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rosanna-writer · 1 month

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every night with us is like a dream

Summary: The one where Rhys knots in Lucien, Feyre knots in Lucien, and everyone finds the whole thing pretty healing. Pairing: Feyre x Rhysand x Lucien Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

For Day 4 of @acotar-omegaverse-week: Getting Knotty! You can read it Here on AO3 or under the cut!

Perhaps it had all started with Lucien's sad eyes. He'd looked so lost when he'd arrived in Velaris, but at first, Feyre had just convinced herself that she was feeling nothing more than concern for her best friend after he'd been kicked out of his home again.

She was High Lady—of course she wanted Lucien to feel comfortable in the Night Court.

But she'd still only been an alpha for the few short months since she'd been revived Under the Mountain and gained a secondary gender along with immortality. Humans were just…humans. The instincts and biology of alphas, betas, and omegas were still new to her.

Lucien had said she didn't need to convince him of why she'd fallen in love with the City of Starlight—and its ruler—but Feyre had taken a few hours to show him the city anyway. The whole time, the urge to slide her wrist along his neck and soothe him with her scent had been so strong that she'd kept her hands balled into fists in her coat pockets.

He'd been through so much. They both had. If she was picturing how beautiful Lucien would look with her knot locked inside him, it was just those runaway alpha instincts urging her to protect and comfort an omega.

And besides, Feyre might have been incandescently happy to be mated to Rhys, but she wasn't blind. Lucien was gorgeous.

She knew her mate, though. There was something beyond just feeding and clothing Lucien because it was good manners to help a High Lord's son. Feyre caught the satisfied glint in Rhysand's eyes.

When Lucien joined the Inner Circle for dinner again a few days later, he wore black. Probably nothing more than a subtle indication that he was making an effort to fit in—he was an emissary, after all. He knew what he was doing.

Feyre found herself feeling something akin to pride anyway. It was just a shade too feral to be called patriotism—no, some part of her that hadn't existed until she'd become High Fae liked the sight of an omega wearing the color that would warn everyone away but her and her mate.

As they sat down to eat, a familiar expression flickered across Rhys's face, and she wondered if this was how he'd felt the first time he'd seen her in Night Court attire.

She'd heard of mated alpha pairs sharing an omega. There had been a trio like that at Rita's—Azriel had chuckled and explained when she'd asked why a fight hadn't broken out when two alphas had danced close to the same omega. Another strange facet of being High Fae.

There had been precious little time to enjoy her newly-accepted mating bond with the threat of war looming on the horizon. So much had changed and so quickly—Feyre and Rhys had never discussed the possibility of a third.

There was no point, at least as long as Hybern still posed a threat. But during the brief time that Lucien had stayed in the townhouse before leaving to find Vassa on the Continent…Feyre had thought about it.

And though she was sure it was just teasing when Rhysand had asked her if she'd like to invite someone to their bed—if she'd like two males worshiping her—Feyre thought about it again.

When the war ended and it was just the two of them in the townhouse again, she was relieved. Truly. But neither of them had the heart to dismantle the nest that Lucien had left in the guest room.

Rhys's salt-and-citrus scent was the best thing in the world. But smelling it laced with Lucien's had been…nice.

They'd invited him for dinner a few weeks later. He'd been back in Velaris to discuss the goings-on in Prythian's slice of the human lands, and Feyre had wanted to make it clear they regarded Lucien as more than merely an emissary. A member of their family, just like the rest of the Inner Circle.

Feyre had expected it to be awkward. Rhysand had never made a secret of his anger over Lucien's failure to protect her from Tamlin and the attempt to drag her back to the Spring Court. And Lucien had been hurt she'd lied after Hybern and deliberately made him the target of Tamlin's ire.

But at some point during the war, they'd buried the hatchet without realizing it. Gratitude for being alive made it hard to care about the past.

Feyre was content to sip her wine and listen to them talk about tailors in Velaris and the cut of Lucien's jacket. When Rhys ran a finger along Lucien's sleeve to feel the texture of the wool blend—and certainly not the firmness of the bicep beneath—he locked eyes with her. His hand lingered longer than it needed to.

What are you doing? she asked through the bond, taking a bite of food to cover the fact that she was speaking mind-to-mind in front of a guest.

Nothing I don't think you'd like. The words glittered with wicked amusement as they floated down the tether linking her soul to Rhys's.

She didn't dare drag the conversation out any longer. Lucien's golden eye was already clicking.

"Let me show you the shoulder seams," Lucien said, shrugging off the jacket with a slight stretch upward—and a deliberate flash of bare skin as his shirt rode up in the process.

Feyre's cheeks heated. The mechanical eye whirred.

In the end, it was Rhysand who'd broached the topic. Even as High Lady—and as an alpha—Feyre still sometimes found it difficult to ask for what she wanted.

"Stay the night, Lucien," he said as the meal came to a close. "There's plenty of room for you here."

"Is there?" Lucien said, voice sharp. Almost an accusation, but not quite—a challenge at the very least.

In another court, it would have gotten him in trouble. Omegas, after all, did what they were told, and that was doubly true when the orders were coming from a High Lord.

But not in the Night Court.

"It's not a command, just another option available to you. Consider tonight an opportunity to decide whether you'd like to spend another heat cycle among the humans or here instead."

Lucien's gaze slid to Feyre, who said quietly, "It's been a long time since an alpha's taken proper care of you. Let us."

A quiet understanding passed between them—Tamlin had failed Lucien as an alpha. And though Feyre wasn't an omega, he'd caused her suffering, too. In the end, she and Lucien had escaped together, and that connected them in ways deeper than just close friendship.

Even with suppressant potions, he still stayed with Jurian and Vassa during his heats, as far from any other fae as possible. Feyre might have been the only alpha Lucien trusted enough to get close to him.

But she wasn't sure that trust extended to her mate, too.

Lucien hesitated. That look of uncertainty was back, and Feyre had to stop herself from growling a command to get into the nest so she could fix this for him.

The air in the townhouse seemed to go still. But Lucien finally said, "Alright. Convince me, then."

Feyre felt the bond slacken in her chest, as if it had slumped in relief. Rhys's voice floated into her head again. Talk him through it while he takes my knot.

It sounded uncomfortably close to an order, and normally, Feyre would have bristled at that. But during those hundreds of years before she was born, Rhys must have had a third in his bed at least once—in this, she'd follow his lead.

Make it as good for him as you do for me.

He said nothing in response, but their mating bond seemed to hum with wicked anticipation. The silence had stretched on long enough that Lucien was looking at her curiously, waiting for one of them to explain.

"Upstairs," Rhys said, and Feyre took Lucien's hand to winnow them there.

In the guest room, she sat on the bed and made herself comfortable in the nest they'd left undisturbed for months. Lucien stared at it in shock.

Feyre felt her cheeks go hot again—keeping the nest around was a hint at just how long she'd been thinking about this, and that was a little bit mortifying. If tonight went well, he'd still tease her mercilessly about it.

They'd always be best friends, underneath it all.

But there wasn't much time to dwell on it; Rhys had already sprung into action. As always, he kissed like an alpha, fisting a hand in Lucien's hair to angle the omega's head just where he wanted it. Lucien melted against him, soft and pliant, lips parting.

"Good, Lucien," Feyre said, and his answering groan into her mate's mouth went straight to her core. She wanted to paint the sight of auburn hair slipping through brown fingers—a bonfire bright against the night sky.

There was no rush. She watched in rapt fascination as Rhys thoroughly plundered every inch of Lucien's mouth. The two males were both absurdly beautiful on their own, but together, putting on a show for her…Feyre could be content with just this and nothing else.

The bond was quiet, but Rhys didn't need to speak for her to know he was waiting for her to urge things forward. Those demanding alpha instincts had let up just enough for him to give her a turn being in charge. He'd yield to his mate and no one else.

"On the bed," she said. "I'll help Lucien out of his clothes."

Without breaking the kiss, Rhys walked Lucien backwards until his calves brushed the edge of the bed. Rhys leaned forward, easing Lucien back as Feyre reached for him.

"We've got you, omega," Feyre said, sitting forward so her front rested against Lucien's back. She could feel Rhys's eyes on her as she ran her nose in a slow line up the side of Lucien's neck—his pulse was throbbing, the scent of omega especially strong right above his mating gland.

Another time. If Lucien let her and Rhys sink their teeth into it, they'd do that another time.

But that thought still didn't stop the slight spark of magic as her cock began to appear, brought to life by the scent of an omega.

Instead, she pressed open-mouthed kisses along the line she'd just traced, undoing the buttons of Lucien's shirt one by one. For once, Lucien was quiet, just making contented noises in the back of his throat as she explored the planes of his chest.

Feyre glanced up at Rhys, who'd used magic to get rid of his shirt and was still standing at the edge of the bed, his wings folded back and out of reach. She wondered if Lucien knew what a show of trust it was that Rhys had them out at all.

Not that she wanted to start a conversation about it. There were more important things to do with Rhys looking down at them hungrily, pupils blown wide.

"You're being so good for us, Lucien," Feyre said, and he ground his hips back in answer, pressing his ass against her rapidly-lengthening cock. The arousal it sent blazing through her nearly had Feyre bending him over and knotting him immediately, their original plan be damned.

But that wasn't what Lucien needed from her. After Tamlin…it would be a while before anyone could be rough with Lucien. Instead, Feyre added, "When I said on the bed, I meant you too, Rhysand."

As obedient as he'd been, Lucien wasn't quite so far gone that he couldn't snicker at the rebuke and Feyre's irritated use of her mate's full name. She kissed Lucien's cheek.

"I wasn't aware you were giving me orders," Rhys said, smirking.

"I'm always giving you orders."

He knelt on the bed, straddling Lucien's thighs. "Which is exactly how I prefer it."

Feyre slid her hands down, resting them at the top of Lucien's pants. Rhys's eyes tracked the movement. Otherwise, he didn't move, clearly waiting for instructions.

"All you need to to do is watch, Lucien. I'll take care of getting you out of these clothes—Rhys can strip himself."

"Yes, alpha," Lucien said.

The words ripped a satisfied growl from Feyre before she knew what she was doing. The bestial, entirely-faerie pleasure of a compliant omega in her arms, his scent in her nose…it was still new and overwhelming. Feyre didn't know how she managed to think straight.

Rhys wasn't entirely unaffected, either. He'd shuddered as he pulled at the fastenings of his pants, wings flaring out involuntarily.

Lucien's cock sprang free as Feyre peeled off the rest of his clothes. In truth, she didn't care about his proud, impressive length—it was impossible to care when her fingers brushed the slick already dampening his thighs.

She ran a finger towards the top of his legs. "Look at how much of this you've already made for us. Good. You're being such an eager omega, all ready to take a knot."

Rhys tipped his head to the side and took in the sight of them. The expression on his face was soft, thoughtful and almost…fond. Something about it made Feyre's heart squeeze, even as he ran a hand slowly from the base to the tip of his cock.

"On all fours for me, omega. Eyes on Feyre," he said.

Lucien complied, leaning down to brace most of his weight on his forearms. Feyre ran a hand through his hair, running the scent glads in her wrist along his face and neck as she brushed the auburn strands out of the way. He tipped his head to the side and leaned into the touch.

"Would you like to keep going?" Feyre said.

"Please," Lucien said.

She'd thought the sight of Lucien and Rhys kissing was beautiful, but it didn't compare to watching her mate slide inside an omega. Lucien was already lost—eyes half-shut, lips parted, already pushing his ass back to take more, and Rhys's wings flared out in time with the thrust of his hips.

The sight was so entrancing that she nearly forgot she was supposed to be talking Lucien through it.

"You're taking him so well. We're lucky to have a perfect omega with us," Feyre said.

Lucien's response was nothing more than a desperate keening sound that went straight to Feyre's cock. She stroked herself along with Rhys's slow slide out and then in again.

Rhys brushed Lucien's back in a long caress over the scars criss-crossing his tawny skin. Lucien pressed a hand forward, and Feyre interlaced their fingers.

There was no need for words—they'd all suffered Under the Mountain, and they'd all gotten out. They'd survived. Feyre and Rhys had built a life together in the aftermath, and watching him with Lucien made her hope that Lucien could do the same and join them.

But that was too much, and it wasn't the time to discuss it, even as her eyes drifted back to the gland on Lucien's neck. Soon, maybe. But not yet.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" she said, and Lucien managed a nod. "I love how both of you look like this. And you haven't even taken Rhys's knot yet."

Lucien twisted his head back to look at Rhys over his shoulder. "Your knot. Please."

"You'll look at me while you take it," Feyre said. She curled a finger under Lucien's chin to guide his face back towards her.

The males moaned in unison as Rhys snapped his hips forward and his knot swelled and locked him inside Lucien. Feyre shivered at the sound, already positive that it would replay in her head night after night for centuries to come.

They looked perfect like this—Rhys's head tilted back in ecstasy, the flush creeping up Lucien's face as he struggled to keep looking at her instead of doing the same.

Feyre stroked Lucien's cheek with her thumb, just a few short inches from the mating gland in his neck. "We could keep you filled up like this forever," she said. "Take turns giving you our knots in this nest you made for us. It's where you belong, isn't it?"

Lucien's answering moan might have been a sound of agreement.

Later—she'd ask if it had truly been agreement later. Rhys was learning forward, a gentle hand on Lucien's lower back as he kissed Feyre. She parted her lips eagerly, welcoming the sweep of her mate's tongue into her mouth.

Somehow, he tasted so much sweeter with his knot inside an omega.

She kept the kiss brief, then went back to stroking Lucien's hair, running her scent glands over his skin, and murmuring praise. Even in this, Rhys followed her lead, bowing his head to pepper kisses along Lucien's neck and shoulders.

It meant everything to see them climax together—these two males she loved so much, who had both been to hell and back with her.

She could have watched them like that forever, but Rhys's knot faded eventually. Lucien pillowed his head on Feyre's thigh as the other male slid out of him and made the mess vanish with a flick of his fingers.

Rhys stretched, catlike, then sprawled out next to them on the bed. Lucien watched, his mechanical eye clicking lazily as he took in the sight of Rhys's muscles rippling with the movement. In some ways, Feyre thought watching them boneless and content was just as lovely as seeing them locked together.

"You can take my knot next if that wasn't enough. But if Rhys tired you out, we can rest. Your choice," Feyre said.

Lucien flashed her a grin. "Unlike that old bag of bones you call a mate, I can last for more than one round."

"Little Lucien," Rhys purred, "be careful, or I might just take that as a challenge."

"You're a lot less intimidating when your joints creak," Feyre said, ignoring Rhys's half-hearted snarl as she rolled Lucien onto his back. She pinned him down, and the smell of slick filling the air again was evidence enough that he didn't mind. And with Lucien under her, she was face-to-face with Rhys.

"You're more than spry enough for the three of us," Rhys said, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. A flicker of magic, and her clothes were off.

Lucien parted his legs for her. Feyre leaned down and ran her nose along his neck again; the scent of cinnamon and campfire and arousal and omega was just as heady as having a beautiful male under her and ready for her cock.

A shadow fell over them both. Rhys had stretched his wings forward and curled them around her and Lucien. In Lucien's nest and encircled in Rhys's wings…there was nowhere else Feyre wanted to be.

This was home.

She shifted her hips, aligning herself with Lucien's ass. His thighs were already coated in slick again, and she let out a satisfied growl.

"Are you going to be just as good for her as you were for me?" Rhys said.

The flush on Lucien's cheeks deepened a bit at the praise. "Yes, alpha."

Feyre's first thrust was slow and experimental—she'd never done this with an omega before. But Lucien was so wonderfully warm and wet and tight, already opening so beautifully for her, that she could drown in the feeling.

She moved faster, and Lucien let out an honest-to-Cauldron whimper. He snapped his hips up, taking her deeper, and the pleasure built like a wildfire low in her belly.

With a keening sound of her own, Feyre pressed herself deeper as her knot swelled and locked her inside. The first orgasm crashed through her, and at first Feyre thought her vision had just gone white.

But no—as she did with Rhys, she glowed. And her own light coaxed out Lucien's own. She was dimly aware of Lucien's back bowing beneath her and Rhys whispering, "Beautiful."

She'd been holding herself up on her arms, but the force of the overwhelming pleasure made them tremble. Lucien reached up and pulled her down against him, and the shift of her hips and the brush of her nipples against his chest made them both moan again.

Lucien's skin had gone hot, his own glow a fiery blaze that complimented Feyre's starlight. Rhys had loosened the damper on his own power, the tendrils of inky black making both their light even brighter and clearer.

Lucien held her close as Rhys stroked her hair and told Lucien how well he took Feyre's knot and how perfect he looked coming with it inside. Feyre wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, Rhys's star-flecked power sliding between her and Lucien, the tendrils caressing them both. It seemed like an eternity—but at the same time, far too soon—when her knot disappeared and her cock along with it.

She didn't let go of Lucien as she pulled them both onto their sides. Rhys slid an arm around Lucien, his violet eyes meeting hers over Lucien's shoulder as he pressed his chest against Lucien's back.

"Thank you for this," Lucien said, voice thick. "I— I wasn't sure I'd ever take a knot again."

"There's no need for thanks. Your trust is an honor," Rhys said softly.

Even now, after the dust had long since settled, Feyre couldn't help but marvel at the change—they'd come such a long way from Rhys leaving a head in the Spring Court garden and Lucien calling him Amarantha's whore.

"You'll always have a place here with us," Feyre said. Everything was still too new to say where here was—in the Night Court, in their bed, in this nest, in their hearts. She wouldn't push Lucien.

Not when the wounds were still healing over.

The mating gland could wait; they had all the time in the world. For now, Feyre merely held Lucien tighter as she leaned over to kiss Rhysand. Just having both of them with her was more than enough.

#acotaromegaverse2024 #feyre archeron #lucien vanserra #rhysand acotar #every night with us is like a dream

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starysky1289 · 6 months

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Alpha! Toxic!Sorority!Vanessa X Omega!Reader. I'll keep you here PT 2

A/N: Stacie and YN have a PLATONIC relationship! So every time they say ‘ I love you ‘ ( it’s like twice ) they aren’t having a affair or something

" shhh, I know Elizabeth...cmon, let's fall asleep "

You held your daughter close to your chest, as she wailed into the night. You were desperately trying to get her asleep, you knew she was a bother to the other Soroity girls in the house. It had only been a month since she was born, and god could she cry.

" I-I know Elizabeth, it's a lot, it's a lot for mama too....i just need you to sleep, please... maam needs to go with her friends to get her pretty dress...and I'll be getting yours too. You'll be so pretty, just please go to sleep. "

You felt your eyes swell with tears, her wails continuing. God this was too much, you let this happen, you could have done so many things to stop this, but now you were stuck with Vanessa. You had school assignments piling up, and you were getting married in August, only months away.

" y/n...give me her.."

You glanced up, seeing Vanessa figure in the doorway, the little light in Elizabeth's room lit Vanessa green eyes up. She gently walked towards you, taking Elizabeth in her arms, who settled down almost instantly.

"d-does she not like me.?"

" no y/n. She's just had you all day, she wants her mother for a bit. Go lay down, please. I need my girl rested for her huge day tomorrow

Vanessa kissed your forehead gently, and you left the room, laying down in Vanessa bed and falling asleep instantly. Vanessa scent of vanilla and citrus flooded your nostrils, and comforted you as you drifted to sleep.

*~*

" why are you having me take a picture of you y/n, no one can see! "

« Vanessa wants to see the options I like. Then she'll tell me what one matches the theme best. "

It was just you and Stacie, your best friend, in the boutique. You had plenty of elegant gowns lined up on racks for you to try on. Your current one was a ball gown, with lace ruffles and beautiful sequins down the dress.

" what do you mean she's going go see it?? The whole point is she doesn't! "

" I know Stacie...but she just wants it perfect, and these are the only ones with matching baby dresses. Vanessa only wants me, her, and Elizabeth wearing white. It's gotta be perfect. "

Stacie sighed, helping you fluff your dress before standing back to take the photo, and sent it off to Vanessa as you went into the back to change.

" she says no. She wants some sorta sleeve."

" alright! One minute! "

You went for the next dress, with lace lining the edges of the dress, that lead up the chest part in beautiful flowered swirls. It had puffy lace sleeves that only had the cuffs touching your skin. You stepped out of your changing room and onto the small stage in front of Stacie.

" oh, this has to be it. Its gorgeous!! "

" we'll take a picture! Oh I hope she says yes.."

Stacie quickly took a few nice photos of you in the dress, and sent the to Vanessa. Your heart raced with anticipation, you loved this dress, she had to love it, please let her love it.

" she says yes!! She loves it! She says you're absolutely stunning in it and she can't...you can read the rest "

You squealed in joy as you snatched the phone, blushing almost immediately as you read the rest of Vanessa's message.

" Oh it's gorgeous. Yes, 100% yes. God I can't wait to rip it off you after the wedding~ "

You laughed, sending her back a heart as you hugged Stacie tightly, squeezing her into you.

Stacie chuckled, pressing her forehead against yours.

" you seem so happy about all this...are you really? "

You smiled softly, glancing off into mirrors around the boutique.

" I am. S-she's great..really.... an amazing mother to Elizabeth..."

" really? Even though she wasn't there...? "

You looked up at Stacie, nodding silently, still holding your smile.

" she is. She's stayed up late and changed and bottle fed her...she watches her when I have exams...she's such a good mother to her...unlike me…”

" don't say that y/n. You're a wonderful mom..."

You sat down on the small stage,you were exhausted, you could hardly sleep after last night, kept up by the thought you were an awful mother. You couldn't get your a daughter to sleep without help.

" i-i just feel like Elizabeth hates me...she just cries and cries when I hold her, and the other sorority girls complain that she keeps them up, a-and-"

" well if A bunch of girls are annoyed by a baby that's there problem. Vanessa said they could move out for a bit, but they insisted on staying.And Elizabeth is just a baby, she's going to cry. It doesn't make you a bad mom that you need some help with her. It's normal..."

" I just...I feel bad she has to grow up around these people..."

Stacie sat besides you, pulling you into a tight hug, wiping away your tears and pressing her forehead against yours.

" it won't be forever. Vanessa graduated, your almost about to graduate as valedictorian. Do you know how incredible that is. You haven't let this pregnancy stop you. Your passing with flying colors, you get to go on that stage and say ' hey losers, guess who's valedictorian and a mother. ‘ “

You chuckled, hugging her tightly. Stacie was always there for you in your ups and downs.

And she would always be there, she was your child's Godmother, and she swore she'd do anything for her. She'd do anything for you.

" yeah. Yeah. Thank you Stacie....cmon. Let's pay for this dress and go get something to eat. “

You stood up, smiling once more, going back into the changing room to change back. You were valedictorian, and you were about to marry a successful lawyer, with your beautiful daughter. You were loved.

*~*

“ Vanessa Dean Shelly. Are you kidding me??? A huge ass party the day before my finals?? A huge party with our baby in the house?? “

“ relax baby, it’s the last party I’m throwing as president before Bailey takes over. The upstairs is off limits, and- “

“ It dosent matter!! You promised me months ago that you would watch Ellie while I studied!! This is ridicules. “

You turned around and stormed upstairs, grabbing your empty backpack and heading into Elizabeth’s room, packing up her necessities, diapers, bottles, clothes, wipes. Elizabeth was still sleeping when you were done packing, as you quickly dialed Stacie’s number.

