#also picturing him in a lesson hall too.

[scarlettmurphy]

STARCROSSED PT2 +ੈ✩‧₊˚ LOGAN HOWLETT.

logan and y/n — where you are completely in love with a man older then you’re father by a good century or so.. whose completely in love with another.

- content warning age gap (is legal) drinking. explicit. swearing. dirty humour. comfort (an ounce). drugs. nsfw. sick. body issues. sh. angst.. maybe happy endings?! pairings: older!logan howlett x xaiver!reader. logan howlett x jean grey.

spoiler: insane yearning and angst i’m sorry im too far gone ☹️ happy ? where.

note this is part two to starcrossed, prepare for even heavier angst!🫶🏻 i didn’t realise how sad this was until i finished the chapter and realised holy shit this is long. part three is already in the works. i hope u enjoy it! make sure to read pt1. it’s a bit diff from the first one but i hope u like it still. also if you’ve seen the movie ten things i hate about u the mid bit of this might remind u of that one scene if u get me :) song: need you now by lady a cos i was listening to it and jeff buckley whilst reading this? also on the timeline im going for like xmen 2 time i think?

tags — @faceache111 @malfoys-demigod @navs-bhat @dilfismz @thisbipuff-isaswiftie @twinky-wink @thewiselionessss @thecraziestcrayon @awhoreforalotofshows @emily-b @jae48 @cxptainbuck @444st4rg1rl 🫶🏻

[i hope you like it!!]

you’d absolutely love to believe that what you heard last night wasn’t what happened but as your mind goes over the previous night as you fought yourself to stay awake during your fathers little class your brain couldn’t forget the continuous moans and little yells that you heard from a few rooms across from your own at the mansion for a good hour or two last night. you can’t help but figure out that logan most certainly found jean and just thinking about it made you feel sick. scott being the main thing on your brain after you got over the fact logan most definitely fucked jean last night.

she was a cheater. what else could you expect? your thoughts swirling in your brain causing an indescribable amount of heart ache as you kept yourself completely quiet and withdrawn from whatever was going on in this lesson, rogue clearly being able to tell you were off as she glanced at bobby giving him a look you picked up on — him shrugging his shoulders in return as you cursed your sadness for being so obvious.

just the thought of jean and logan staring at eachother hurt you but her touching him, his hands over her skin, her lips on his, his mind only on her in that moment and his gaze locked into hers as she let him take her yet again enraged you to another level it was a struggle not to jump into his mind and find out exactly what happened but you couldn’t, you wouldn’t. your brain fighting with your heart in every way as you felt sick with all those pictures of the scenario you were forming for yourself.

so from that knowledge as you sat in class you knew you needed to stop liking him for good. he didn’t like you, he was throwing it in your face. you heard it all and it hurt you too much to bare. you didn’t even wanna look at him — that single thought of contact sending you crazy. you couldn’t even bring yourself to see him today. you didn’t want too, you couldn’t. seeing jean as you passed through the kitchen earlier was enough to make you nearly cry and immediately stop that tiny breakfast you had made.

you really couldn’t deal with this. one bit. you never did well with emotional pain — physical was something you could endure, yet emotional was always something you couldn’t stomach ever since you were a little girl.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

you'd been avoiding him like the plague. literally. whenever you saw him at the end of the halls you'd turn the other away, force a little smile and act like you had somewhere to go if you were in conversation and it had been like that for two weeks. two weeks had passed since one of your normal conversations, the friendly chats you admired in your brain and made out to be more, the little touches he'd give you that you couldn't comprehend was only a friend thing to do, the way he'd hug you.. the deep conversations, the way he'd sometimes kiss your forehead before you left for bed, watching the rain together and just joking together all something you had put in the past. that had been gone for two weeks and to say it was breaking you would be an understatement.

you could tell others has noticed the practical borderline dissociation within you since you had been a little mute recently not that it was specially due to logan (it completely all was) but you didn't want it to be obvious, you hated that it could be perceived that way so you knew you had to do something about it. who knew heartache for one that didn't love you back could destroy you this badly from the inside out?

.. and today was no different on the logan front. you saw him once today in the halls ushering something to hank — the two in bustling conversation and you made sure not to risk it by going to class, to upset over it all to deal with another short horrible conversation where you were nothing but cold to him as you tried to cut down any romantic feelings you had for him. every time you spoke now you could see the confusion and frustration in his eyes, the mental image to much to bare as you went on hiding in your room and pondering and that’s where you had been since — buried in clothing choices as you tried to stomach down the anxiety that had been growing in you over the fact it was jeans birthday party today and you would have to make an appearance after you had been a hermit since you’d got your heart broken by a guy that didn’t even know. rogue and bobby being the only two people you had really spoke too since the shut down yet their concern had been growing annoying as rogue clearly told bobby about the little crush she could’ve guessed, and got out of you when the two of you were high together a few months ago, you had on logan. bobby actually giving you little options of guys you could date to get over someone which was all you needed to hear when you realised rogue had told him as he literally mentioned hank who they knew you recently hiked with since he had been bothering you over your melancholy, yet you had left before it was a full fledge little argument.

just the thought of having to socialise with him and the others and step out of the hole you’d built for yourself to hide in irritated you especially for jean of all people’s party, your ‘smidge’ of hatred for the woman who had really been rude to you since she’d known you not because of logan, because god on that front she wins and it feels like she’s married to him despite her ties to scott, but on the power front. she knew you had powers incomparable to hers that you hardly even showcased magneto being someone who taught you many things when you were younger, your own parents being raven and charles. of course you had powers which were indescribable.

and most of the time you wanted to use it on that bitch. you were lucky she couldn’t get into your twisted mind to find that fact out.

you let out a little sigh as you decided on the black mini skirt and sweater — you finally having an excuse for the fall outfit and lack of dress because it was october which has always been your favourite season and best time of year yet this year that didn’t apply because you haven’t been hardly able to enjoy it because of isolation you’d forced yourself into.

y/n had to swallow her own self pity down as she leaned over to her perfume bottle on the drawer next to her mirror as she took in the image of her body in the skirt. her shrinking body, a scoff leaving her lips as she wasn’t happy with what she saw in the reflection. she never could be. the aroma of the perfume not masking her feelings at all as she put on some dc martens paired with black tights. the perfect little outfit yet she was sure jean would be outshining her on that front. god she didn’t even wanna imagine logan’s eyes being locked onto jean tonight, the heart ache already unbearable to comprehend as she swallowed a lump that formed in her throat. that aching feeling hadn’t gone away since the start of knowing logan the way she did, maybe that was a sign from the people above about how destined it was.. or how not it was.

these muddled thoughts led her too some early drinking as if she wouldn’t be getting shitfaced later. pregaming alone which is a bit self pity full as she swallowed the burning liquor down her throat, the whiskey hitting her softly and slowly enough to give her the confidence to leave her room twenty minutes later for this party.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

the decorations were perfect, the present corner was overflowing and the students and people were everywhere. jean being clearly the popular girl from the looks of this party, as if y/n already didn’t know that, as the blasting music just made her more aware of the scenario she was in as she fought the urge to look around the room for logan as she went straight over to the bar that had been made. the party was the perfect one a girl, woman, could ask for and y/n could feel the jealously bubbling already that she bit down as she forced a friendly smile to join her lips.

walking through the dancing groups of people, there hardly even being any spaces to walk unless you wanted to bump into a coked up or insanely drunk teenager or wade. who she was lucky to get past without having to talk to yet, no matter how much she did like and enjoy his company she couldn’t deal with his jokes right now which she could guess who’d they’d be centered around, she knew he knew to some extent she was just lucky he hadn’t out rightly said it. that would be too much pity for her to deal with, that coming from wade being another level of pathetic.

the second she leant against the bar she managed to grab the busy barmaids attention giving her a soft nod and polite smile as she didn’t notice the figure beside her as she asked for a coke and vodka.

“thank god you’re showing your face — i thought i was going to have to clone you to get a good conversation.” hank rolled out his tipsiness showing as he pulled y/n into a tight hug when he was sat down on the stool. y/n letting out a low chuckle as she hugged him back nicely, his presence being a little surprise she tried not to seem so bothered about.

“hiya hank.” y/n said softly as the barmaid came over with her drink, placing it next to her. “thanks.” y/n nodded out as hank placed his hand on the stool next to him as she immediately grabbed it and took a swig.

“come! sit.” he ushered in with a drunken smile on his face, a bright one as usual, as he patted the bar stool next to him inviting her to sit and before y/n could even speak up in reply as she slid down on the stool hank bit in.

“where the hell have you been?” he abruptly said bluntly, putting a little look on his face off one that’s pissed off as y/n felt the guilt rush through her as she wrapped her fingers around the glass drowning her truth in the drink as she took a big sip off the liquor acting as if that didn’t taste appalling as she shrugged her shoulders at hanks obvious question which has an obvious answer to that she’d play off as a stupid claim if questioned about it.

“—i’ve been busy! controlling powers— small missions, and that.” y/n lied out.

hank furrowed his eyebrows at his words, giving her a knowing look before he shook his head swiftly at what she said. seeing right through her little lie he truly knew nothing much about what the truth was or not as he took a little sip of his beer.

“i know you but i’m not pushing it— rather you bite of logan’s heads rather then mine.” hank said out lowly as y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at his comment as a look of confusion spread over her face at the mention of him but before she could question hank on it she was met with two hands around her waist, pulling her tightly back purposely.

“hello pretty little liars, you’re aria?” wade said loudly into her ear his drunkenness obvious as y/n scoffed, him clearly stating that because her outfit choice as he squeezed her even tighter y/n’s eyes rolling as she elbowed him playfully back as his hands on her faltered as he playfully shoved her back.

“—elsa! you made it snow yet?” y/n said back to him as she was met with the sound of his laughter as he pulled on the stool next to y/n, making the guy who was sat on it mutter a curse before wade sent him a glare and then went speed walking away clearly a boy as young as fourteen or thirteen who just got the shit scared out him for, wade’s harsh look as he sqt down on the stool as he met y/n’s gaze.

“you know i have honey.” he nodded out with a smirk as hank leaned into the twos space.

“shots anyone?” hank rolled out, fixing his glasses as wade enthusiastically said a quick yes, y/n adding to the fire. “—very much needed.” y/n drove out as wade sent her a little look of knowing yet he held back the urge to call her out on it. he was being a ‘good’ friend in his eyes anyway, he didn’t wanna hear her say things about logan when he knew a few things himself on how the other party felt.

hank calling the barmaid over as wade pulled y/n’s stool closer to his that knowing look still present on his face as he played with the knowledge he had a bit just in a little playful way.

“you seen the birthday girl yet?..gave her a gift?” wade said sarcastically knowing the two didn’t really see eye to eye on a LOT of things as y/n gave him a little glare, him having been present for many of their little disagreements.

“luckily i haven’t, as i’ve brung nothing.” y/n rumbled back as wade nudged her playfully with her words as hank grabbed the tray of shots from the barmaid— y/n’s eyes widening once she saw how many shots he had ordered. “fifteen?” y/n broke out with a raised eyebrow as hank chuckled as he took one, downing it straight away before grabbing another as wade spoke up cockily.

“who’s pants are you trying to get into?” wade rolled out, his voice sly as he grabbed two for himself as y/n leaned over and took one ready to get shitfaced, maybe that’d stop her mind from falling back onto logan every other second her longing heart internally hating this situation more and more as she yearned to see him but she bit back the urge to even look around for him. halting that urge by taking a shot.

“preferably anyone with a pulse and no dick between their legs.” hank said right as y/n took another shot, her nearly choking on the burning liquid which was a horrible mix of vodka and god knows what.

“i can tuck.” wade said lowly as this made it worse, y/n nudging wade, shaking her head as she held back her laugh as she swallowed the shot she just took. “disgusting!” she rolled out as she took another, downing it before placing the shot down on the table.

“ah! sweeties jealous.” wade spoke up sarcastically with that all familiar cocky smile on his face with that teasing glint in his eyes as he handed another shot y/n’s way as she took it gracefully as they all cheersed their glasses together. that being just one of the about eight times they did that within the next thirty to sixty minutes as y/n bit back her thoughts with copious amounts of shots and soon enough they had gone through a good four or so tray off shots and a few drinks each.

every passing minute y/n felt her mind get closer and closer to the edge as every time she felt that aching feeling grow she’d swallow it back with another sip of liquor or large shot — wades jokes passing the time and hanks yapping and her own occasional drunken chime in making her mind a mess as hank got another row of shots.

the songs and wade and hank’s voices becoming a blur in y/n’s mind as she swallowed nothing but the truth with those shots. every sip feeling like more heartache she couldn’t stop having.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/n was practically stuck too the bar stool, her eyes scanning the crowd occasionally (by occasionally around five times if not more a minute) as she looked for him. her mind lingering on a certain someone as it always tended to do the liquor just amplifying those feelings as hank spoke up.

“you know— you look like your mum.”

his words caused y/n’s attention to snap over to hank as she raised an eyebrow, wade making a little ‘oo’ in the background even if he couldn’t help but agree with his comment as he sipped on the cocktail he had ordered a few drinks previously that had just been laying there on the side. the bartender making a fuck ton of profit from these three miserables.

“very dead?” y/n said sarcastically as hank gave her a little look — clearly a little annoyed she didn’t take the comment seriously as he leaned a little closer to her.

“beautiful you idiot.” hank added out, his words making her eyebrows furrow a bit as she took in his drunken words as she gave him a little a smile — swallowing the depreciating joke she was close to making as she took a sip of her drink.

“thank you hank.” y/n nodded out calmly as wade butted in.

