. But he comes for him in flamed burst after burst anyway. 

In every jut of his fist and messy spin on his heel, Zuko pours himself out. He pours out his confusion, empties his haunting, drains his unanswered questions. All of it, strangely, feels as if it is at once because of Aang and somehow meant for Aang. He deals blow after blow with the fury of everything he’d never let himself ask—and Aang slips past each one, deft as a snake. 

Flashing a sweat-slicked smile, Aang taunts. 

One specific thrust of Zuko’s fist as he hurls himself towards Aang’s drenched body finds itself locked in the grip of a strong hand. In a blur of marigold and blue and sun in his eyes, Zuko’s been pinned. 

The seemingly endless scope of the Firelord's world narrows in and tilts on two axes—where Aang’s thighs crush against his lap, and where Aang’s forearm digs into his chest to keep him from retaliating. 

Frayed breath heaves from Zuko’s partially crushed chest. Aang peers into him. Their bodies frozen, soaked in salt and sun and fury as a horrible silence reigns with an iron fist. 

Zuko scoffs. He can feel Aang’s ire seeping into his skin. He can feel it—he can feel him—everywhere—raking fingernails across his spirit, hard enough to mark. Hard enough that Zuko breaks. 

“It’s easy to do nothing. It’s harder to forgive?,” Zuko shouts, head jerking forward to propel each word through the stifling heat between them. “You said that!” 

Eyes falling to slits, Aang presses harder into Zuko’s chest, making him cough. Every palace attendant’s eye snaps to them. Surely the Avatar wouldn’t harm the incarnation of Agni in broad daylight, in the heart of the caldera. 

Aang knows he’s being watched.  

Yet, he doesn’t concede. Instead, he leans in. Crams in so close they can feel the friction between their bones beneath skin and muscle and tendon. Zuko groans in pain. 

Each spat word slices through Aang’s clenched teeth, “I was a child then, Zuko.”  

[super-unpredictable98]

The Eighth Child (~TUA AU~) - Season 4

Chapter 3: Next Stop at The End of Time

Warning: Strong language, mild sexual content, death, talk of addiction

(The Eighth Child Masterlist)

Victoria was scared to walk inside. Partially because the place was condemned and could crumble on them just like when Viktor started having a fit back in the day, but also because she didn't know what to expect. Ben was there and Five said it was her Ben, but what if it wasn't? Last time she had any contact with him, they were fighting for their lives, right before he disappeared forever. It was hard to believe he would simply waltz back into their lives.

All of the doubt and the nerves disappeared the moment she laid eyes on him and realized that was her brother. It wasn't the same as looking at the knockoff Sparrow version, it was a bond that survived time, death, and several ends of the world.

"Ben!" She screamed when the door opened and she ran into his arms crying. "Bennie Boo, I missed you so much, oh my... where have you been?"

"Another timeline," he chuckled and hugged his sister. "Someone told me you married Klaus! How insane is that?"

"I know, I know... it's crazy, but you'll get used to it," she laughed, drying her tears. "You need to meet my daughter, her name is Fortune. We gave her the middle name Bennie."

"That's so sweet... ugh too sweet, you're gonna make me emotional! I didn't think you'd ever forgive me after I made Klaus kiss Jill," he sighed.

"Oh, that? That was a billion years ago, I swear I don't resent you at all for that. It was your chance and you took it, I would've done the same. You need to visit my bakery! The Ben special on my menu is your favorite, torta holandesa."

"With Calipso cookies on the rim?" he chuckled.

"Of course, it's not torta holandesa without Calipso cookies on the rim!" She squeezed him tighter and covered his cheek in kisses. "And when our youngest is born, you have to be there! We'll know very soon if it's a boy or a girl! I have so much to tell you, just... so much."

"Are they always so gross? Good thing she hates me," Sparrow Ben scoffed. "Helloooo, we're all in danger?"

"Oh fuck, yeah," Victoria swallowed nervously, trying to catch her breath. Okay, so what I know is that Abigail, Dad's wife, somehow disguised herself as Sy Grossman and gave us the marigold hoping we'd take it. You're very welcome for that, by the way, we'd be very screwed if I let you do that. Then her plan was that we'd look for Jennifer, who has some sort of anti-marigold in her called durango. Once those two substances interact, horrible things happen... the cleanse. Which from what she said is just killing everyone."

"If it's so dangerous for marigold and durango to interact, that's why Dad locked Jennifer away, which means he didn't know about his wife's plan," Five said.

"He didn't, she said she was doing that because she didn't ask to be brought back to life and blah blah blah," Victoria rolled her eyes. "She created these elements and she wants them to stop existing via the cleanse. In a way, Ben saved all of humanity when his tentacles killed Jennifer and himself that night, this reaction had already started. I remember the glowing rash on his arm, of course he couldn't just leave an innocent girl to be destroyed even though that's what Dad told us to do."

"Good thing I died that once then," Ben tilted his head, thinking. "So the cleanse would be like... a monster that carries the seeds of its own destruction? Kills everyone and then itself?"

"Exactly. Maybe if we got Jennifer to drink some marigold, the cleanse would happen in a contained environment and end this nightmare," Victoria suggested.

"I don't think there is containing the monster, don't you remember what happened the first time?" Luther murmured, giving Ben a look.