“ Hello?? “

“ sorry Stacie, can me and Ellie crash at the dorm? Vanessa’s throwing the big song the year party, and I don’t wan Ellie to be in the house for it. “

“ Seriously?? Your kidding. Alright, I’m coming. Love ya. “

“ love ya to “

You hung up, finishing packing your stuff as you gently picked up Elizabeth, kissing her forehead gently. You placed her in the carrier, slinging the backpack on as you made your way back downstairs, people already beginning to pile in.

“ Yn?? Hell are you doing with Ellie. “

“ we are spending the night at Stacie’s. And we won’t be back till you’re sober. She’ll be here any moment. “

You made your way outside, waiting on the sidewalk. Vanesssa chased after you grabbing your shoulder.

“ C-cmon yn!! Have a drink, relax! You haven’t been in a party for months! “

“ cause I’m taking care of our daughter! Do you remember last time, you were drunk, banging on the door to see her. Your not ok when your drunk. “

Just then, Stacie’s car pulled up. You opened the back door, sliding Ellie in and sitting besides her. Vanessa tried to hold the door open, you could tell she was angry, desperate for you not to go.

“ I’ll cancel the party if it’ll make you happy, ok?? No one’s gonna hurt our baby!! “

“…it’s not the others I’m worried about…”

You finally closed the door, Stacie quickly drove off and you watched Vanessa storm up the steps, kicking a flowerpot off the steps before going inside. You looked down at Ellie, holding her small hand with your finger.

“ I’m sorry Stacie…”

“ don’t be. Your bed is still nice and made, it’ll be like you never left. “

“ yeah…I don’t wanna be a bother again but. Could you maybe…watch Elizabeth while I’m at my final tomorrow…? “

“ yeah! Of course! You have all the stuff, so no problem. “

You looked back down at Ellie, watching her yawn, as she slowly blinked her eyes open to look at you.

“ thank you…”

*~*

You had stayed with Stacie for two days before Vanessa finally called back. Ellie had just ran out of diapers, and you had neglected to pack your own clothes, so you stank in your outfit. Stacie had given you one of her hoodies to borrow, to try and help. You stepped out of her car, Elizabeth in the carrier and the practically empty backpack slung over your shoulder.

Vanessa stood on the front step, watching you as you made your way up to her.

“ give me my daughter. She needs her mother. “

“ My English final went great, thank you for asking. “

You gently handed over the carrier, shoving past and into your bedroom to change. You could hear Vanessa following after you, her presence heavy over you.

“ and burn that hoodie why don’t you. You don’t need to be wearing her clothes. “

“ wow i missed you to Vanessa. Why are we even getting married if your like this. “

“ don’t talk to me like that. Look. “

She turned you around with her open hand, pulling her collar down enough to show off to show off the set of bite marks around the base of her neck.

“ look. You have me this mark, the night after I proposed to you. You did this to show me you loved me. Why are you treating me like this. “

You froze, glancing up at her, then down to Ellie, before at the ground.

“ I’m…I-I’m sorry Vanessa…I was just….stressed about my final. I should sleep on the couch tonight, just so I can cool down…I-i love you. “

You clung onto Vanessa, leaning your head against her. You were a bit…rude lately…you just needed some time to unwind.

“ aww…I love you too sweetheart. I’ll Watch Elizabeth tonight, mkay~? “

“ alright…t-thank you…”

*~*

Finally. Today was the day. You sat in your dressing room as your stylists did your hair and makeup. The pretty wedding dress fit you perfectly, and Ellie was already in hers, waiting for the ceremony to start.

Stacie was nearby as her stylist fixed her up. She was your maid of honor, and one of the few bridesmaids you had.

“ you ready yn? I just got the text there ready when we are. “

“ mhm…a-as ready as I can be…”

You could see Stacie from the corner of your eye. The stylist finished up and left. You gently picked up Elizabeth, holding her at your side as you looked into the mirror. You’ve never looks so pretty, you where gorgeous in the dress.

“ cmon…lemme see Ellie. Your bouquets right there. Remember the plan? “

“ M-mhm…first is Vanessa, then her girls, then my mom will bring down Ellie, then you girls…then I walk down with dad…”

Stacie held your hand, giving you a gentle smile. You returned the smile, squeezing her hand.

“ I love…”

“ no. Don’t say that right now yn. Today’s the day you put all your love onto one girl. Ok? “

You nodded, wiping away your tear before it messed up your makeup. Stacie smiled once more, leaving the room before you and leaving you alone. This was it, the moment you waited for. You were excited, it just felt so. Off.

You were getting married in the most beautiful chapel you’d ever seen. Everyone was coming, even though your family was much larger than Vanessa’s. All your friends and almost every sorority girl was there.

You made your way out into the hall, holding your bouquet of hydrangeas and lilys. The walk down to the entrance felt like it took forever. When you finally walked through, the photographers immediately began to take photos, you pulled your smile onto your face, staying back as everyone else lined up. You could see your mother settling Ellie into the small wagon to bring her down the aisle.

Then the music began. Your smile only grew brighter, you were getting married to the women your loved. You had a beautiful baby girl with her, and an amazing life. You could see Vanessa coming in the other way, blocked by her bridesmaid to not see you. Then she was followed by her girls, then your mother carried Ellie down, then you watched Stacie and the few others, then it was you.

Your father took your arm, giving you a gentle smile. The music began to change, as you made your way down. The eyes of every person in there were on you. It would have scared you if you weren’t so fixed in Vanessa.

She was wearing a gorgeous long Lacey dress, covered in laced flowers and small jewels. Her shoulders and neck were bare and open, with a beautiful rose gold chain around her neck, with a beautiful diamond on it. You could see the mark you left on her, small but deep. She was holding Ellie in one arm, smiling at you as your father let you go, as you stood across from her. Elizabeth turned and reached for you, and you took her with your open hand, as the preacher began to speak.

“ Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today for the holy union of these two lovely souls. Today they are to be united permanently, love bound for eternity. Vanessa, if you’d like to start with your speech. “

Vanessa nodded, clearing her throat before talking. Her green eyes beautifully starring into yours.

“ Y/N L/N, or, shall I say soon to be Y/N Shelly. Sense the moment I saw you in our college class, I knew I had to have you. I knew you would be the one to spend the rest of my life with. I know, we have had our ups and down in our relationship, but, what couple hasent. I’m the luckiest women in the world to be married to a college valedictorian, a wonderful mother of our wonderful daughter. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my mate, my wife Y/n. I love you. “

You watched Vanessa get teary eyed, before wipping them quickly. Elizabeth made a small coo, and turned to Vanessa. Everyone let out a small chuckle as Vanessa took Elizabeth back.

“ Y/N, now you may give your speech. “

You cleared your throat, holding Vanessa open hand.

“ V-Vanessa….i know we have had our rough moments. But I’ve seen you grow, and I have grown besides you. I knew that when I first saw you, there was something. Something special about you, and now here we are, with our perfect daughter at this perfect ceremony. I love you. I love you more than I can ever possibly show you. I’m the luckiest to have you as my mate Vanessa. “

The pastor cleared his throat, signaling for a girl to bring up two small cases. He took them both, and opened the first one. Inside sat a gorgeous silver wedding band with the date etched on it. He handed it to you, and you took Vanessa had.

“ Repeat after me,’ I, Yn, promise to stay by your side, through sickness and death, through sadness and joy, as your lawfully wedded wife “

“ I, Yn, promise to stay by your side, through sickness and death, through sadness and joy, as your lawfully wedded wife “

You gently slide the ring onto her finger, you could see her smile growing. The pastor took out the next ring, a thinner silver band with the date etched on it.

“ Repeat after me. ‘ I, Vanessa, promise to stay by your side, through sickness and death, through sadness and joy, as your lawfully wedded wife ‘ “

“ I, Vanessa, promise to stay by your side, through sickness and death, through sadness and joy, as your lawfully wedded wife “

Vanessa gently slid the ring onto your finger. You felt your eyes swell with tears, you could latch onto right now if you wanted.

“ And now, with the power vested in me, by the state of Minnesota, I now pronounce you Wife and Wife, you may now kiss the brides. “

Vanessa turned and handed off Ellie to one of her bridesmaids, and immediately scooped you up, kissing you deeply. The roar of applause and cheers filled the room. She carried you in her arms as you both walked down the aisle. You pulled her face you yours, kissing her deeply.

“ Well, Mrs Shelly, how does it feel to be married to the best women on earth. “

“ I don’t know Nessa, how does it feel~ “

Vanessa laughed, kissing you once again and putting you down. The bridesmaids followed after you, returning Elizabeth to your hands. You both bent down and kissed her small cheeks. You haven’t felt this happy in months, this was the best feeling you’ve had. And now you were married to the best Women ever.

*~*

You sat besides Vanessa at the brides table, she was loudly talking to her friends, laughing about stories from college. Elizabeth sat besides you, gently feeding her the baby food you had brought, not to focused about the atmosphere.

The After-Party was in a beautiful hotel convention room. It was adorn with gorgeous crystal chandeliers, with gorgeous and colorful rose bouquets across every table.

“ Well, Mrs. Shelly, why aren’t you enjoying yourself? “

You glanced up, seeing William standing infront of you, he was dressed ins a deep violet suit, his greying hairs combed back.

“ oh, I’m just feeding Ellie, the party just started, I’ll have time later “

“ you and Vanessa haven’t even had your first dance. Everyone’s waiting. I’ll finish feeding little Elizabeth, and you two have your dance. This is just as much your night as it is hers. “

You smiled, giving and gentle nod as you handed him the rest of the small jar of baby food, letting him pick up Ellie and go back to his seat.

“ nessy….i think it’s time…”

“ Hm? Oh yes! Bailey go tell the band we’re ready. “

Vanessa stood up, taking your hand and leading you to the middle of the dance floor. Everyone went silent, as the slow rhythm of the music filled the room. You held onto both of her hands, as you both gently began to waltz, your eyes locked onto eachothers.

“ Oh..yn you look gorgeous..”

“ your just as stunning Vanessa….i love you..”

Vanessa spun you, before pulling you into her, and kissing you gently. Her Ivy Green eyes glowed in the slight.

“…I love you too..Mi Amor~ “

You chuckled pulling back a Little to sway better.

“ Spanish Vanessa? Rather romantic…it’s still early dear~ “

“ I’ll be very romantic with you later then dear~ “

You felt like you were floating, like no one else was here with you, just you and Vanessa, dancing under the beautiful stars. She was the best thing to happen to you in years, like she has changed everything in one night.

The music stopped, and the clapping started. Vanessa walked you back to the brides table, looking around and beginning to panic slightly.

“ Where’s Ellie!! Where did she go-! “

“ it’s ok!! No worries, William has her, see? “

Vanessa looked over, her eyes like daggers as she saw William feeding Elizabeth.

“ I see. Whatever, just get her back soon. “

“ please, just don’t hate your father for the night. He’s just being helpful, he wants us to have fun. “

“ alright…I still want Ellie back soon..”

You pulled vanessa closer, hugging her arm close to you. Vanessa rolled her eyes, kissing your forehead.

“ I love you YN…I hope your having a good time “

“ I’m having a wonder night Vanessa…thank you so much…I love you. “

Vanessa smiled softly, looking over at the table of her friends who were waving her over.

“ go, we’ll have all night together, go hang out with your friends. “

“ you sure? “

“ positive Vanessa. “

Vanessa smiled, getting up and walking over to her friends. You got up and went over to Stacie, who sat nearby.

“ you having fun? “

“ I am! It’s great. “

“ I’m so happy for you YN. I really am. “

You sat besides Stacie, and began talking about your highschool and college years. You were married to Vanessa, but you both still knew you could be separated at times like this. You glanced over at her, and saw her starring back at you. What a lucky girl you where

*~*

The whole night had been filled with dancing and talking, and amazing food. Vanessa really haven’t wasted a cent on it. You were sitting in front of the vanity in yours and Vanessa’s room, brushing your hair out and prepping yourself for bed. Elizabeth had just gone down, and she was fast asleep. Suddenly, Vanessa rushed through the door, chuckling softly.

“ YN! “

“ Vanessa shh! I just got Ellie down…what’s the matter? “

“ the hostess told me they just finished cleaning up. Cmon, head down with me. “

You tilted your head, standing up and walking over to her. You were wearing simple grey sweatpants and a black shirt.

“ Why? And what about Ellie? “

“ Elizabeth is a heavy sleeper, and it won’t be that long, just cmon! “

Vanessa took your hand, quickly pulling you into the hall and gently shutting the door. You chuckled as she rushed you to the elevator. She must be drunk, she’s never been this excited about something so small.

You both entered the elevator, Vanessa his the lobby button and held your hand tightly. You leaned your head against hers, and with her open hand she turned your head and kissed you gently. You didn’t taste a drop of alcohol on her tongue.

“ your sober Vanessa? “

“ of course I am. Ok I had one drink at the beginning of the after party, but nothing else. “

The elevator dung, and Vanessa quickly rushed you out, heading towards the center your wedding was held in. The hostess smiled and nodded, and Vanessa walked you into the middle of the floor. All the tables had been packed away, it was empty. Just the two of you.

Vanessa pulled her phone out and scrolled through, pulling up the two of yours favorite song. She smiled softly, holding your hips and beginning to sway gently, you followed suit after.

“ I wanted to give you one last dance. Just for you baby. “

“ Vanessa….i-I…”

“ I love you YN Shelly. “

“ I love you more Vanessa Shelly…”

You kissed her gently, and pressed your forehead against hers. The two of you stayed like this the whole song, swaying and humming softly, embracing each other’s love. At the end, Vanessa gave you a twirl, before pulling you into a gentle kiss. You giggled, hugging her tightly.

“ I love you…”

“ I love you more “

Afterwards, Vanessa lead you back through the lobby, up the elevator, and finally back to your room. Elizabeth was still asleep, like nothing had happened. You both snuggled onto the bed, hugging eachother tightly.

“ sleep well yn. I hope you have the best dreams…”

“ you too Vanessa….thank you…”

Vanessa kissed your head as your drifted away to slumber. The last things you heard her say was a simple.

“…thank you….”

*~*

“ Baby…get up…”

“ Vanessa…? “

“ fuck…I’m so hard baby…”

You groggily rubbed your eyes, sitting up and seeing Vanessa sat up in bed, panting slightly with a visible tent in her boxers.

“ I-I couldn’t sleep and I let myself daydream about…about how sexy you looked in that wedding dress…a-and I’m..I’m so hard yn…please…”

Vanessa whined softly, you blushed lightly as the sight. You gently pulled down her boxers, taking her girth in your hand, stroking it gently.

“ shh…I’ll take care of you nessa~ “

“ Please…I-i need my pretty omega…”

You smiled, tossing off your sweats and panties, stabbing her hips.

“ wet already? “

“ well when you get all hot and bothered like this I can’t help myself Vanessa…”

You grinded slightly against her length, before placing your arms over her shoulders and letting yourself slip onto it.

“ o-oh fuck vannessa~ “

“ Y-Yn~ “

Vanessa gripped your thighs, holding onto you as you bounced on her cock. Her ivy eye where the only thing glowing in the room, just you two in darkness, loving eachother with such force, such dedication.

“ S-so big nessy…p-please give me more…”

“ you want m-more princess~? “

“ P-pretty please…”

Vanessa smirked, flipping you backwards. She threw your legs over your shoulders, and thrusted hard into you. You let out a shrill moan, before quickly covering you mouth.

“ yeah, that’s it…keep quiet for me baby…I-I’ll fuck this pussy nice and good…”

Vanessa continued her pace, kissing up and down your neck, leaving small marks every now and then. Your moans were muffled but audible, fuck she was big. And you got to keep her all to yourself now, what a lucky little omega you were.

“ v-Vanessa…p-please…”

“ F-Fuck! Take it…take my pretty load and keep it in your pretty cunt all night long…like a good slut~ “

Vanessa’s thrusts grew faster, as she gripped your sides to hold you better. You cried out louder, as Vanessa’s muffled you with a kiss.

“ cum with me…show me how much you love me YN Shelly. “

“ F-fuck…I-I….i love you n-nessa- F-FUCKKKK “

You cried out as your came, feeling Vanessa thrust in again, her hot load following after.

“ that’s it….you like being filled with my pups don’t you slut~ “

You were too exhausted to answer, panting heavily as you expected her to continue.

“ I won’t push you…rest…but next time we aren’t stopping. I love you YN. “

Vanessa kissed your forehead, pulling out slowly and laying besides you, pulling you into her arms as you drifted asleep once again in her strong, loving arms.

*~*

“ Yn Get up. We have to get ready for brunch. Make sure Ellie’s changed and dressed. “

You yawned, sitting up in the comfy hotel bed, your legs still hurt from last night. Vanessa was up and in her new dress already. You were groggy, exhausted from the day prior.

“ where are you going nessa….”

“ I’m going to the restaurant early to make sure the buffet is set up perfectly. Dont worry, I’ll be back to get you two. Your dress is hanging in the bathroom, Elizabeth’s is there too. I’ll be back “

Vanessa made her way to the door, looking back at you before leaving. You sighed, sitting up and heading into the next room, Ellie was still asleep.

“ heavy sleeper huh? Even after last night. Pft…cmon baby girl, let’s get you all pretty “

You lifted her up and carried her into the next room, and as soon as you did she stared crying.

“ no no shh…shh its ok Elizabeth…mamas gonna get you all pretty for yummy breakfast. “

You bounced her in your arms, looking out the window. You could see the whole city from the top floor. Thats when it hit you. Vanessa was elsewhere, you were with your crying baby, it was just like months ago.

You sighed, turning to head into the bathroom. You loved Vanessa with all your heart, but she was a busy woman. She could clearly make time for you, like last night. But maybe she just needed to be busy.

But she had kept her promise. She kept you here. And you weren’t all to upset about it. She loved you, even if she couldn’t alway show it. And you definitely loved her.

#vanessa shelly #five nights at freddy's #vanessa shelly x reader #sorority!vanessa #toxic!vanessa #vanessa shelly smut #alpha!vanessa #omega!reader #omegaverse #sorry i was gone #but I hope this is good!! love you all!!

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suckerforcate · 2 years

Note

hi! i saw u on my feed so i got an idea.

can i request um, where Y/n's cleaning her and Principal Weems's room and they accidentally opened Larissa's wallet only to see a Polaroid of them(Y/n) naked with their head's thrown back with Larissa's hand wrapped around their throat? and them getting flashbacks about that 'night' and Larissa walking in the room only to see Y/n's face flushed, and then you decide about the endingg :>

it's ok if u don't wanna do it, the idea js popped up on my mind ^-^

Polaroid

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Reader

Word Count: 709

Warning: NSFW, 18+, eating out, chocking

A/n: Hope I did your request justice! <3

"Could you fetch my wallet real fast, love?" Larissa turned her head around to look at you, smiling apologetically. You couldn't care less, you would play servant for her any day, if you were useful.

Slightly nodding at her, you turned on you heel and left the room. Rushing to her office, you walked directly towards her desk. You opened the middle drawer on the left, knowing exactly where she always kept her wallet. Just as you wanted to close the drawer and leave, a photo fell to the ground, having slipped out of the wallet.

You kneeled down to pick it up. As you turned around you realised it was photo of you. Immediately your cheeks heated up and they turned a bright shade of red. You sat on one of the armchairs in her office naked, Larissas hand wrapped around your throat.

Light moans escaped you, as Larissa flickered her tongue over your clit. Your hand gripped the armrest, digging your nails into the green fabric. Soft fingers stroking over your stomach, finding their way up to your nipple. You shut your eyes close, overwhelmed by pleasure. Whimpers leaving you, ragged breathes, Larissa's name filling the silence around you every now and then.

You remembered the day that photo was taken. It had been your six months anniversary, and Larissa had destroyed you completely. It had also been the first time you had told her that you loved her. She had told you way earlier, but it had always been hard for you to say things like that. She accepted that, and waited, giving you all the time you needed.

Her hand reached up to your throat, mildly wrapping her long, slender fingers around it. Squeezing down just a bit, enough to make you moan out. Your head was thrown back against the chair in pleasure. The feeling of her mouth sucking at your bundle of nerves, made the orgasm fast approach. Feeling a hint more pressure on your throat and a mix of sucking and licking between your legs, made it unbearable. With a throaty scream you came, panting and gasping for air.

"Darling, what's taking you so long?" Surprised by Larissas sudden presence behind you, you snap out of your thoughts and try to stand up. Your knees still feeling wobbly, you cave in. Strong arms catching you and holding you close to her, you are pushed onto the desk. Larissa looks concerned, taking her wallet out of your hand and laying it on the desk, she notices the photo.

Looking at the polaroid between your fingers, a smirk graces her lips. The worry long gone.

"Pleasent memories haunting you, love?" You open your mouth, no words coming out. Closing your mouth again, you stare at her, completely at a loss for words.

"I-," you try again, "Do you always carry that around?" The mischievous glance in her eye tells you everything you need to know. Yes, she does.

Even though your core is throbbing, and your legs are still wobbly because of her presence, you feel the need to hug her. Wanting to simply hold her, thank her.

"Love, what's wrong?" You don't answer, pulling her even closer and hiding your face in the crook of her neck. Smelling her sweet citrus scent, you feel yourself calming down, she grounded you.

"Thank you." You mumbled into her hair, nearly inaudible. Larissa chuckled, full of amusement but also love.

"What for? For fucking you senseless, or for carrying a picture of you at it?"

"For loving me." You simply said. Because it was as simple as that. Carrying a photo of you in that state was as much a love confession as a love letter. You knew, even though she played cool right know, she held the photo close because of what that day meant to the two of you. Larissa gently stroked over your back, leaning into your touch. For a moment the two of you enjoyed the tenderness and comfort of each others embrace. Soon broken by Larissa's playful nature.

"I'm still going to make you scream later. I hope you know that." You laughed at that, loving the dynamic the two of you had found in your relationship.

"I expect nothing less."

#gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie x reader #larissa weems #wlw #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #larissa x reader #wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednsday addams

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lucky-punk-lemonade · 2 months

Text

Picture You

| You visit a local art show in Hobie's universe, not knowing he contributed. Not knowing you contributed; [Webhead reader; Friends to ??; Feelings realization] Hobie Brown

This work belongs to me, lucky-punk-lemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

Hobie’s house always smelled vaguely different. For a few weeks there, it smelled of incense. Incense he had stolen, of course. When he ran out of that, it smelled like cigarette smoke because he’d let his friend crash there, trying to break the habit and get back on his feet. Various good and bad smells. Cookies after a baking hyper-fixation. Detergent from a “freak laundry accident” that Hobie swore was the downstairs neighbors conspiring against him. All of these mixed with a lethargic scent of cologne which seemed to blend well with everything. Once, it had even smelled like citrus and lavender. It didn't take long for me to squeeze out the fact Hobie had developed a crush, and he had deep cleaned his apartment to impress her.

Today, though, it smelled like coffee. Hobie didn’t drink coffee, though. I drink coffee. I show up at his door with those little cups to put in the busted up Keurig his temporary roommate left behind. Everything in Hobie’s house was stolen, discovered, or borrowed. The coffee table (that he calls “Just Table” because he doesn’t drink coffee). The armchair he got from a friend’s sister’s ex boyfriend. His shitty vintage boombox and the tapes he plays.

It was often I showed up outside of his window, backpack full of treats or gifts in tow. I sit on his couch and drink from a chipped mug with “World’s Best Grandpa” painted on the side in colorful letters. He walks behind me, pacing and scrolling through his phone. I ignore the slow, inconsistent footsteps behind me and click through the various shows I've had in rotation.