“—fucking hell, incoming for angry jacob twilight wannabe.” wade cursed out as y/n’s gaze moved over wade following his eyes to where he was looking, her heart feeling as if it was flipping and twisting in her chest as she watched logan walk into the bar games room as she furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of jean following him angrily. her looking perfect as ever.

yet before y/n could think another thought she locked eyes with logan from across the room — their eyes meeting as she felt a weight lift immediately onto her as she swallowed a lump that formed in her throat at just the sight of him. it felt as if time has frozen just as they looked to each other , his eyes taking everything about her in as she did the same his way.

he practically immediately walked over, more like stomped over, as he seemed clearly agitated. more then usual as his eyes dawned onto wade and hank before resting back to y/n as he stopped in his tracks in front of the seated three.

“who thought getting a teenager shitfaced was a good idea?” logan nearly growled out, giving wade a glare as y/n’s eyes lingered back on jean who saw who he was talking to and turned away her being even more pissed then him, y/n holding the urge to go into her mind and find out why as she brung her gaze onto logan after seeing jean walk off somewhere else in the room, her patience clearly wearing thin. her wanting to make a little childish comment about how she wasn’t when wade spoke up.

“gods probably.” wade rolled out in reply as logan scoffed at what he said.

“y/n.” logan said, her eyes meeting his own as she took in his appearance. her eyes lingering on the chain that was wrapped around his neck — one he told her was something jean gave him when he first became an xmen, something he hasn’t worn in months, this fact only making her feel a number of horrible thoughts as she grabbed her drink and took a mean swig. swallowing her own building self pity as she forced a fake smile logan immediately knew to be fake.

“hi.” she said swiftly after she put her drink back down on the table — his eyebrow raising a little at her hostility as he looked to wade, hank the back to her.

“uh—“ logan spoke up, trying to find the words to say as he looked at her a bit lost for words at how she was acting as he swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat — feeling his frustration rise as he tried to control it, “where have you been?” he said lowly, hank raising his eyebrow at how this little conversation seemed weirdly tension filled. wade knew why, he could’ve called her little feelings for him back when she first met the guy but now he couldn’t help see how serious it was because off the way she was looking at him and how it was affecting her.

he couldn’t even brung himself to but in as he buried himself in his drink. hank doing the same.

“i’ve been busy. but i’ve been around— i saw you two days ago.” she said quickly, shifting in her seat a little as his eyes almost felt as if they burnt through her.

“you didn’t stay,” he said taking a pause as he looked at her, taking in just how intoxicated she seemed as he tried to analyse it, “like you uh- normally, do.”

his words touched a nerve on y/n as she felt that all familiar heart ache grow y/n trying to act as if the feeling inside her wasn’t killing her right now and ripping her to shreds as she kept her gaze on him, his eyes on her making her think and feel a number of things she hated.

“—had somewhere to be.” she replied quickly, his eyebrows raising at her bluntness to her reply as he knew something was off. he sensed it, the drunkness only adding to his worry as he went to step closer when he was cut off by a voice behind him.

y/n eyes dawned on the sight off jean, a tight silver dress on showcasing her curves as her red hair flowed down by her side as she looked at logan who hadn’t even brung himself to met her gaze yet. y/n immediately being hit with a truck load of insecurities just with a glance to the older women who had the only guy she’d ever loved wrapped around her finger.

y/n’s heart feeling as if it was stepped on as she kept her gaze on him — time feeling a little slow motion.

“logan—now.” jean said harshly.

“lo- logan.” she said again, y/n not leaving logan’s gaze as he swallowed his own spit as he eventually brung his gaze over to jean.

“logan— he knows.” she said harshly, her words a little quiet as they were clearly just meant for logan’s ears yet y/n heard them. “now! come on?” she questioned out frustratedly, saying that to grip his attention as logan looked to jean then back to y/n, wade and hank watching like it was a drama.

the air felt thick with some sort of something as y/n swallows, her eyes on him as he bit down on the inside of his cheek.

“be careful kid, remember to slow down.” he rolled out before he turned away with jean going right to her side as y/n scoffed as he walked off turning her attention back to the barmaid — not feeling logan’s eyes burning back to her as he took a long glance her way before disappearing off with jean into the party to sort whatever was happening.

y/n rolled her eyes the second she turned her attention back over to the bar as she looked down at the bar table, swallowing her thoughts down with the rest of her vodka as she felt the others eyes on her. they sensed on the tension — it was impossible not too.

“so they’re fucking again.” hank commented lowly and cluelessly. his words being like a gut punch to y/n as she bit down on her tongue as she called back over the barmaid, leaning over and ordering a couple shots as she sat back down in her seat.

“mm, most definitely.. hell for scott.” wade ushered out lowly, feeling a sense of guilt as he saw the way y/n’s eyes fell as y/n tried to mute out their conversation in the background as she welcomed the shots with open arms as she pulled the tray closer to her as she heard wade and hank whisper behind her as they leant over to gossip about the rumours of jean and scott being over as y/n’s heart felt as if it was plummeting and beating as fast as it ever had with every shot she took. the information she was hearing just making her internal pain grow worse as she tried to drink it away every shot seemingly enhancing her hurt as the metal images she were getting hurt her brain as she felt the urge to do something about it.

her mind full of relentless unlimited thoughts that were screaming at her as she placed the last empty shot glass she had down — the shots helping limit the voices to some extent as the barmaid came over and refilled them without another word most likely sensing her anguish as y/n nodded to her with as much of a smile she could muster up as she thought back to the conversation with logan.

“we’re going to dance— you coming?” wade spoke to y/n as that brung her out her gaze with the bottom of the shot glass as she shook her head, “no—thanks,” she slurred out as hank gave her a small nod and pat on the shoulder before they disappeared of into the crowd leaving her alone after saying their be right backs— her lips immediately around another glass as she finished the rest of the drinks thay were laid out in front-of her.

y/n either needed fresh air and a sick bucket or the man she loved and craved, and she was going with the latter. her desires only heightened which was making just about everything worse due to the mess the alcohol had started to cause her brain and body.

her heart pounding as she stood up, everything going messy and spin like as she stumbled through the crowd. her mind on one thing and one thing only, one person, as she got pushed around a bit by the dancing people as she made her way out the bar room she was in. her eyes searching the place as she looked for him in every corner, in every face, every person, every laugh, every grunt and every noise. she was searching for him like she had been doing within her heart ever since she’d know the man.

yet what she didn’t expect to see when she turned the corner was him right there. logan right there in his bubble of perfection as she saw it. her eyes taking him in as she saw him in the hallway — a smile joining her lips as she started to walk over to him planning what she was going to say in her brain. how she was going to do any of this? she didn’t even know what she had planned, she just wanted to speak to him. she needed to see his smile. she missed it. she wanted to make him laugh like usual, she wanted to kiss him, feel his touch. she needed it, it was destroying her to not have him. why was she ignoring him for the past two weeks? she should just tell him. nothing bad could hap—

“mine.” she swore she could make out logan saying, her eyebrows furrowing in pure confusion as she took one little step closer to where he was as her eyes dawned on a certain red head with a killer smirk on her lips as she had a tight grip on his chain.

and with that every thought she just had was crushed within the space of five or so seconds as she heard jean’s light hearted chuckle next, her voice grating against y/n’s mind as she swallowed her own spit back down as she made sure she couldn’t be seen by them. feeling the sick feeling rising in her as she watched logan’s hands wrap around jean’s waist as she pulled him closer to her in a teasing action that broke y/n’s heart in two.

she was frozen in her tracks, watching as the one she loved was with the one he loved.

“you’re mine.” ringing in her ears as she just made out what he had said to jean as his words sent a chill through y/n’s body as she felt the tears start to boil in her eyes as she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene. her mouth fallen gap as she watched as he roughly had her against the door jean’s hand going down to the handle of said door as y/n watched as jean pulled him in the room with her roughly.

the door slamming behind them as she felt her beating out her chest, her breath shaky and hitched as she swallowed.

and when she heard a little squeal come from the room over the music a few seconds or minutes later, she couldn’t tell how long had passed, that’s when she knew she needed to go before she turned into a public laughing stock as she turned on her heel — shakily making her way through the crowd again, unbeknownst to the tears dropping down her cheeks as she fought her way through the dancing crowd as she tried to get the hell out of here as she thought she was fighting back her emotions, yet she really wasn’t doing too good of a job with it.

“watch it!” someone yelled out over the music to y/n as she shuffled past them quickly, stumbling out and disappearing through the back door as she made her break for it. her heart feeling broken to an extreme it hadn’t felt before which was only amplified by the alcohol as she felt her brain chemistry formed for logan be destroyed within a matter of moments. seeing it in front of her own eyes being completely different from assuming it had happened.

the fact they were doing that right now she just couldn’t and didn’t want too comprehend it. it hurting her so much she felt as if she was going to be sick, she could feel it to the extremist point that when she managed her way to the end of the courtyard where her little spot was with her childhood swing set, where she’s surprised she even remembered the whereabouts off in this state, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning down into a bush shakily.

her mouth watering, her throat burning with liquid as y/n threw up into the bush her heart pounding ridiculously as she felt the tears burning against her cheek as she didn’t even notice the feeling off two strong hands holding her hair back. her body shaking as she kept being sick, feeling the acid burn her throat as she felt a strong hand round her hair pulling it into a ponytail and another hand around her fragile body to keep her up.

her body flinching a little at the touch as the person leaned a little closer as y/n was sick some more, “it’s okay—“ a low voice ushered out as y/n couldn’t help be sick again, leaning down closer into the bush nearly tripping into it as the person held her upright. their hand snacking onto her waist as y/n leaned back into their touch. basically tripping into it as she let out a shaky breath as she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her top.

her eyes moving up onto an all familiar face and she instantly cursed in her brain as he managed to move her over to the swings, sitting her down in one of two seats as she clung to the chain of it leaning her body against it freely as she let out a little cry.

“you’re good.” scott said softly his voice low as he spoke into a comforting tone that didn’t completely soothe her as she felt the tears trail down her cheek as he kneeled down — his hands stabilising the swing that was rocking a little as he looked up at her making sure she was okay on the swing. the cold air hitting the twos faces as the moon shone down on the courtyard, the faint sound of pop music from the mansion being completely distant to both of them.

“scott.” she managed to say, him being able to tell how far gone she was by the way she slurred her words as if her crying and throwing up didn’t prove that enough. his eyes on her as he moved her hair out the way for her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she held back a little sob which wasn’t held back that well as she let out a shaky whimper.

“w-why— doesn-t he love me?” she spoke out quickly, her breath shaky and her voice high pitched as she let out little sniffles in between words, the weight of those making a sad smile tug on scott’s lips as he kept his hand on her face trying to keep her upright which was sort of impossible as he kept his comforting warm hand against her face. just trying to make her feel okay.

“—he—“ scott cut himself off before he moved closer to her, trying to keep her calm, “he does love you okay?”

y/n shook her head at scott’s words as she let out a muffled sob against her wrist, shaking her head as scott wiped the tears from her cheeks. “not like i want him to.” she rolled out in a slur, scott feeling his heart beat quicken at her little admission as if he didn’t know how she felt over him before as he moved his finger across her cheek in a soft circular motion, his hand cupping her jaw.

“hey- he does okay?” scott said quickly as he moved her jaw down so she met his eyes again, his tone soft as he moved himself to the other swing next to her — the second he was sat him moving his swing closer to her own. tangling the chains of his swing up a little in doing so.

“he does.” scott added out again, y/n not believing him at all as she swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat as she leaned herself again the hand that was cupping her face as she nearly tumbled off the swing.

her biting down on her tongue as she let out a little squeal as scott placed his hand on her back supporting and holding her up as a little chuckle left her lips as she leaned forward a little. scott not letting his hand move as worry was evident on his face as y/n turned to him a sad smile on her lips, tears still evident on her face.

“i wish.” he heard her whisper as he swallowed, his own voice breaking a little, “come on. okay? he doesn’t know what he’s missing right now.— he doesnt see you liking him.” scott said softly, giving her a little playful nudge as y/n started to lose the energy to even speak off it as she felt another tear slip down her cheek.

his words were taking the weight off her shoulders as she moved in the swing a little, scott’s comforting hand on her back which was now sort off around her waist making her sure she wasn’t going to fall as she moved a tiny bit closer to him on her swing. their swings touching a little.

“you deserve better then jean-y bitch.” she managed out lowly, scott not being able to help the chuckle that escaped his lips at how she put it as he looked out at the mansion in front of them. the moon present in his red tinted glasses.

“yeah— i’m starting to realise that.” he chuckled out as y/n gave him a drunken smile in return as she locked eyes with scott. someone she’d hardly noticed was this nice mostly due to the words logan remarked about him all the time as her smile couldn’t help but grow as she looked at him. the air softening between the two as y/n felt tiredness fall over her as she leant against the chains a little as she slowly moved her gaze over to the moon.

a few moments of silence passes before scott spoke up.

“y/n?” scott managed out trying to grab her attention as he saw he eyes wondering a bit. his eyebrows furrowing when he heard no answer in return, her silence scaring him as he nudged her.

“y/n?” he quickly said out once again, nudging her a little as he saw how limp her body was and noticed her closed eyes.

“fuck— y/n.” he ushered out quickly as he stood from his seat and went right to her side as he kneeled down, tapping her face to try and catch her attention. y/n stirring a little at his action as he stood up, pulling her up with him as he placed his hand around her waist as he tried to shake her a little which did the job as her eyes fluttered open to meet his own.

a drunken smile joining on her lips as a tear dropped down her cheek that she didn’t even notice as she chuckled a little, leaning close to him as she swayed a little.