"I guess we should first figure out how to get the timelines to merge and leave us with one," Five pinched the bridge of his nose. He was definitely too old to be dealing with that sort of stress.

"Oh easy then," Lila joked.

"There are portals all over the place, we could go down there and try to decode the map. Find a way to shut down the train, anything," Ben said.

"He might be right, we should go down there and see who's in command of the train," Diego nodded. "Let's go."

"Hey guys... I sort of can't," Victoria murmured. "I need to look for Klaus, I think he might have relapsed. We had a big fight and... I need to get him back."

"Can't this wait?" Sparrow Ben grunted.

"No, it actually can't. My husband might be in danger and I don't care if he's a junkie or a germophobe, I love him. I should've never said that him getting clean was the worst thing that happened to me."

"That's harsh..." Allison mumbled.

"Shut the fuck up! I'm already very sad!"

"Alright, we'll go and meet here again ASAP, once we're all together, we fix this shit," Five walked to the door, but Vicky stopped him.

"I need your gun."

"What?"

"I need it, if Klaus is with some sort of dealer or gang member, I need the gun to protect myself and him."

"Unbelievable," he handed her the revolver. "Bring it back without a scratch, that's company property."

**

"I see a huge change in your future, it seems a few people who are holding you down will finally be out of your way... it'll hurt, but you need to let go to make way for your new and improved life," Klaus looked at the tarot cards.

"Should I start the new business then?" The lady in front of him asked.

"Definitely, I see hard times in the beginning, but look," he picked up one of the cards. "Prosperity in the future if you persist."

"Thank you so much," she gave him the payment for the session.

"No, thank you, my dear," he smiled, counting the money.

The lady left and Quinn came in followed by another woman, a beautiful woman in a skimpy outfit.

"Moneeeey!" Klaus cheered. "Here, now you know I intend on paying my debt, so please let me go home. My daughter is waiting, my wife must be worried sick..."

"Nice try, but you're not leaving until the 40k is paid," Quinn grabbed the money. "This is for food, rent, supplies, the stuff you took last night... now you choose, my little star."

He held up ten bucks or a little packet with a couple of pills.

Klaus sighed defeated and took the pills before looking at the woman by the door. "Come on in, let's start your reading, yeah?"

"She's not here for a reading," Quinn chuckled and tossed a strip of condoms at him. "She's here for your other services. Five hundred an hour."

"Wait no no no! I have a wife, I can't do this! I have a family! No offense to this beautiful lady, but..."

"You'll do your job until your debt is paid!"

"Don't worry, you'll like it," the woman placed her hand on Klaus' chest. "I love feminine men, you're so cute."

"So does my wife! I'm sorry, I can't! I can't!" Klaus pleaded while she tried to take his clothes off.

"That's just too damn bad, isn't it?" Quinn huffed while closing the door.

"Too damn bad indeed, too bad you can't take no for an answer," Victoria pointed the gun at him. She had seen that place before, she knew that's where Klaus came to get drugs.

"Who are you?" He raised his hands.

"The wife. Now you can let my husband go or you can go ahead and meet your maker."

"That's cute... do you even know how to shoot? You're some dumb housewife with her daddy's gun."

It had been a while since Victoria experienced that intoxicating feeling, being underestimated because she looked so delicate and docile when she knew she had the power to end that person's life.

"You wanna take the chance?" She smirked.

"You haven't killed a roach in your life, Freckles..."

"Yeah, I haven't," she faked defeat. "But I have killed dozens of people."

Without waiting, she shot him in the head and immediately reached into his pocket to get his gun so he wouldn't try to retaliate in his last moments.

"Piece of shit... girls! You can all go!" She screamed at the young ladies in tiny rooms, probably just as helpless as her husband.

She then opened the door with both guns ready to shoot. The woman, who was still trying to grind against Klaus, let out a yelp and backed away.

"Never touch my man again or I'll put a bullet in your fucking head too! Scram!"

"Victoria!" Klaus was crying tears of happiness, relief, and guilt. "Victoria, my Liebling, my baby! I'm so sorry..."

He ran into her arms and she embraced him too. He felt like a failure for relapsing, but she was ready to help.

"No, no I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that stuff, I should've helped you get over your fear, I should've been more empathetic."

"I should've tried harder, looked for therapy. I also said a bunch of shit I didn't mean, I'm sorry. I yelled at Fortune, I'm such a shit dad..."

"No you're not, you're the best dad ever, you just need help," she smiled sadly. "Tunnie is okay, she's with Claire and Ray."

"So you still love me?"

"Of course I do, I looked for you all night and just killed a man because I love you."

"Help me get clean again? Help me be a better Klaus that you can be attracted to again?"

"Of course," she kissed him softly. "We need to meet the others, there's a whole timeline bullshit going on, I'll explain on the way... but hey! Ben is back! Our Ben!"

"Really? Oh my..." Klaus grinned. "We'll go, we'll go. There's just a place I need to go first."

**

Victoria drove Klaus to the nearest AA meeting. He really wanted to do things right this time.

The moment he entered the room, there was nobody there except for the chairwoman, who was already gathering her things.

"The meeting is canceled," she said. "Nobody's here."

"I'm here," Klaus shrugged.

"Take a pamphlet..."

"What's your name?"

"Stephanie."