“Have you ever seen The Princess Bride ?”

I don’t really expect an answer, and I don't get one. He’s busy, he usually is. Not usually on his phone, though, but who am I to step between a guy and his Candy Crush addiction? I sigh and put the remote down, deciding to head back to my universe for the night.

Hobie was part of the group that took interest in me via the Spider Society. I didn’t go to HQ very often, no reason to. Until I had a run-in with a multi-dimensional creature that I had to report to Miguel. That’s when I met Pavitr. He was an incredibly bright force that inevitably offered an invitation to lunch with his friends. His friends I came to know well. Gwen was, by definition, a rebel. She did everything on purpose, usually with the intent to piss off her dad. Gwen was the epitome of teenage rebellion that was most times ill-advised. Miles was talented, he was always wondering. He was constantly thinking and creating new ideas. It was inspiring to hear his thoughts. Pavitr was a soothing presence, not audibly but he had the perfect vibes. A chance to listen to him was a chance to tune everything out because Pav’s existence required the utmost attention.

Hobie, when first approached, was intimidating. His demeanor remains nonchalant and tuned-out. He was covered in spikes and leather and patterns. He looked incredibly threatening, too cool. When he spoke, it almost sounded out of character. He was kind and welcoming, funny. All traits many Spider-Men had. This was the justification I had for how interested I was in him, his energy. He was just as attractive and charming as Pav or that one guy who I always saw in the lobby.

I’ve been to their houses, I crash often. Gwen let me stay with her for almost a month once. In return, I help with Spider work and house chores to show my gratitude. I know what everyone’s room looks like, a main theme of band posters and scattered clothing. I don't visit Miles too often, he's got a lot of stress already. I stay above a convenient store owned by a family friend of Pav’s when I go to see him. Hobie has always let me stay at his place, though. I have made myself particularly comfortable in his shared flat that his roommate never seems to be in. I don’t ask questions, I just sleep on his couch.

I reflect on everything as I fold his blanket and set it on his couch. I pick up my bag and stuff my jacket into it. It’s warm enough , I think. I sit on the floor to lace up my shoes. Hobie acknowledges me before walking into his room, I nod back and finish tying my shoes. I walk to the sink with my cup of water to wash it. Sitting on the counter, slightly ripped and damp, is a flier.

A seemingly homemade advertisement for a local art showing, raising money for the food bank. The food bank I remember Hobie telling me about. He had been protective of it ever since he discovered there was a prominent political figure who was more than adamant to take down the business. I remember Hobie being mad. I remember bringing him brownies and stopping by with a hefty donation to the food bank without Hobie knowing. I remember doing this often. I remember how kind the owners were, how I developed the same protective nature towards them.

I read the flier more closely. An art show with an admission fee, local artists, local music, good cause. I was immediately interested. I walk to Hobie’s room, leaving the flier behind on the counter.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out.”

“Yeah, be safe.” He smiles and nods. “If you need anything, call.”

I smile back and wave goodbye, exiting the room and grabbing my belongings. I tuck myself out of the window and swing through the city. Food bank. I think to myself. I eventually found it. A brick building with a single, cramped entrance. I enter and inquire about the art show. It’s supposed to be held at a church nearby. Should’ve read the rest of the flier . I note the time and address, thanking them for their help.

★★★

The church was made up entirely of coarse, yellowed brick. Everything was incredibly old and classy. The windows were stained glass, geometric shapes lined with brassy gold. Cars lined up in the parking lot of the church. I walk to the broken-up sidewalk and feel how warm the evening is in the direct line of the sunset. The event was set to begin at six-thirty. People were scattered outside, talking in groups. The environment was friendly, warm. I walk up the seven steps that lead to the two glass doors. Once inside, I smell old paper and floral perfume. A classic church smell , I think to myself with a smirk.

The church foyer was wide and open, a few tables set out in front with a donation jar, papers, and chairs holding people with large smiles and kind eyes. I can tell this church has been made into a sort of community center, the people needing somewhere to gather. I approach the table, becoming aware of the makeshift stage boosting up a band. The music had already begun, soft yet upbeat, setting a chill tone. I greet the older woman sitting at the table, recognizing her from the food bank. I smile and make the admission fee, and then some. These people have created a more meaningful community with their own presence than a local politician ever could with bulldozers and contractors. The idea that they had to hold fundraisers in local churches because they only have personal connections to work with made me strongly displeased.

After being told to enjoy myself, I walk through one of the doors. From what I could tell, all the extra furniture had been moved into closed off rooms to clear space for the “galleries.” Completely barren rooms are now decorated with various artwork. I take my time and shove my hands into my pockets, wandering around the first room. The first few rooms have impressive work. From notebook paper sketches to large canvases painted with bright colors. About a minute into browsing the second room, a woman walks past me.

“Hello.” Her voice is upbeat, breathy.

I raise my eyebrows, “Oh- Hi.” I smile.

She stares at me, studies me. I furrow my brows as she watches my every move. After a few more awkward seconds, she smiles widely and walks out. Okay? I brush it off.

A few more rooms in, I see a canvas about the size of a piece of printer paper. It’s labeled “Black Treacle” by a bo y younger than me. I study the details. A can of black treacle is painted, highlighted and shapely. A few more paintings.

A dark, swirling painting depicting earthly objects drawn toward the center: “Supermassive Black Hole.”

An orange, fiery background contrasting four black silhouettes: “Daphne Blue”

Label after label, my head tilts and my eyes study. I smile in confusion and inspiration.

“Purple haze”, a portrait of Jimi Hendrix.

“Holy Calamity”, a charcoal sketch inspired by the war on drugs, tacked with a lengthy and tragic origin.

After stepping back from the wall, I notice two people staring at me. I subtly look over myself. I don’t have anything on my shirt. I touch my face. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing on my face… I quickly walk to the next room.

While overthinking the stares, my train of thought is derailed when I see a canvas, just a little bigger than the rest. It shows a sunset with a city skyline. The angles and edges were lined with gold foil, white highlights darting the painting. The image looks so familiar. I walk towards it, getting closer than I should’ve. The card below makes me grin. “2/14” by H. Brown. I knew he was creative, but wow.

I remember the setting. It was Valentine’s Day, the friend group had planned a big day together so none of us would be alone. Movies, chocolate, soda, friends. A result of Gwen’s chronic loneliness. Pav couldn’t come as he had already planned an extravagant date for Gayatri. Miles was grounded indefinitely. Gwen canceled at the last minute, never telling us why. I stared at the group chat message, standing in line to buy chocolates. I texted the group, a little pissed and put the chocolates back. Hobie had messaged me separately.

“i guess we’re both free then?”

“Looks like.”

“I wish she wouldn’t plan stuff if she's always this uncertain.”

“thats what I like about her”

“shes inconsistent.”

“Yeah, well now I have to return a shit ton of candy. “

“bring it by my place.”

“we can still hang out”

“right?"

“Okay.”“Give me twenty.”

I knocked on his window 30 minutes later, apologizing for the time. He grabbed the bags of candy and led me right back out the window. I followed him, down the rickety stairs and to the sidewalk. I asked him why we weren’t swinging. He told me to just look around, enjoy the noise. When we got deeper into the city, we climbed our way up to the roof of a building. Not the tallest building, one of regular size. We situated ourselves next to the edge, resting our elbows on the ledge. I had realized why he picked this site as we got up there. It faced a wide expanse of clear land. It faced the sunset. It wasn't as pink as it usually is, something I took as a direct middle finger to Valentine’s stereotypes. It was orange and purple. I told Hobie how the sky is probably the only thing that can blend those colors as beautifully without making a gross, muddy brown. I opened the bag of chocolates, said the sunset and sunrise were like crazy, natural RGBs, and adjusted the earbuds that fit loosely in my ears. He scoffed and we talked. We talked about how much Pav talks about Gayatri, about how moody it makes Gwen. How much Miles is going through. How nice it is to have other ‘webheads’ to confide in. We watched the sunset in silence, the window of time we devoted to staring at the colors darken.

This was that sunset. And I was wrong. The colors were strikingly accurate to my memory. A stylistic choice of gold foil and white highlights were so Hobie. It always seemed he added a little extra to everything in his mind. I grinned and took out my phone to take a picture. Once I was finished, I moved a bit quicker while browsing. I was hunting for something else Hobie had created. Something I could find about him that he hadn’t told me himself.

★★★

“Hobie, man! Amazing job!”

I felt a pair of hands clamp onto my back. I shook my head and smiled. I’ve been thanking a lot of people today. This has been something I signed up for to help out a friend. The food bank has done incredible things for this community, I’d do anything to keep the family upright. Seeing all these people show up and donate to the cause is reassuring. I took a tour myself after I helped set up. We hold a lot of potential here.

“They’re gonna love this, D.”

I tell Diana, the co-owner of the food bank as I stare around one of the rooms. She smiles, lines forming around her eyes. D is an older woman that had always checked in on me. She has patched up countless cuts on my face, made me innumerable bowls of soup, given me way too many pep talks and even more reprimands. She walks up to me and hugs me, wordlessly.

Now, as I stand in the lobby once I’ve checked in with everyone out back, I stay behind Diana, sitting in her chair and greeting more visitors. I keep to myself and hover to the side. A few people came by to exit, they had finished the walkthrough. They smiled at me.

“You made that sunset painting, right?” I cringe. D had been very liberal bragging about my art. I had been staring at my shoes for at least 20 minutes while she talked about how she’s known me since I was “a little monster.” Now, people recognized my name to my face.

“Yeah.” I answer shortly.

“It’s amazing. I love the story you tell. Good job.” The man says.

I smile, “Hey, thanks, man.” And wave goodbye as they walk through the door.

“Hobie!” D’s voice calls from a few meters away.

I turn towards her. She was now alone at the table. I walk over to her, “What’s up?”

“That painting. The one you insisted I hide in the back room. I still don’t know why you’d hide the most beautiful work you’ve-”

“What about it, D?” I roll my eyes.

“The person from the painting, I saw 'em.” Diana smiles. I furrow my brows and tilt my head.

“Huh?” Diana’s voice reverberates through my ribcage.

“They're here .” She grins, softly. If it were anyone else, it'd sound mocking. “They're a kind soul, I approve.”

My eyes slightly widen and my chest heaves in sudden panic.

“ What ? ”

★★★

I stare at the second Hobie painting I’ve found.

A box of chocolates is spilled out onto a concrete ledge.

“Bad Habit” by H. Brown.

A pocket knife sits next to a few crumbs of a chocolate bar, coated in caramel. The knife assumedly had cut the candy bar in half. Not in half, in like three quarters. That was my pocket knife and I remember everything. That night, I had opened the bag as we talked constantly, back and forth. I had opened a Twix and set it on the ledge.

“We go half?” He looked at me, reaching for the candy. I pulled out my pocket knife and flicked it open.

“Jesus, dude. You can have it. ”

I laughed loudly, I covered my mouth. “No! I’m gonna cut it in half. Sorry, I should stop pulling knives on people.”

He laughed, “That’s a habit of yours?”

I sighed dramatically, “A bad one.” Before cutting the Twix, it was completely disproportionate.

Remembering this made me smirk. I wondered why these moments had been memorialized. I continue looking back, wondering what else could be so special. I felt too bad to skip every other piece. I could tell time had been dedicated to the abstract oil pastel labeled “Tio.” I felt connected to the color pencil drawing of the Iris flowers. I couldn’t just walk past them selfishly. My eyes quickly scanned them, hastily coming up with my opinions on them and shuffling to the next. I read the labels and artists’ names and ages. I wander the rooms, they are small and large and the paint on the walls are all different colors of neutral. I admire the windows in the short hallways between rooms. The stained glass being a fitting, constant palette cleanser. I walk through what I believe to be the last room. This room stands surrounded by two other rooms to the left and right. The room is dimmer, I see a brighter light within.

When I walk into the room, the majority of the paintings are lit dimly by the main light at the opposite of the room. I stare at the canvas. It was a sizable canvas compared to every other that had been displayed. Slightly bigger. The one light used in this room was shined directly onto it. I walk towards it.

The painting was me. Literally, I was in the painting . It was a view of me from the side, my head only slightly turned towards the point of view. The darkening sunset before me, casting an orange glow on my face. The art style was choppy, no straight lines, everything lightly blended together. My face was clear, though. It was obviously me. I had cheap earbuds in, listening to music I refused to show him in fear of getting made fun of. The sunset had almost changed my eye color, it emphasized my eyelashes, highlighted my arms as they pushed my body up from the ledge. I was looking out past the roof and towards the sky. People below were blurred squares, a hundred feet below us. So ignorant, yet so important in this painting. I remember this. My breath was audible in the dead silent room. I breathed in and out, the exhale interrupted by a quick “Heh.” I looked at the card underneath.

“Dayplayer” by Hobie Brown

It was impossible to stop thinking about how this painting struck me. I saw how I was seen at that moment, watching the sunset with him. This was how he saw me on a random Valentine’s Day, on a random rooftop, with random street lights in the background. I hadn’t even noticed where his attention was, I was focused on the sky, on how my music would fit the moment. I was feeling the warm, humid air and was pissed that it wasn’t getting cooler faster.

I had no idea .

I couldn’t bring myself to see the other paintings until I could feel my fingers again. They were cold and almost numb, I had no idea how long I’d been sitting there staring. I turned to face the adjacent walls to find that every painting in this room was made by Hobie.

A painting of a mug of coffee on an unidentified table sitting next to a remote was labeled “Peak.”

A messy charcoal sketch of a pair of shoes: “Great Race.”

A pencil drawing of several objects, practice maybe. “Goodie bag.”

I go from paper to canvas, reviewing the details, recognizing themes. I am getting to understand how he sees the world. As vivid colors intrude black and white backgrounds, I hear a word behind me.

“ Hi .”

★★★

#wrote this a while ago #✰H writes fanfic #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #atsv #spiderman atsv #spider punk #atsv hobie #hobie x reader #gn reader #fanfic #across the spiderverse

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amethysts-tavern · 11 months

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A Moment of Magic.

Gale’s Weave scene with Tav from his POV, ‘cause why not?

Gender neutral, good-aligned, red-headed bard Tav.

______

You catch a glimpse of Tav from across the campsite. Gods, they’re beautiful. You can’t help but notice how the firelight shines off their auburn locks and gives their cheeks a warm glow. They were smiling at something Karlach had said, playfully swatting at the fiery tiefling.

You had asked Tav to join you tonight after dinner. Maybe it will bring the two of us closer together. But to what end? You had been smitten with Tav from the moment your hands touched while you were on the other side of the malfunctioning portal - the gentle way their fingers grasped yours - then the way they cocked their head and smiled softly as you introduced yourself. As the days progressed, your affections for them only grew when you learned more about their kind nature, their eagerness to help those in need, and their fierce loyalty to their friends.

Maybe this whole idea is silly. It’s not like there can be any real future between us, seeing as I might explode at any moment. And what if they don’t feel the same? Am I prepared to feel that rejection again so soon?

Truthfully, it had been over a year since you and Mystra had called it quits, but sometimes it felt like yesterday. You missed her. Or rather, you missed what she represented to you. Calling up an illusion of her visage, you feel a momentary calm, only to be shaken from your reverie when Tav approaches.

“She’s pretty,” Tav says from somewhere behind you.

“Oh you startled me. I was miles away,” you reply, dismissing the illusion and feeling a bit embarrassed that you were caught looking at images of your ex-lover in front of the one you hoped to someday be a current lover.

You begin to tell Tav what magic means to you. How it’s everything you’ve ever known, ever wanted, and ask if they are interested in experiencing some of it for themself. They agree! You show them an easy spell - dancing lights. Really anyone could perform this spell with the right tutelage, but you’re hoping that Tav doesn’t know that. You watch and laugh inwardly as they over-perform the somatic components. But smile as their lips wrap around the words of the verbal component of the spell, breathing life into the magic. Finally, you ask them to look within themself and picture the concept of harmony (that should be easy for them, seeing as they’re a bard). And their dancing lights begin to take shape - a twinkling glow in the dusk of night. You feel the Weave surrounding you both and you wonder what it feels like for them. For you channeling the Weave was always accompanied with scents of warm spices like cinnamon and cloves with a just hint of citrus and a sense of peaceful serenity unlike anything you’ve ever experienced outside of the Weave. Almost like a homecoming.

Tav steps back from their conjured lights and brushes into your hand with theirs. Accidentally, or on purpose, you’re not sure, but your heartbeat picks up as the Weave connects you. It’s intimate, like you’ve always known it to be. And now you are sharing it with Tav. You can sense their emotions, you can feel their deepest desires. All they have to do is share them.

There are no words needed as Tav shares a thought of tenderly kissing you, which leads to a more passionate kiss. Your eyes grow wide at the idea. Have they seen through my ruse to bring them over here? But what about the orb? But… oh! What a glorious thought this is! Maybe we can find a way to make this work… but don’t get ahead of yourself, Gale. You don’t want to detonate all over them!

“I wasn’t expecting…” you start. “But it is a pleasant image to be sure! Most pleasant. Most welcome,” you say, as your gaze into their eyes intensifies. But just as quickly as it enveloped you, you begin to feel the Weave evaporate around you, wisping off into nothingness. “Oh, there it goes. How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining.”

You wish you could share more with this lovely creature who stands before you. More of the Weave, more of you, more of those intimate thoughts. But you know that you must call it a night and ponder the future. You have to ask yourself if it’s worth telling Tav how desperately you crave the kisses they envisioned. It wouldn’t be fair to them to start a relationship tonight when you could be gone tomorrow. So instead, you step back and bid them a good night. There would be more discussion in the morning… but tonight, you will sleep with your thoughts full of the lovely auburn-haired bard on the other side of the camp.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale romance #bg3 gale #gale x reader

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potatoplace · 1 month

Text

Omega Needs - chapter 3

Feylin, eventual Feysand

Chapter 2 Chapter 4 Series Masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Words: ~2.1k

Warnings: just A/B/O dynamics, Rhys being a bit of a dick

Author's Note: having lots of fun writing this, I'm gonna try to post on AO3 too if I remember. I enjoyed this chapter, I hope you will too!

18+ only pls

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

“It’s… not what I expected?” Feyre admitted, surprise lacing her tone. “It’s a lot less… ominous then I thought it would look.”

Rhysand laughed, a lighter one than he used back in Spring. “You are probably picturing the other half of my court, but no need to worry my darling Feyre-”

“I’m not your anything!” Feyre interjected, moving a few paces away from him. “Do not act like me being here for a week every month gives you any kind of ownership over me!”

Rhysand held up his hands in surrender, attempting to placate Feyre’s still wired emotions. “I meant no claim in my statement, Feyre. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to where you’ll be staying when you’re here,” he told her, walking in the direction they were facing.

Feyre stared at him for a moment, wondering why he seemed so much more relaxed now that it was just the two of them. She tried to take a step forward to follow him, then remembered that she was still wearing those cauldron-damned heels that were far high and far too thin for her to feel safe in.

Carefully, she lowered herself to her hands then sat on the floor, attempting to reach past the skirts of her dress to untie the shoes.

“Feyre, what are you-?” Rhysand started, turning to face her again. “Oh, Feyre darling, would you like some help taking off your shoes?” He asked in a playful tone, already returning to her side, his citrus and sea scent washing over her in a wave of calm.

Seeing as she still hadn’t managed to get her hands on one of the shoes yet and her hands didn’t seem to want to help now that she’d scented him, Feyre sighed “Yes, please.”

“Good manners too, better than most of the times I’ve seen you.” His voice was full of mirth, but the compliment made her feel more at ease. Her omega was settling down, happy to be acknowledged for something, anything positive. He gently lifted the skirts of her dress, and quickly untied the heels from her feet, his hands lingering for a moment before grabbing the heels and standing up.

He extended his free hand, which Feyre ignored. She managed to get on her knees again, but the weight of the dress and her exhaustion combined was too much for her to get her feet beneath her again. She sighed again, grabbing his hand and letting him help her the rest of the way up, brushing against his chest on accident, getting an even deeper breath of him this time.

Lovely. Refreshing. Safe.

“They really didn’t want you to run away, did they?” Rhysand asked after they started walking.

“Excuse you?” Feyre asked, stunned by the question and her thoughts.

“I just mean that they have you in a dress you can barely walk in from the weight and shape, and shoes that seem a bit dangerous to wear. Especially on grass,” he points out, shaking the heels still in his hand.

Feyre leaned over and snatched them from him. “Impractical is the fashion, it does not mean they want me to be shackled to Spring.”

“Two things can be right at the same time, Feyre,” he said, stopping in front of a door to their right, turning the handle and pushing it open, allowing Feyre to walk in first.

The open wall at the back had silk curtains of different hues of blue covering it and swaying in the slight breeze. The bed was situated against the left wall, also covered in deep blues and purples, and a canopy of fabric above it, with drapes tied up and ready to be let down- perfect for feeling safe in a heat, her omega whispered inside of her, a thought she crushed down deep inside of her.

The bed was lovely though, it looked soft and comfortable and ready for her to take a nap in.

Looking over the rest of the room, Feyre saw a large open archway at back of the right wall, presumably leading towards a bathroom, as well as a vanity with a mirror, a large armoire, and a plush looking chair in the corner. Near the back of the room was a small round table with two chairs, and she knew she wanted to have breakfast or tea there one of her days here and look out at the mountains… she might even daydream about painting them.

Feyre walked further in, wanting to see the bathing room. And she wasn’t disappointed- her mouth fell slightly open, staring at the large tub, nearly the size of a small pond, with an open wall facing towards those very mountains she wanted to admire.

Maybe this was where she would take her tea.

Today, if possible.

She moved back into the main room, back towards where Rhysand was standing in the doorway.

“What do you think?”

“It’s… beautiful,” Feyre admitted reluctantly. She had been prepared to hate her time here. Hate everything here. But so far, everything… even Rhysand has been tolerable. Lovely, even, in the case of her room.

“Thank you, Feyre. I’m glad you like it.”

Feyre chewed her lip, trying to force out the question sitting in her throat.

Violet eyes tracked the movement, his brow cocking a moment later. “Yes, Feyre?”

“Were you…” she paused, embarrassment at the question building. “Were you serious about returning me to Spring if I… gointoheat?” is forced out of her, needing to know the answer.

“Of course, sweet omega. I would never deny you going back to your chosen alpha when in need,” he said reassuringly. Her cheeks flushed at pet name, unable to make herself as mad about it as she should be, since he had taken her away from said alpha and her wedding ceremony itself-

Oh, the anger was coming back. She had been taken from her alpha.

“But you’ll take me from him on my wedding day.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “You were panicking over your wedding day Feyre, shooting all of those emotions right down the bond at me,” he said, waving his left hand at her. “I saved you from having to run away in front of all those guests, from the alpha who still hasn’t claimed you after a year.” His voice quieted at the end, rage pouring into it.

Feyre inhaled sharply, her fear suddenly a gaping wound, she knew it wasn’t right that Tamlin hasn’t marked her yet-

“And while I would love for you to be my sweet, claimed omega, I know that you are very much in love with Tamlin.” Feyre bared her teeth slightly at his words, anger bubbling to the surface over her hurt. “It’s just too bad that there were all those petals everywhere, too bad that your betrothed couldn’t bother to make the ceremony feel safe for you.”