“scott.” she said lowly as scott gave her a low chucke as she placed her arm around him drunk on, him wiping the tear of her cheek softly something he’d done a number of times since being in her presence tonight.

“okay it’s time to go sleep— im taking you to bed.” he explained softly as y/n looked at him with a little furrowed brow as he started to walk, helping her walk alongside him her hardly even able to realise she was walking as she leaned against his touch.

“you’re good.” he said calmly to her as they walked through the dark courtyard, the illuminated by the moon field of grass between them and the bustling school /xmansion being the only light to guide them. his grip on her tightening softly when she nearly tripped over her own feet, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he realised just how long of a walk it was to the mansion. him sighing as he held her upright. “nearly there.” he muffled out as y/n leaned to him.

“—‘m gonna be sick.” she quickly flushed out before throwing her head over in the other direction as scott patted her back and stopped in his tracks at her words as she was sick again — him holding the urge got to be sick too because the smell as he focused on helping her. his heart skipping a beat bit as he felt his anger growing over logan putting her in this situation where she was so drunk she was being sick or the fact that she was being sick just thinking about logan it made his blood boil as he felt his jaw clench — his eyebrows twitching as he helped her get it all out, whispering little comforts as he soothed her back.

“good girl. “ he said lowly as y/n brung her gaze into him once more him giving her a small sad smile as he placed his hand back around her waist to guide her, “cmon, bed.” he whispered out to her as they started walking again. having to go through the party definitely going to be a difficult task as scott tightened his grip around her waist as they walked past a couple people hanging around the outside area of the building as the music met y/n’s ears as once they got into the building scott called for people to move out the way as he made y/n stay close to him. her eyes wondering over everyone in her drunken haze as scott helped her over to the staircase which was through a couple wide, filled rooms.

her swearing she came across wade and hank in the corner with two twins and colossus’s doing a certain something to wade, her eyebrows furrowing at what she believed to have just seen as she shook it off as she met scott’s words.

“you need to be carried or are you okay?” scott asked as if he was babying her which sent a wave of comfort through her body as she let the question hang in her brain as she tried to form answer to it as she leaned herself against scott.

“‘u—‘i can—“

“scarlett?” logan roughly called out in a raised voice towards scott as he came over out of nowhere. scott rolling his eyes as he quickly picked y/n up, y/n being in scott’s arms as her eyes fluttered open to see logan to the side of them. scott’s jaw immediately clenching as he continued up the stairs without cracking a word to logan as he rushed after the pair. his own anger frustratingly high as he tried to control himself and stop himself from doing anything stupid.

“scott?” logan said harshly, his anger growing as he didn’t get an answer as he tried to get the man to look at him.

“lo-“ y/n slipped out, her voice muffled as she leaned into scott’s arms more as he carried her bridal style up the stairs. her realising his presence, logan’s eyes casting onto y/n and then back to scott. his eyes darkening.

“what have you done to her?!” logan rushed out, his voice cracking with worry as scott ignored his words as he made it to the top of the stairs and continued on down to where he’s pretty sure her room is.

“scott!” logan shouted again trying to get his attention as scott opened the door with his back, giving logan a harsh glare as he walked right over to the bed where he placed y/n down carefully on it. her drunken self pouring the cover over her figure as she rolled over in bed. letting out a little muffled whimper as her head laid on the pillow.

the second scott having let go off y/n he immediately turned to logan scott not giving logan another chance to talk before he connected his fist with his jaw, logan been taken aback a little as he raised an eyebrow, scott looking right at him as logan pushed him back harshly.

“what the fuck did you do?” logan cursed out quickly, scott scoffing as he held back taking his glasses off because of the fact it was a party, not logan’s funeral even despite how much he wanted it to be.

“you should ask yourself that, prick.” scott said harshly. logan’s eyebrows raising at his words as scott pushed himself past logan without another word.

logan immediately grabbing scott’s arm harshly, his claws aching to come out as he met his gaze.

“what do you mean by that?” logan said quickly, his eyes locked onto scott’s as so many questions flowed his brain. his thoughts enlaced with y/n and the worry he had for the girl as scott harshly brung his hand back to his side after shaking logan’s grip off — giving logan a stern look as he looked him up and down judgementally, “god, you are so stupid. you’d think being born in the 19th century would make you slightly smarter then a twenty nine year old.” scott scoffed out lowly, his words only angering logan more as he shoved scott against the wall.

his claws extending as he pressed them close to his throat — his threat there as scott swallowed.

“tell me.” he said harshly as scott couldn’t help a certain look cross his face. completely frustrated by logan, his heart aching for jean in this moment as he stared at what she had clearly picked over himself that enraging him yet also y/n and what she had just gone through herself. the heart ache something he could relate too and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. yet right now he would logan however.

“she saw you and jean you idiot. meaning i did too. meaning— fuck you.” scott said quickly as he clicked his visor getting the right aim, logan jumping back as scott lazered his chest. his beam going right through as a loud grunt escaped his lips as logan in immediate retaliation clawed scott in the side, scott pushing back the whimper threatening to leave his lips as logan as he got ready to take another shot at the man.

logan raising his eyebrow as the two stared eachother down, “i’ll heal,” logan rolled out his words only angering scott worse as he went to raise his glasses again as logan roughly placed his hand on his chest to stop him, his claws retracted back in.

“i wish you wouldn’t.” scott bit out harshly as logan scoffed at his words, keeping his anger limited as he rolled his eyes.

“jean only needed someone to talk too—“

“you mean fuck.” scott said out harshly, jean crossing logan’s mind as his jaw clenched his gaze darkening as he couldn’t bring himself to shake his head. not that he was thinking about scott’s feelings — right now his mind pondering on another.

scott saw how logan couldn’t even fight back with words — tutting as he pushed him back. logan’s hands falling to his side as the two didn’t break eye contact.

“you know we’re engaged.” scott spit out like venom, his words causing a look of surprise to wash over logan’s face as his mouth fell open, “well we were.” he added out.

“you were— what?” logan fumbled out, confusion written on his face as scott rolled his eyes at his reaction. not that he cared deep down, but it felt like he did right now.

“great.. she didn’t tell you. like she didn’t tell anyone,” he said lowly, “not that it makes it any better what you’ve done,” scott casted out as a few seconds finding passed as he tried to find the words which only come out anger filled, “she’s a caniving cheating bitch.” scott cursed out, logan not bringing himself to react to the words scott ushered about jean as he looked at scott.

logan was about to say something to scott when the sound of y/n’s soft little snores filled the room which made the tension even higher as scott and logan glared at eachother.

“maybe just think next time before you fuck someone else’s girl, again.” scott managed out as he pushed past logan to leave the room.

“i don’t think she’s your girl.” logan called back out before he left as scott’s jaw clenched at his words as he opened the door.

“not anymore. you can have her.” he said harshly as he paused as he knew he had to say something.

“—just think about how y/n feels, because i know hurts.” scott spoke lowly as he left without another word clearly implying a certain fact.

logans heart skipped a beat at his words as the door shut behind scott, his mind feeling as if it was in a war as the tension built in the room immediately. the air feeling thick as he swallowed his own spit not bringing himself to call something back to him as his words couldn’t even bring themselves to form right in his brain yet alone out loud.

his eyes dawned back onto the sleeping girl y/n laying there. looking so soft and innocent, completely sound asleep and his heart couldn’t help twang a little as he bit down on the inside of his cheek — many bustling thoughts cursing his brain as he wished he had never thought of them.

his mind lingering on the thought of jean and what just occurred within him and scott as he came down from the pain that was inflicted on him his chest rising rapidly to a more normal flow as he healed. as he focused his gaze on y/n as he furrowed his eyebrows over what scott had said, trying to wrap his brain around it.

logan’s eyes dawning on y/n. guilt seeping through him as he felt his heart gain that aching feeling y/n had been riddled with since the day she first realised she was in love with the man as he sat on the foot of the bed. his mind feeling melted as he placed his hand on her own his big, gruff and rough feeling hand taking the soft touch of her hand into his own grip. her hand being half if not less of his size as he soothed her. her touch being another level of comfort he didn’t recall experiencing since he was a young boy that feeling sending memories flooding through his brain he couldn’t focus on now.

feeling all the emotions boiling up he’d been fighting to push down as he looked down at her asleep body. what was all of this? she had been distant, almost rude and very cold and scott’s words were making that why question he had on his mind for the past two weeks clearer.

the implication of scott’s words hung in his mind as he looked at her. him eventually bringing himself over to the spare place next to her in the bed not wanting to leave her alone for the night too worried about how drunk she was and if anything could happen in the night.. or anyone else drunkily walking in. but he couldn’t help deep down in knowing that those were just excuses to stay within her presence. asleep or not.

carefully building a gap between the two of them as he laid down — no matter how strong the urge to hug her and comfort her was — as he let out a rough exhale as he closed his eyes.

only to open them three seconds later to look at her. his eyes not leaving her peacefully asleep body for the rest of the night.

[platinumshawnn]

to strangers | benjicot blackwood x fem!bracken reader

a/n: yes i am fully aware i should be writing him as davos out of respect for the accuracy of the show and character but i'm still mourning what could have been. also leave it to me to write a little prequel tying this to my own fic a little bit by writing what this guy was really up to on his "hunting trip" lol. have some poorly written smut anyways, if anyone sees that I accidentally called the bracken’s estate “hedge stone” instead of “stone hedge” no you didn’t shut up it’s been fixed

synopsis: benjicot likes to rile up the women he likes i guess

Content warnings: MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism, smut (fem p in v sex, unprotected sex, degradation) [not proofread]

Word count: 5.5k words

you had never been one for conflict — especially not that of drunken councilmen who became red in the face, knocking over cups and irate over matters of politics as they shouted. despite your father’s efforts to maintain diplomacy and restraint during meetings, it almost always ended in a screaming match at the table these days — even your uncle could not bear to sit through them, and often doubled up on the amount he drank just to sit through them, barely able to walk as he stumbled out.

you were almost always met with apologies from your father as he found you outside the doors of the hall, given a squeeze of hand, and ushered to bed. you did not care for politics, but there was no escaping the recent events — it affected everyone, reaching beyond stone hedge’s walls, but your father the most. he appeared to have aged significantly over the past days, eyes exhausted and on edge whenever she greeted him.

but this particular night had been…a lot more than usual. your cousin, aeron, had come back, shaking as he’d returned from a survey of the lands with your brother; having got into another squabble over the boundaries with some blackwood boys who had dared to come too close to their land, in aeron’s words. the whole thing dripped of theatrics — “that filthy…cunt, benjicot”

your head popped up from the handkerchief you were working to embroider, your mother on your right as the pair of you sat in one of the several cabinet rooms that your father had designated for your lessons as a child; having since used it as an escape from the noise. even your mother had been alerted by the commotion as the boys clamored into the hallway, looking out through the door that had been cracked open to provide some airflow in the room. there, your cousin stood, his nose bloody and still dripping as your father summoned the maester while ranting to your uncle, attempting to shush the boy-knight who was on the border of shouting. your interest was only peaked by the name, sitting up and turning your body towards the three men, ceasing what you had been doing and placing the handkerchief in your lap to listen.

your father had made eye contact with you as aeron continued, grabbing him by the shoulder and reaching to close the door before you could hear as he dragged your cousin away. your mother had encouraged you to continue, the look she gave reminding you of proprietary and of your place — with a curt nod, you had returned to your task.

that had been at midday, and since then, there had not yet been a break. you could hear the shouts from your room, and you could picture your father amidst it all, trying to bring order and peace — a task he was successful in every so often, silence falling over the room and quieting to hushed whispers that would only last a short time before the yelling continued.

sometime before midnight, the silence had ended finally, stood at the top of the stairs as the councilmen dispersed; other members of your house trickled out. you had stayed up, waiting to approach your father, in hopes to get some sort of information on the outcome. but the exhaustion was clear on his face, being met by a soft, “on the morrow, not tonight, my dear.”

he had pressed a kiss to your head and brushed past you, receding to his chambers for the night, leaving you at the base of the stairs. as you went to retreat to bed yourself, you heard the cursing mutters of aeron who had finally exited the great hall doors behind you, still seething after several hours — you were relieved at least to find that his nose had since stopped bleeding.

“aeron,” you called out, turning to descend down the four stairs you had climbed just as he stopped in the hallway towards his own chambers. his eyes found you. you approached him, hand reaching out to grab his face between your fingers, turning to assess his face for any additional injuries you may not have noticed earlier in the day. however, much to your relief, he was otherwise unharmed, “you really ought to stop antagonizing those men— you’re going to get yourself killed.” you scolded, sighing and dropping your hand.

aeron winced slightly, more from the reprimand than any lingering pain. “I can’t just let them insult our family, you know that.”

you shook her head, a mix of frustration and concern in your eyes. “I know, aeron, but there’s a difference between defending our honor and looking for trouble. what good will it do if you’re dead?”

He avoided your gaze, jaw clenching. “I just can’t stand the way they look at us, like we’re nothing and like they can do whatever it is they please. Like they own the riverlands. someone has to stand up to them if your father won’t.”