"Stephanie, listen, I've been to enough court-ordered rehab to know that if one person shows up, it's a meeting. You might make a motion to adjourn, but I'm not seconding and I've had one hell of a slip, and I'm not leaving until I get my one day chip."

"Fine... sit," Stephanie shook her head, pulling out a binder.

"Well, my name is Klaus-"

"Ah ah, no. If we're gonna stick to the rules, we'll stick to the rules," she started reading from the binder. "Alcoholics Anonymous is a fellowship of people who share their experience, strengths..."

"It's very important, I know, and you've said it a thousand times. I've heard it a thousand times, can we get to the part where we share?"

"The floor is now open for sharing," she tried not to laugh. "You have two minutes! No more than that."

"Wonderful!" Klaus clapped and raised his hand.

"Alright, how about you?"

"Moi?" She faked surprise. "Thank you Steph, I can call you Steph, right?"

"No."

"Okay... powerlessness... it's all there on the first step, little words on the page, but I never knew what it really meant until I screamed at my pregnant wife, screamed at my child, and took her Barbie cash to only then be forcefully pimped out by a psycho who I owed money to..." He sat down. "Before that, I had three years clean, three whole years. The problem was I was trying to do it all by myself. Staying in my safe little bubble, scared of death, scared of life... scared of life and taking it out on the people who love me the most, one of whom is sitting outside by the way."

"Hey!" Victoria waved through the door. "You go, Babe!"

"That's my wife slash sister," he whispered.

"I'm not gonna ask," Stephanie breathed.

"So I'm saying it for the first time in my life without irony..." he took a deep breath. "That my name is Klaus and I'm an alcoholic. I'm also a complete drug addict. And while we're at it, I'm probably also addicted to love, and sex. Which has been tough cause I haven't gotten laid much since I went totally nuts and my wife stopped being attracted to me because I became insanely boring. I don't even know how I got her pregnant again..."

"Hey, I'm so sorry to interrupt," Victoria opened the door again. "Can he get his chip? We really need to go right now! Claire just said she just got visited by a woman claiming to be Grandma who took Fortune away when she wasn't looking. I already called Five, we're going to see Dad."

"Shit, my daughter!" Klaus took the one day chip and ran off. "Thanks for the help, Steph!"

Tag List: @jozstankovich @firstpersonnarrator @salvador-daley

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Starlight, Chapter Two:

pairing: fae!ezra prospect x princess!oc (Marigold)

rating: Explicit (18+ only, minors dni, some pretty heavy stuff here (at least for me) just as a warning!, talks of violence/allusions to DV, a brief non-consensual but technically consensual (??) sex scene between Kaius and Marigold, general shit storm of angst piled onto our girl (if you can’t tell i’m in actual pain writing her pain so pls be gentle with me), the romance with ezra is coming i promise!!

wc: 6.2k

series masterlist

I awoke to the sound of a few familiar knocks against the main door of my suite, stone rolling against stone as it opened. My eyes batted open as I lay upstairs in bed pulling the blanket up to cover half my face as a set of footsteps ascended the staircase up to the second floor. 

“Princess,” Ezra called, his voice already a strangely soothing balm to my near-constant anxiety. It felt naive and reckless to place this much trust in a man I’d only just met, but I couldn’t find a reason not to. He’d been kind, he’d been helpful, and as far as I could see, he seemed to be the only option for an ally—unless I counted my future husband. And I didn’t. “Miss Drusilla is here to ready you for the ball.”

Wedding, you mean? I murmured to myself. 

I tossed my blanket back and slowly climbed out of bed with a stretch. Whatever magic Ezra had worked on me to get me tired forced me into the deepest and most restful sleep of my life. Another thing to like him for. I yawned as my feet padded over the giant blue rug beneath my bed and then cold stone floor before making it to the dark, wooden double doors separating me from my visitors. 

Opening the door, I let my eyes lock with Ezra’s--just long enough to ignite a frenzy of sickly tender feelings in my chest--before turning to Drusilla. I gave her an instinctive once over, happy with what I saw. Some color had returned to her naturally pale skin, her purple eyes already a little brighter than earlier. She’d obviously had a bath, her waist-length white hair now swept to the side in a clean braid. 

“Hello, Drusilla,” I said, giving her a sincere smile before turning to Ezra. Something more familiar and affectionate warped my smile into a smirk. “Hello, Your Grace.”

“You look well rested,” he said, his eyes subtly combing me over. 

“Thanks to you,” I smiled. Ezra seemed to blush, his eyes falling to the floor for a split second before he was turning to the teenager beside him. 

“I thought I’d come formally introduce the two of you,” he said, his eyes meeting mine only in short glances. “The ceremony is in two hours, followed by a feast, and then, finally, the ball.”

I felt sick. 

“I’ll be returning shortly with the Royal Seamstress to deliver your gown,” he continued, his voice a bit warmer than when he’d started speaking. He must have felt my apprehension. “Until then, I’ll leave the two of you to get acquainted.”

As he turned to leave, I found my lips parting to call for him to stay. 

“Thank you,” I said instead. “For everything.” 

Ezra gave me a tender, if not weary, smile and nod before making his way down the staircase. Left with Drusilla, the two of us fell into an awkward silence for a beat before I willed myself to forget about my impending doom and speak. “It’s lovely to properly meet you.”