“How dare you!” Feyre yelled, hurling one of the shoes in her hand at his head, striking him on the forehead. She raised the remaining shoe as he opened his mouth again, ready to hit him again if he continued insulting her alpha.

“I have merely stated the truth Feyre.”

The second shoe went flying, disappointingly caught in his hand instead of by his stupid, perfect face. “I did not ask for your warped version of the truth, Rhysand. I also did not ask for you to save me from my wedding.”

He considered her words for a moment, and then the shoe was dissolving into nothing but dust. “And yet I did anyways,” he said with a smirk, turning to leave her room. “Do remember, I gave you a whole year before calling in the bargain. I was simply worried about you, Feyre darling, and decided to pay you a visit.” He picked lint off of his finely tailored suit, before looking Feyre in the eyes again. “I will see you for breakfast in the morning, Feyre. Taking your meals with me will be my one requirement of your time here. Dinner tonight will be on your own, however. Nuala and Cerridwen will be available to help you if you need it-” he paused at her look of confusion. “The shadow wraiths who helped you Under the Mountain,” he explained, and Feyre nodded her head tightly at the reminder.

Rhysand moved towards the door, taking a moment to look back at Feyre, still in her wedding gown. “Would you like me to have them come in now to help you take off that monstrosity of a wedding dress? Or perhaps I could-”

“Rhysand!” Feyre yelled in answer, storming over to the door as fast as she could to slam the door in his face.

Feyre turned the lock on the door, nearly sliding down it before she remembered that she was unable to get up on her own. She trudged over to the vanity, observing herself in the mirror. Her makeup was still alright, but her hair looked worse than before, now a frizzy mess on her head. She began pulling the various pins from her, each one followed by a small sigh of relief. Once she had finished, she shoved the pins into one of the drawers of the vanity, not caring about being clean at the moment.

All she could think about was getting out of this cauldron damned dress and into that amazing tub just a few feet away.

She tried to remember how Alis had put her into this thing, but her memory was of no help to her. She knew it had gone over her head, but she thought Alis had secured it somehow, buttons maybe?

But she couldn’t reach them. No matter how hard she fiddled around, she was stuck in the dress.

If Tamlin were here, this would be so much easier. He would probably rip straight through it and tear it off me, Feyre thought, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. But Tamlin wasn’t here. So she continued trying to free herself.

After a quarter hour struggling with the damn thing, she gave in and reached out through her bond with Rhys.

Could you send Nuala and Cerridwen in to me?

Of course, darling, was his answering, insufferable reply.

A minute later, the two wraiths were at her door, before Feyre remembered she had locked her door, and would take a while to get up alone. “I locked the door and can’t get up, could you come in anyways?” She asked, her voice small.

They passed through the door, becoming corporeal on the other side.

One of them helped her to stand, and the other immediately set about finding the buttons holding her inside of the dress.

They worked incredibly quickly, one twin working on the buttons as the other lifted the layers upon layers off of her body, and within five minutes she was left in just her slip dress and lingerie.

“Thank you,” she smiled at the two.

“Of course, Lady Feyre,” said one of them. “Is there anything else we can do for you before dinner?”

Feyre chewed her lip, then asked “would you get me a pot of tea please? On a tray I can have next to the tub, if that’s possible. Oh, and please call me Feyre.”

“That should be no problem at all, Feyre. We’ll be back in a few minutes, feel free to get comfortable in the bath if you’d like.”

And with that, the quiet and gentle twins left the room, taking the pile of tulle with them.

Feyre looked over to the archway, and like a moth to a flame drifted into the bathroom, landing on the edge of the tub, dragging her fingers through the water. Already the perfect temperature.

Her slip went over her head as she walked back into her room and was thrown onto the large chair near the armoire. She sighed as she slipped off the bra and panties she had been so excited to show her husband fiancé, and tossed those on the chair as well.

Returning to the bath, she tested the water again with one foot, and then stepped in fully, sinking down and submerging herself up to her neck, tilting her head back to wet her hair.

She floated over to the edge of the bath, resting her head along it and looking out into the beautiful, snow capped mountains.

Aside from how annoying Rhysand can be, and how he knows just how to get on her nerves, the Night Court doesn’t seem to be as horrible as Tamlin and Ianthe claimed it would be.

After all, she has a room fit for a queen and a view so spectacular, her fingers are itching to paint for the first time in over a year.

#omega needs #acotar a/b/o #acotar omegaverse #feyre #rhys #feyre x tamlin #feyre x rhys #omega!feyre #alpha!rhys #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar #tato writes

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elena-mayfair · 1 year

Text

Risky decisions

Paring: Paring: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: rating T+/M, strong language, violence, themes of depression, depictions of mental illness Summary: Bruce knew he should keep his distance. He knew that any move he made toward her was the worst possible idea. He could picture every feasible, most probable, far-reaching outcome of his actions. He knew the answer to every if and when. Every possible scenario. He could see every worst possible future. Violence, pain, suffering, shock, disappointment, death, blood on his hands. He could see them all and each of them separately as they projected like a movie tape before his open eyes, intercut frame after frame by the image of his hand over hers. And yet, despite all his knowledge, experience and certainty that he knew, he couldn't find within himself the answer to one question. "What if I'm wrong." Word count: 14.3k Note: Some gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series masterlist

***

"Are you free tonight?" Bruce asked casually as if an idea had unexpectedly crossed his mind.

"I'm sorry, but I already have plans," you replied, and to your surprise realized that your heart wanted to give a quite different answer. "Raincheck?"

"Another one," he smirked, "we didn't get a chance to go to the movies as we had planned."

"Bruce, men are divided between those who seek opportunity and those who can create one," you began flirtatiously, feeling a sudden boost of confidence, "I'm sure you are one of the latter."

He answered nothing. He simply smiled with that signature mysterious half-smile of his, leaned toward you and gently brushed his lips against your cheek. For a split second, the exuding aromatic scent of his fragrance surrounded you. Spices, citrus, leather and something sweet that lingered close to his skin. You imagined him in a black cashmere sweater, sitting with a book by the fireplace, sipping on a glass of whiskey delighted by the quietly resounding jazz. It was a good image, warm and comforting, you wanted to save it in your memory to one day relive in reality.

"Thank you," his low, husky voice snapped you out of your daydreams, "I can't remember the last time I had such a wonderful time."

Some part of you wanted to defuse the tension with a witty joke, a snappy retort, a self-deprecating slight, but when you glanced into the ocean depths of his blue eyes all you could do was to respond with the same.

"I thank you," you replied softly, "see you soon?"

"See you soon."

"Soon" was about to come earlier than you expected, but at that moment you didn't realize it. A few minutes after noon you closed your apartment door behind you, threw your suitcase into a corner, and sat at the window with a freshly brewed mug of coffee. You longed for the touch of his lips that still lingered on your cheek to last, along with the scent of his perfume that still floated around you. You gazed at the cloudy gray Gotham sky and drifted into dreams. These past three days were like a journey through the most beautiful fairy tale, even if at times the vibrant magic got covered by a shadow of darkness. With him, even the darkness did not appear so dark, taking on a warm enveloping shade instead. Charming and mysterious, full of contradictions, confident, noble, a gentleman in every way, that's what he was, and you wished that "soon" would come as soon as possible.

"I have a date with Jonathan…" your consciousness broke suddenly through the languor. You reached for the phone, fighting the urge to cancel. It didn't feel right, it didn't feel right to Jonathan but especially to Bruce. Perhaps Jonathan did say he liked you, perhaps Bruce never did, but Bruce's behavior conveyed more than any of Jonathan's words. You shifted your gaze to a beautiful black A-line floor-length dress with lace shoulders and a lace insert on the back and sighed with resignation. In your wildest dreams, you never imagined that a weekend in Metropolis would mess with your head like this.

"I can't cancel, it just isn't right," you decided then impulsively opened the Twitter app. The smile disappeared from your face as quickly as the feed refreshed.

"Unfortunately I'm afraid we won't avoid controversial headlines," Bruce's voice sounded in your head as your feed filled with photos from TechX most of which featured smiling faces, his and yours. Photos from the red carpet that captured perfectly his hand on your waist, photos of your smiling and slightly embarrassed face as he leaned toward you whispering words of encouragement in your ear, photos that captured his sparkling eyes directed toward you as he complimented you, your beaming smile as you walked with him proudly with your hand placed on his forearm. It was all there, frozen in frames and shots, cropped with variations of the question, "Who is billionaire Bruce Wayne's new girlfriend?" With a trembling heart, you expanded the comments under one of the posts, there were hundreds of them.

Does anyone know who she is? I need an answer asap #curious #brucewaynegirlfriend #brucewayne #techx They look kinda cute #brucewayneinlove #brucewayne Adorable Stunning I wish to be her He deserves better #brucewayne #wayne #brucewaynegirlfriend Is she wearing a dress from Zara? If H&M and Tom Ford made a collab #brucewaynedesrevesbetter Cheap skunk #brucewaynedesrevesbetter Wish he would have go back with Charlotte. They were perfect together #charlotteandbrcue4ever She's so cute omg I'm dying!!! #brucewayne #wayne #brucewaynegirlfriend Need name now! #brucewayne #wayne #brucewaynegirlfriend I would tap that! I look at this and all I want is to become a new villain in Gotham. He's way out of her league. Mommy please seat on my face #BruceWayne could destroy my body and my life and all I'd say is "does tomorrow work for you too?" I would let her sit on my face until I die from suffocation. It would be beautiful death. Whore! BRING VANESSA BACK!!! #bucenessa4ever Gender swapped beauty and the beast They look so in love!!! I'm loving this!!! He deserves love!!! #brucewayne #wayne #brucewaynegirlfriend You should know better… Is it just me or does she look like Killer Crock did a number on her? Oh my god I am so jealous!!! #brucewayne #wayne #brucewaynegirlfriend He definitely exudes big dick energy #wayne She looks like a girl next door. The kind you want to watch from behind a curtain, in the dark room, with lube nearby.

It was too much. You locked the screen with rage and threw the phone on the bed. Your heart pounded in your chest and blood pulsed in your temples. "Fucking assholes!!! Fucking assholes on fucking Twitter!!!!" you shouted furiously trying to swallow the tears rushing into your eyes. Wonderland was gone. Reality had returned. And you hated it.

Bruce hoped to slip into the mansion unnoticed. He had no desire for Dick's quasi-innocent teases, Alfred's controlled curiosity, Tim's knowing glances, or Damian's clearly judgmental stares. All he wanted to do was slip into his bedroom, change his clothes, head to the cave and make up for the past three days. He tried at all costs to maintain a modicum of privacy, and although he usually succeeded now he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to avoid his boys. How was he supposed to maintain privacy in a house full of detectives he himself had trained.

"Father, we need to talk," Damian greeted him with a stern look as he entered the main hall and set down his suitcase. Hands crossed over his chest indicated his determination.

"Not now, Damian. I have work to do," he replied, avoiding his son's scrutiny.

"We did the work, Father. You just have to read the report. I'll admit that in your absence Todd has proved to be an invaluable asset," he didn't take his eyes off him, "I shouldn't be surprised. After all, you trained him."

"Jason was here?"

"You know very well that Jason is always here when you're out of town so don't act surprised," despite his young age and small stature he exuded confidence, "Father, do we have reason for concern?"

"Concern about what?" Bruce played confused.

"Well I probably don't need to remind you that most of the women you've associated with in the past have been on the wrong side of the law," Damian pointed out gruffly, "you told us that this whole affair is driven by the observation and investigation."

"And what makes you think otherwise," Bruce smiled softly, bending down to look his son in the eye.

"The photos that are circulating the Internet reveal a very different story."

"Damian, I assure you that you have nothing to be worried about," he put a hand on his shoulder, "I appreciate your concern, but your suspicions are absurd."

"Father…" Damian began but Bruce did not let him finish.

"Clark and Jon will visit us next Sunday," even though Damian tried to feign indifference Bruce could see a glint of joy in his son's eyes. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he considered Superman's son a friend, "I was hoping it would make you happy."

"It will be a nice change from the company of Grayson and Drake," Damian grunted, "but you're avoiding the subject."

"Because there's nothing to talk about," Bruce denied stubbornly, "and now if you'll excuse me, I really need to get on with my work."

With a cigarette in one hand and a phone in the other, you stared at Jonathan's name displayed on the screen. You hadn't heard a word from him in two days, and the evening was approaching fast. You inhaled deeply and let the smoke soothe your nerves. You weren't proud of your returning habit, but you desperately needed to calm down and alcohol wasn't out of the question. You knew it was appropriate to call but anxiety prevented you from making such a bold move. The certainty that he had also seen the photos made your stomach curl and your throat tighten with a strangling choke. Judgment by strangers on social media was one thing, but you weren't ready for judgment from him. With a cigarette hung at your lips, you tapped a simple short message.

Are we still up for tonight?

The answer came a moment later. Equally short and simple, leaving you unable to decrypt his emotions.

Sure we are. I'll pick you up at seven.

The date wasn't looking promising. "A date," as he called it, under your pressure. "It didn't come from him, he invited me there as a friend, I was the one who pushed. Why did I push?" the thoughts piled up in your head. Part of you wanted to move as far away from the idea of a date as possible while the other was pulling toward it with uncontrollable force. After all, it was Jonathan who was always there for you when you needed him, it was Jonathan who answered your calls in the middle of the night, calmed your fears, listened to you, tried to help you, Jonathan not Bruce.

"Bruce busted out the hotel room door because I had a bad dream…"

You lit another cigarette and took a drag.

"Maybe Bruce would have done all this too if he knew? Bruce doesn't push, Bruce understands without words…he is so caring…so understanding…" you stared into space, "Bruce is completely out of my league. Unattainable. Why the fuck am I even thinking about this?" anger stirred within you again, "I wouldn't want to be here with anyone else right now…" you recalled his words and cursed viciously. "Would I even want to be with him? Constantly judged, constantly trending, zero privacy…." and even though your head said one thing your heart strongly disagreed, "oh for fuck sake!!! I have to come down to earth! Jonathan is here, Jonathan is just a regular good guy who likes me and cares about me!"

"Jonathan was in Arkham…" a quiet voice of doubt spoke up from the depths of your consciousness, "Jonathan was in Harleen's hidden office. He was looking for something. Batman was clearly suspicious of him. Batman…"

The thought was now completely unnecessary to you and yet once it appeared in your mind it surrounded all the others with a black cloak drowning them all out. You dimly looked out the window at the darkening sky. You could not help but wonder where he was now? Who was he? What was he doing? Was he chasing criminals? Or was he conducting some kind of investigation?

"Batman would know what to do and who to trust…"

Bruce checked his watch nervously, trying to form in his head a schedule for the evening. The gala was starting at eight o'clock in the evening, which would give him four hours of operation time. He could use it to re-analyze the results of the research boys had conducted, meet with Gordon which was well overdue, or take a breather and prepare for the gala. The autumn season provided the benefit of an earlier dusk, and the earlier dusk gave him the cover he needed. Sitting at the kitchen table, in Alfred's quiet company, he swiped mindlessly over the tablet screen while his thoughts kept drifting back to the scent of jasmine and vanilla that surrounded him with soothing warmth as they said their goodbyes.

"Pointless…" he muttered under his breath chastising himself for his indecisiveness.

"Young masters were very pleased with the results of the study and what they were able to achieve," Alfred's attentive ear caught the comment.

"That's not what I'm talking about, Alfred," Bruce corrected himself, "the lab results are truly insightful. They did a remarkable job! We may not know everything but we are one step closer. We have a correlation between the pills and most of the victims. The only thing we're missing is a connection with Juliet Cambell and her daughter…"

"Maybe it's not the same perpetrator after all?

"I'm sure these cases are connected," Bruce mused for a moment, "Damian told me that Jason was in the house. That he was helping with the investigation."

"Master Jason showed up at the house on Saturday morning," Alfred replied softly, "he looked healthy and had everything under control."

"Good…"

"Master Bruce, you are avoiding the problem and therefore its solution," irritation crept into Alfred's controlled voice, "why are you able to talk to each other when you are working and not quietly at home?"

"Al…"

"You raised that boy Bruce! You can't push the conflict aside hoping it will resolve itself! I know you care about him and he cares about you too. "

"I'm not hoping for that…" Bruce interrupted him gently, "Jason has to come to the point where he wants to talk about it himself. If I pressure him he will only lash out and all the progress we have made will be lost. I know something about this…" he smiled faintly remembering his own behavior, "Dick has his eye on him, Jason trusts him. We'll deal with the rest when Jason is ready for it," he locked the tablet screen, finished his coffee and got up from the table.

"I prepared the tuxedo as requested," Alfred stated abandoning his attempt to continue the topic.

"Thank you Al, but the tuxedo will come later."

"What are you planning?"

"I have to see Gordon."

The black cloudy sky over Gotham lit up with a bright bat-symbol as if in response to your contemplation. For a moment you couldn't help but feel as if Gotham heard you, listened to your thoughts, listened to your worries, and in response decided to lighten the darkness that surrounded you a bit. Batman was busy which could only mean growing terror. Still, the symbol did not bring fright as it did just a few months ago. It brought a sense of peace, of reassurance. Whatever was happening, Batman was there, whatever would happen next you had the transmitter he handed you. Whatever happened…

"Could I trust him?" the thought came suddenly, "I have to trust someone."

The scattered puzzle pieces you called memories slowly began to come together, and at their center stood Lex Luthor. He had done something to you, of that you were sure. Something that created gaps in your memory, something that created the nightmarish images that haunted you during therapy. Perhaps not by himself, perhaps not with his own hands, but you were convinced that on his orders. You were certain that you were not the only one.

How were you to discover something that had been erased from your memory. How were you supposed to go up against one of the most powerful men in the world? Compared to him, you were a nobody, powerless, hopeless, a mere insignificant voice that could be drowned out at the snap of a finger.

"Bruce is powerful when compared to him…" you quickly pushed that thought away from you. Bruce couldn't know, you couldn't tell him, as a matter of fact, you didn't even quite know what you were supposed to tell him.

The images in your head, the facts from reality slowly pieced together but still were not enough. You continued to be in darkness. You still didn't know. You could only guess. You needed help.

"What about Jonathan?" you wondered for a moment as you slipped the beautiful black gown over your shoulders.

An implacable, infinite blackness enveloped your thoughts and from its depths a quiet, low voice rang out, piercing through your every other thought. A voice that said, "be careful…something is not quite what it seems."

Gordon didn't have to wait long to meet his masked friend. Barely a few minutes after he turned on the signal Batman landed softly on the roof of the GCPD building. A stoic, black figure hidden under a black cape that seemed to form a unity with the shadows of the night.

"Did you teleport or what?" Gordon chuckled as he lit a cigarette.

"I was on my way," Batman replied in a low voice.

"Good to see you back in Gotham. Don't get me wrong, working with Nightwing and Robin is definitely more enjoyable than working with you, but still, I'm glad you're back. Honestly, I don't know how you and Nightwing…" he stopped his words in time to refrain from breaking an unwritten rule they had. He pretended not to know who Batman and his team were, and Batman pretended not to know that Gordon knew. "Right, anyways! This morning we apprehended a woman who, unless my hunch is wrong, is another victim of this maniac. Which means we have a living witness."

"She's alive?"

"Yes, but I don't know how useful it will be for us," Gordon sighed heavily and rubbed his tired eyes, "you'd better come with me and see for yourself." He put out his cigarette and headed inside the police station. Batman followed him.

His presence at the police station always generated extremely different reactions. Some sighed loudly in disbelief, smiling, even expressing gratification at his presence, others leaned out from behind their monitors, looked out from their offices to see him, others growled not-so-discreetly calling him a "freak," informing him that "this is a police building." He ignored them all as effectively as Gordon, who only occasionally would send an angry glance or issue a strict order. An order they reluctantly obeyed.

The door to the Holding Cells wing guarded by two heavy-armed police officers was located across from the other one, which Batman knew all too well. Maximum Security in the east wing was a place designated to hold Gotham's most dangerous criminals before their transport to Arkham, Blackgate or, in extreme cases, Belle Reve. Currently unguarded by anyone, it was empty, with a cell prepared for the one whom Batman planned to capture soon. At least that's what he hoped.

The officers wordlessly moved away from the door as soon as Batman and Gordon approached. The young policewoman, far too young, in Batman's opinion, to stand guard in such a place, smiled discreetly as if grateful for his presence.

"What's the status?" Gordon asked dryly.

"It's quiet, commissioner," an older police officer began the report, "the sedatives are still working."

That was all Gordon needed to know. Without a word, he opened the door and he and Batman walked into the wing.

"We had to give her a large dose of sedatives for her own safety," he began the explanation not waiting for Batman's question, "we got a call from civilians, a possible suicide on Penitence Bridge. According to the report, the woman was seen in several different places in Drescher, scared, lost, running away in panic from anyone who tried to approach her. When we arrived at the scene, paramedics tried to calm her down and detain her. Batman…" Gordon stopped in mid-sentence as they approached the cell, "she was petrified."

"Why isn't she in the hospital?"

"She's a witness," Gordon stated, "I'm sure that whatever induced the frightened state is the same substance that caused the death of Juliet Cambell and her daughter."

"Toxicology?"

"We have ruled out the use of drugs," Gordon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of red liquid, "taken thirty minutes ago. I thought you might find it useful."

Batman tucked the vial into his belt pocket and silently opened the cell door to examine the woman more closely. She was lying unconscious, sedated, while her arms and legs were tied to the bed with straps.

"It's for her and our safety," Gordon commented as he followed with his eyes after Batman.

"Scratches, abrasions, tattered clothes on her arm, dirt and moisture on her knees and thighs…" Batman traced his eyes over her body, "she was running away. She must have fallen over more than once." He gently took her arm turning it towards himself, "the only punctures fresh, from the blood draw and sedation…" He ran his eyes over her neck, pushing back her hair in color "…the same as hers."

"History of mental illness? Treatment? Relationship to previous victims?" he asked Gordon not stopping his examination.

"Funny you should ask," Gordon sneered grimly, "our witness here is Sarah Walters, Jeremy Walters' older sister. So I can answer 'yes' to all three questions, the first two of which remain as conjecture. No recorded or documented psychiatric treatment."

Batman did not comment immediately. He gently lifted her eyelid and shone a flashlight into her eyes then took two steps back to examine her whole. Height, body build, hair color, eye color….

"Just like…" he suppressed the surging fear, "I don't believe in coincidences Gordon. Neither do you," he stated quietly, "I have reason to believe that all the victims with the exception of Juliet Cambell and the suicide from the bank robbery had contact with Doctor Jonathan Crane."

"The head of Eliot Memorial psychiatric ward?"

"Conjecture, I have no evidence to back it up. Yet."

"If it's true Sarah Walters may also have had contact with him…" Gordon looked at her unconscious body contemplating, "and if she indeed had it would mean that Juliet Cambell and her daughter…"

"Inform me if you learn anything," Batman instructed, "hopefully when she wakes up she'll be able to talk."

"Don't you want to be around for the interrogation?"

"I don't know if I'll be able to but I'll send someone," Batman stated, "I need to test a sample of her blood and start working on an antidote. I'm sure this won't be the last case like this we see."

***

Johnatan had it all figured out. Every last detail of the approaching evening carefully analyzed and planned including all possible unwanted deviations. He had been preparing for many weeks, working for days and nights, planning every single step, each and every move, carefully and with extreme care. As he put on his shirt and jacket, he ran in his mind through every point of the night ahead, as he tightened his tie he analyzed once again every uncertainty, on the way to his car he methodically ticked off every last checkbox of the plan. He had sacrificed too much, taken too many risks, the plan had to succeed and nothing could stand in his way.