“standing up to them doesn’t mean getting into brawls. use your head, aeron. we need you alive, not battered and bruised,” you said, your tone softening.

aeron had sighed and muttered something unintelligible, only able to make out a ‘yeah’ before he withdrew to his own rooms.

you had tried to sleep — you did. but at some point, the heat, humid and sticky, had made it impossible to; instead, turning and tossing in your bed, growing increasingly frustrated before you stormed from the bed with a huff. the conversation between you and aeron had been stuck in your head, the sight of him bloodied haunting you — how did benjicot look then? was he unscathed and unharmed?

you knew he had always been stronger, a fiercer opponent but you couldn’t help the worry that plagued you.

you had quickly changed as best you could in the dark, without falling over in a way that would alert the guards; pulling your dress on and watching underneath the door as you smoothed out the fabric, doing your best to be silent in opening the door. peaking your head out and checking that both ways were clear, you slipped out and closed the door behind you, walking on your toes as you snuck through the house and out a backdoor that led into the fields.

you did your best to stay low and out of sight as you bolted through the fields towards the boundary stones, trying to remember who would be on surveillance — you couldn’t for the life of you remember, despite your best efforts to eavesdrop on your cousin's conversation earlier.

hell, you weren’t even sure you would see him.

sometimes you did, other times you didn’t — weeks would pass sometimes before you saw him again. sometimes it was hours before you saw him, sat, pulling at grass as you waited, knees to your chest.

today felt like one of those days, as you approached the river, out of sight from any prying eyes and sat by the edge, your eyes straining to see through the dark. the moon did little to penetrate the dense patch of trees. as the hours passed, your head had begun to drop against your knees, dozing off. there would be no way of keeping yourself awake all night, after a long day, opting as a last ditch attempt to awaken your senses by dipping your toes into the stream as you kicked off your shoes.

the water was a nice welcome in the heat, a content sigh leaving your mouth as you kicked your feet; splashing the water upwards. the wait seemed to drag on forever, growing impatient and trying to decide on whether to return home or not.

you’d give him another hour at most. If he didn’t come, then you would go home.

your gaze scanned the river, serene and peaceful as the rushing body of water sloshed around your feet; cool and refreshing. you’d have time.

you stood back from the water and fumbled to strip down to your chemise, discarding the dress to the grass by your shoes before easing down and into the water, letting out a hiss. slowly, wadding into its shallow depths, you moved forward until the water touched your thighs, lapping at your body as you cupped some of the water between your hands and tossed it up in front of you.

“you’re far from home, lady bracken.”

your head whipped toward the sound of a voice from the treeline, water sloshing around your legs as you faced the boy who the voice belonged to. the ends of your skirt had been released in the turn into the water, feet tangling in the soft sand of the river’s floor, just catching yourself from falling into its rapid rush by the luck of the Gods; the ends of the fabric now soaked by the flowing water that swirled around you. there he stood, barely peeking out from the cover of the trees as if that would somehow conceal his identity, hugging close to the trunk of one while he watched you from his shaded spot. there was hardly any way of seeing him in the night, the moon’s light not quite reaching him but his voice -- you would know that voice anywhere.

you stepped forward, halfway across the shallow depths of the river that flowed between the two lands of bracken territory and blackwoods, the cold water just reaching mid-thigh as you looked up at him, “as are you.” you quipped, heart rate rapid as your heart thrummed against your ribs.

despite the limited visibility, you could see his mouth quirk up in a half-smile, his amusement clear as his head tipped to the side while his eyes continued to watch you closely like some sort of prey. the limited sense of vision allowed you the ability to hear as he inhaled through his nose, breathing outwardly before he finally stepped forward to the edge of the water, his hand at the hilt of his dagger on his hip as his eyebrows rose, “and do you always take moonlit strolls through my land?”

you stilled, hands resting at your sides as your fingers dipped into the cool water below you, the cold nipping at your fingertips, “only when called for— the night was too beautiful to resist.” you replied, chin lifted to look up towards where he towered over you, “and what’s your excuse?”

he snorted, boots shifting against the dirt with as he moved to widen his stance, “the same perhaps,” he said, eyes glancing up to the sky above the riverlands that was littered with stars, “or maybe I was hoping to find a curious lady wandering too close to my territory.” he said, his voice a low rumble.

there was nothing threatening about his tone, however, his body language said otherwise — his eyes scanning their surroundings before looking back to your face, his body suggesting that he was on edge. as though he expected bracken men to burst through the trees behind you any minute. you took another languid step forward, closer to enemy territory, the thrill of it never failing to excite you.

“are you suggesting I’m trespassing?” you asked, your words steady as you bordered taunting the man who eyed you.

you could see as he squinted, narrowing his eyes at your words, “just…observing that you’re quite far from where you’re supposed to be at this hour, my lady.”

you hummed, eyebrows raised as the water continued to lap at the fabric of the cream coloured chemise that had been worn underneath the dress of typical bracken colours of yellow and brown having been discarded at the edge of the grass. you could see the moment his eyes lowered to scan down the length of the fabric, disappearing into the water and drifting higher up your thighs, bordering translucent against your skin, slow in dragging his eyes along the length of your body, “but i suppose the river doesn’t care for borders, does it?” he suddenly asked, his eyes returning to meet yours.

your mouth curved upwards, a wry smile on your face as his gaze emboldened you, “no it doesn’t, but neither do I, it seems. I don’t believe the assize said anything about the river.”

benjicot tutted condescendingly at her, smug as his hands shifted over his dagger, “careful, you're starting to sound like your cousin, bracken.” he warned, tone sharp, “do you not ever worry about what might be lurking in the shadows? his words came lighter now, the tension gone from his voice.

you let out a dry laugh, beginning to feel the effects of the frosty water that reached your hips the further you wadded, a cool breeze causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps. you shivered, sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth, “only when they carry a dagger and a half-smile, I suppose.” you said.

his hands twitched, the grasp at his blade loosening as he seemed to contemplate reaching forward to drag you from the water at the sight of your shivering frame. however, he stopped himself and instead lifted his chin, mouth pressing into a tight smile, “then its a good thing I’m in a benevolent mood tonight.”

your head lowered to look down at the water, using your fingers to skim its surface, “I will take my chances.” you confidently said, lifting your gaze after a moment of pause.

he let out a ‘hmph’ sound, watching as you slowly closed the gap between the two lands to stand directly in front of him, the water shallow once again and only meeting mid-thigh. the now soaked gown did nothing to provide any ounce of modesty, sheer and clinging to your lower half as you stared up at him. your eyes followed his movements as he crouched, bringing him eye-to-eye as an elbow planted against one of his knees, “well, I suggest you be careful, my lady. the night is full of dangers.” he said, his voice low and quiet.

“and so is the day, but I’ve never been one to shy away from either.” you said, voice matching his volume before you stepped forward until you stood against the ledge, your other hand planting in the grass just between his boots as you lifted your right hand toward him, “are you going to help me or shall I call for my men?” you taunted, a grin on your face.

he rolled his eyes, smile broadening as he stood upright and bent to grab your hand, using his strength to pull you up and over the ledge, out of the waters with ease. you were brought to your feet, stood face-to-face with him, his face leaning close to yours as he spoke, “you wouldn’t dare.” he muttered, “how do you plan then, to explain your presence so close to blackwood land at this hour? alone, in a nightgown, with the heir?”

your chest brushed his as you leaned in towards him, “I’ll figure something out— you underestimate me.”

he hummed with a nod, his nose bumping yours in the close proximity. though his mouth did not yet make contact with yours, his breath fanned over lips, his eyes scanning your face, “oh, I’m sure you will. but do you think they will believe you?” he asked, the lazy smirk on his face laced with arrogance, “do you think there won’t be whispers? said whispers, questioning your maidenhead?”

“they’d be foolish to make such accusations against the daughter of amos bracken.” you countered, shoulders squaring with pride.

the man in front of you let out a sardonic chortle, releasing the hilt of his dagger and finding your hip, gripping the fabric of your chemise in his fist, stepping back and forcing you with him, “oh please.” he mocked, his hand dropping from your hip to reach down to your thigh and begin to hoist the soaked fabric upwards towards your waist, leaving you bear to the elements, “if only they could see their lord’s daughter, out parading herself like some whore on blackwood land. What do you think they would say then, hm?”

“‘Tis not their business what I do, nor my father’s.” you muttered.

“oh but i think they might say otherwise. you’re a noblewoman,” he jeered, his knuckles brushing against the bare skin of your belly as his hand dipped below your naval, “a highborn womb.”

you knew benjicot did not share their views -- in the very few occasions he had opened up during your late night escapades, red in the face with anger, rambling on about the audacity of his councilmen as he dressed. he had ranted about what the very outlook had done to his mother, that women were more than for breeding. but he enjoyed knocking you down a peg sometimes, humbling you back down to earth during these moments. he liked to mock the sanctity of your womanhood, even if for a moment, but then he would go back on himself and praise you once all was said and done — praise the very thing he mocked. However, on this particular night, something about his words lit the flames of pure, feminine rage, staring eye to eye with the man you had visited countless times over the past months.

“I am more than that.” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

he let out a melancholic hum, “you think so?”

he spoke to you like you were a child, who lived under the guise of a delusion — like a childish dream that you were expected to grow out of. the tone of his voice, paired by the sudden feeling of his hand between your thighs bred a slew of confusing emotions to spread within your chest; shamed and desperate, humiliated and seething as his fingers found the sensitive bud between folds that were slick with arousal that had you hot with embarrassment, fingers gliding up along your folds as you gritted your teeth, “how dare you—!”

the nature of his words stung when you knew how much he despised when other men looked down on women the way you had grown accustomed to; somehow after he had entrusted you enough to open up to you, he still had the nerve to throw it in your face—

he caught your hand that came up towards his throat, eyebrows raising as if to warn you, a grin on his mouth as his hand between your thighs stilled, “no need to be so hostile, sweet girl.” he said, guiding your hand down to your side as he moved to drive your back towards a tree, that hand coming to hold your chin in the space between his thumb and fingers, “I know you are a brave, resilient woman…” he quietly muttered, face coming close to yours and trapping you between his body and the tree, a knee coming between your thighs.

despite the rage that still burned within you, scorching like a wildfire, the warm contrast of his fingers on cold skin was welcomed; jolting up as his fingers pressed against you, fingers circling the bud and earning a soft sigh of a moan as you reached out to grab him, pulling him closer as though you were trying to crawl underneath his skin and become one. His mouth finally made contact, attaching itself to your throat and placing open-mouthed kisses to the skin, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth as his fingers worked against you.

“my clever, beautiful girl.” he praised, mouth reaching your collarbones.

you belly clenched, another moan elicited by his words as your hands fisted the cloak around his shoulders, his hand moving briefly to tug the fabric of your gown back up and out of his way as it dropped from its place around your hips. benjicot had a way of leaving you breathless and desperate, a flustered mess under his touch, the only man that could draw out the carnal sounds of pleasure; broken sighs and crying out as his middle and ring finger pushed themselves into you.

by the roots of his hair, you brought a hand to the back of his head and tugged him towards your mouth, his lips encapsulating yours in a feverish kiss; all teeth and tongue. you cried out, muffled by his mouth, as his thumb continued the prior pace, rubbing blind shapes into your clit as your mouth dropped open, too distracted by experienced fingers that slipped in and out of you with ease to reciprocate the kiss, “oh—, fuck.”

“yes, just like that,” he encouraged, voice soft. “just relax, my love.”

the weeks of pent up hunger and anticipation for this moment curled within you, settling into your lower belly, thighs attempting to clench around his hand. though you were stopped by the firm, strong thigh that had been planted there to prevent such from happening, his hips pressing into yours.

“ben, please…” you cried out, beginning to become overwhelmed between his mouth that returned to your throat and his hand, his pace increasing.

rather instead, he knelt suddenly, head buried beneath the thin chemise that draped over his head as he leaned into you. his shoulders brushed your thighs as his mouth replaced his thumb’s task, latching to the bundle of nerves and leaving you gasping, gripping his hair as your chest heaved. a low groan vibrated through your core from the man below you, reaching every end and nerve of your body as you struggled to keep up on your feet as your peak washed over you. his arm wrapped up underneath your right thigh, holding you against him and pressing against your hip as if that would somehow ground you as you nearly collapsed against him, your entire body alight as your walls squeezed around his fingers, clenching so tight it could restrict movement.

he was barely any gentler as he reemerged from your skirts, your head slumped back against the tree as he stood to tower over you once more, using the fabric of your gown to hold you up and practically manhandle you up against the tree that scraped your skin with each move. loose strands of hair had freed themselves from the half done up style, hanging in your face as you panted, mouth agape as you looked up at him; lips glistening with the reminisce of you — your cheeks heated with embarrassment, reaching out to touch his cheek.

he was beautiful, especially with you on his lips.

you dropped your hand and pulled him towards you by his hips, using the belt to your advantage to jerk him forward, his own lazy smirk mirrored by your tired smile as your hands fumbled to undo the laces of his pants. he aided in the task, skillful fingers pulling them with ease and shoving his pants down just enough that they sat high on his thighs, freeing his hardened cock from their confinement, your hand instinctively coming down to wrap around the length and stroke him. his lips parted above you, hands coming to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as his nose nudged yours.

you could have stayed there forever, in that moment — with the sight before you, a flush in his face as he appeared fucked out already, hair in a disarray from your fingers.

he reached across his chest to undo the clasp of his cloak, dropping it from his shoulders; getting rid of the only shield that hid you from any potential prying eyes — if anyone burst through the bushes then, there would be no hiding the act and it would be without any doubt what was happening.

‘parading herself like a whore on Blackwood land’

benjicot would be correct. if your cousins had dared to wander close to the borderlands again, you would be done for. there would be no protecting any ounce of your dignity and modesty at that point — you would be shamed by your entire family, and even worse, your father…he would be beyond furious and nothing less than gutted.

the thought and feeling of sheer shame it brought had you clinging close to the man in front of you, his body easily capable of concealing yours as one hand went above your shoulder to the tree, too blissed out to put an end to this and go home right then as his mouth pressed to yours in a sweet, affectionate kiss. you moaned against his mouth, his hand replacing yours around his cock to glide it up along your slit; gathering the slick as a means to lubricate the head of his cock, that already leaked pre-cum that mingled with your own arousal, the tip red and angry.

you braced against the tree, trying to regain footing, nearly slipping into him. he steadied you with the arm above your shoulder, wrapped around your ribs and forcing your chest against his as he slid into you, earning a gasp, breaths mingling as your own arm wrapped around his shoulders; clutching to him like your life depended on it — and in some ways, it did.

he held you up against the tree, having to shove the fabric of his tunic and doublet high up on his hips out of the way as he thrusted up into yours. each movement of his hips, shallow due to the position, his pelvis brushed against your clit, providing enough stimulation to leave you struggling for air as you fisted his clothing in your hands.