She hurried into a bow, her eyes still struggling to meet mine. 

“Please, I don’t have many rules for my handmaids, but I do ask this one thing of you,” I started, my tone gentle as she finally dared to look me in the eye for longer than a second. “Please don’t bow or bother with titles. Back home, our handmaidens were like family, like sisters. We can be like sisters, too, if you’d like.”

“I’ve…always fancied the idea of having a sister,” she said, letting the smallest of smiles grace her face. “But what shall I call you?”

I smiled softly, thinking back to the days spent under the warm sun with my mother and sisters. At the name they gave me. “Call me Mari. It’s what my sisters always called me.”

Mari, it is.“ She smiled, soft and sweet, reminding me of my own girlhood that seemed so far gone and still so near. 

“Tell me everything about yourself,” I demanded as I led her into my dressing room. I took a seat at the vanity, fixing my eyes on her through the mirror as she stood behind me, mindlessly finger-combing my curls. 

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” she admitted. 

“Well…are you an only child?” I asked, desperate to keep the conversation away from myself and the festivities she was readying my for. 

“I had a little brother, Ash,” she said, reaching over my shoulder to grab a sack of pins. “He passed from a fever not too long ago.”

I frowned, letting my gaze fall to my lap as I considered the idea of losing any of my sisters—even the ever-challenging Octavia who was likely grinning with glee over my current situation—after having lost my mother. I wasn’t sure I’d ever smile again, which made every single smile Drusilla gave me all the more precious. 

“I’m very sorry,” I managed. “My mother passed earlier this year. I know how hard it is to lose someone.”

“He would have liked it here in the castle,” she mused, her eyes and hands busy pinning my hair up. “He loved everything to do with knights and armor and danger. Too young to know the truth of it all.”

There was a tragic maturity about Drusilla, as if she was forced into adulthood before she was even a teenager. 

“And you? What interests you?” I asked, determined to find a spark of light inside of her so that I could help it turn into a star as bright as the ones in the sky. 

“It will sound odd,” she said, as bashful as a child.

“Go on,” I urged. 

“I like to study the stars--or at least, one day I would like to. For now, I just observe.”

“There are no books--”

“The library in town burned two years ago,” she said, scowling as if she knew the culprit. “Even then, it was difficult to be let in looking…well, looking like trash.”

“How long have you been on your own?” Her eyes lifted to meet mine, a strange sort of pride glowing on her face. 

“Eight years,” she said. “Seven with Ash.”

“That’s a feat I’m not sure most of the guards in the castle could accomplish,” I smiled. “I wish I could have met Ash, given him a home here with you.”

“He would’ve liked that,” she smiled back, her eyes dropping back to focus on her braiding. “I cannot tell you what your kindness means to me. The royals are usually so…cold.” 

“Did you know the last King? Or Queen?”

“Only from afar, though I do remember seeing the Queen once as a little girl,” she said, placing the final pin in my hair. “I can’t remember her face, but I remember sadness in her eyes. I suppose I can’t blame her. To rule here…it’s an awful fate.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat at the realization that I was to share that exact fate. Drusilla realized, too, and quickly opened her mouth to apologize but was cut off by the sound of a metal hand knocking on the door. 

“Enter,” I called, my voice fragile and on the verge of cracking. Ezra’s eyes were locked on mine even before the door was opened fully. 

“I’ve…” He trailed off, noticing how rigid my posture was, how watery my eyes were. “Is everything--”

“You’ve brought my gown?” I managed, forcing my voice into one of feigned strength and dignity. I wasn’t sure if it was possible to maintain the latter anymore. 

“Yes,” he nodded, clearing his throat as he turned to the doorway, allowing an old, but regal woman into the room. “Lady Rowena, the Royal Seamstress.”

The Seamstress looked every bit like Kaius, her raven black hair and peircing blue eyes hardly affected by her age. Only her skin gave it away, fine lines and wrinkles all over her face and neck, but she still looked capable of commanding a room. A lifetime ago, she must have been the apple of every evil Lord’s eye.

“Hello,” was all I could manage as her severe eyes studied me. I stood at attention, out of sheer intimidation. 

“You’ve lost weight on the journey,” she commented, handing the garment bag previously draped over her arm to Ezra before she came stalking over, walking circles around me. “Good. Your waist is impossibly small. And those hips…those are child-bearing hips.”

I cringed, fighting hard to keep my face neutral as she faced me head on, scanning every feature from my forehead to my chest. 

“Pity about the small chest,” she sighed. “Apart from that--perfection.”

“The gown,” Ezra reminded, walking the garment bag over to drape across the back of the chaise near the hearth. Though his motives remained a mystery, as well as his mind, she could tell that he was no fonder of the Seamstress than I was. I couldn’t help letting myself fall a little more into my fondness of him.

“Yes, yes,” she grumbled, her heels clicking against stone as she walked over to the garment bag and opened it, unveiling a terribly boring black gown that looked the antithesis of what I imagined my wedding gown would be. “Made from the finest silk and lace, imported directly from Florere.”

I stared at the gown for a moment, my face blank from apathy and shock. This shouldn’t be my gown. This shouldn’t be my wedding. My mother should be here. My sisters should have stopped my father--

“Princess?” Ezra spoke, bringing me back to the present. “What do you think?