At seven fifteen in the evening a black BMW parked on the side of the road in front of your building. You observed it for a while, hidden behind a curtain, waiting for the driver, who should have gotten out of the car, but did not. Instead, a short message popped up on your phone screen.

I'm waiting downstairs.

Anxiety, suspicion, suddenly arose, seemingly without reason. You quickly pushed away the unwanted thoughts, which immediately began to compare this situation with the one from two days ago. This didn't seem right. You took one last glimpse at your reflection in the mirror, brought the most charming smile to your face, and with the intention of enjoying the evening once again left your apartment.

Yet, with each stair down, the positive thoughts seemed to disappear. With each stair, they grew heavier and more anxious. Only three days ago, you were impatient to get an answer to the question that tormented you and brought you no peace. Now, even though your excited heart was beating restlessly, thoughts and instinct seemed to repress it, seemed to take over, to drive out the excitement to replace it with anxiety. Now, you regretted asking the question.

"Nothing happened, though," you tried to explain to yourself, "what am I even thinking about?" you tried to argue. And yet, two and a half days spent in the company of Bruce had changed so much. Just two days were enough for you to see that maybe the world and life didn't always have to be so dark.

Jonathan watched her as she left the building. Beautiful, elegant, dressed in black satin and lace that seemed to follow her like a shadow of the night itself. To his eyes she was like a mistress of darkness, powerful without knowing it, tempting without trying, dangerous if she wanted to be, fascinating. He saw it all in her, behind the facade of uncertainty, behind the guise of innocence, with the feigned persona behind which she so carefully tried to hide. He saw it in her eyes when anger ignited her blood, he saw it in her gestures when rage overwhelmed her thoughts, he heard it in her unspoken words when she pushed hard to contain her hatred. He saw it all and wished to get it out of her. But she played her part to perfection. The grace with which she walked down the stairs gently lifting her dress, the look that glanced from under her windswept hair, made a part of him feel like turning back. To take her far away from here, to lock her away from the world, to keep her only to himself. As for the smell with which his car filled as soon as she closed the door behind her, made him eager to rip off her dress and devour her in a rapture of passion. He couldn't. He had given up too much already, risked too much, he couldn't back down.

"Was it for me that you dressed up like that?" he smirked the moment their eyes finally met.

"You said it was a formal gala to which Gotham's scientific elite was invited. I didn't want to stand out from the crowd," sharp as ever, she refused to be embarrassed.

"You chose the wrong dress, then," he swept his eyes over her shamelessly.

"Is it too much?"

"Do you really care?"

"A bit," she smiled that innocent smile of hers, the one he thought didn't quite fit her, then added, "but now it's probably too late to change. So I'll choose to take it as a compliment and bear the consequences of my decisions."

"And rightly so," he smiled slyly and turned on the engine, "I hope you have some energy left after a busy weekend in Metropolis. It's going to be a very interesting evening."

In the cool cave below Wayne Manor, everyone had gathered, for it was not often that Bruce called for a briefing before a patrol. Everyone suit up, everyone ready to take on the task that would be given to them. They were a team, they worked as a team, but he had the final word. Bruce was the only one not wearing a suit. Dressed in an elegant black tuxedo, he stood in front of the computer, as if afraid of the creases that sitting in the chair would inevitably cause. He silently stared at the computer screen and waited for the conversations to finally quiet down so he could begin.

"Sarah Walters, the victim restrained this morning," he began quietly, displaying the case file on the computer, "the thirteenth victim, of a psychopath we have so far been unable to identify or apprehend," a long pause brought a silent tension to the team, "thirteen victims. Thirteen unclosed cases, between which the connections are thin."

"We will find him," Dick tried to defuse the tension. To no avail.

"As Dick has surely managed to tell you, I have reason to believe that Doctor Jonathan Crane is involved in this case," Bruce continued, "I don't know to what extent."

"Where did this supposition come from? Crane is a respected psychiatrist, highly regarded in his field," Barbara interjected the question, "I did some research on him. An impressive career, outstanding achievements, numerous scientific publications."

"On what subject?" Bruce asked.

"Phobias, PTSD, panic disorders, substance-induced anxiety disorder…" she stopped listing, "I see your point."

"Even you couldn't link it to the attacks without solid evidence," Jason muttered. He remained at a distance the entire time but listened intently.

"True," Bruce only reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of green pills, "exactly the same ones Tim found in Marc Jacobs' house. You all know the results of the analysis."

"They found them with the victim?" Tim asked, "the same composition, the same chemical compounds?"

"The same composition. Exactly the same pills," Bruce replied evasively giving himself a chance to avoid answering questions he didn't want to answer, "the pills connect unquestionably to nine of the thirteen victims. But given the nature of the latter, the conclusions are self-evident. The perpetrator is the same. Only his methods are evolving."

"He's just getting started…" Barbara sighed quietly.

"We'll stop him before he starts," Dick's hand twitched as if he wanted to embrace her and provide comfort.

"Batgirl," Bruce turned to her, "the victim is currently being sedated in police custody. You and Red Hood will interview her as soon as she wakes up. Commissioner Gordon will keep us informed."

"Bruce…" Barbara began, trying to back away from a mission that required her to work in close contact with her own father. Both of them pretended to have no idea about her costumed alter ego; she didn't want to deliberately strain their unspoken agreement.

"I need you on this one," Bruce interrupted her, "we don't know what she went through or what happened to her. Your sensitivity and gentle approach is invaluable here."

Barbara only nodded, observing Dick's surprised reaction to unusual paring out of the corner of her eye. Bruce noticed it too but ignored it and continued.

"Red Robin," he turned to Tim, "to you and Damian I entrust the city partol. If anything happens, anything that would require our involvement, don't try to prove something to yourselves."

"You got this," they both nodded.

"I'll take care of Crane."

"What about me?" Dick finally asked, " you want me on computer duty?"

"You need a change of clothes," Bruce smirked mischievously, "I believe you'll find a tuxedo prepared in your bedroom."

"You shitting me?! That is so not fair! Why do I have to go!" a grimace of disappointment twisted his face.

"I believe it is your turn," Tim pointed out with a wicked grin on his face.

"Not true! Now it's Damian's turn!"

"You wish!" Damian snorted, laughing as well, "I was forced to the Charity Ball in July!"

"Hood?!" he looked desperately at his brother.

"Forget it," Jason huffed.

"Barbs?"

"My talents are needed elsewhere," she smiled innocently, "besides, your agreements on public appearances don't apply to me," she rightly pointed out.

"Come on, Bruce!!! I hate this stuff!"

"Navy blue as far as I could see was Alfred's choice."

"But I'm already suited up!"

"You have 30 minutes to change and be ready to go," Bruce's tone ended the discussion, "everyone knows what to do. We have an intense night ahead of us," he turned away from them, took his jacket from the back of his chair getting ready to leave, but an unwanted question stopped him in mid-motion.

"You still haven't told us where you found the pills and what led you to put Crane in connection with the case," Jason pointed out. Everyone thought the same thing, but they knew Bruce well enough to know that if he's not talking about something, questions won't change it.

Bruce only looked at Jason with a stone face, and only his gaze betrayed a shadow of emotion. Conflict fought within him like a storm, an instant analysis of the situation, an immediate conclusion, a firm decision followed by hanging the jacket back on the chair and settling heavily in the armchair.

"I found them in Y/N's possession," he replied in a stern voice measuring himself against Jason's softening gaze, "I'm also convinced that the nightmare she experienced on Friday night was induced by them," perplexed by his sincerity everyone remained silent, only Jason dared to ask further.

"She again," he scoffed quietly, "I'm beginning to think that problems find her on their own. Maybe she told you how she came into their possession?"

"She did," Bruce had no intention of lying. He might sometimes deliberately omit certain things but when asked directly, he never lied. That's not what he taught them. "I don't know the details, and I haven't insisted on them, but it turns out that Doctor Crane has been helping her for some time. She didn't say explicitly that she got it from him, but the conclusion seems logical."

"It makes sense," Jason nodded in agreement, his voice sounding much softer than it did moments ago, "will you tell us what happened in Metropolis? You can skip the details."

And so he did.

***

Long years ago, Bruce established a rule in the family. Once in a while, each of the boys appeared with him in public at formal events. This routine was intended primarily, to maintain their secret identity, but also to maintain the public image of both Bruce and his sons. Over time, the family grew and their public presence rotated, with the exception of two events a year, the Wayne Foundation Christmas Gala and his birthday party at which they all usually appeared. One of the many measures they used to keep their double life a secret, admittedly who would have guessed that the obscenely wealthy CEO of Wayne Enterprises and his sons spent their nights as masked crime fighting vigilantes in Gotham.

Dick understood the established rule very well and over the years had grown accustomed to his role in the spotlight, although that didn't change the fact that he hated it more than a drenched suit on a winter night. Although he retained his family name, Gotham's elite treated him as Wayne and observed him with the expectations and judgment the name carried. Still, years of practice, learned mechanisms that came as easily to him as a quadruple backflip, made him bury his resentment deep in the pocket of his navy blue tuxedo, bringing to his face the charming smile that accompanied polite answers to all unsolicited questions.

"Yes, I graduated law from Hudson University and did an additional major in psychology at GU," he answered politely when asked by someone whose name he should remember.

"Oh I currently live in Blüdhaven but it's hard to stay away from Gotham for long. This is my home. So I divide my time a little here and a little here," he smiled brightly.

"Children! Oh no no no no… maybe one day," he attempted to contain his amusement pretending to sip champagne.

"To be honest, I don't have an opinion on the direction Wayne Tech is taking. These are matters that my younger brother Tim is much more interested in," he retreated from the uncomfortable conversation.

Their presence has always sparked general interest. No matter how many years passed, no matter how many events they appeared at, no matter how many times he answered the same question, wherever Bruce was, interest followed. However, this time, to Dick's undisguised delight, most of the attention was focused entirely on Bruce. Photos from TechX circulated the Internet at lightning speed, and Gotham's high class women didn't wait long to surround him with the intention of extracting information from him. It may have been a scientific society Gala designed to celebrate the most brilliant minds, the most outstanding achievements, and the hardest work, but underneath every Gala was a social event where the elite mingled, exchanged gossip, drank, danced, and enjoyed a rich, privileged life.

"If they keep obsessing over you like this you'll never make it to Crane," Dick grinned when he finally managed to drag Bruce away under a contrived pretext, "I can't remember the last time you made such a social fuss."

"Natascha Patenko," Bruce muttered letting his socialite mask drop for a moment.

"Ah yes! Taking the entire Russian ballet on a cruise the day before a performance has that effect!"

"Do you see Crane anywhere?" Bruce scanned through the guests seated at lavishly set tables shimmering with silverware and crystals, swept his eyes around the bar area where the most expensive spirits poured endlessly, peered through the twirling couples on the dance floor.

"You're worried about her," Dick stated completely ignoring Bruce's question.

"He should be here."

"She gives the impression of a smart woman, she can handle a little heat."

"You said he was on the invite list."

"Besides, the subject will die down soon. The buzz will last two weeks tops, then they'll move on to the new hot gossip."

"Dick!" Bruce finally pulled his gaze away from the crowd and looked at him angrily, "we have work to do."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help!"

"Then focus on Crane," his eyes darkened.

"There he is!" Dick's glance ran over Bruce's shoulder straight toward one of the tables, "holy shit…"

Jonathan knew you were sure of it. You could see it in the way he surreptitiously scanned his surroundings, in the tone of his voice, in the way the green of his eyes shone angrily every time you smiled kindly at someone. A mixture of anger and possessiveness simmered beneath the surface of his controlled demeanor.

"Are you looking for someone?" you asked softly when his glance once again traveled past you.

"No, why?"

"You're looking around all the time," you pointed out, "so you're either looking for someone or avoiding me."

"Why would I avoid you?" he scoffed, "we're here together. We have a beautiful evening ahead of us. Maybe not as beautiful as the ones you spent in Metropolis, but beautiful nonetheless."

"If you have something to tell me then tell me," you prompted gently, trying to control the anger that was also rising in you.

"If I had something to tell you, I would tell you."

"I can see that you are angry."

"Angry?" the green eyes blazed angrily, "angry? No. I'm not angry. Disappointed more."

"Jonathan…"

"There is nothing to talk about Y/N," he interrupted you, "you are an adult, a free woman who makes her own decisions. One of them was the decision not to tell me you were going to Metropolis with Bruce Wayne."

"I work for him, that was…" you didn't want to explain yourself but you couldn't leave it at that

"If you're about to tell me it was a business trip then save it," he interrupted you again, "I don't resent the fact that you went with him. As I said, your life, your decisions. However, I do resent the fact that you chose not to tell me. That you concealed this detail."

"And what does it matter!" you chuckled in a loud whisper, blessing the orchestra that drowned your conversation.

"It makes me wonder…" he leaned over the table reducing the distance between you, "how many things have you concealed, thinking they don't matter. How many details you left out, how many threads you considered irrelevant. It seems that lies come so easily to you. You pretend to be open, and you lie incessantly."

"Don't psychoanalyze me," you snarled annoyed.

"Can't help it," he smirked but it wasn't a charming smile, "we're talking about trust, I'm offering you my time, attention, support both professionally and privately, help, and you can't bring yourself to be honest.

"And now you are guilt-tripping me…"

"That's how you perceive it," he replied immediately, "I'm pointing out the facts to you. You perceive them as guilt tripping which only means that your subconscious sees it that way."

"I don't!" you denied, "there is no guilty conscience. I had a wonderful time in Metropolis and I have absolutely nothing to regret. It's not my fault that you suddenly decided to act like a jealous boyfriend!"

"Do not project your desires onto my behavior," green glowed dangerously, "I'm not talking about us just the fact that you lie all the time."

"Bitch please," you scoffed, "two days ago you couldn't give me an answer as to what is between us, and now that you saw me in the company of Bruce you suddenly try to change the whole narrative. Maybe if you had been open with me instead of playing mind games we wouldn't be having this conversation now!"

"I'm not playing mind games with you."

"Maybe my head is fucked but I am not stupid!" you snapped, "what was in those pills that you gave me?!" without thinking you shot the question catching him off guard.

"Where did that came from!" he frowned.

"What was in those pills?" you repeated the question, "I may not be telling you everything but I trusted you. I didn't question anything. So answer me."

"A mixture of herbs to calm your nerves and sleep peacefully," he replied calmly.

"If that's so, then why did I have nightmares because of them?" you quipped, "horrible nightmares from which I couldn't wake up! Nightmares as intense almost as those visions during the last therapy?"

"Side effect," he replied gently placing his hand on yours, "why didn't you tell me earlier? Another thing you withheld from me. Why?" you didn't answer so he continued, "if you had told me earlier that you had such a reaction I would have reacted right away. You chose not to, by doing so you, harming only yourself."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologize to me," he smiled softly, "but promise me please, truly promise that you will stop hiding things from me. Lies and secrets are not a good foundation for building a relationship."

"You meant to say friendship," you smirked.

"I know what I wanted to say."

Bruce knew he should keep his distance. He knew that any move he made toward her was the worst possible idea. He could picture every feasible, most probable, far-reaching outcome of his actions. He knew the answer to every if and when. Every possible scenario. He could see every worst possible future. Violence, pain, suffering, shock, disappointment, death, blood on his hands. He could see them all and each of them separately as they projected like a movie tape before his open eyes, intercut frame after frame by the image of his hand over hers. And yet, despite all his knowledge, experience and certainty that he knew, he couldn't find within himself the answer to one question. "What if I'm wrong."

"Stay here," he turned quietly to Dick without taking his eyes off Y/N and Crane. Something didn't sit right with him. Every time Y/N looked away, Crane glanced at his watch or phone screen, discreetly yet nervously, only to return to the conversation a split second later. "Watch him from a distance," he ordered.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm about to find out if I'm wrong."

As he approached them with a calm, confident step, he saw how close they were to each other. Closer than he expected. He saw the heated conversation, the angry glances, the cynical smiles. Crane attacked, subtly, stealthily, while she defended herself, only to boldly attack a moment later, directly, without warning. He saw anger in her eyes and surprise in his. He saw the moment when surprise turned into calculated, measured concern. He saw the movement of his lips and understood the words without having to hear them. He was manipulating her. So skillfully that she succumbed to him unaware of his tactics. Her eyes softened with every lie he uttered, her face brightened with every minute in which his hand rested on hers. Her anger gave way to humility, her attack turned into an apology, as Crane continued to weave his manipulations. With each step toward them, the anger grew stronger within him. Anger at the scene he was observing. Anger at her for not realizing the danger she was in. Anger at the fact that by some miracle she was always in the middle of danger. Anger at himself for not inviting her here sooner, for failing to predict this scenario. The anger burned stronger and stronger, with each passing moment fueled by a new emotion, jealousy.

Fragments of a hushed conversation began to reach his ears. The scent of her perfume reached his senses when she glanced up at him and for a moment their eyes met. For a split second, the world seemed to stop. Her eyes shone brightly caught in his while her face lit up with a sincere smile as she slipped her hand out of Crane's grasp.

"Bruce!" she greeted him brightly and for a brief moment he indulged the idea of her being naturally brilliant at this game which, he called life.

"Y/N! Fancy that!" he greeted her, loudly announcing his presence.

"Fancy that…" she repeated with a hint of disbelief in her voice, "I actually should expect you to be here. After all, the gala is named after your family."

"There's no denying it," he replied with a smile unsure of whether she saw through the mask of socialite he had adopted, "Thomas Wayne was my father."

"A renowned surgeon in scientific circles and to the people of Gotham a philanthropist and benefactor," Crane inserted himself into the conversation, "to this day everyone remembers and appreciates his contributions to the city Mister Wayne."

"Ah Bruce, meet Jonathan Crane," although it wasn't necessary Y/N maintained courtesy, "Jonathan, Bruce Wayne."

"It's hard not to know who you are," Crane joked dryly as he shook his hand, "Y/N has told me all about you."

"I certainly hope not," Bruce replied in a vague tone. "So let's put a couple tables together!" it sounded more like a statement than a suggestion.

"I'm not sure they'll let us," Crane expressed his doubt.

"Oh they should," Bruce smirked confidently, "I own the place."

It took only one hand gesture, one look, and reality once again shifted to match Bruce Wayne's will.

"So, Doctor Crane, Y/N said a lot of good things about you," Bruce began the conversation as he sat down nonchalantly in a chair and accepted a glass of whiskey from the waiter, "and I, for my part, have also heard and read nothing but positives. Your work on fear control was particularly interesting."

"Are you interested in psychiatry Mister Wayne?" Crane asked startled.

"Not particularly, but as a board member granting annual research funds, I have come across your work once or twice," Bruce admitted casually, "besides, my son Richard studied psychology at Gotham University. You studied there too, didn't you?"

"That's true," Crane nodded, "I spent the best years of my youth there."

"And if my memory doesn't fail me you also taught for a short time."

"That's also true."

"Why aren't you teaching anymore? Working with young people and tempering their bright minds was not to your liking?"

"We had differences of opinion with some professors about the direction of the research I was doing," Crane replied dryly, "you know a lot for a man who is not interested in psychiatry," the change in his tone of voice did not escape Bruce's attention.

"The Wayne Foundation provides annual grants to both Gotham University and Mercy General, Eliot Memorial Hospitals and minor clinics," Bruce countered with a touch of well-balanced arrogance, "I like to know where that money is going."

"You are continuing your father's legacy," Crane commented, "your father was friends with Roger Elliot, after whom the hospital was named, wasn't he?"

"Friend is a big word. They were both surgeons and worked together. But that was a long time ago."

"Yes, it's tragic what happened to them," Bruce saw through Crane's artificial sympathy, "to both of them. It's truly terrible what happens to good people in Gotham."

"We all know Gotham is a dangerous city. But let's hope it doesn't stay that way."

"Oh yeah! I read about the WayneTech plans you announced on TechX! Impressive!"

"News travels fast," Bruce chuckled and, pretending to reach for his phone, discreetly glanced at Y/N. She looked upset and her usually sparkling eyes clouded with sadness.

"Why the sudden interest in the city's security?" Crane asked, "I know you do a lot for this city, but as you. And here all of a sudden such a big development for the company."

"Oh, it was Y/N who came up with the whole project!" Bruce replied with his businesslike smile, "but I'm sure you already knew that. I couldn't help but support such a thoughtful and well-planned initiative!"

"If it all looks as beautiful as you presented it perhaps the city will stop relying on freaks in capes."

"Could it be that you have no sympathy for Batman and the rest?"

"With all the supposed good they do for the city I think their place is in Arkham. In the padded cells next to those they fight," Crane replied without hesitation.

"Strong words Doctor. I think many would disagree with your diagnosis."

"Batman is a firefighter and arsonist in one," Crane didn't back down, "his very presence creates the conditions for the rise of criminals like the Joker, the Riddler, Two Face, or the new one who surfaced recently, whoever he is. If I were the head of Arkham Asylum I would forbid him from entering the premises and force the police to apprehend and psychoanalyze him."

"You would psychoanalyze everyone!" Y/N playfully chuckled, "I think that's an occupational deviation."

"Everyone has one," Bruce also laughed, "why aren't you the head of Arkham? With your reputation, that shouldn't be a problem."

"Elliot Memorial had greater needs," Crane replied warily, ignoring the incoming call and tucking the phone into his jacket pocket.

"I may not have lived in Gotham for long but I think your diagnosis is way too harsh Jonathan," Y/N continued, "Batman does so much good for the city."

"You're letting your own feelings overshadow rational thinking," Crane countered gently but with firmness.

"I don't think there's anything surprising about it, since he saved my life," seeing Crane's puzzled look she added, "Bruce knows."

"Yes, Y/N demonstrated immense honesty, respect for the work ethic that governs WayneTech, and trust in the company when she explained the unusual medical bills."

"He is risking his own life to help those who need it," she continued.

"That's what the police and emergency services are for," Crane quipped.

"The police also have their limitations," she continued, "it only took me a few days to see how powerless they are against the Joker."

"If there was no Batman there would be no others like him," the light of the screen broke through the blackness of the fabric.

"If there was no Batman there wouldn't be me either," she threw in a final argument, "this discussion is pointless! It's like debating the origin of the egg and the chicken!" she added wryly after a moment, "besides, your phone is ringing. Why don't you answer it?"

"Yes, sorry. It's so annoying," Crane once again reached into his pocket and glanced at the phone screen, "it's one of my patients. I have to answer it, excuse me for a moment."

With a hastened step, Crane walked away and silence fell around the table, broken only by the sounds of violin, cello and piano. An orchestra stationed at the head of the room was playing a beautiful melody to the many couples who twirled on the marble dance floor.

"I didn't think 'soon' would come so soon," she finally smirked at him, "I thought I wouldn't see you for at least a few days."

"Sorry to disappoint," he murmured with a spark of satisfaction shining in his eyes, "I see you've grown sad, I hope not because of something I said."

"No," she replied in a half whisper and took a sip of champagne, "it's because of what Jonathan said. I don't know why the hell he brought up such a distant past. His comment was unnecessary. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for words spoken by someone else," she was the only one who had never so far mentioned a story that all of Gotham knew and Bruce couldn't help but wonder why.

"I feel obligated. I am his plus one today."

"Forgive me for being blunt, but I take it Doctor Crane is the friend you mentioned?" Bruce inquired.