“fuck…” he rasped, lips brushing your own as they parted, each breath from his mouth sucked into your lungs as you relied on him for the strength to stay upright, slumping into him.

you were a jumbled, incoherent series of sounds as any paranoid thought of fearing your cousin's appearance went out the window, all consumed by him. your leg lifted by his hand guiding it by the back of your knee, thigh hooking around his hip and pulling him further, deeper into you and releasing a sob. you felt so full, it physically ached, walls clenching down around him and eliciting a hiss of air from him.

the sound of a branch cracking somewhere in the distance of the bushes caused you to jolt against him, eyes peering over his shoulder, wide and panicked as the thought crossed your mind again just how open you were to being exposed. you had done this time and time again, but never with his own men just several feet from the bush you were hidden among, and never during a war that had everyone on edge. the looming war had your father in particular paranoid, leading to an increase in fleets that surveyed the boundaries of bracken’s land and the thought instilled again, that fear that you could be caught.

as if he sensed your worry, his mouth caught yours in another kiss, forehead pressing to yours, “my love…” he muttered, bringing your attention back to him.

and he was successful, your gaze doing one last scan and straining into the dark before you were faced with his tired, lust-filled face, his cheeks flushed and striking even in the dark. the sweet name swelled your chest with adoration, your breath quick as you let out a moan, spiraling into bliss against him as his hand came between you to once again rub against your clit.

“ben, i can’t— please—“ the sound was weak and feeble, choked out and gasping for air as your body burned.

it was met by deaf ears as he gently shushed you, his mouth grazing yours, cock relentlessly rutting up into you with desperation — seeking for release as your walls fluttered around him. the groan he released was animalistic, deep from within his chest and carnal as you clutched onto him, struggling to keep yourself up against him and pulling him into you; seeking some kind of anchor to keep you grounded as his hand on your clit worked in unfaltering shapes that had you weak.

a final sob of pleasure left you as you clamped down around him, body tense and slumping against his as you released yourself around him. the final plea of his name and your walls were followed by a few sharp, final thrusts as he released his seed into you; fucking it deeper into you with a deep sigh of your name, a hand coming to your throat as he glanced down, his forehead resting against your chin.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

you stepped up onto the riverbank of your family’s side; thighs still aching while benjicot’s hand supported you from behind before he too crawled up behind you, not seeming to care that he was now soaked from his thighs down. He stood back, allowing you a silent moment to wring out your dress of any water as best you could, hands twisting the fabric and letting out a grunt of exertion before letting it drop back down to your feet. You bent to collect your dress, benjicot finally stepped forward to help in your task of redressing, hands smoothing the fabric over your hips and straightening your shoulders with a gaze down, not daring to make eye contact.

you both knew this could have been the last time you saw each other, the dawning realization casting an awkward, tense silence over the two of you as you eyed the fabric of his doublet; making a mental note of its ridges, the pattern of the woven article of clothing. he tensed as you lifted a hand to touch the fabric with your fingers, too intimate a gesture as fingers ran across his chest and up towards his shoulder before stilling there, your palm coming to place over his heart.

“when are you to marry the…” he began to ask, his face screwing up in disgust at the idea as he spat out the name, “Lefford boy.”

you gaze only briefly lifted towards his face when he spoke, a small snort leaving you at his reaction and smiling softly at his antics. The smile dropped after a moment, though, inhaling and sighting out a breath as you straightened out his own clothing with gentle tugs, brushing over the fabrics, “two nights from today.” you quietly replied.

he made a sound of disapproval, his gaze on your face as you finally looked him in the eye again, his hand rising to capture your wrist in his hold. You had heard the whispers as well throughout the halls of stone hedge, trying to picture it as you looked at him, “I hear rumors you’re to be married, too.” you pointed out, his face twitching.

he released your wrist, stepping back and looking towards his feet as he fixed his sleeves, “My father plans to betroth me against my will.” He admitted, his words a grumble as he shook out his arms and looked up at you again.

you nodded, “who? has he said anything of his intentions?”

“some girl.” he admitted, shaking his head with a shrug of his shoulders, cheeks expanding with a sigh, “the lord paramount’s granddaughter, I suppose.”

you smiled, tilting your head as you looked at him, “serra tully, right? that’s her name, yes?”

“unfortunately.” he grumbled in complaint.

“she’s quite beautiful, I hear.”

he shrugged again, letting out another grunt.

“well, you should probably be on your way,” you said, hands folding behind you as he looked across the river, the sun already beginning to come up. “your men will be looking for you soon.”

benjicot nodded, stepping forward and reluctantly reaching out to your waist, fingers gently pressing into your sides as he leaned forward to press a sweet kiss to your mouth, “I will see you soon.” He said as he withdrew from your mouth, face still hovering close.

you raised a hand and pressed it to his cheek, smiling as you looked up at him, “yes. maybe.”

his eyes rolled as you lifted a hand as if to gesture ‘just as I suspected’, looking over you as a sharp whistle sounded from somewhere beyond the trees from his camp, hands dropping from your sides and straightening the belt at his hips; you watched as his fingers went to the dagger at his right hip, removing it from its sheath, much to your confusion. He withdrew it and used his free hand to pull one of yours forward, pressing the blade into your palm and looking at you, “a wedding gift.” He quietly said.

you looked down at the blade, frowning and blinking rapidly a couple of times before looking up at him, mouth opened in a stutter, “benjicot, I- I can’t accept this. you might need-”

“I have plenty back home,” he assured, wrapping your fingers around the handle of it and licking his lips that were then pressed into a line that resembled an amused smile, “have it…in case that Lefford boy ever pisses you off.”

you let out a laugh, a smile coming to his face as your hand dropped from his, the dagger clutched by your side, “very charming of you.”

He chuckled and pressed another quick kiss to your forehead before he brushed past you, hurrying into the river with a splash and sloshing back in the direction he had come from. you watched as he climbed out of the water, entering back out onto blackwood territory and giving one last glance as he retreated back into the trees.

[sunkeji]

Scenarios of Ace and Deuce being your bffs who both have a crush on you

a/n: forgot to post,my bad!

tags: mentions of reader wearing a skirt in the 3rd section; lmk if I missed anything.

synopsis: Daily scenarios of Ace and Deuce being your bffs and them both having a crush on you

when you, Ace, Deuce and Grim get punished and tasked to clean the animal enclosure; specifically the hedgehogs, the first 15 minutes are spent actually doing your jobs and then you all collectively get distracted by each other.

Deuce has the brilliant idea to make bets on the hedgehogs and you all immediately agree except the hedgehogs scatter in different directions. In the end, a ridiculous debate ensues on whose hedgehog would have potentially, won the race

***

If you guys have a considerably long break between lessons, the four of you would head back to Ramshackle to play whatever card or board games are available with the ghosts.

quite a handful of times you guys lose track of time and have to fly back to the mirror (literally), through the halls (and hoping you don't get caught) and into the classroom.

Your positions on the broom are predetermined as follows: Deuce Infront, you in the middle with Grim on your lap and Ace behind you. Deuce gets to drive(?) because he has more experience in driving recklessly but safely...

Deuce was initially a bit shy because you're holding onto him but after a few more occurrences of the same thing, he got used to it. The giddy feeling he gets whenever you wrap your hands around his waist and the warmth emanating from your body never goes away though.

Grim is just happy because some type of chaos is going on and he gets to keep warm being sandwiched between you and Deuce. If you ever lean your body forward onto Deuce's, he might start feeling faint and lose his concentration on flying.

Ace is absolutely having the time of his life behind you because he gets to HOLD YOU. And if Deuce isn't driving steady enough, he has more of an excuse to hold you tighter. He would also try his luck each time and see how far he can go. Would you allow him to lean on you completely? Rest his head on your shoulder? The possibilities are endless.

***

Whenever the Aduece duo are hanging out in your room and are left unsupervised for too long, they'd either enable each other into doing stupid shit or start bickering. In this case, it's the former scenario.

You left them to their own devices while you went back to the classroom to get one of the books you needed to complete a homework assignment.

Usually they'd want to follow you because hey, you get to spend more time with the person you like, What more could you want?

But since the person they like doesn't originate from the same region, better yet same dimension; what better way to learn more about your crush then to snoop around their room?

So they do snoop around and after looking through your personal belongings on the shelves and drawers, they move on to your wardrobe.

Out of sheer curiosity, Ace opens your wardrobe and finds your clothes. His eyes straight away land on the skirts that are hanged neatly and immediately has a brilliant idea.

By the time you get back to Ramshackle and open the door, you're rendered speechless by what you're seeing. Both Ace and Deuce are wearing your skirts and are taking mirror selfies all while posing in cute positions.

The image you see before you is truly baffling that you still hadn't moved; seeing this, Ace flips his phone to you and takes a picture of your shocked expression. Definitely posts everything on magicam (idk how to spell it)

[fayes-fics]

Refuge

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (throuple)

Summary: Fluff fic. The boys tend to you when you are sick.

Warnings: none... this is just sick/comfort and fluff.

Word Count: 1.1k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill (see HERE) requesting a fluffy comfort fic with the Bridgerton brothers. This isn't set in the Lessons-verse, but is a similar set-up, where the reader is in an established throuple with A & B and lives with them at Aubrey Hall. Nonny, I hope this fits your wishes. Enjoy! <3

A bed is only a refuge when it's by choice.

That's the thought preoccupying your melancholic mind as you sit in bed, propped against a mass of pillows, staring out the window across the sun-drenched fields of Aubrey Hall. Wishing you could be outside, enjoying the sun's rays on your skin. Instead, you are stuck inside, boredom reaching new heights as you contemplate restarting a book for the third time. 

For the past two days, a stomach complaint has left you feeling weak and without an appetite, but also frustratingly unable to sleep, seemingly worse at night. Also, you never sleep well when separated from your loves—it is all a recipe for a maudlin mood. The doctor does not think it is contagious but recommended bed rest and a foul-tasting tincture you must drink twice daily. The Bridgerton boys are coming back from business in London today, and usually, that would signify a wondrous, sensual reunion, but your traitorous body has decided otherwise.

Just as you are sullenly picking up the book you completed that morning, there is a soft knock at your door.

“Come in,” you call, defeated, expecting it to be someone bringing you more disgusting medicine.

“Darling, we are home! My valet informs me you are sick. Why did you not send word to London? We could have cut short our business,” Anthony’s worried tone seems to inhabit his whole frame as he strides in and makes a beeline for you.

“Are you alright?” Benedict adds, appearing behind him, his face also a picture of concern, rounding the other side of the bed.

The wondrous sight of them tips you over the edge. A bloom of pleasure mixed with frustration that your reunion cannot be in the manner you would like. It breaks the dam of emotions you have been keeping at bay, all bubbling over into tears. 

“Oh my love, no, please do not cry!” Benedict implores and softly takes a seat on the edge of the bed, taking your hand.

Anthony hovers, worry etched into his face but seemingly unsure what to do. Benedict frowns at him and signals for him to sit on the bed, which he does after a pause, taking your other hand.

“I've missed you both so very much,” you snuffle between tears, your gaze pinging between them. “I am just so sorry to disappoint you - I am not in a fit state to celebrate as we usually would,” you offer quietly, feeling guilty and biting your lip.

“You could never disappoint us,” Anthony avows sincerely, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“We have missed you too, my love,” Benedict strokes your cheek delicately with his free hand, swiping a tear that falls with his thumb. “But please, you are obviously sick; we only care about you getting better.”

“Yes,” Anthony nods brusquely, “what can we do to alleviate your suffering? Open a window? Or is the room too cold? Perhaps a fire? Do you need more pillows? Or less? Perhaps some more tea?”

A glow behind your ribs flares at their loving concern in their unique ways—Anthony trying to solve the problem, Benedict offering sympathy. It is just so them.

“I would perhaps enjoy new reading material,” you confess quietly. “I have read all the books here in this room at least twice over now,” you admit sheepishly.

“I will have the staff move my entire library up here this afternoon,” Anthony declares solemnly, a hand over his heart.

“No, no, please, just a few books will be more than fine,” you assure with a feeble giggle, more tears welling at his outsized gesture.

“I think what she most needs from us, brother, is us,” Benedict assesses, lowering himself to buss a kiss on your forehead—always the one to intuit your emotional needs more than you can yourself.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, almost ashamed of your yearning to just be held by them, your weakened state making you feel fragile and in need of strong arms holding you close.

Anthony instantly pulls at his boots and then swings himself around until he can lie next to you. “Of course, how did I not see that?” he chastises himself, his lips running a soothing line over your right temple.

Benedict also takes off his boots and does the same, and a feeling like warmed honey spreads behind your ribs as they each wrap an arm around your middle, snuggling into your neck and face. 

“Thank you so much,” you murmur, your tears drying with their comforting presence.

“No more tears now,” Anthony lectures, but with a gentle sweetness that is him willing you to feel contentment. “We are here to do everything in our power to ensure you are all better soon.”

“Indeed,” Benedict confirms.

“Could you possibly get under the covers with me?” your ask is timid.