Take it easy on her, his voice rang in my head, causing me to gasp. She’s even worse when insulted.

“It…it is lovely—“

“But?” Lady Rowena scowled, her diamond-blue eyes piercing into mine. 

“It’s only—and I don’t mean any offense—“

“On with it, Princess,” the seamstress sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“It looks perfect for a bride of Nox, but I am not a bride of Nox. At least, not fully,” I managed. “I would like for that to be represented by my gown.”

“What changes exactly?” Rowena asked through a tight jaw, her patience clearly growing thin. But I had already ventured this far. No sense in backing down now. 

“I would like a golden gown,” I said, trying to force confidence into my tone. “And for the veil, I’d like there to be an embroidered sun, as well as stars. After all, this is a union between kingdoms, is it not?”

Lady Rowena eyed me for a moment before seemingly deciding that she approved of my request. Or perhaps she just approved of my courage in making a request to begin with. 

“I will see what I can do,” she said, her voice the slightest bit softer than before. 

“Thank you,” I said, wishing I sounded just a bit more like her. More like a grown woman who knew her power and owned it. Instead, I could only hear a little girl, desperate for approval. 

Lady Rowena gathered the plain black gown and matching veil, slinging the silky material over her arm before giving me a bow and making her exit from my chamber. 

Drusilla and I let out a breath of relief at the same time, forcing us to giggle while Ezra lingered by the door.

“She reminds me of the headmistress at the orphanage,” she said, walking with me back to the vanity. I locked eyes with Ezra through the mirror, finding a soft half-smile on his face as he watched us. As if the sight of me laughing--of both of us laughing--brought him peace. I looked away before it got too much to bear. Ezra made his exit a second later.

“Is that a good thing?” I asked with a laugh, finding it easy to do so in her presence. 

“Not in the slightest,” she smirked. 

We laughed again, the air light with the simple joy of being girls together—one twenty-five and one sixteen, neither quite ready to face the reality of the world we lived in. 

“I am very thankful I met you, Drusilla,” I mused, looking at her through the mirror. 

My entire life I dreamed of what it would be like to have a younger sister, to care for them the way my sisters cared for me. In Drusilla, I saw that dream start to take form. 

“You’re too kind, Mari,” she said, fighting back a toothy smile. “I worry this kingdom will steal that from you.”

I swallowed, my eyes falling to my lap. 

“I worry about that, too.”

I took a moment alone after getting dressed to look at myself in the mirror. Dressed up in black, save the changes I’d requested earlier, I looked like I was in mourning. Though in a way, I was. The life I thought I’d live, the man I hoped to meet, the love my household would share--all of it, dead and gone. 

But I could not grieve, at least not tonight. 

So, I gathered the heft of my skirt and lifted it as I made my way to the hall where Drusilla waited to bid me a goodnight before Ezra led me down to the Main Hall where my husband and our guests awaited my grand entrance. 

“Good luck,” she whispered, reaching to tuck a stray curl around my face back to where it belonged. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I managed, giving her a smile that I hoped would convey my gratitude for her company and kind words. I didn’t linger long out of fear that I’d gather the courage to jump from a window, my heels clicking against the stone floor as I made my way to Ezra who stood with his good arm held out to me. 

“Shall we?” he purred, and everything about that voice hit me in the chest. This. This is what I should feel for my husband, this is what I hoped as a little girl to feel for him. Soft, sweet, safe feelings, not…fear. 

“Off to the gallows I go,” I chided, earning a stern glare as we walked down the hall to the main stairs. “If I can’t joke with you, who can I joke with?”

Ezra warmed at my words. “As long as you learn to whisper. Even if I wasn’t Fae, I could hear you halls away.”

“No one knows who I am,” I rolled my eyes. “Besides, I shouldn’t have to censor myself in my own home.”

“It’ll always be his home,” Ezra warned, his eyes scanning the staircase leading to the Main Hall. 

So many guests. So many eyes fixed on me the moment I took the first step. My grip on Ezra’s arm tightened. 

I can tell that half of the men here feel very…passionate about you, he purred in my mind. And the women want to kill you.

Is that a good thing? I replied.

“It’s a dangerous thing,” he murmured in my ear, his voice sending a jolt of arousal down to the pit of my stomach. “Smile. Your husband’s watching.”

I fixed my eyes upon a handsome man in blue and black, his bright eyes glistening in the candlelight as he stood in front of an Archbishop clad in dreary gray. So handsome, and yet my gut lurched at the sight of him, my skin crawling with the urge to get away. 

“Introducing the new Queen of Nox, Princess Marigold of Solis,” a man bellowed as I made the final step into the room, Ezra’s presence an anchor. 

It’ll be alright, Princess, he whispered in my head. I swear.

I hope you don’t take oaths lightly, I chided, earning a small curl of his lips as he walked me down the aisle, unfamiliar faces gawking at every step I took. Can you do the thing where you save me from throwing up all over the floor now?

He let out a breath of a laugh so soft I could have imagined it and let his eyes glow that beautiful liquid gold, the warmth of it pouring over me like a blanket. I squeezed his arm in thanks and took a deep breath as I arrived at the altar, my King grinning at me like I was a jewel. 

“Thank you, my Hand. I’ll take my wife from you now,” he purred, taking my arm from Ezra’s. I cringed at the coldness of his hand against my bare skin, at the way he gripped my arm hard enough to ache. “You’re a vision in black.”