"Yes…" she replied quietly, "although I'm increasingly wondering if friend is the right word," she added in reflection and gazed again at the dancing couples.

All shades of gold, silver, maroon and blue swirled in the soft light trickling down from a crystal chandelier hung by the marble ceiling. Couples twirled and swooned to the accompaniment of a beautiful waltz led by talented violinists. Seamlessly and rhythmically as if at a fairy tale ball, the gowns rose and fell, flowing in waves with each turn. He observed her in silence. Her subtle smile wandering on her dreamy face, the gleam of delight in her eyes, her finger gently tapping on the exposed knee that slid out of the high slit. He wondered if she was aware of her beauty, if, seeing herself in the mirror, she could appreciate how brightly her skin shone under the black lace that adorned her shoulders, if she could see the magic he saw. Did she know? His heart ached as she closed her eyes delighting in the music. Could he allow himself to be selfish even if only for a moment?

"Beautiful…" he said in a barely audible whisper unable to tear his eyes away from her.

"Beautiful that's true…" she replied with her eyes still closed, "classical music, especially played live by an orchestra…" she fell silent when the pianist began a slow overture, "there is magic in it."

"I was not talking about music…." her eyes opened in bewilderment while a soft blush came to her cheeks, "although as an obscenely rich snob, I appreciate the beauty of classical music," he added provoking her hearty laughter.

"How long are you going to tease me like this?" she asked, drowning her gaze in his, "what do I have to do to get you to finally forgive me for this embarrassing slip-up."

"Dance with me," his eyes darkened, and although he could see that she wanted to escape with hers, she didn't.

"This?" she chuckled, pointing discreetly toward the dance floor, " Mister Wayne, I don't do waltz. So please forgive me but I'll spare myself another embarrassment."

Bruce only rose from his chair, walked around the table to stand in front of her, and extended his hand.

"Dance with me," he repeated, deepening his gaze.

"I can't…" she whispered but her eyes smirked, "marble and heels don't seem to be safe."

"Take my hand and trust me," he did not lower his hand, "I will not let you fall."

She hesitated. For a moment, for a split second, there was uncertainty in her eyes which disappeared immediately. She smiled brightly, took his hand, and let herself be led towards the dancing floor.

Your heart was pounding frantically, threatening to burst out of your chest as Bruce took your hand and, holding it slightly outstretched in the air, led you to the dancing floor. Before your eyes, reality shifted once again to match his presence as the dancing couples moved aside creating space for you. But he seemed not to notice. With his eyes fixed on you, he placed one hand on your back and closed the other on yours.

"You forget to breathe," he whispered pulling you closer to him, "forget about them. They don't matter."

"They stare…" you whispered wandering with your eyes.

"So do I," he pulled you closer as if to eliminate the distance between you and sank his gaze into your eyes. You smiled, put your hand on his shoulder, and flowed.

As if carried by the tangible sounds of music, by the light and the electrifying air that seemed to gather between you, you drifted. Gently and rhythmically to the sound of the music, one-two-three, one-two-three, you spun and the world swirled around you dissolved into a meaningless background as you sank into the ocean of his eyes. They stared at you incessantly, calm and stormy at once, inviting and dangerous, reflecting the brilliance of the crystals like the surface of the water reflects the stars scattered across the night sky. He smiled and you forgot to breathe again. His hand traveled higher on your back as if he longed to feel you whole, to remove the little distance that dancing had created between you, which he would not allow.

"You trust me?" he whispered quietly. You nodded only to break away from him a moment later, twirl in place, and return straight into his arms.

"What are you doing?" you asked feeling his hand back on your bare skin.

"I'm dancing with you," he smirked then pushed you away from him again, spun you in place and drew you back. The world swirled with colors all over again. One-two-three, the piano gave a rhythm when the violin made you twirl.

"Don't tease," you corrected your hand that landed closer to his neck.

"But when teasing with you comes so easily," he moved his hand dangerously low across your back. A shiver ran down your spine.

"Are you having fun Mister Wayne?" you flicked your eyes surprised.

"I do," he replied with shameless satisfaction, "I believe you do too Miss Y/L/N." He turned and the world swirled again in colors and lights only to return with the warmth of his chest against yours, with the touch of his hand firmly on your back, in a captivating smile. With each passing note, all the pretenses he had kept over the weekend disappeared, escaped with each exchanged breath, faded with each deepening glance.

"I have to admit that this is not quite how I imagined this weekend," you moved your hand up over his shoulder toward the back of his neck.

"And how did you imagine it?" the whisper of his words danced over your skin.

"Less magical…" he released you from his embrace again. You twirled and returned to his arms to finally eliminate the remnants of the space that separated you.

"If you were worried before about them staring then you'd better not look around," he whispered in your ear, pressing his cheek against yours. The scent of his perfume swirled through your senses.

"I won't," you whispered closing your eyes, "they won't ruin my princess moment," a low chuckle sounded deep within his chest.

"Princess moment," the touch of a smile imprinted itself on your skin, "damn…you smell incredible."

"Stop…" you didn't open your eyes, "whatever you are doing, stop." The touch disappeared, the world swirled, the closeness returned, along with the ocean in which you wanted to sink.

"Why should I stop?" a new feeling resonated in his deep husky voice as the ocean stormed with desire.

"I'm a big girl, I don't believe in fairy tales," your mind believed it, but your instinct screamed the opposite, "in a second our dance will be over, the moment will disappear, the gala will come to an end and with the rising sun the fairy tale will vanish with the return of reality."

"Since when are princesses so cynical?"

"Realistic," you corrected him, "and I'm not a princess."

"Cynical," he repeated as his hand wandered up your back again, "what if…"

"What if what?" you asked almost feeling the touch of his lips on yours.

"What if we took that risk…" his words danced on your lips, "what would happen if we…" he didn't finish. The unspoken words died in your breath, faded into touch, turned into a dance of craving lips as the last space separating you disappeared. His kiss deep, yearning, passionate took away the remnants of doubts that only moments ago spoke uncertain words. Beneath your closed eyes, the world ignited with desire as your hand found its place on the back of his neck drawing him closer. Your lips danced on his, your breaths became one as you lost yourself in a magical moment. The world stopped. Reality once again yielded to his will.

In the middle of the ballroom, a feeling blossomed in the glimmer of silvery light diffused by hundreds of crystals. He, dressed in a black tuxedo, tall, handsome, charming, known by all. She, dressed in a beautiful black gown, shorter by a head, elegant, graceful, enchanting, known by no one. They, joined in a kiss, suspended in a half-step, between a twirl and a turn, paused in a dance that just a moment ago everyone admired. A feeling they did not want to hide. Desire culminated in a passionate kiss. They indulged in the moment while others watched them intently.

Some, with a heartfelt smile, recalled a time when they themselves were in the same place.

Others with undisguised envy, wishing they could be them.

Others with indignation or amusement, shaking their heads in disbelief at the sight of a scene like this in an elegant society.

Someone muttered words of disdain.

Someone else sighed in delight.

Someone else followed their example.

Dick only took out his phone and discreetly took a picture. Warmth spread through him, a beaming smile lit up his face as he tapped the message in a quick motion. "Capture THIS!" two words, one picture, sent only to two people, Barbara and Alfred. A quickly calculated move directed at the best possible outcome. For one needed a bit of joy, and the other needed a warning of impending chaos in the family. Both, on the other hand, were necessary for him to protect Bruce from self-sabotage.

Dick was happy. For a moment, he too forgot the task, forgot the mission. He lost sight of the goal only for a moment however the moment was enough.

On the opposite side of the room among the guests, Jonathan Crane was also observing the fairytale scene, but there was no jealousy, contempt or mockery in his eyes. There was nothing. Without breaking his dead stare, he took his phone out of his pocket, dialed a number and, after just one beep, gave the command.

"Do it."

Two words, one decision, that's all it took to unleash chaos.

Scream. A terrifying female scream tore through the music paralyzing all the guests. But the paralysis didn't last long. A loud thud followed by the sound of shattering glass, cracking wood, the rumble of tumbling tables and chairs, the sounds of panic. People backing away in fear deeper into the room, grasping each other's hands, trying to hide in the crowd. It only took a few seconds for all the magic of the charming evening to shatter into pieces. Bruce instinctively grabbed Y/N's by the hand and, taking a step in front of her, hid it behind him. He scanned the crowd instantly, swept his eyes over the terrified faces, eyes filling with tears, looking for Dick and the source of the danger. One glance, a discreet nod, and Dick disappeared from his sight. The danger did not keep him waiting for long. A mocking, maniacal laughter echoed around the room freezing people's blood in their veins.

"No, no please, don't interrupt yourselves! Musicians play!" with a dancing step Joker entered between the crowd wielding a knife in his hand. Amused Harley Quinn followed him.

"I wanna dance puddin! Let's dance!" she asked playfully jumping from one foot to another.

"Now now, pumpkin, remember what we came here for," Joker waved the knife in Harley's direction in a gesture bordering on threatening, "but we could definitely use some music! Orchestra play!!!" he exclaimed towards the band but none of the musicians picked up their instruments, "no one has respect these days," he muttered to himself.

Bruce followed his steps, every little movement, every slightest gesture. He had no possibility of moving away from the crowd, no way out. Every exit was blocked by a shotgun-wielding henchman. His mind ran through all the scenarios, calculated all the possibilities trying to formulate a plan that didn't exist, while Y/N's warm hand clenched tightly in his own made him realize that there was nothing he could do. He had to wait.

"What do you want!" a man shouted from the crowd.

"Finally! I'm glad you asked!" Joker replied theatrically bowing to the man, "I want the music to play!!!" he shouted and when the answer did not come he pulled out his gun and fired a single, precise shot. The cellist fell inertly to the ground into a growing blood stain. "This is how it's going to be! I will ask the questions and all of you will politely answer," he walked closer to the man, grinding the knife toward his throat, "capiche?" the man only nodded. "Fantastic!!!" he exclaimed gleefully, "then now after we've said our good evenings, can someone tell me where my toxins are!?" He circled the crowd, directing the knife to each person one by one, "anyone? Maybe you can tell me?" he pointed the knife at the director of Gotham Mercy Hospital. "I'm taking a short vacation at my favorite resort and when I return my toxins are gone! Maybe you know something?" he waved the knife in front of the Gotham Diagnostic Laboratories representative's face. No one answered. "Someone among you must know something!" everyone remained silent as they measured themselves against the clown one by one, praying that they wouldn't be the next victim. "Someone took them and is unleashing this wonderful terror on the city and I want to know who!" the scientist from S.T.A.R Labs scowled when Joker ran his hand over her face. "As much as I enjoy seeing Batman failing miserably I can't stand outrageous, disgusting theft!" he continued theatrically gesturing. "Would you agree with me that theft is an outrageous crime?" snapped one of the women who only nodded desperately and tears streamed down her cheeks. "A horrible, horrible crime! And do you know what the best part is?" he asked the people around then aimed his gun at the space and fired. A huge flower vase shattered into pieces and a small metal ball rolled on the ground. The Joker picked it up and, with a grin on his face, pretended to inhale the toxin trapped inside. "This stuff is fantastic! Truly makes you go mad!" he laughed and placed the ball into Gotham University professor, "he must really dislike you guys," he added, grinning, "he wanted to gas you all! Can you imagine?! Outrageous! But not as outrageous as the fact that he stole from me! So, now that I have saved your fragile minds from a trip to the crazy side I expect your cooperation. Who stole my toxins!" he grabbed a Strader Pharmaceuticals board member violently by the jacket, "I'm sure you'll know. Where are my toxins?"

"I don't like him, sweetie. His giving you a stinky eye," Harley measured the man with a disdainful glance.

"He does?" Joker pulled the man closer to him, "are you giving me a stinky eye?"

"No, I'm not, I'm not…" the man replied in a pleading tone.

"Harl, I think you are right!!! He does give me a stinky eye!" the blade shone against the man's face.

Bruce watched everything as if in slow motion while his mind desperately searched for a way to protect the guests. However, cool logic kept his nerves under control. Five exits, five shotguns, the Joker had a knife and a .44 Magnum with 8 rounds magazine capacity, Harley had a baseball bat resting on her shoulder and a Chiappa rhino 60ds by her side, which meant another six bullets.

"I don't like it puddin'! He has no respect!

"You are right pumpkin pie!" Joker pulled a man out of the crowd and threw him against the ground right at Harley's feet, "there, he is all yours!"

He had to stay calm for a little longer. Nightwing will fall through the ceiling window in a moment, followed by Robin and Red Robin. He will have to get out of her sight. He will have to quickly order her to run away, order Nightwing to lead her outside. His suit was hidden in the car. She will look for him. He will have to lie.

"Stop that!" Y/N's hand yanked violently as Crane stepped forward from the crowd, "leave him alone!"

"Why? Do you want me to play with you instead?" Harley let go of the man directing her attention to Crane.

"These people don't know anything, can't you see that?"

"But it's so much fun to see them squirm!" facing Crane Harley crooked her fierce head, "but you ain't scared, ain't ya Doctor Crane?" she placed the baseball bat on the ground and looked defiantly at him, "nah, you like good old scares!"

Y/N's hand yanked again in Bruce's grasp, trying to break free. He turned to her, looked at her but there was no fear or apprehension in her eyes. Only anger.

"There's nothing you can do," he whispered looking at her intensely, "on the opposite wall, in the upper right and left corner you'll see a discreet green blinking light," she followed his words with her eyes, "it's a silent alarm. Someone has set it off. The police is on the way."

"She's my friend," she replied quietly, "she'll listen to me."

"Y/N stay calm," he instructed but the hollow sound of a thump shattered his words. Crane lay curled up on the floor, his head shielded by his hands. Y/N's hand slipped from his. A split second, a moment of distraction, and she ran out into the middle of the room.

"Harley!!! Enough!" she shouted. It was enough to distract them. Harley jumped up happily at the sight of her friend and moved immediately in her direction. But the Joker was first.

"Oh hello, beautiful…" a quiet murmur came from his throat as he approached her, "long time no see. You don't visit, you don't call, I'm hurt! We had so much fun together," he circled her straining his words but she stood unfazed, "it is so good to see you!!!" he smiled widely.

A shadow of movement ran across the glass tiles of the roof. One, then another, and moments after that a third. They will fall with a crash and shattering glass. Batarangs will fly toward the two most distant goons. Robin will attack the other three quickly disarming them. Red will attack Harley. Nightwing will deal with the Joker. Haos will be unleashed. People will start fleeing in panic.

"Harley told me that you refused my invitation," Joker continued reducing the distance separating them, "you made her sad. What kind of friend are you?"

"A friend wouldn't let her boyfriend hold her friend at gunpoint," Y/N growled measuring herself against Joker.

Shadows moved swiftly across the roof. Just a moment more. Every muscle in Bruce tensed to fight, but his mind controlled his actions. He couldn't face the Joker and take away his ability to leave to get the suit. He needed a few minutes, but he couldn't stand by passively. He couldn't watch as the Joker closed the distance between him and Y/N.

"Ha, I like you! You have a fight in you!" Joker exclaimed with amusement only to lower his tone again and grab her violently by the arm, "are you close?" he glared at Crane, "oooh you are. You can't deny it, I can see it in those angry eyes of yours."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce noticed a window in the ceiling swinging open. Muscles tensed waiting for the right moment. His eyes watched the Joker's hand clenched on Y/N's shoulder, his body subconsciously assumed a fighting position, ready to react at any moment.

"The rage is burning…" she yanked but Joker grabbed tighter, " curiouser and curiouser…" with a quick movement he corrected his grip placing his hand on the back of her head.

"Interesting company you choose my dear…" he lowered his voice so that only she could hear him, "dangerous…. but you like danger don't you," she tried to break free but he grabbed her face tightly forcing her to look at him. The blade flashed dangerously against her cheek, "yes, you like danger. That feeling when adrenaline burns in your veins making the whole world cover itself in red. That crazy waltz on the edge of life and death," he strained his words, "you're as crazy as I am. All you need is a little push."

A silvery rain of broken glass rained loudly from the ceiling to disappear a moment later in a cloud of thick smoke. A swish cut the air as the Batarangs soared toward their targets. The black and red cape danced nearby knocking the weapon out of Harley's hand, that rolled with a clatter on the ground.

"Push that!" Y/N growled while an invisible force pushed the Joker back a few steps. Through the smoke, she couldn't see his amused look. The screams got lost in his maniacal laughter. His vicious words drowned in a throaty growl as the blue emerging from the smoke kicked him in the stomach.

"Run!" Nightwing shouted in her direction dodging the knife gleaming in the midst of the smoke, "run!!!"

For a moment, paralysis overwhelmed you completely as your legs refused to move. You stood there frozen, with your eyes wide open observing the scene. The Joker's purple coat danced amidst the smoke with each aggressive swing, the blade gleaming from the left then from the right as Nightwing nimbly blocked and dodged. The deadly dance cut through clouds of gray smoke but only one of the dancers was the harbinger of death. Fury blazed in Joker's eyes as he unsuccessfully dealt blows. Curses of hatred drowned in the sounds of battle. Watchful eyes glared in your direction beneath the mask that covered part of his face in a mixture of surprise and worry. But you couldn't move, you couldn't stop admiring. As if mesmerized, you watched the agile leaps, accurate strikes, painful hits and soft flips, and only one thought filled your entire mind. "I need to help him."

Strong male hands grabbed your shoulders trying to pull you aside. Intense blue filled with dread shone before your eyes. He shook you gently in an attempt to snap you out of your amok. His lips moved but you couldn't hear his words. His hands tightened on your shoulders but the touch seemed distant.

"I need to do something…" you said than snatched from his grasp and began to run through the dense gray.

Instinct seemed to guide your steps when reality as if seeing your determination, matched your will by creating a path for you. Frightened people fled in terror, but you dodged them swiftly. A Batarang swished past your ear, but you slowed your step just in time to avoid the accidental impact. The light from the shattered chandelier shone through the clouds of smoke, revealing the Joker's weapon at your feet. You bent down to pick it up, evading the black and yellow cloak flying over your head. A voice called out from the distance, loud enough to make you stop for a split second to avoid a massive blow from the staff. You tore through the chaos without fear, without doubt, without hesitation, as your body and mind seemed to sense the impending danger before it came. It seemed to sense its surroundings before your eyes had time to register the image and transmit it to your mind. The thick gray smoke blocked your vision and yet you knew perfectly well that the moment your dress got caught between your legs, you should crouch down, chase away the smoke with your hand, and help him get up.

"Jonathan…" your words sounded close and yet so far away, "Jonathan, are you alright?" Still clenching your hand on the gun, you helped him up. Blood ran in a thin trickle down his face.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy?" he looked at you surprised.

"Can you stand up?"

"Y/N, get out of here! Run!" the green lit up intensely.

"Can you stand up?" you repeated stubbornly, and without waiting for his answer you grabbed his hand and lifted him to his feet, "tell me you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding."

"I'll be fine. Let's get out of here," he grabbed your hand but you didn't move, "Y/N?"

"Go!" you ordered, "I can't. Not yet."

Before he had time to react you rushed deeper into the room while reality shifted again, yet this time to match your will. The smoke thinned, revealing overturned tables, broken glassware, scattered food, spilled glistening stains of fresh blood. Red-blue lights flashed outside the window exposing a distant rush of blond hair. Involuntarily, you tightened your hand on the gun and sped up your run. Harley fell out the door and you followed her. She rushed down the stairs in desperation trying to get away, to no avail. Leaping down several stairs at once, you could clearly see the surprise in her eyes as she turned around to see how close you were. With a grunt, she fell through the next door but you were right behind her.

"Harley stop!!!" you yelled falling behind her into the hallway, "stop!!!"

"Forget it!!!" she yelled back without slowing down.

"Stop!!!" you had her almost at arm's length.

"Or what!"

"Harley!!!" you could see the glistening droplets of sweat on her bare arms.

"Catch me if you can!" she laughed mockingly.

"I said stop!!!" you shouted reaching out your hand towards her. She did not stop. An invisible force pushed her forward with a powerful surge sending her flying through the air. With a deafening crash she fell painfully to the ground.

"Hey, how did you? That hurt!" she cried out, trying to pick herself up from the floor, but it was too late. Not thinking much, you jumped to her, knocking her over onto her back, kneeling over her, pressing her to the floor with your whole body, immobilizing her.

"Hey!!! Get of me!!!" she exclaimed trying to break free, "get of me! Get of me! Get of me!"

"Harleen! Calm down! Listen to me!" you tried.

"Let me go! Let me go or I will!!!

"What will you do Harl!" you grabbed her hands and pressed her to the floor, "What will you do! You fucked me once already! You took advantage of me! You left me to drown! You let that maniac threaten me with a gun!!!" the Joker's gun suddenly ignited in your hand, "with this gun!!!" you shouted furiously putting the gun to Harley's temple. "You let him put it to my forehead, he threatened to splatter my brain all over the windshield…" you pressed the gun harder against her temple, "so tell me, what else are you going to do?"

"It's not like that, puddin' was just joking."

"Stop it! For fuck sake, stop it! Stop this madness! Whatever he told you, whatever he promised you, he's crazy! A psycho!"

"You don't know him like I do!"

"Harley! Do you even hear yourself? He's a murderer and a psychopath!"

"Before you start judging me maybe you should first look at the company you choose for yourself and who you seek help from!!!" she shouted furiously, "my puddin' loves me! He loves me! And when he finds out what you did he will be very very angry with you! He will not like it, not a bit!"

"Batman was right…" you sighed with resignation, "I can't help you."

You lifted yourself heavily from your knees and reached out to her. For a moment you thought you were looking at Harleen, your friend from the best years of your life, the one you could rely on, the one who would never betray you. For a moment, Harleen smiled warmly as she used to do. She reached for your extended hand and for a moment you thought that everything will be alright. You couldn't see the knife flashing from behind her back. She swung sharply and blood flowed from your slashed arm. You jumped back a moment too late.

"See ya sucker!!!" she laughed, jumping to her feet and launching herself into a run.

For a moment you watched her move away. For a moment you thought to even let her. But the moment vanished in an instant, replaced by pain and anger. Red shrouded your vision, rage filled your mind, ignited the blood in your veins, filled your will. A deep inhale that seemed to consume the anger and then an exhale that ripped it out of you releasing the accumulated force outward. The red disappeared. Silence followed. Reality took on normal colors and shapes. Reality stopped bending to your will.

Nightwing, Red Robin and Bruce watched as an invisible force appeared out of nowhere, pushing Harley forward only to pick her up in mid-air and slam her against the wall. Harley's lifeless body slid down the wall. Y/N stood in the middle of the hallway, clutching a gun in one hand, she breathed heavily. Neither of them needed to see her face to understand the exhaustion her posture betrayed. She lowered the extended hand only to slump against the wall and sank heavily to the floor.

"What the hell…" Nightwing gasped in disbelief. With a nod, he instructed Robin to check on Harley as he himself moved toward Y/N. Calmly and gently so as not to frighten her, so as not to trigger an instinctive defensive reaction in her. The gun glistened in her hand, damp with sweat and blood running down her cut arm. Out of the corner of her eye he glanced at Bruce who had followed, his face betraying a blend of tension and worry.

"I stopped her…" she whispered when Nightwing entered her line of sight, "I had to stop her. It's all my fault. If it wasn't for me, none of this would have happened."

"She's alive," Robin informed, "only unconscious."

Bruce brushed past Nightwing and crouched by her side. Tears shone in her tired eyes.