“Oh, of course!” both exclaim and stand up just long enough to shuck their jackets and waistcoats, pull back the bedding and slide in next to you. The heat of their bodies is an instant balm, seeping through their shirts through the thin cotton of your nightgown.

“Darling, your body is cold!” Anthony exclaims anxiously as his hand slides over your belly.

“I have not been able to keep food down, so I am always cold,” you admit. “All I can handle is weak, cooled tea.”

“My poor love,” Benedict sighs into your hairline. He runs gentle kisses over your cheek. “Then we will just have to stay here and keep you warm now, won't we?” 

“That would be truly wonderful,” you sigh, closing your eyes, feeling a bone-deep relief to be back in their joint, loving embrace. Something feels missing when they must both be gone. One is bearable; both being gone makes you ache for them. “Thank you, my loves,” you murmur as you feel the pull of sleep finally taking you.

The boys share a knowing silent glance - all other things they may have to attend to can wait; paramount is you and your recovery - before settling into the pillows next to you. Their legs entwining with yours, their arms holding you, their solid bodies bracketing yours. 

You sleep peacefully for the first time in days and awaken around dawn to beautiful birdsong, surrounded by Anthony and Benedict, their breath skittering over your skin in repose. During the night, your hands have ended up laced together. You feel warm for the first time this week, and your stomach rumbles, the urge to eat raring for the first time in days. It feels like you have turned a corner, although your desire to leave the bed is close to zero, snuggling down into them both - your wonderful boys.

A bed is only a refuge when it's by choice indeed.

Both Anthony & Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @sya-skies

[lemonandlime22]

Staff with a scrawny and bitey Child!Yuu

Warning(s): cussing

A/N: thought I might as well get the rest of the staff introductions out of the way cause of some asks.

[Bitey child!Yuu Masterlist]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Divus Crewel

You first officially met Professor Crewel when you walked into your first class with Grim

he was about to start his lesson when he just saw a small child and some type of fire cat thing sitting at one of the desks

just to give you a lil picture, you were prob sitting down on the seat with only your head making it over the desk, same situation with Grim.

so he paused his lesson and brought you two out to the hall to ask what in the ever loving fuck you were here and not with either your parents or the authorities, and why Grim is allowed here

Grim tries to explain, but Crewel just takes you to Crowley to clear things up.

Let's just say Crewel is none too pleased that the headmaster is having a child stay on campus until he can find a way to get them back

but he begrudgingly excepts it.

He allows you to sit in on his lessons but when its time to make the potions he has you sit behind his desk, where you'll usually take a nap

when he first found out about your biting habit it was when a random student walked into his class to talk to a friend or smth, and out of nowhere you just lunged at the poor kid

he quickly pried you off the kid's leg and scolded you.

He hates this habit

but a small part of him finds it funny, especially when the person you bite is being an asshole

is one of the ppl who tries to stop this habit you have.

He's almost like a strict uncle or smth like that

random but, he always fixes your clothes and hair when there messy

he'll always re-tie your bow around your wrist when Grims not around

you will sometimes come to him at random times to help with an untied shoe, he'll sigh, pick you and sit you on his desk then tie em for ya.

Overall, he almost treats you like an untrained puppy. He has a feeling that the reason for your habit isn't as random as most ppl say, but he feels its not his place to ask.

also, you may sometimes take naps on his jacket when he takes it off.

Mozus Train

Train has conflicted feelings about you.

First time you met him you didn't bite him, but you did stare at him for a long while

he was so confused by you for a minute, but eventually realized you were staring at Lucius in his arms

so he kneeled down to your level and let you pet the cat.

Most of the stray cats you ran into weren't very nice, most would bite or scratch you

so your not very fond of them, at least not as fond of the as you were dogs

but this cat seemed especially friendly since it was all cuddled up in this old guys arms

after that you'll usually waltz into his class at random times to hang out with Lucius.

He found out about the biting from overhearing a couple students complaining about getting bit

at first he thought they were talking about some animal but then he heard your name

he heavily scolds you the next time he sees you, which you didn't even listen to, just stared at him.

Train isn't pleased by this obv and tries his best to get you to stop, spoiler alert,

doesn't work.

You remind him slightly of when one of his daughters was little, so he grew a small soft spot for you

and when he realized how big the uniform was on you and that you didn't have anything else, he was happy to give you some of their old clothes, he was meaning to get rid of them anyway.

Overall, he and Lucius enjoy your presence. He finds it almost adorable how invested you are in his lectures and like having you there. He might be one of the ones who hates your biting the most.

Also very concerned about who taught you this, or why your guardian allowed it to continue.

Ashton Vargas

This mf LOVES you!

Your so strong for a child your age and size.

Anyways,

yeah you bit him

but he gave no reaction

I'm not sure he even felt it to be honest.

You decided to stay in his calf for some reason and he didn't even notice until someone pointed it out

to which he laughed and pulled you off.

Vargas is one of the few that encourages your biting, even giving you tips on how to strengthen your jaw to have a better bite force

he also finds it pretty funny, but he still pulls you off the person when he sees you biting someone

every time he laughs around Train or Crewel they hit the back of his head.

During gym class he does child-friendly exercises with you when he doesn't need to watch the other students,

Overall, thinks your a cool kid and is impressed by you. He doesn't rly care about why you do it tho, just thinks your a weird kid.

Sam

He thinks your quite interesting.

The first time he met you was when Grim dragged you with him to get tuna

he heard of you from the students when they were shopping around

so he also heard of the bites

was a lil cautious of you the first time he met ya, not wanting to get bit, but after like a half an hour of you and Grim looking for the tuna and not being able finding it it was on a top shelf

he relaxed and helped you two.

From then on you would come in to get things and he'd have you help around a lil bit to pay for it

minus the occasional biting, you were a good little helper

he even gave you a small pin that said

'Little Helper'

you loved it so much, that you wore it the whole day on the days you were going to help Sam

and would show it off to your friends

which he heavily much encourages a lot since that time you told Cheka about Sam's Shop, and his dad made a very big purchase.

Overall, he likes having you around, thinks your quite adorable and funny. He's neutral about the biting, as long as you don't bite him or too many customers then he doesn't care all that much.

Slightly curious about who taught you to do it and why they did, but doesn't think its important.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[rainbowcarousels]

Baby Genesis Headcanons (just because)

Genesis was the first baby born from the project. We know it was canonly either Angeal or him, but with a name like Genesis and the fact Deepground was set up after his birth rather than Angeal's, it makes sense he's the first baby.

He was also a premature baby. Given what we know of the process of the jenova babies happening, it's likely his biological mother died from mutations not unlike we see at Nibelheim given this was where the Jenova project was set. That would also imply that Genesis and Angeal were also Nibelheim babies as it seems there were multiple labs there from what we've seen in DoC and Rebirth.

Since we know whatever is in Genesis's genetic structure that's unusual was there at birth from the DoC guides, I tend to think this means some aspects of cell degeneration were already there there too. As such, I don't think his pre-SOLDIER immune system was great and he was the type of kid who got every cold and cough under the sun. It led to him spending a lot of time curled up books.

Spent more time at Angeal's or in the caves than he did at home. By the age of ten, he had mastered getting out of Angeal's window just to knock on the door as if he was arriving. Angeal's parents know of these shenanigans, point out they know but Genesis still continued to do it because he has always commited to the bit.

I do think Genesis is far more fond of Angeal's parents than he is of his own. Loves his own, obviously, but their relationship is far more complicated for reasons he doesn't understand and I think it says something Gillian displayed pictures of both of them. The woman might be stone cold in some ways (such as putting her guilt before saving her kid) but I think there is a sense of responsibility with Genesis and for whatever it was worth, I think Genesis honestly thought she'd help without getting Angeal involved because of that relationship.

Genesis had private lessons compared to Angeal doing the village hall packet classes. Whether he actually studied all of it is questionable, but he's always had enough charm and unapologetic gumption to get away with things. The utter hilarity that Angeal seems to have been seen as more of a bad influence will never get old.

Genesis did not know he was fostered at all, so this provides a certain amount of confusion to his childhood interactions with his parents. It's said that they 'grew' to love him, but he absolutely remembers that detatchment and doesn't really understand it. It's a wedge that sits between them for a long time, assuming maybe they didn't particularly want kids when he happened so he's a bit of an inconvenience and they're just dealing with that.

I absolutely believe Genesis' biological father is Gast. If he's the first baby and Gast is definitely caught in the excitement, I can see him deciding well he's too human, he can go have a quiet life in an apple orchard and given Shinra's surveillance, it's easy enough to check in on him if need be. I don't think he ever really considers Genesis his, it was very much a clinical process unlike with Ifalna, but does consider the kids his in a very broad sense of being part of the project. There's a disconnect there that - not unlike Gillian - he can really only see his own guilt and mistakes rather than the living, breathing kids it produced.

Genesis's first summon was found in the caves under Banora. It was a summon - for me, I use Ifrit - and he spent so much time and energy leveling it up and delving into fire and magic that they became his most intense disciplines as an adult. That said, people definitely....misplaced materia around him, oops, how did that happen? (Yuffie would be proud)

Given that Banora was the freezer for Project G, I think he and Angeal were the only kids around their age for a long time and they've been codependent as hell ever since. I think there is an aspect of Jenova cells recognising each other as much as it's being the only two little kings of the castle for their village for a good while, but the result is the same: getting seperated for great lengths was a lot harder when they got into SOLDIER because they'd spent their whole lives around each other (more than they know).

Genesis's interest in exploration of gender nonconformity grew out of the magazines and things that he could get from Midgar. I think originally it was just a bonding thing with his mum, like he learned how to make drinkslike a Little Adult from an early age. I think that doing things like nails or learning about make up was just a way to get his mother to talk at length without any weirdness creeping in but he developed a genuine passion for it as a form of individualistic self expression. Especially later around Sephiroth.

I think Genesis talks at people more so than to them because he grew up in a big house with very few people around and the silence was deafening. Even as a little kid, I think he just talked aloud. It just made him feel lonely, so filling that silence became a way of dealing with that and so, years on, when no one is listening to him, he's used to that. It's a good way to get past the 'you never told me that' thing because he can sneak in that he knocked over one of Angeal's bug infested monstrosities when Angeal isn't listening between LOVELESS arguments.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Crimson Tango: A Dance of Diamonds and Revenge Part 1: Welcome to the Moulin Rouge✨

A/N: SO excited for me and @mountainsandmayhem to bring you a Moulin Rouge Joel Miller series ❤️ We are both so excited to be writing this and hope you love it as much as we do! Hang on tight for the ride of your life between these two on their angsty, beautiful love story 🥰 Comments and reblogs mean the world to us! Chapters are in both reader’s and Joel’s POV. No explicit smut in first chapter.

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Tags: Angst, unprotected p in v, oral, fingering, forbidden love, murder, fluff and smut, jealousy, moulin rouge au, soulmates being in love, protective Joel, no outbreak, reader is 20 and Joel is 29, tags will be updated each chapter

Summary: Joel Miller doesn’t know what awaits him as he takes on a maintenance job at the Moulin Rouge. He doesn’t know he’ll meet the absolute love of his life, the Sparkling Diamond, as his world comes crashing down around him fast. Will he be able to stay away when he’s warned not to touch the dancers? Will he listen or will he challenge that pull that draws him to the one thing that sets his soul on fire?

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Welcome to the Moulin Rouge

Your whole childhood centered around death, but you never thought about the possibility of yourself dying, never thought about how you’d like to go. As your vision blurs and the world begins to silence, you realise that this is the ultimate way to go. For her. Saving her is all that matters, saving the person you love the most in the entire world, even if you’ve never met her.

Sarah, please Joel. Name her Sarah.

At times, your childhood may have seemed sad or tragic to the outside eye, but to you it has been nothing short of amazing. You don’t remember the incident that took both your parents, you were too young, so young that you can’t even picture their faces. You were brought to stay with the only family you had left - your mom’s much older brother.

Your uncle Edward was a quiet and kind man, he was also the owner of Moulin Rouge. A bright and colorful dance hall, filled with sparkling costumes and lively music. For the longest time you weren’t allowed outside of the living quarters, but you remember laughter and cheering filtering through the thin walls. This place was magic to you in your childhood naivety.

You remember begging the dancers to teach you the steps to the songs you overheard in the night. Occasionally, one of them would show you a kick or a twirl that you’d practice alone in your room until the muscles in your legs were stretched and sore, no longer able to support your tiny frame.

During the day, a tutor came in for a few hours to teach you and the few other children that lived there, meals were brought to your living quarters by an older woman who rarely spoke to you. Uncle Edward was alway home for those meals, but often had stacks of papers to go through. Most of the time it was just you and the broken guitar and pottery wheel your uncle had given you. But overall you were alone, far away music and laughter to keep you company.

For your thirteenth birthday your uncle surprised you with dance lessons. He knew how much you wanted to learn, and could practically feel the energy buzzing off you every time your eyes darted to the performing dancers. So he gave in, gifting you with something that might bring you a little joy in the isolated burlesque. A silent way of telling you he was sorry for not being around much and leaving you to delve in your loneliness inside your vacant room.

“Well, little petal,” your uncle says as you blow out the singular candle sitting on top of the small cake to celebrate you turning sixteen. “I think you’re old enough now to come up and watch my diamonds perform. What do you say? Would you like to come see the show?”

You practically jumped from your seat, mouthful of chocolate cake, “Yes, Uncle! Please. Nothing could make me happier.”

“Tomorrow night I will bring you up to see it. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.”

You’d seen the costumes and the women in their makeup before, you’ve even been out to the dance hall and on the stage. But that was only during the day, when the tables were only occupied by up-turned chairs, the overhead lights were off, and the band was nothing more than an empty pit in front of the stage.