I loathe black, I wanted to shout.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I bowed, letting him kiss my gloved hand. 

“Shall we, then?” He nudged his chin towards the Archbishop, the old man scowling at me as I met his gray eyes. Giving a weary nod to my groom, I followed him up the small set of stairs leading to the dais with my hand held firmly in his. 

“Your Majesty,” the archbishop bowed to my groom and him alone, his eyes never once meeting mine as he began to recite the words passed down from century to century, joining man and wife together under their god’s divine grace. A load of antiquated bullshit that meant nothing to me and my family, who pray to the Goddesses who value true love rather than all of this marrying for power. 

It made me hate my father all the more. 

When the archbishop was finished, Kaius--my King, my husband--took my face in his hands and stared at me, a wicked grin that promised we’d have fun together. More likely, that he’d have fun with me. I tried not to shudder as he pulled me in and kissed me, his lips soft and skilled and yet I felt nothing but shame. It felt wrong, like my body and soul agreed that I was not supposed to be here. When he pulled away, I forced a smile onto my face, but there was no hiding the tears in my eyes. 

“Look at that,” he called out into the dead silent hall, his court and guests looking on with a mixture of awe and pity. “My bride is shedding tears of happiness.”

I wiped the rolling tear off my cheek and lowered my eyes to the floor. I hated the crowd’s staring, hated that my husband was already taking my pain and turning it into something that benefited him. 

Eyes up. Ezra’s voice sounded again, only for my mind to hear. Don’t let them see you as a lamb. That voice lowered to a whisper. You’re a golden lion.

I don’t feel like a fucking lion, I griped back, lifting my eyes just to glare at him as he stood by the dais. 

“Come, bride,” Kaius looked at me, his eyes sweeping over every feature, that handsome yet vile smirk spreading wider as I fixed a winning smile onto my face. “You are a stunning creature. Dull, perhaps, but…stunning, nevertheless.”

“You are so…generous with your compliments, Your Majesty,” I managed, corralling my restraint and those royal manners I was taught as a girl. Kaius’s responding wink was enough to let me know he saw right through my pretty smiles, but that he didn’t give a shit so long as I fulfilled my half of the bargain. An heir. 

“Let us celebrate,” Kaius called out into the pin-drop silent hall as dinner commenced, his eyes dark as they remained on me as they had been all night. “To my beautiful bride and the true love we’ll share.”

“To true love!” the room called back, raising their goblets. I could only manage a murmur of agreement, by body outright refusing to play the role I’d been given. My eyes hadn’t left my plate besides to look to my right at Kaius seated at the head of the table, and directly ahead of me at Ezra who watched me just as carefully as the rest of the room. Only his attention felt welcome--reminded me of my humanity, my humor, my true self.

“My dear,” Kaius purred, lazy and bored and privileged. “Have you met my uncle?” He carelessy gestured at the man sat on the other side of me. I hadn’t noticed him, hadn’t met him, nor did I want to given his predatory gaze as my eyes met his. 

“Lord Oziel of the Frostlands,” the old, musty smelling man leaned in and kissed my gloved hand. His face was severe, nothing at all like Kaius’s unnerving beauty. With his thick, raven black eyebrows, his pale and wrinkled jowls, and the odor of booze and bad breath permeating with every word, I found it a feat just to keep what little I had in my stomach down. “That beauty sitting across from you is my wife, Lady Emita.”

My eyes willingly turned from Lord Oziel to his shockingly young and gorgeous wife, Emita. Her skin was as dark as the night sky, her eyes a startling amber that looked like wildfire. Her perfectly symmetrical almond eyes locked with mine, and I offered a smile, hoping to win a friend at court who might understand my current predicament. But Lady Emita offered me no smile, no ounce of warmth or friendliness in her eyes. 

“You’re from Solis?” she asked, lifting her glass to her lips. “You look like it.”

“Thank you,” I whispered despite my attempt at confidence. 

“I didn’t mean that to be a compliment,” she chuckled, shaking her head as she stared down into the pool or dark red filling her cup. Out of instinct or embarrassment, my eyes flickered to Ezra’s, finding him with a clenched jaw, his fork stabbing at his plate a touch too aggressively for a royal. 

“Emi,” Lord Oziel warned, sounding more like her grandfather than anything. 

“Pardon me, Your Grace,” she waved a hand I supposed was meant to be an attempt at an apology. “Where I’m from, we don’t waste time with flattery.”

“Where is that?” I asked, my voice edged with frustration and embarrassment and disgust. 

“Heims,” she replied. “Your sister…what is her name again, husband?”

“Princess Wilhemina,” I cut in, my heart pounding at the mention of my eldest sister, the future Queen of Heims. 

“Yes, yes,” Lady Emita droned. “She is a rare jewel, managing to fit in so well in Heims. It isn’t as…soft as your Kingdom.”

“She is the strongest woman I know,” I managed, my heart calming now that I knew no insults would be hurled at my sister. “But I know many strong women in Solis. In fact, I can’t say that I’ve ever met a land who embraces women in power so much.”

“That didn’t stop your father from sending you off like cattle to the first buyer,” she challenged, her lips curling on one side the same way Kaius’s did when he was thoroughly pleased with the look on my face. That look that screamed naivety. 