"Y/N, it wasn't your fault…" he said softly, "it wasn't your fault."

"Bruce…" a confused glance jumped between Nightwing and Bruce.

"Mister Wayne is a very stubborn man," Nightwing explained, "he ran after you first, pointing us in the right direction. He refused to stay behind."

Without a word, Bruce knelt down, took off his jacket, loosened his bow tie, and took out a white silk handkerchief from his pocket.

"I helped her free the Joker from Arkham," she explained quietly as he pressed the handkerchief to the cut on her arm, "I tried to convince Batman that she was innocent," she continued as he used the tie to stop the bleeding, "I let her escape when they tried to stop her…" his eyes stopped on the gun she was still clutching in her hand. His glance asked without words. "Oh…that…" she sighed as if her consciousness had only now registered the weapon in her hand, "it's Jokers'. I found it as I chased Harley. He must have dropped it…" she deftly turned the gun in her hand directing the grip to Bruce as if she had done it many times in the past, "I would never use it…" she continued handing it back to him, "I just didn't want it lying there. I didn't want him to use it."

Bruce did not take the gun from her. He merely looked at Robin, who quickly took the gun from Y/N's hand, pulled a Ziploc bag from his belt pocket and closed it tightly.

"We need to get you to the medics," Bruce finally said, throwing the jacket over her shoulders and gently lifting her to her feet.

"I'm fine, it's just a mild cut.

"It wasn't a question."

"What about Jonathan?" she asked as he put his arm around her waist as if he feared she would fall down any moment.

"He is fine," he replied shortly, "let's go," he ordered motioning her towards the exit but Robin blocked their way.

"Miss…" he began uncertainly trying to ignore Bruce's menacing stare, "Y/N right?" she looked at him and nodded, "how?" he asked glancing at Harley whose unconscious body lay laid in a safe position nearby.

"I don't know…I just did…" she answered weakly, "what's going to happen to her?"

"She will probably be transported to Arkham," Robin replied.

"Please remind Batman that he promised me."

"What did Batman promise?"

"That he would help her."

***

Chapter twelve: Running toward danger

~~***~~ Author note: I got carried with words. Sorry about that. But I had this idea for this scene, you know which one, but it couldn't happen in isolation. The story needed to happen. Speaking of that scene, a few months back I heard this song, Merry Go Round Of Life Cover By Grissini Project. Within minutes that scene was born. Everything, from the initial setup, through the conversation just before, to the final moments. For the last few months that scene lived in my mind waiting for its time. Waiting for the story to lead our characters into this place. Hoping it will lead them there. And as they finally arrived here, I'll be honest, I was giggling like a teenage girl while writing it. I do hope that it worked for you as well as it did for me. But now, I can finally move away from a keyboard (for now) and go watch Good Omens season 2. At the end, as always my Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

~~***~~ Tag list: @mrsgrahamsdesign @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming @julesjewelss36 @cherryflavoredcoke @grandstrangerphantom @maripositanoctruna @pluckastarfromthesky @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @pirate-with-internet-connection

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animezinglife · 2 months

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Gifts of the Sea

Acelia had never expected to be a High Lord's mate.

Genre: Fluff/General/Romance Post-canon, Tarquin x OC one-shot featuring the backstory between Tarquin and Acelia. This is a companion piece to Late Nights in Summer (recommended reading to provide context). Please do not re-post this anywhere. Special thanks to @lucienarcheron, @zenkindoflove, @crazy-ache, @teddyhoneybear, and all else who've offered such sweet support of my Elucien fics. I hope you don't mind me trying something new! Gifts of the Sea is now featured in the Summer One-Shots Collection on AO3! Click here to read. A bonus moodboard can be found here.

Acelia hadn’t missed the look in Elain Archeron’s eyes when the female had spoken about her mate. To call it enamored would’ve been an understatement: she’d been practically glowing every time she spoke of Lucien, and neither she nor Cresseida had missed it.

The more Elain drank, the more amusing she had become.

Neither Acelia nor the princess had had any reservations about returning her to him in her state: Lucien was a good male, and she would’ve known it even if Tarquin had never confided his trust in the male with her. Though she knew her mate didn’t have a perfect track record when it came to trust, he had strong instincts when it came to character.

Any lessons he’d had left to learn where his easy confidence in others had once been concerned, Feyre Archeron had taught him otherwise.

Acelia respected the balance her mate ruled the Summer Court with: he believed in giving trust and chances, yet knew when to be firm and what boundaries needed to be set. He was far from an iron-fist ruler, instead a casual and respected High Lord who wore his youth as plainly as his kindness.

She loved that about him.

She might even appreciate it more if not for her own roaring headache. Unlike her new friend, Acelia was accustomed to Summer drinks, but still coming off the rush of her mating ceremony, she’d still had a bit too much.

She rested a hand against her head as Tarquin sat beside her on the chaise and handed her a goblet of water. She took it, swirling its contents and taking a deep breath of the cool, salty air.

Acelia had never expected to be a High Lord’s mate; had never anticipated she might one day lounge on a palace balcony overlooking the ocean nursing an alcohol-induced headache. She breathed in deeply and took a small sip before downing the goblet’s contents and letting out a relaxed sigh. Silently, Tarquin took it from her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She turned slightly and kissed his hand, taking in his familiar, comforting scent of salt and citrus.

She had been born in Summer, too: shared many of the same characteristics of the court’s High Fae as her mate and Cresseida did. Though unlike them, she’d been born to a humble family: a fisherman father and a mother who ran their small market shop. She’d begun helping them with both as soon as she’d been old enough, assuming she’d one day sail the seas herself or run the shop alongside her mother.

Being a High Lord’s mate–loving and marrying him–had never been in the picture.

Acelia smirked slightly: her parents still didn’t know what to make of the ordeal either and had no idea what to even do with their new income. They’d opted to stay in their village but visited often, and while they’d insisted they didn’t need a more lavish shop, she was glad they’d at least invested in a newer, sturdier fishing boat, and that her father had even been able to hire some help. Most of all, she was glad they’d finally begun to indulge in vacations and rest.

Tarquin’s voice interrupted her thoughts, his voice as soft as the mist from the sea. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a storm,” she replied, unable to resist smiling back as his lips curved into a smile. “I’m upright and coherent, at least.”

“I’m surprised you’re drunk at all.” He paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “My cousin didn’t pressure you, did she? I know she enjoys her fun.”

“Not at all.” It had been a running joke between them that despite her small stature, Acelia could hold her drink as well as any male. It often surprised others how well given how rarely she touched alcohol compared to most Fae–drinks in Summer didn’t run cheap, and Acelia had never quite shaken her frugal ways no matter how generous Tarquin was. “I really like them. Elain seems quite different than how you described her sister.”

Tarquin’s blue eyes softened as he seemed to drift into thought. For a moment, he was quiet. “Feyre was in a difficult situation, and she wasn’t sure if she could trust me or not.”

“That didn’t stop you from trusting her.”

“No.” Tarquin smirked slightly, taking her emptied goblet and setting it aside. “But I’m glad to leave that mess behind us. Even if I’ll always have extra security when she and Rhysand visit. Just in case.”

“I’d question your judgment if you didn’t.” Acelia’s heart fluttered as his smirk turned to a smile: her favorite one of his, all softness and a subtle shyness she would almost call boyish. She felt their bond flowing through them like a current, pulling them to each other in a way that she imagined would be futile to resist. She had never imagined the Mother, the Cauldron, or whatever forces determined such fates would gift her such a thing: mating bonds were the sort of romantic fantasies she’d read about in books as a child or sung about in old sailors’ shanties.

Such things certainly were not the fates of daughters of a village fisherman; of the keeper of a small, run-down shop.

And yet she’d sensed it when the High Lord had visited their village; had spoken with every fisherman, every blacksmith, every sailor, and every shopkeeper. She had seen the way her mother had clutched her chest when Tarquin had spoken to her, as if aware of the same, unexplainable force Acelia had been feeling.

At the time, she’d assumed she’d merely been overwhelmed in the presence of a High Lord.

But Tarquin had looked back as he’d been leaving the shop, his brow furrowed and eyes searching for an answer neither of them yet knew.

He had written to her. Their conversations had lengthened through letters, though there had only been so much a High Lord could say through such means. Acelia had found herself spilling aspects of herself she’d never shared with anyone: of her love of the sea, of the old myths and legends that filled her mind and heart as a child, and of her hopes to one day see Adriata with her own eyes. Somehow, she swore she could feel his quiet, shaking laugh when she'd shared the time a pirate had tried to rob her family's shop, and in her panic, she'd hit him over the head with a bucket and knocked him out cold.

To her surprise, Tarquin had shared with her, too: had spoken to her of his love of the sea at night when all was quiet; of the myths and legends that had scared him as a boy, and of his deepest fears that he might never be worthy of the role he’d found himself in. When he had visited their village again, she’d had the sneaking suspicion he’d had an ulterior motive despite his routine of speaking with every villager.

His eyes had lingered on her a bit too long, and that afternoon she had found herself sailing out with the High Lord of Summer in her father’s old, weathered fishing boat. He had been remarkably easy to talk to; his smile warm and his eyes making her heart race in ways it never had.

Acelia still had never expected the letter to come inviting her to visit the city, or how he phrased it so carefully.

I do not ask this of you as a high lord.

I hope we may always speak as friends.

She had arrived in Adriata only weeks later to a whirlwind: a flurry of introductions by a mutually excited and suspicious Cresseida, a humble if not somewhat comical introduction of Varian, whose hair had been partially singed off in what had only been described to her as, "an incident with the Illyrian bastards."

And all the while, Acelia had fallen in love with the city; its people. The people of Adriata, a peculiar mix of Fae and human refugees still lingering from the war with Hybern, lived vastly different lives than what she’d ever known. Yet there was a warmth to them, and a compassion and caring she’d both seen and felt in Tarquin that had begun to draw her to him.

In ways she hadn’t been sure would qualify as friendly.

She still hadn’t known what to call it the first time he’d kissed her. That had been during her third visit after a full year of communication through letters and Tarquin’s visits. She was sure she was beginning to love him–he was the sort of male who proved easy to love. Though Acelia had thought she’d loved males before: a young apprentice from her village when she’d been the tender age of forty, and another a sailor from the islands that dotted Summer’s seas.

It hadn’t been until she’d unceremoniously fallen into the water off the strange, standing board with sails that Tarquin and Varian had been trying to teach her to use that she’d understood. Tarquin had dived off his own board after her, his strong arms circling her waist as they’d drifted together beneath the surface. Acelia had taken in his beautiful features: his dark skin, white hair that flowed around him, and the eyes that seemed to see more of her than she’d ever known possible.

She wasn’t even sure which of them had closed the distance: only that his kiss had awakened something in them both that had lay dormant from the moment they’d met. Her eyes had snapped open to find him watching her in every bit as much shock, and when they’d finally resurfaced and felt the sun and salty air on them again, Acelia had understood.

Mates.

The word echoed in her mind even now as Tarquin took her hand in his, leaning her in and placing a kiss against her white braids. She took in the hands that held each other: the shell, pearl, and sapphire ring that glimmered on her finger and folded her body against his, taking in his scent and the sound of his heartbeat. He held her close, his steady breathing as soothing and familiar to her as the waves below.

It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d been in the village or here with him now: he was her gift, and she was home.

#acotar #tarquin x oc #gifts of the sea #tarquin #tarquin acotar #a court of thorns and roses #original character #tarquin x acelia #summer court #the summer court

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thedelicatearcher · 2 months

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Ok so for the scents, I know that for odesta everyone says Finnick chooses sea but I'm gonna say he smells like cinnamon. Idk he just gives the vibes. Sea is like his natural (and I don't mean the one that those candles and perfumes smell like), but his signature scent is cinnamon

Annie, while she was still in school, non stop had swimming practice so she kinda smelled like chlorine. I would say she also has that cinnamon scent, but she gives more berries vibes.

Peeta smells like a bakery obvi. And when you get close he smells kinda like yeast. But for what he'd choose, it would be something not sharp and cold but warm and sensual. I just don't know what.

Haymitch, also obviously, smells like alcohol. But he has one of those experiencive odecolons (idk of its spelled like that).

Katniss smells like a rainforest and uses men's shower gels and deodorants (girlie on fire smells like a volcano)

Effie has a HUUUGE collection of perfumes. Always a new one.

Johanna is the type to get a package of deodorant shampoo shower gel and perfume and lotion from one scent of perfume and get a new one when they end. I have no idea how to explain her smell, bit I think average sharp womens deodorant works

thank you for sharing your thoughts!! i really love hearing other people's insights on this. i love them all

i really like finnick having cinnamon as his signature scent. i like to think that it started slowly, with him finding a naturally scented cinnamon shampoo at the market and being so pleased with it. then, running into mags, who signals to him that he smells nice, and she ends up gifting him all the soaps and candles she had stored unused in her house.

also, annie smelling like berries? yes!! i totally get the same vibe. in another post, someone said that effie would smell like strawberries, and i think they both would, but in different ways. annie has a faint scent that kind of lingers when she passes by, the kind of scent that leaves you humming contentedly. on the other hand, effie's fragance is so strong and overpowering that it sometimes intoxicates those she passes by.

but i also agree with effie having a huge collection of perfumes. she would have a different one for each of her outfits: citrus for the butterfly dress, bubblegum for the pink puffy short dress.

everyone likes hanging out around peeta because he smells so nice! (also because he is so nice to be around). no matter how much perfume he puts on, he ends up smelling like the pastries baked that day. maybe it's a bit basic, or it's because he's a baker, but i can picture peeta choosing a coffee scent. it's warm and sensual, and i think it fits him.

katniss loves hugging peeta and burying her face in his neck. she describes it as the same smell as entering a comforting bakery. peeta ends up loving the scent of the body wash that katniss uses. since they are nature-scented, peeta likes to imagine being in the mountains whenever her smell catches his nose.

also, i really agree with you on haymitch and johanna. i don't have much to add, but it definitely feels like her to not have a signature scent and just go through all the basic deodorants.

#it felt weird to write smell so many times lol #but thank you for your thougths!! i really liked reading them #thg #the hunger games #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #finnick odair #annie cresta #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #johanna mason

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kaizoku-musume · 2 months

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Lunar Phase

This was written for the Sunshine & Starlight challenge that @violettduchess and @lorei-writes created. I felt like it was finally time for Aurelia to feature in one of these.

Fandom: Ikepri

Prompt: Full Moon

Word count: 2k

Yves swiped at his eyes, but his tears were long gone. Aurelia had led him to the outdoor sitting area after she found him crying in the kitchen; she went to return to the castle for something, leaving him alone with the moon and his thoughts. He really should be getting to bed-his eyes must already look awful and it was only going to get worse the longer he stayed up. He’d have to apply a warm compress and a good bit of makeup in the morning. But there was something about turning Aurelia down that was terrifying, honestly.

Oh, speak of the-no, that was mean, and besides, there were others more deserving of the title (despite how similar she was to Nokto). Aurelia was coming back, carrying a tray of tea with her. Yves should get up and help her, but the surreality of the situation kept him seated. Aurelia was wearing a surprisingly modest set of pajamas considering her usual attire (a very cute nightdress that covered her chest and legs and wasn’t sheer at all) and bringing him tea. The situation was weirdly domestic compared to how Aurelia was in the light of day.

So he sat in stunned silence until Aurelia joined him, setting the tray on the table and taking a seat next to him. “I finally have a chance to show off my tea making skills,” she said as she poured them both a cup.

“You made this?” Yves asked. He winced at his rudeness. Obviously, she must have, since none of the servants were awake at this time. It was just that Aurelia had this, well, aura about her. Like she was more fitted for royalty than most of Yves’ own brothers. The idea of her never having to lift a finger to get what she wanted suited her more than anyone else yves had ever met.

Aurelia graciously ignored his faux pas. “Of course, herbal tea is my specialty,” she even handed him his cup. What was going on? Was it just that she was feeling bad for him?

Despite being suspicious, Yves took a cautionary sip. He couldn’t help the surprised, delighted sound he made when the flavour burst across his tongue. It was sweet, with just the right undercurrent of citrus, the two complimenting each other well. The soft floral scent tickled his nose when he lifted the cup to his mouth.

“Chamomile and lemon,” Aurelia informed, the picture of perfect poise as she drank her own tea. “Useful for when you’re trying to get a good night’s rest.” So it was pity. It was the same when she’d manipulated the court into being more accepting of Yves in spite of his half-Obsidian bloodline. He should probably be more upset than he was, shouldn’t he? But he was mentally drained and physically exhausted, and it was so much easier to drink this delicious tea.

“I’d tell you the recipe, but I’m afraid it’s a trade secret,” Aurelia said with a somewhat conspiratorial air, “Though I may be convinced to make a trade. Say, one recipe for another? Of course, I don’t mind if you want to visit me whenever you want a cup. I heard it’s good for your health if you see a pretty face every day.” She winked and Yves sputtered, miraculously not making a mess.

Aurelia didn’t bat an eye and began chatting about inconsequential things, carrying on a largely one-sided conversation that Yves could freely listen to as he slowly came back to himself. It took him longer than he wanted to admit to notice that Aurelia wasn’t mentioning his breakdown from earlier at all. This was, in fact, the most normal discussion Aurelia had with him since they’d met. So of course Yves had to ruin it by blurting out, “Aren’t you going to talk about it?”

Ugh, why did he always put his foot in his mouth? Today was such a disaster, and he was the one who kept making it worse. He fidgeted under her cool gaze, Aurelia seemingly unfazed by the disaster in front of her. “What should I say?” she asked, voice gentler than the words themselves suggested, “Should I pretend I don’t know what caused you to be upset and ask about it? Offer you platitudes like ‘you shouldn’t hate yourself because you’re a good person’ and ‘one day you’ll feel better’?” She tilted her head, her smile knowing but not unkind. “Does any of that ever help?”

Well . . . no, no, not really. If Yves is being honest, while he appreciated the sentiment (and the people who tried to cheer him up), those words had always rang . . . hollow. It was easy to say he should like himself or that things will get better, but Yves had been trying to do that his whole life and hasn’t gotten very far. How much harder does he have to work at it? When did things get better?

Aurelia was watching him like she could read his mind. “I don’t like wasting my breath on pointless words,” she refilled her cup, “Well-meaning words that sound nice but have nothing to back them up are incapable of bringing about change. You can;t like yourself when someone tells you you’re good if you don’t think you’re good enough. People rarely hate themselves because it makes sense to do so.”

There was something there in what Aurelia was saying that Yves almost couldn’t believe, a self-assurance that he would only expect from people in the same situation as him. It was hard to put his finger on it, because Aurelia usually sounded self-assured, but it was different. Just ten minutes ago, Yves would have said that was impossible. But here she was, sitting next to him in regular pajamas, sharing tea she had made herself, and Yves wouldn’t have predicted that either. Maybe this was just him embarrassing himself again, but he felt a little confident in asking, “Do you hate yourself too?”

He worried he got it totally wrong in the few moments of silence before Aurelia confirmed, slow and thoughtful, “That used to be the case, yes. There was a long time where I hated-everything, really. Myself, other people, the world at large. Sometimes I didn’t know who I hated the most.” Yves stared gobsmacked at her confession. Sure, he thought that might be the case, but to hear the truth from her own mouth was unexpected. Aurelia laughed at his expression. “Why ask if you’re going to be so surprised? Is it that hard to believe?”

“Yes,” Yves admitted honestly. He was rewarded with the rare sight of Aurelia’s surprise, there for a second and then gone once she caught it. “You’re so good at standing up for yourself,” he continued, “and you're so . . . mature when you do it. You know exactly what to say to make people do what you want. And you don’t care what they say about you. You would never cry on the kitchen floor because someone was mean to you.” Yves hung his head in shame. So Aurelia used to struggle with hating herself too, but she already learned to overcome it while he was still at the starting line.

“Why do you think what I’m doing is any different from what you’re doing? I just have an unfair advantage,” Aurelia tipped his chin up with her knuckle, “Maybe I’m not the type of person who cries in secret, but do you think I’m completely unfeeling? My emotions happen to run counter to yours, that’s all.”

Yves swallowed, suddenly nervous at their proximity. Aurelia would usually be taking this opportunity to flirt with him, but she was being completely serious, and that was a dynamic Yves didn’t have a defense against. And up close like this, it was hard for Yves to ignore how beautiful Aurelia was, especially with her tan skin lit up by the moon, silver eyes shining like they belonged in the night sky. Someone had to say something before this moment stretched on too long and Yves started to think things he shouldn’t.

“How,” mouth dry, he licked his lips, faltering when Aurelia’s gaze darted to his mouth, “h-how did you start liking yourself?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. I merely became ambivalent,” Aurelia grinned her same enigmatic grin she usually had, but if Yves squinted, he thought there might be something sad in it, “And I wouldn’t recommend following my example. Not caring may work for me, but it’s not meant for someone like you.”

Yves reflexively opened his mouth to reassure her, but he remembered their earlier discussion. Pretty words with empty meanings; why was it so easy to spout them at someone when they were feeling bad? What were the right words? Yves feared there weren’t any.

Aurelia giggled, amused instead of offended at Yves’ lack of eloquence. “See? Look at you, caring,” she cupped his jaw in her hand, thumb stroking his cheek. “Do you know what I would do in your place? I would get back at them. It wouldn’t be pretty, it wouldn’t be generous, and it wouldn’t be kind. But you? You’ll put your energy into making sure the people of your territory are happy and thriving. You’ll push forward policies that benefit the kingdom. The way you take revenge is by making sure the people who hate you have nothing to hate about Rhodolite. You’re pretty, and you’re generous, and you’re kind, despite everything that’s been thrown at you. What a marvel you are.”

This was bad. Aurelia should sound sarcastic like she usually did, not sincere. Yves didn’t know how to handle this new Aurelia, who was being more honest than she’d ever been with him. It made him want to say honest things back, like how she was all those things too. Something flashed in Aurelia’s eyes, her thumb stilling at the corner of his mouth. Oh no, he said that out loud, didn’t he?

“You’re incredibly tempting, do you know that?” Aurelia ran her thumb along his bottom lip. Something about her tone made it sound different from how she would normally mean it. Or maybe now that he knew she liked him for more than he thought she did, he could hear it better. Overwhelmed, Yves’ breath gusted out of him in a shaky exhale, and he could feel himself lean forward the tiniest bit. Aurelia’s grip tightened for a fraction of a second before she let go, heated expression clouding over to her normal one, a pointedly casual smile plastered on her face. “Be careful not to spill your tea,” she said, all traces of the mood from earlier gone.

The sudden distance left Yves feeling adrift. He panicked slightly when he noticed that his cup was completely tipped over, but luckily-for once-it was already empty. He wasn’t sure if Aurelia meant to be as revealing as she was, but he knew he wanted it back. “Thank you. For the tea and the-the talk,” he cast around for something to say, but he had a feeling Aurelia wouldn’t be vulnerable twice in one day.

As always, Aurelia clued in to what he really meant. “Well, it is the witching hour,” she glanced up at the bright, lonely moon, “Perhaps I was trying to cast a spell on you.”

“If you want that to work, you’re going to have to put more than one spell on me,” the words left Yves before he could think about them. He flushed bright red at how flirty that sounded.

“Will I?” Aurelia murmured, studying him closely, something considering in her gaze before she smirked, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And despite the way they dissolved into their normal bickering after that, Yves found himself enjoying his time with Aurelia so much that he forgot about getting to bed and taking care of the puffiness around his eyes. In fact, he was looking forward to more moments where Aurelia let her guard down, even if she was more mercurial than the phases of the moon.