The next night, your uncle brought you a new sparkly pink dress, and had the hair and make-up ladies get you all dolled up to watch. You looked at yourself in the mirror and had never felt more beautiful, seeing yourself as one of the famous diamonds of the Moulin Rouge. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

The show was like nothing you’d ever seen before. You didn’t know so many varieties of reds and blues and purples existed. The women kicked their legs in unison, men cheering and clapping as they swooshed their large billowing skirts. The music filled your ears with joy and wonder, the sounds crisper than they were through the walls. Laughter and happiness held you like a tight hug. Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

As the show wound down, your Uncle leaned to you and said it was time to head to bed, “You’ve seen the show, little petal. Now the adults will indulge in wine and talk about things not for your ears.”

You didn’t argue, simply kissing your uncle on the cheek and saying, “Thank you, Uncle. I am going to practice harder so I can become a real diamond one day!”

You floated down the hallway. With your eyes still swarming with the bright colors of the show and your future dreams you hadn’t realised that you opened the door before the one to take you home, and this door led to something both sinister and unspeakable - it led to darkness. The room was only lit by candles sprawled across the wall, casting looming shadows of the acts happening before your very eyes.

You stood in the doorway taking in men and women completely naked, rubbing up against one another incessantly. Your tutor taught you that these areas of your body are not to be shared, they are only for you. Yet here they are, almost unashamed as they grind. The men all appear to be having a good time, but the women - they’re crying out.

Are they in pain? What are these men doing to them? Why are some men just watching? They should be helping. Your uncle, does he know that this is happening? Is this what his diamonds do?

Perhaps when you turn eighteen you can join them.

You nervously approached your Uncle about it a few days later. “Oh, my sweet little petal. I’m sorry that you had to witness that. I promise you, none of those women were in pain. Not all my diamonds dance like that, and you never will. I meant it when I offered you a spot to dance, fully clothed and on the stage only. I only hope that you do not think less of me now that you know what goes on behind closed doors of the Moulin Rouge.”

Four Years Later

Joel stumbles into the doors of the Moulin Rouge after seeing the maintenance worker needed sign displayed in bold letters outside the burlesque. This was the last place he wanted to end up, the last place he’d be caught dead in; but he needed something, and anything was better than the minimal income of selling his woodwork. He couldn’t get by anymore by only getting one or two customers every couple of weeks, if he was lucky. It wasn’t enough to pay the rent of his small, cramped apartment. Wasn’t enough to feed himself day and night. He needed more, and this was his shot.

He pushes the heavy black doors open, quickly tucking his red flannel button-up into his pressed pants, needing to look his best if he wants to get this job. He has to get it, has to impress whoever is the owner of this club.

He finds the first person he can spot, quickly getting the attention of a bartender as he washes crystal glasses with a thin rag behind the sleek bar top.

“Sorry to bother you, but I saw the sign out front that said you need some help with maintenance around here?” he asks briskly as he stares at the bartender with eyes that say he’s desperate. His hands come to rest on the bar top and he fights the urge to nervously drum his fingers along it.

The bartender looks him over as he sets down a glass, nodding his head. “Oh, yes. Let me go grab the owner real quick. Be right back, wait here,” he says as he runs in the opposite direction, disappearing behind a long hallway. Joel nervously pushes back his outgrown curls, silently cursing to himself for buying that loaf of bread instead of getting a haircut. His big brown eyes dart curiously around the club, trying to take it all in.

It’s light outside as the sun glistens in through the drawn crimson curtains, some dancers sauntering on stage as they practice their moves, swaying their hips to a nonexistent beat. Joel averts his eyes and takes in the rest of the large room - it’s filled with tables that are meant for the men to smoke cigars and drink their alcohol as they drool over the women of the burlesque. All lust and no love, the way the burlesque was set up to be. Joel was never into this scene, never fit in with any of those types of men, but he was desperate, he needed work and this may very well be the only way he can get any.

A tall, thin man walks into the room with slicked back sandy hair and green eyes that are as sharp as a snake’s. He eyes Joel carefully, one hand resting in his pocket, the other stretching to shake Joel’s. Joel wastes no time and reaches a hand out, feeling a firm grasp as the owner shakes his hand.

“The name’s Edward. And you are?” he asks with a gentle smile.

“I’m Joel. Joel Miller,” he says with nerves running through his body, the back of his neck slick with sweat. He’s nervous he won’t get it, nervous he’ll leave empty handed with no job. He’ll fight for it though because he’s a fighter, and he doesn’t give up easily.

“So, I hear you’re interested in the maintenance job. You got any experience?” Edward asks as he leans against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest as he examines Joel again, taking in his flannel and tan pants, his worn work boots.

“Yes, sir. Got years of experience with fixin’ things. Anything from sinks to building homes. Even have a little woodworking shop on the side,” he says proudly as he tries not to fidget with the buttons on his flannel.

“Hmmm,” Edward hums as he looks him over again carefully, those bright green eyes staring at Joel’s clothes like he’s judging him. Joel swallows down that dry lump of self doubt creeping in. “You seem capable. How old are you? Think you can handle working at nights, too? Gets pretty rowdy around here when the moon comes up, but that’s when we need someone the most,” he presses, eyes shifting over him as his brow raises in question again, waiting for Joel to respond.

“Just about to turn thirty and ‘course. Nights don’t bother me one bit. I can even start today, if I can,” Joel says with a determined smile as he shoves his left hand deep into his pocket, praying he’ll get the job.

“I see. Well then, looks like you got yourself a new gig. See you tonight at let’s say 7:00 pm,” he says, reaching a hand out to Joel. For most men that would be a question, but Edward is a very rich and powerful man, he doesn’t ask for things, he demands them. Joel doesn’t hesitate for a second and puts his grip in Edward’s, shaking in agreement.

“Thank you, thank you! You don’t know how much I appreciate this,” he says with tears almost filling his eyes. A job, he finally has a job that’ll get him by just fine. No more nights of going hungry. He can finally breathe a second, if not more.

Before he turns to leave, Edward puts a hand on his shoulder and turns him back around carefully. “Oh, forgot to mention something. There’s only one condition I ask of you. Don’t touch my dancers. They’re strictly for the guests that pay,” he says with furrowed brows, his eyes burning into him, as if to see if Joel will flinch at all.

“That’ll be no problem on my part. Promise,” Joel confirms with a nod of his head, his tousled curls moving with the motion.

“Good, good…” Edward hums out. “Alright, Joel. I’ll see you tonight,” he says with a wave as he turns around and heads back behind crimson curtains, disappearing into a dark hallway.

Joel can’t help but smile as he heads out the doors of the Moulin Rouge, stepping into the warm sunshine as it bathes across his tanned skin. He takes a breath of fresh air as it smells of autumn leaves and new hope.

Things start to feel like they’re looking up, like something nirvanic was right on the cusp. What Joel doesn’t know is just what waits around that heavy crimson curtain for him. He doesn’t know the beautiful disaster he’s about to step into. A Sparkling Diamond that will take over his life forever. Someone so precious, so special, so indescribably unique. Someone so very - you.

Joel makes sure to get to the Moulin Rouge fifteen minutes early, wanting nothing more than to give off a good impression. The burlesque is filling up quickly as the sun fades away, the bright full moon taking its place in the sky, stars scattering around it.

When he walks inside the double doors, he sees that the dance hall is filling up quickly with men who smoke expensive cigars and drink bottles of whiskey that he can only dream of affording. He makes his way further into the entrance, his eyes taking in his surroundings, noticing that the large room looks nothing like earlier when it was closed.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings as red curtains drape across the crimson wallpaper. The dance floor is littered with burlesque dancers that lift their skirts high and tease the men as they surround them, hoping to entice the wealthiest one. Money is what they’re after and selling themselves is their only shot at making any extra tips for the night.

Joel clenches his jaw at the sight and turns his head, waiting at the front until he finally spots Edward in a black pressed suit. His blonde hair slicked back tight, looking around to make sure his guests are happy and taken care of. When he sees Joel, he walks toward him and puts a hand on his shoulder in greeting.

“Ahh, there you are. Come along now. I’ll show you around,” he says gladly.

After that, he shows Joel the burlesque. He takes him to the maintenance closet and gives him a key to access it - metal tools and large shelves cover the entirety of the inside. Next he takes him down long, dark corridors, past rooms that are locked shut. Just when Joel thinks he's seen it all, they head up to the second story. Sweeping down wooden laden hallways, passed the balcony that overlooks the large city, and through winding rooms that seem to have no end. He had no idea it was so large and spacious here; didn’t even realise people lived here. Joel starts to think more softly towards Edward, sure these women put themselves in vulnerable positions night after night, but they have safe housing and a sense of family and community back here.

Edward takes Joel back down toward the main ballroom where the entertainment is held every night. Just as he latches on to the spiral staircase, he sees a man dragging a dancer with barely anything on into a dark room at the end of the luminescent hallway with red carpet sprawled across the floor. He shoves her in as he starts working his hands up her body, and Joel can see the mass of bodies already in the room as he closes the door, concealing moans and lust on the other side of the tarnished doorway.

Joel gulps and looks back toward the ground, keeping his eyes off the pleasure room. He knows what goes on in these walls, knows what filth lies in every corner. The stench of money and sex encompass the room, he can almost taste it on the tip of his rough tongue. He finds it revolting, men using these women's bodies. No love to be seen in these walls. Only perversions and sexual desire. He turns away sharply and descends the stairs, almost running into the back of Edward.

“I believe one of the wooden tables over by the stage needs some maintenance. The legs are collapsing, think you can do something about that?” he asks with a raised brow as he points at a dark wooden table with the legs barely hanging on.

“Sure. Probably just needs some tightening up. Easy fix,” Joel nods.

“Excellent. I have guests to greet, so fix that and then come find me,” just as he turns on his heel, he stops and looks back at Joel. Green eyes narrowing, a finger pointing in Joel’s direction. “Remember,” he says with venom in his voice, “Do not touch my dancers. They’re only for paying customers, and you cannot afford them.”

Joel only nods, letting Edward know he understands. With that, Edward turns and heads for the main doors, greeting more men as they pack in like sardines. Joel sighs and heads for the maintenance closest, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that shoots through his gut at the backhanded warning Edward gave.

Don’t touch the dancers…you cannot afford them.

Even if Joel could afford it, he would never do what these men are doing. The soft, beautiful women of this place deserve to be treasured, not pawed at and used. He wasn’t a rabid dog. He could control himself unlike all the other men that crowded the Moulin Rouge.

He grabs up a metal wrench and shoves some nuts and bolts deep into his pocket. When he makes his way back to the table he starts to assess the damage. This would be much easier to fix in his well lit workshop, but there’s no carrying this table away from the stage and through the crowd of hungry men.

Now that he’s thrust in the middle of the wooden dance floor, he can see the burlesque dancers seeking out the richest looking men, sitting on their laps and letting them put their dirty paws all over their bodies. The men laugh, carrying on conversations as they fondle their breasts, leaning down to trail kisses up their necks. Some get up and lead the women down the long, dark corridor. Back to the pleasure room. Back to their impending doom.

The three men at the table next to him have one girl propped up in front of them, all of their hands grabbing different areas of her body, asking her if she wants all three of them; the men are easily twenty years older than the petite and innocent looking blonde in front of them. Joel feels for the dancers, but there isn’t anything he can do. It’s business. It’s all about the fucking money and pleasure. Pleasure sells, and this is what most men desire. Sex.

The room grows louder as men cheer from the crowded tables. Some swarming the end of the lit up stage to get a peek at the next performer. Some start chanting, yelling in demand for the next poor soul to dance across that stage, right into the pit of vipers that are ready to spit venom at whatever girl walks out next.

The cigar smoke lingers in the air as crystal glasses clink in cheers, alcohol spilling over on the tabletops. Joel knows that’ll leave a huge mess for him and the other staff to clean up after closing. He tightens the bolts under the table, winding the wrench as he tries to turn his focus away from the lust filled crowd. They’re just a bunch of sick fucks who get off on ripping away the innocence and dignity of women. Nothing more than their play things. Theirs to possess and own for a few hours. It’s cruel and vile, disgusting in itself.

Joel was never the type of guy to use a woman. He’d never dream of hurting anyone. He was thoughtful and charming, a man who minds his manners and works hard for everything he has.

He digs harder into the leg of the table, trying to mute the hooting and hollering that is getting louder by the second. The sounds of the men start to overlap until it’s muffled and pressing on his eardrums, running along the nerves that wire his brain. He concentrates on the task at hand, shutting out the noise as he tries to fix the table.

“The Sparkling Diamond!”

“She’s coming on stage now!”

“Look, look!”

The men nearest him yell to each other, babbling about the Sparkling Diamond as the lights turn crimson and dark around the room, crystal chandeliers send glistening reflections across the expensive tailored suits that fill the crowded room.

“Here she comes, boys!”

Just then, the lights go out completely and a spotlight shines on the wide stage. Crimson curtains splay over the sides, exposing the long walkway where dancers show off for the men. The crowd goes quiet, a few whistles shrouding the silence as a slow, sensual song covers the room. The men pound on the stage, yelling for the Sparkling Diamond to come out. Joel thinks she must be something special if she has the entire room practically panting with anticipation. The wild men crawl towards the stage, pushing each other to get to the front so they can get the best view. Joel doesn’t know anything about a Sparkling Diamond, but he’s intrigued. Just what were they getting all worked up about?