“You’ve had enough to drink,” Ezra cut in, plucking the goblet from Lady Emita’s grasp without care for the seething look she shot him. “And Lady or not, you’re speaking to your Queen. Mind yourself.”

“My good Hand,” Kaius grinned. “Always doing the work I don’t want to do. Corralling these socialites is no easy task, wife.”

Wife? Property. 

“Queen or not--” 

Lord Oziel’s kick to her shin under the table was so hard it rattled our plates, my face going pale at the act of aggression, at the way no one in the room paid it any mind. At least Ezra had the decency to let his magic wash away her pain. 

She’ll be fine, he assured, his voice a pleasant echo in my mind, clearing away most of the haunting thoughts lingering in my head. 

She might have a mouth, but it’s awful that Kaius allows him to treat her like that, I replied, lowering my eyes to my plate. Any idea why she hates me? 

The North has always envied the South, he said. They think you’re untried, soft, naive. 

And you?

For a moment, when I first met you, he replied while shoveling food into his mouth as ungracefully as I’d ever seen. I wasn’t sure why that made me like him more. But that judgment has long been wiped away. 

I haven’t managed to win over my husband so easily, I chided, managing a bite of my own food. The first bite I’d eaten since…I couldn’t remember. Time felt so strange here, as if it was frozen and sped up all at once. 

He looks happy, he offered. That’s as much as you can expect from him.

I expected him to be in love with me, I snapped, hating that in all my loathing and disgust, I still yearned for my husband’s approval. 

Kaius might not be in love with you, but he is in love with the fact that every single man in this room can’t take their eyes off of you, he replied, stabbing another piece of steak with his fork. Goddess above, I couldn’t stop watching him eat like an animal. Couldn’t stop imagining what else he’d do like one. 

All but you, I irresponsibly purred back, eyes fixed on him from across the table. Ezra’s eyes finally, albeit slowly, lifted to meet mine, dark brown meeting amber as I stared back. His stare flickered to my lips before lifting again, a subtle, hardly there smirk growing on his face. 

Do you like having my eyes on you, Princess? His voice was like a drug at this point, but when he lowered it like that…I worried I might be beyond the point of help when it came to my addiction to it. 

Do you want me to like it? I asked, twisting my mouth to control my growing smile as I let my eyes fall to my plate, my fork batting a few peas back and forth.

I want you to yearn for it, he managed, his voice strained with something akin to desperation. 

I didn’t have time to tell him I already did before my husband dropped his fork to his empty plate and announced dinner was over, not caring if the rest of the room hadn’t finished their meals, and that the ball would soon commence. 

“My bride, would you care to join me on the veranda?” Though I did not want to do anything of the sort, as if I had a choice, at least he went through the motions of asking. 

Say no, Ezra warned, not at all like a General or the King’s Hand, but as a friend. 

I said nothing in response, not willing to take the chance on what would happen if I denied my King anything, especially in front of his court, and accepted Kaius’s hand. 

Marigold, Ezra called again, his voice only mine to hear. I felt guilty ignoring him, but if Lady Emita showed me anything, it was that these people did not care what happened to me. Kaius could do whatever he wanted, and they’d turn a blind eye. So, I followed my husband toward the veranda, allowing the ice cold to whip across my exposed skin. 

Kaius was quick to pull me off into the shadows, where no one could see us. I couldn’t even see him as he leaned in to kiss me, a real kiss this time compared to the one we shared at the altar. His teeth bit at my lip and tongue as I struggled to keep up, struggled to want him. 

“Shall we consummate our marriage here, in front of our guests?” he rasped into my ear, his hands wandering greedily. “Do you want them to hear us? Hear my name coming from your lips?”

I certainly did not. 

“Bedroom,” I managed, breathless and dizzy and full of shame. “I want to go to your bedroom.”

Kaius had the audacity to look disappointed, but quickly grunted his agreement and tugged me back inside the warmth of the main hall. All eyes remained on us as he practically yanked me into the King’s corridor, a long, dark hall that connected his private wing to the rest of the castle. 

“Don’t get used to calling the shots,” he warned, stalking down the hall in front of me. “I’m not usually so…submissive.”

As if I needed reminding of his affinity for dominance. 

Though I’d never been touched before, at least not to this extent, I knew enough from my older sisters to know that I should be feeling at least a morsel of pleasure, but at best, sex seemed to feel more uncomfortable and foreign than anything else. It felt like a piston moving inside of me every time his hips snapped into mine. Not excruciatingly painful, but not pleasurable in the slightest. 

But I didn’t let it show out of fear of bruising the King’s ego. 

“Look at you,” he panted, reaching his large hand down to cradle my face as he drove into me, my overdramatic moans no doubt spurring him on. “So desperate for it.”

I held back my scoff. The only thing I was desperate for was for this to end. For me to fall pregnant with a healthy heir on the first try so I never had to do this again. 

I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that men kill for this, start wars over this, give up every shred of moral decency to do this very act. It must feel dramatically different for them, otherwise, I’d think they were all severe masochists.

“Open your eyes,” he snarled, slipping his hand from my cheek to my throat. My eyes flashed wide with fear as he squeezed, not enough to hurt me, but enough to show me just how easily he could. “That’s better.”

Goddess, how much longer would this go on?