#my fics #ikepri #my ocs #yves kloss #sunshineandstarlightcc

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sweetestofchaos · 8 months

Text

Run From Me - Four | K.TH

p. vampire!taehyung x vampire hunter!reader

g. soulmates - enemies to lovers - reincarnation

r. 18+

w. flashback - blood drinking - illusions to sex - murder - witch hunts

wc. 5.2k

an. divider and support banner made by @benkeibear. betaed by the lovely @theharrowing.

fic masterlist

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Spring of 1692…

If one were to believe in luck then Taehyung (who certainly did not believe) would have at the very moment his foot touched the soil of The New World. There was a pull at his heart, a rope wrapped around the muscle and tugged him in one direction. He had no choice but to follow as his mind conjured up different scenarios of meeting his fated after all this time.

Would you remember him? Would you fall into his arms weeping and begging for him to never leave your side? Have you looked for him too?

Taehyung, in his frenzy to find you, left a trail of bodies. He had wanted to look his best, a picture perfect image of his past self with a few modifications. His hair that was always kept long was now shortened to frame his face and hung in his eyes. Gone were the grandiose fabrics, jewels and homes. Now he wore the clothing of laborers to avoid unwanted attention and slept beside the common folk.

He played the part of a simple man, a man of strong faith and sound mind. He kept his funds and higher quality clothing stashed away in different locations and investments. Taehyung made sure that no matter what, you would never go without once he found you.

As he followed the invisible line that led to you, he came to Salem Village. A fairly sizable village in the state of Massachusetts that was run by Reverend Matthews and a few others on his council. As Taehyung had come to town with a small group of travelers looking for work, he was easily accepted into the town. Taehyung was given a room in old man Peck’s home. The older man had lost his wife and son to a fever in the winter, so he offered his home with melancholy eyes and a kindly smile.

Taehyung had yet to see you but his heart ached, clenched in his chest tighter and tighter. You were so close, he could smell your creamy sandalwood and cardamom spice. If he focused hard enough, green citrus would tickle his nose and burn the back of his throat. He searched for you, from sunrise to sunset. He followed that all too familiar scent and yet, you were always out of reach. The sun to his moon, destined to never hold each other again. Taehyung wondered if he had finally lost his mind. The longing in his heart had led him here but where were you? Couldn’t you feel him nearby? Had he mistaken his own feelings?

It was in the evening when he first saw you. He had been chatting with Reverend Matthews about the next church service when your summer scent wrapped around him in a fine mist. His words trailed off as he saw you three cabin’s down holding the hands of two young girls. Reverend Matthews offered up your information without any prompting and Taehyung committed every word to memory.

“Did you fetch the water like I asked?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Fill the wash bin and call the girls to supper.”

You bowed your head and spun on your heels to leave the cabin of Reverend Matthews. Outside the air was crisp with the promise of a new beginning, spring was finally here. Gravel crunched beneath your shoes as you followed the beaten path to the field of flowers where all the young girls played. Ella and Pagie, Reverend Matthews’ daughters, were sitting in a circle with a few of the other girls creating daisy chains. You smiled at the sight and walked over, while humming a song.

Paige, who was the younger of the sisters spotted you first and nudged Ella’s arm. You beckoned them to come along and Paige pouted while Ella just shook her head.

“Just a little longer, please?” Ella whined and held up her bracelet. “We’re almost finished.”

“Supper is ready and your father is waiting.” The girls both started to whine and you tisked at them lightly. “Come on girls. You can finish your project once you have had your meal.”

“You promise?” Paige sulked, her eyes watery and you nodded your head holding out your pinkie finger.

The girls jumped to their feet and ran over to you, linking your fingers together while giggling. They said goodbye to their friends and followed you back to the cabin where you helped them wash their hands and face. At the head of the table, Reverend Matthews sat and waited while you placed their meals before them. He held his arm out, palms face upward and the girls placed their hands in his.

“Let us say grace before we eat this wonderful meal.”

You stood nearby and silently watched as the family of three blessed the food together. Once the prayer was over, you scooped some stew into your own bowl and bowed your head.

“Enjoy your meal.”

You excused yourself to your room in the back of the cabin and sat alone at the table in the corner. You gave thanks to God and a chill ran down your spin. You looked at the window of your room and frowned; it was open. You liked to sleep with your window open at night but you always closed it during the day. Maybe you forgot? You stared at the tree line that acted as a barrier around the town and shivered.

As the days grew warmer, you spent more time outside of the cabin with the young girls in the town. Mayar often helped you with the children since her charges were among the young ladies. The two of you taught them girls how to braid, how to stop the bleeding of a minor cut, and a fun rhyme to sing while they danced around with each other.

While you spent your time outdoors, the chill in your bones never seemed to go away. Even with the warmth of the sun, goosebumps would randomly appear on your body. There was news of a newcomer to the town but you had yet to see the young man around. He and a few other men had apparently been looking for work and Reverend Matthews was more than willing to hire him. You heard that the young man, Taehyung, stayed with old man Peck and you prayed that this newcomer's presence would pull the old man from his grief.

“Ella be careful on that tree!” You called as the girl continued to climb the large apple tree with another of the girls. They were having a race to the top and you knew that Ella would most likely be the victor. You would often find Ella lost in the tree tops since she liked to watch the town from up above. It made you worry for her safety all the time, but Ella was a natural. She knew falling from such a height would surely break a bone or two.

You could see the ripe apples at the top from your place in the grass as you sat with Paige in your lap. One of her braids had come undone and she had begged you to fix it for her. Ella and the other girl, Mary were arguing about cheating as they climbed and you shouted another warning to be careful.

A shiver crept down your spin and you turned your head towards the forest. Your eyes darted over the tree line but you saw no one. A scream grabbed your attention and you watched in horror as Ella’s foot slipped and she went crashing to the ground.

You jumped to your feet and rushed to her side with Mayar and the other girls behind you. Ella wailed in pain and you shushed her, seeing the ugly way her arm bent at the elbow. You knew something had broken, and as you looked over the rest of her body, you saw her leg was bent oddly as well.

“Get the doctor!” You ordered and one of the older girls ran off.

Mary came down the tree shortly after but you paid her no mind as Ella cried louder.

“Mayar take the girls home and-”

“I heard crying…is everything okay?”

A voice cut into your words and your mind went fuzzy quiet. Your words were stuck on your tongue as you blinked up at the man. The sun casted a warm halo around him and you swore you had heard his voice before.

Warm brown eyes stared down at you in worry and you shook your head, your thoughts scattered and piercing together as you looked away. Mayar and the other girls were nowhere to be round, only the young man stood before you and Paige.

“P-Please help! Ella fell and I-I don’t want to-”

“Easy now, dear one.” The man spoke with such a firm reassurance that put your worry at ease. He knelt down beside you and ran a hand over Ella’s brow before he started to hum, a tune so deep and low. He scooped Ella from the ground and she whined as he clung to him. “Lead the way.”

You scrambled to your feet, not caring for the dirt on your skirt and led the man into town with Paige hanging close. Reverend Matthews and the doctor were rushing towards you, worry twisted on their faces as they took in the state of Ella.

“What happened?” Reverend Matthews demanded as he stared at the blood and weird angle of his daughter’s limbs..

“S-She fell from the apple tree, Sir.” You explain with Paige hidden behind your skirt.

“Get her inside,” the Reverend motioned for the young man to follow the doctor before he turned his attention back to you. “I’ll deal with you later.” His voice left no room for argument and you ducked your head low, staring at the ground. Reverend Matthews hurried after his daughter and Paige cried into your skirts.

“Hush now child,” You squatted down and patted the girl’s head. “Ella will be okay.”

“S-She didn’t fall!” Paige cried and you wrapped your arms around her. “She was pushed, Mary pushed her!”

You hushed Paige once more and carried her to the cabin where you then sat in the rocking chair and sang until she calmed down. You saw Mary with your own eyes, she was nowhere near Ella and couldn’t have pushed her from the tree. Your gut turned and a sour taste sat in the back of your throat as you thought over Paige’s words.

Two days had passed since Ella fell from the apple tree and the girl had yet to wake up. You kept a close eye on her along with Paige, but Reverend Matthews was worried. The doctor couldn’t explain why she had not woken up…that was until Paige told her father what she saw. You tried to tell him that Paige had seen it wrong, you knew Mary didn’t push Ella but he wouldn’t hear it.

“If you say that she was not near, and yet my daughter saw her, then what? No one can be in two places at once!”

“Sir, please-”

“I will speak to the other girls and see what happened.”

You told Pagie to sit with her sister and hurried out of the cabin to try and stop the Reverend, but he was out of sight. Someone nearby cleared their throat and you saw the young man from before. You bowed your head and he walked over, standing two feet in front of you.

“Forgive me for not introducing myself, and thank you for helping us.”

“I wished to have meant you under better circumstances, but I am relieved to see that you are unharmed.”

“Unharmed?” The Reverend’s words echoed in your head about ‘dealing with you later’ and you quickly shook your head. “Oh, you misunderstood. Reverend Matthews would never.”

The man smiled, his lips pressed into a tight line before he bowed deeply to you, “I’m Taehyung and it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

It started with Paige’s accusation of Mary pushing Ella from the tree. Next it was Paige waking up with night terrors claiming that Mary had threatened to kill her for telling on her. The last straw was Paige being unable to eat anything. Everything made her vomit, and whispers of witches began lingering all around town.

Mary’s whole family had been put on trail, and the grandmother was found guilty of being a witch. Days later, the old woman was hanged in front of the whole town.

That very night, Ella woke up and Mary’s family was chased out of town. Things settled down for a while and you were able to spend more time outside now that Ella was awake. You ran into Taehyung often when you went out for errands, and you were always polite. The young man was indeed very handsome, his midnight hair often became a curtain for his piercing whisky eyes that always seemed to find you.

You found yourself dreaming of Taehyung late at night, and a few times you woke yourself up, moaning his name. He made it a point to visit you in the evening for a walk around town, which you accepted after Reverend Matthews gave you this blessing. Being with Taehyung felt like playing with fire, his very being burned your soul. His voice caressed your mind and his eyes opened a door in your heart that you never knew was there.

Women and men alike started to appear in town wearing more layers than they should be. When questioned, they all said they were coming down with something. The doctor was in over his head and sent for help. So many people were cold and Reverend Matthews grew concerned. Did he have an epidemic on his hands or something more sinister?

He shadowed the doctor in his exams and every person who fell sick had small cuts along their neck and inner arms, along the main veins. The cuts were no longer than two inches and thin enough to think nothing of. Once the doctor confirmed that every patient had the marks, Matthews knew something ill-omened and foul had plagued the village.

The first time Taehyung touched you, you worried that he had come down with the sickness that had spread within the village. His skin was cold, much too cold for the summer heat that had rolled in. He hadn’t meant to touch you, the two of you were walking side by side in the fields and your ankle rolled over a rock. Taehyung had grabbed your arm and steadied you before you could fall. He forced you to sit on the side of the road as he removed your shoes and checked your ankle.

His fingers were so cold but they felt wonderful on your burning skin. Heat coursed through your body as he examined your exposed ankles. It was improper and he apologized for his forwardness, but he had to make sure you were okay. As he looked over your ankle, Taehyung assured you that he was fine and that he always ran cold no matter what time of the season it was. He explained that he was born with low iron, so his blood didn’t run as hot.

Your ankle was fine and Taehyung offered to walk you back to the cabin to rest in case your ankle started to hurt later on. You agreed and Taehyung offered his arm to which you linked elbows. Heat seemed to permanently warm your face, and you leaned into the coolness of Taehyung’s body. It was heavenly in the summer heat.

At the gate out front of the cabin, Taehyung parted from you, holding your hand in his. He bent slightly at the waist and raised your hand to his lips.

Your stomach flipped and tumbled as his lips touched the skin of your knuckles. Even his breath was cool and you stuttered over your words as you bid Taehyung farewell. You hurried into the cabin and Revend Matthews raised an eyebrow at your flustered state before he turned his attention back to the book in his lap.

“I am holding a council meeting once the new doctor arrives in the morning. Please keep an eye on the girls and keep them close.”

“Is everything okay, Sir?”

Matthews sighed and rubbed at his temples, “There is an evil swallowing this village and I will bring it to light by the grace of the Lord.”

You nodded your head in understanding and made the cross over your body. “By the grace of the Lord.”

The warmth of your body weighed deeply on Taehyung’s mind. He could still smell you on his clothes and a flame simmered deep in his stomach.

He needed to feed. He could not wait any longer, consequences be damned. Your very being called to him, and Taehyung knew better. He would not put you in harm's way, not if he could help it.

Finding his next meal was easy enough. Taehyung was a walking temptation and he used that to his advantage. He had the names and faces of those who looked at him memorized. It was to lure them in with sweet words and an even sweeter touch. He picked his targets and followed them early enough in the evening for no one to question his motives. He would request a meeting and they would make a show of visiting old man Peck, offering their condolences and baskets filled with sweet breads, jams and smoked meats.

Old man Peck was sickly himself, often bedridden as his health steadily declined. Taehyung had such luck when he moved into the old man’s home. The village people were so trusting of his handsome face, and that is where Taehyung took advantage. He had his victims cut themselves with a sewing needle and he did the rest. The venom in his saliva acted as a blood thinner and the flow came faster, easier as he sucked at the broken skin. He never bit anyone, that would have left proof of his existence, after all.

In the comfort of his room, Taehyung seduced widow Melody and ravaged her body. The warmth of her skin, the pounding of her heart, and the soft sounds she made as he rocked against her were dizzying.

Taehyung’s fangs ached, and in a fit of pleasure he rolled their bodies, so that Melody was now on top. His hands grabbed her hips and he bounced her in his lap. The woman threw her head back and Taehyung could smell the sweet tang of her blood. His gums pulsed and he tightened his grip on her hips. His fingers dug into the skin hard enough to bruise, and as her fingers tangled into his hair, Melody pulled his face to her skin.

“Mark me, make me yours!” She begged, and Taehyung lost himself. His fangs pierced the tender flesh of her throat and blood flowed into his mouth quickly. It was messy as Taehyung was a little out of practice.

Blood spilled down the side of Melody’s neck to the front of her bare chest and made her all the more slippery as it mixed with their body sweat. Melody’s voice sang Taehyung’s name as she succumbed to the pleasure, and Taehyung felt her walls tighten around him. He ripped his mouth away from her neck and moaned loudly as he came, his grip so tight that it broke the skin and nearly pressed the bones into dust.

Melody had started to cry but Taehyung was quick to shush her as fear widened the pupils of her eyes. Her body shook and Taehyung dove back into her neck, a new place where his fangs had not touched before. He slurped and gulped loudly, moaning even more at the taste as he sucked the life from Melody’s veins.

Pulling away once more, Taehyung gasped, his face flushed and body warm from the nice meal he enjoyed. Melody’s head dropped backwards and Taehyung shoved her body off his lap. It fell to the side of the bed, lifeless, and Taehyung ran a hand through his messy hair.

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and licked his lips. A knock at the door caught his attention and before he could cover up, old man Peck stood in the doorway. The smile on his face was gone in an instant the moment he saw the blood all over Taehyung. Taehyung sighed and frowned deeply at the old man. In the heat of his meal, he forgot to keep his control on Peck’s mind. A grave mistake.

Taehyung rushed from the bed and slapped at hand over Peck’s mouth and apologized to the old man before he sunk his fangs into his neck. He never liked the taste of older blood, so he ripped the old man’s throat out and helped him fall to the floor. As the old man gurgled and choked on his own blood, Taehyung groaned and looked at Melody’s dead body on his bed. A grave mistake, indeed.

Taehyung felt tired, the adrenaline and sweet high that came from drinking blood had vanished from his body the moment he murdered his kind host. A knock at the front door made Taehyung wince. He had no time to clean up his mess and needed to get out of the cabin. Quickly, he pulled on a fresh set of clothes and wiped himself off as best he could.

He had to take you with him. He couldn’t leave you here in this crazy village.

The front door opened and footsteps echoed through the air. “Peck! Taehyung!”

It was Reverend Matthews and Taehyung cursed. If that man was in the cabin, that meant that you were home alone with his daughters. As the footfalls grew closer, Taehyung groaned. He needed to leave, now.

Ducking out of the window, Taehyung bowed his head and hurried out towards the forest where the rest of the villagers refused to go. He kept close to the treeline and rounded over to your cabin. Your window was closed and Taehyung glanced around. No one was in sight, so he sprinted to your window and peeked inside. You sat in a chair in the corner reading a book. You were a portrait of peace and beauty.

Taehyung knocked on the window and you jumped, the book in your hands tumbled to the ground. You looked at the window and smiled when you saw Taehyung. You opened the window without a second thought, and Taehyung grabbed your face with his hands.

“I have to go now, dear one. Come with me?”

“W-What? What are you saying Taehyung?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Please? Come with me!”

A metallic scent came from Taehyung’s mouth as he spoke and his hands were so much warmer than they had ever been. His eyes seemed brighter and his skin was flushed. He looked like he had been kissed by God.

“T-Taehyung…”

Voices shouted from outside and you tried to turn your head, but Taehyung wouldn’t let go of your face.

“Dear one, please?”

“I-I cannot go with you Taehyung-”

The voices were closer now, and Taehyung’s eyes flickered in a swirl of emotions that you couldn’t unwind in time before they fell dull. Taehyung licked his lips and rested his forehead against yours as he spoke.

“Forgive me, dear one. I will find you again.”

His lips were petal soft and oven warm, a heat like never before scorched your very soul and you gasped into the kiss. You could taste something unwelcome on his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, but it didn’t deter you from seeking more of Taehyung’s lips.

“I swear I will find you again.”

Taehyung’s words were muffled as he spoke into your mouth and you nodded your head, your mind foggy as he slipped from your view and melted into the treeline. Shouts grew louder yet, and you made your way to the front of the cabin where the girls were peeking out the window.

“What has happened?” You questioned and the girls turned towards you, their eyes widened in terror.

“Witch!”

“Devil’s whore!”

The girls screamed at you and your heart froze. What was the meaning of their words? Witch? Never.

The front door was kicked in and a mob of people flooded the home. You screamed as men grabbed your arms and dragged you out of the house. You called for Reverend Matthews with tears in your eyes. The grip on your arms was too tight, you could feel their fingers digging into your bones. Everyone around you spit at the ground by your feet and sneered as you were dragged away towards the lake.

What was the meaning of this? What had you done to deserve such treatment?

At the lake, you saw Reverend Matthews, the two doctors, and the rest of the town. Reverend Matthews’ eyes were narrowed, darkend in disgust as he opened the bible in his hands. You were thrown to the Reverend's feet and your arms were tied tightly behind your back.

“You are accused of witchcraft and summoning a demon to our village. How do you plead?” Reverend Matthews stared down at you and you shook your head. His words did not make any sense in your mind. Witchcraft?

“The laborer Taehyung has murdered the widow Melody and Old Man Peck in cold blood! What say you?”

“H-He would never!”

“I have seen it with my own eyes! And now those who have fallen sick, have come forward with clear memories of Taehyung seducing them in the night. He forced their own hands to harm themselves before he fed off their life’s essence.”

You didn’t believe the Reverend's words. Taehyung wasn’t a demon, he was just a man. He was being blamed for something that was utterly preposterous.

“You were seen in town with the demon Taehyung. Do you deny this claim?”

You stared at the ground before you. You knew that no matter what you said, the Revered would not listen.

“Taehyung had courted you, isn’t that so? You were in love with the demon?”

“He is not a demon!” You shouted, unable to hear such slander. “T-Taehyung is a good man! He would not harm anyone in this village! Nor would I, sir! I have raised your children when they were just babes! H-how can you accuse me of such horrors?”

“Enough!” Reverend Matthews cleared his throat and opened the bible in his hand. “My child, you have been led astray from God’s graces. You have welcomed the devil into your heart and summoned a devil to our village. Our people have been attacked and plagued by unseeable nightmares…”

You tried to pull your arms free of the ropes but it was no use, they were tied tightly.

“You harmed my children and all of the children in this village. I cannot forgive such crimes, nor look past the vile evil that has tempted you into its arms.” The Reverend ducked his head and started to read from the bible. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

Tears rolled down your face as the men lifted you from the ground and sat you in a wooden chair. Your legs were tied down and your arms secured to the back before they carried you to the edge of the dock.

All around, the village people screamed and cried as they threw rocks your way. A jagged rock slammed into your temple and you cried as you felt the throbbing pain spread along the back of your head. The broken skin bleed freely like your tears, and you shook your head once more.

“Reverend please! I-I have committed no crime!”

“You would defend that demon even in your last moments of life?”

You thought over the Reverend's words and your last moments with Taehyung in your room. He had been panicked and so very, very warm. The late night walks, the sweet touches…the dreams. Your heart quickened its pace as you fought to discern the truth from the lies.

Was Taehyung a demon? Had he tricked you into falling in love with him?

“Admit your sins and the All Mighty above will grant you forgiveness.”

“...I am sorry, Sir.” You whispered, unable to lie to everyone for their own piece of mind. “Drown me if that will put your hearts at ease but know that I speak the truth. I have never given into the temptation of the devil and I will pray that God has mercy on your misguided souls.”

“Kill the witch!”

“Die!”

“Harlot!”

Voices screamed around you, and as you looked at the village people, you thought for a moment that Taehyung was hidden in the crowd.

“Taehyung?” You tried to clear your vision as it started to blur from the pain in your head. “Taehyung…”

“Kill her!”

“She calls for her demon lover!”

“Kill the witch!”

The chair jostled as the men lifted it up and you inhaled a shaky breath as you looked at Reverend Matthews for the last time. His face was void of all emotion but his eyes were filled with conflicting emotions.

“Admit your sins.”

“Is it a sin to love someone?”

Reverend Matthews pressed his lips into a firm line and gave one single nod. Tears streamed down your face as you were thrown into the air and gravity pulled you quickly into the lake.

You were sinking, deeper and deeper. Your lungs flooded with water as you inhaled against your better judgment. One single name fell from your lips and it fell on deaf ears, drowned by the water. No one would listen to what you had said. Fear was a dangerous emotion that created so many deaths in the village. The images of the people above started to distort and the light dimmed. You cried as the chair you were tied to hit the bottom of the lake.

Cold.

You felt the icy fingers of the grim reaper wrap around your wrists. You wanted to pull away, you wanted to swim to shore and run far, far away. At the bottom of the lake, your eyes burned but you couldn’t look away from the fish picked bones that surrounded you. You were going to die. You were going to die and no one cared. You screamed and screamed, repeatedly, but no one came to your aid. The last of the air in your lungs pushed out and replaced by the cold dark water.

Darkness coiled in your heart, the tender touch of his embrace meant nothing now. You were alone, drowning at the bottom of the lake for loving him.

Where had he run off to? Doubt started to cloud your mind as memories of Taehyung flickered behind your eyes. Did he plan this? Were you merely a plaything to pass the time before you became his scapegoat? Your eyes grew heavy, weighed down by the water.

From above, the air bubbles that frantically rose to the surface slowly came far and few in between until not one broke the water. The silence stretched on as Reverend Matthews inhaled deeply before he sighed.

“May God have mercy on her soul.”

#taehyung fic #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #vampire!taehyung #fic: run from me #soc taehyung

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