As if reading my mind, Kaius bottomed out in me with a groan loud enough to hurt my ears, his body falling forward to cover mine. I waited there, absolutely still beneath him as he caught his breath, waiting for him to roll over onto his side so that we could go to sleep and, hopefully, never have to do that again. 

“Virgins are always so much better,” he mused as he finally rolled over, making my skin crawl. I turned onto my side, studying him in all his post-orgasmic bliss and wondered how such an attractive man could be so nauseating. “Would you like me to…call someone?”

I laced my brows together. “For…”

“To escort you back to your chambers,” he replied, as if it was obvious. “You didn’t think you’d be sleeping in my private quarters, did you?”

“I assumed--”

“Try not to do that,” he grunted, climbing out of bed and throwing his midnight blue, velvet robe on before pouring himself a drink. 

I looked over at the ornate candle holder on the bedside table and considered throwing it across the room at him, but managed to refrain. 

“Are you going to answer me?” he snapped, glaring at me from across the room. “Escort or no?”

“Oh,” I managed. I didn’t want some guard walking me back to my chambers in uncomfortable silence while I…processed the night. “I’ll manage on my own.”

“Good,” he nodded, tilting his chin towards the door. “You can go, then.”

Though I yearned to move quickly, my body wasn’t so ready for the hustle. I slowly climbed out of bed and ignored the sticky mess between my thighs as I slipped on my wedding gown that suddenly felt a lot heavier than before in more ways than one. Without so much as a goodbye, Kaius watched me leave from over the lip of his crystal glass, his eyes almost predatory. I knew instantly that I’d played my part too well. 

He’d come back for more, heir or not. 

I only allowed myself to breathe once the stone door of his chambers had closed, the cool air of the night drowning out the smell of his fine cologne still burning my nostrils. The guards posted along the halls of the King’s quarters didn’t look me in the eyes as I passed them, but I could still feel their desire. It made me feel sick in a way I never had before, knowing that if given a chance, each and every one of them would take it. Even if I had just been with someone else. Even with the tears streaming down my face. 

I shattered completely the minute I turned down the hall and found I was finally alone. It was all I could do not to curl up in a ball in the middle of this cold, dark corridor and weep. 

I wanted my mother. I wanted to fall into her arms and sob. I wanted to hear her voice and know that good things still existed in this world. But I was alone, and I’d always be. 

As I descended the staircase to the second floor, I could hear the festivities still raging on in the grand hall below me. The world still turned, no matter how frozen in time it was for me. 

“Your Highness?” 

My head whipped in the direction of a familiar voice. Ezra stood in the shadows of a corridor near the landing at the bottom of the grand staircase, but he wasn’t alone. Still pressed against the wall stood a breathless, flushed Lady of the Frostlands. Lady Emita. 

I felt sick again, for an entirely new reason. I hated her out of sheer jealousy, my eyes sharp as I ignored Ezra’s shocked stare. And then I hated myself for being so childish, so selfish. She was just a young woman, my age or even younger, trying to distract herself from her own brutal reality with a more age appropriate, more handsome, and charming man. 

I just wished it hadn’t been Ezra. 

“I…” I started to speak but couldn’t get the words out. My hand gestured up the staircase, towards where the King remained, basking in the afterglow of his pleasure while I…

Ezra’s face turned from shock to guilt before setting on rage, darkness so black it was blue pooling in his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” he managed through gritted teeth, staying frozen just a foot away from his blushing mistress. 

“I’ll be fine,” I replied, my voice strained as my throat tightened. He didn’t seem to believe me, but I couldn’t blame him given the tears still streaming down my face. 

“Let me walk you to your chamber,” he offered, tipping his chin towards the corridor. Lady Emita clicked her tongue at him, clearly growing impatient, but he didn’t look her way. His dark eyes remained locked on mine. “With so many guests still on the grounds—“

“No,” I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat as I walked down to the landing with my chin held high, my jealousy so rampant I wondered if my amber eyes had turned a shade of green. 

Standing closer to him, I could smell the wine on his breath, could see the remnants of lust in his eyes. I fought the urge to vomit at the thought of what I would have seen if I had stumbled upon the two of them just a few minutes later. 

“Besides,” I said, my tone icy, my eyes still sharp. “It seems as though you’re currently busy.”

“It’s my duty to ensure your safety,” he countered, still not so much as glancing at his mistress. “I will never be too busy to tend to you, Your Highness.”

“I don’t need tending to,” I gritted out. Unlike Ezra, I couldn’t help but to constantly glance at Lady Emita. And unlike Ezra, I could see just how unwilling she was to share him. 

“Princess,” he cooed, his eyes finally warming as he took one step away from Lady Emita and one step closer to me. 

“I am not a princess. I am your queen,” I said, my voice on the verge of cracking. “That will be all for tonight.”

Though his lips parted to speak, I didn’t wait to hear what came out of them. I turned and let the sound of my heels drown out their lovers quarrel as Lady Emita finally spoke, cursing him with words so colorful I knew they could have only come from her crass husband. 

I didn’t let myself cry until I was shut inside the confines of my suite, too fearful that Ezra had stubbornly followed me to ensure my safety. Too sick to sleep and too tired to think, I made myself comfortable in front of the fire in the sitting room, one of my mother’s favorite books in my hands until the world around me looked less cold and more like home.