Before he can comprehend what's happening, he hears the click of heels travel across the stage. He rises slowly, seeing the pretty figure that dances under the bright spotlight, the men now screaming and throwing their hands out, begging to get a touch of the enchantress that graces their presence. When she’s fully in view he freezes, dropping the wrench to the floor as it crashes with a loud thud against the spotless wood. It suddenly feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. Joel braces himself against the table, the sight before him nearly knocking him back down to his knees.

It’s you.

The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen in his entire life. Long, soft curls cascade past your shoulders and bounce around with every move you make on the lit up stage. Your short pink dress barely grazes the curve of your thighs as your arms raise overhead and you spin slowly. As you bring your arms back down, your red painted fingernails caress your curls, then tease the jawline of your flawless face. Your cheeks flush from the attention before you gently bite the tip of your finger, red lipstick sitting matted to your delicate lips.

Joel thinks they look soft to the touch, delicate even. Your lips call to him, almost scream his name. Joel, Joel, Joel. And he wants to answer it. God, does he want to answer that call.

He watches the way you twirl, fluttering your eyelashes as you look down at the men, seducing them effortlessly. Performing is what you were meant to do. When you finally look at Joel he falls completely apart, all his threads coming untied in a heap, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

He stands there frozen, sinking his nails into the hardwood table as he sucks in a shaky breath, almost unable to fully take in the vision that stands mere inches before him. He can’t hear the carnal men anymore, can’t smell the cigar smoke that encases the air, can’t focus on anything that even remotely takes his attention from the beauty that lights up the room. He can only focus on you. He feels a pull from his chest, like an invisible string, forcing him to look at nothing else but you. The Sparkling Diamond that draws men to the Moulin Rouge, and the one thing he knows will get him fired.

Your eyes sparkle and shine like a rare gemstone, pulling Joel in like a siren’s forbidden song, a lull that drags him under the dark depths of the sea. The smile you wear doesn’t quite reach your eyes, a sadness there that he can’t quite place. The men claw and reach for you like starving pigs, acting like you’re just a piece of meat to pass around to all the others to get a quick taste of.

It makes him sick the way they objectify your body, only caring about what’s underneath the short shimmery dress you wear. Joel doesn’t stare at your curves, doesn’t get sucked into whatever fantasy the rest of the men are in. He just stares at your eyes. Beautiful, sparkling. He’d cross oceans just to have a chance to memorize each fleck and color that maps out those starry eyes. Like roadmaps to his soul, leading him home to the deep depths of those glistening irises. And that’s when something snaps, he can’t - no, he won’t let any of these men put one grimy finger on you. Whatever it takes he’ll do it. He makes a silent vow to keep you safe, protect you at all cost.

There’s only one condition, don’t touch the dancers.

Edward’s voice plays through Joel’s mind on repeat, warning him to not tempt fate. But fate had already been tempted when he saw you up on that stage. He’d quit, starve, be homeless on the street if it meant he could have a chance to be with you. He’d give it all just to be able to touch you, to know you, to have you. He’d leave it all for you. His sweet, Sparkling Diamond.

You spin and turn, kicking your feet up to show off your smooth, long legs that all the men drool over. You turn to the right, drifting your eyes in the direction of a man you’ve never seen before. You almost freeze as he stares right back at you, big beautiful brown eyes gazing into yours as he gawks at you reverently. But his eyes don’t travel down your body like the other men’s do. His eyes stay fixed on your face alone, staring up into the pits of your soul as you suck in a breath and try to focus on the beat of the song.

His long tousled curls drape over his forehead, almost falling into his brown doe eyes that seem to suck you in. He’s tall, broad shouldered with thick biceps that cling to his rolled up button-up flannel. Spidery veins cascade down his arms and end in massive hands that stay clenched by his sides. His tanned skin seems to glow as he stares at you with brown eyes that melt into your own like a candle stick, wax flowing down slowly, sticky and new. It’s captivating. He is captivating.

It's like you’re stuck in a haze, thick clouds that cover you and wrap their fog around so you can’t see, can’t hear anything anymore. You try to focus on the men that praise your body, try to avert your eyes from the handsome stranger, but that organ in your chest you force yourself to ignore is almost screaming at you to run to him. Two souls colliding into each other that were destined to meet. Just like twin flames.

Soulmates.

You blink once, twice, peeling your gaze away from him, turning the other direction, forcing yourself to stay bright eyed, hoping your smile doesn’t lower. You come face to face with a gentleman with a large top hat that screams your name and reaches his arms out, desperate to get just a single touch from you that he hopes will become more.

You turn back around and find that heated gaze again with the dark brown eyes, your own eyes going wide as they draw you to him. He looks a lot like your saving grace. Someone that wants to come in and sweep you off your feet.

Again, he just watches you silently, eyes searching yours as he seems to clock into your mind, reading your thoughts like a book from front to back. He won’t find anything there except a longing for something more. An escape. Happiness. And maybe he could be that for you. Maybe, just maybe he was destined to find you. You can feel it in your chest, that ache and pull that draws you to him.

Your uncle won’t like this. Not one bit…

Joel watches your entire routine, never once letting his eyes drop from you. He watches as you disappear into the crowd of men, narrowing his eyes when he sees the way they grab at you and beg to have a dance with the Sparkling Diamond. It makes him want to strangle every single one of them slowly.

Please, just one dance?

Sparkling Diamond! Care to have a drink with me?

How about a little fun in the red room?

You politely decline each offer and just smile as you pass the men by, trying your best to not meet the stranger with the pretty brown eyes’ gaze. He’s so handsome, so very easy on the eyes. You try your best to look at the men with money, knowing this is what you’re here for, to give them a show so they’ll pay to come back. Try as you might, that thin string snapped the second you saw his brown flecked honey eyes. You don’t want to do this anymore.

You turn where you stand and look back towards the stage. You search as men cram around you and over the top of an older man’s shoulder you can see him, clear as day, still staring at you with a trance-like expression on his face. You hold his gaze for a few seconds, curling your lips into a shy smile and you swear you see his pretty caramel eyes light up like fireflies in the night.

Just when you’re about to walk over to him, you feel your uncle pull you away in the opposite direction. “Come on, little petal, got some nice men that’d like to meet you.”

You follow him helplessly past some drawn crimson curtains, already over the drunk men that will press their chapped lips to your face and place their grimy hands all over you. You’re finished though, over all the fake smiles and laughter you are forced to sell these men night after night. When you look back over your shoulder you can’t see him anymore. No more pretty brown eyes that make you feel somehow safe. You don’t know him, his backstory, his name, or even his age, but you’ll find out. You have to, you just have to.

After finishing fixing the two broken tables and putting them back into order, Joel gets another visit from Edward as he saunters over with a big smile and a glass of scotch in his hand.

“Everything going alright?” Edward asks as he pulls on his black tie and straightens out his long tailed coat.

“Yes, sir. Finished fixin’ those tables for you. They should be good to go now,” Joel answers as he stands up straight with his hands deep in his pockets.

“Excellent!” Edward goes over to the wooden tables and knocks on the top, inspecting Joel’s work as he looks them over carefully. Once he’s satisfied he gives Joel a strong pat on the back and nods. “Did good work, boy. Think we’ll keep you around.”

Joel smiles at the compliment, thanking him for the opportunity. “Oh, there’s actually something else that needs to be done. You remember that room we passed on the second floor? The very back room by the balcony? The one that says Sparkling Diamond?”

Joel’s eyes go wide as he recalls passing a big red door with the letters spelled out in fake diamonds. That has to be your room. He should’ve noticed it sooner, maybe asked about it. But he didn’t know that room would belong to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He didn’t know it until now.

“Uh-yeah. What about it?” he asks cautiously, eyebrow slightly raised in anticipation of what Edward would say next.

“The sink in her kitchen is dripping and some of the lightbulbs are burnt out. There should be some in the supply closet. Think you can handle taking care of that now?”

He doesn’t hesitate a second. “Absolutely. I’ll get right on it,” Joel says urgently.

As he turns to leave, Edward calls his name. “Oh, Joel. Before you leave tonight, go ahead and have a beer. It’s on me.”

Joel doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been offered a free one before, always had to pay money that he didn’t have to get one. “Oh, thank you. I… I appreciate it.”

“You earned it, kid. I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Edward asks with his eyebrows knitted together and gaze heavy on Joel.

“I’ll be here,” he promises.

“Alright, take care now. I’ve got some business to attend to so see you tomorrow.” Edward turns and walks back into a sea of rich men.

Joel pushes his way past men in black suits and black ties, cigars hanging from their open mouths and drinks spilling over their glass cups as they talk about money, sex, stocks, and women. He tunes them out and keeps walking, ignoring the nasty stares he gets from not being in a suit himself.

As soon as he grabs the bag of lightbulbs and a few plumbing tools, he heads up the grand staircase with red carpet sprawled across each step. He makes his way up the stairs, down the narrow dark hallway and stops before he turns the corner. He stands just a few feet from the pleasure room. The red room as they call it here.

He can hear the moans and cries coming from the room, can smell the stench of sex that whisks through the air. He wonders if you go into that room night after night, letting the men with dirty claws sink their nails into you, feasting on you like blood sucking vampires.

His jaw clenches up as his nails sink into the meat of his palm, his face becoming hot with heat as he imagines you splayed out on an open bed while the men take and take from you until you have nothing left to give. Until you’re just a used up rag doll for them to toy with. He snarls and turns the corner sharply, putting those dark thoughts out of his mind. If he had his way he’d make damn sure you’d never set foot in that room again. He’d slaughter a whole fucking mass of men if he had to. No one should lay their filthy hands on you as far as he’s concerned.

He walks through the long corridor, passing door after door until he finally gets to yours. He takes a deep breath and turns the golden doorknob slowly entering the dimly lit room with pale pink wallpaper. He gently shuts the door and when he turns around he stops in his tracks, hand sliding off the doorknob as he sees you standing in the middle of the room. Naked.

Your skin is soft, probably as soft as the back of a rose petal. Your legs are long, smooth, and enticing. He wonders what it’d feel like to run his long fingers over your creamy thighs. You’re bent over, ass in the air, as you unbuckle the straps of the high heels you wore on stage. Your hips are curvy, shaping your round ass into mere perfection. Your full breasts peek out from the corner as your long waves spill over your shoulders. You’re absolutely perfect, stunning, a work of pure art.

Joel knows he’s fucked now. He knows. After seeing how beautiful you are, he can’t turn away. He shouldn’t be standing here gawking at you while you change, but he can’t move. He’s stuck like glue, an immovable object that can’t be pushed. He’s in trouble, so much trouble.

He loses his balance when you bend over again, exposing a different view of you that nearly takes him to his knees. The bag of bulbs falls to the ground with a large crash, and you turn with a quaint gasp as you take in the man that stands before you. It’s him, the man with the dark eyes.

Your eyes go wide, quickly reaching for a thin, sheer robe as you wrap it around you and cover the parts of you that are completely exposed. You breathe hard, your breath coming out rushed and fast. He does the same as he just stands there staring, no air left in his lungs as he stands in front of the beauty that takes his breath away. And then it’s silence, only rushed breaths and pining eyes.

The longer he stares into your captivating eyes, the more he knows he’s fucked. There was no way he was getting out of this now, no way to back down. He was going to make you his one way or another. You would be his. Period.

[cookie-crumblr]

Imagine slapping Ezra ass in front of his friends and then running behind ace

MINORS DNI!!

You are winning his story honestly just sayin’ he’d probably fuck you in front of them XD!!!! 😌✨🙈✨

ALSO my ER visit went good! ty for the messeges everyone! 🙈🙈🙈😭✨🥰✨ i’m all stitched up and i have my antibiotic to pick up today finally! phew 💀✨

Status: Dating

CW: GN!reader, no body descriptions for reader, reader referred to as they/them, names used against reader (stupid slut, slut, good slut, ), dacryphilia, ROUGH SEX(like no lube too, dudes((G/N))), p in hole, bullying of reader, public sex(like people are watching),

Ezra looks at you with an incredulous look, his head cocked sideways, then suddenly it starts twisting up devilishly.

Ace lifts his arm up sheepishly playing with his fluffy pink hair, and chuckles at your antics.

You peer around Ace to see Ezra walking your way with purpose.

“Come out. Now.” Ezra commands, he pinches a cigarette between his finger and thumb before tossing it down the college’s hallway. His one brow is raised, threatening you to challenge him. “Stupid slut I said come out from behind him, it’s time to learn another lesson.”

You probably should, not to make it worse… He seems pissed, you just wanted to be silly! How dare he! You swallow and your fists ball up into Ace’s shirt back. He widens his stance.

“Ezra what are you gonna do to them?”

“They’ll like it. If they just Come. Out. Now.” Ezra snaps his fingers and his guys come closer, “Block the halls”

Your face frowns, fuck that sounds bad!

They stand there staring at eachother in silent showdown for seconds that feel as long as minutes.

Ace laughs nervously and steps away, bowing out, “Sorry Y/N! I’m—ah—Late! For class!” He jogs out through the human barrier, that parts for just him.

“Nobody’s here to protect you now, slut. now, Come here.”

You stand taller, though still feet shorter than he is, pushing 7 foot. Just looking at him tightens your core. His bruised and bandaged skin, his silky strawberry blonde hair that he keeps long. Fuck. He even has pretty eyes…

“Heh, that’s my good slut,” He opens his arms for you to embrace him, and your eyes soften. You hesitate, but he doesn’t get upset. He just continues to smile that crooked smile at you.

You eventually step forward, he takes you under his arms, his chin resting on your head as he slouches over you. He leans closer to your ear, kissing down the side of your head, “I’m gonna fuck you in front of everyone here. Don’t you dare do that in front of my boys again. Got it, slut?”

Your legs tighten together as you nod in understanding.

“nuh uh, use your words, slut.”

“Honestly, I probably will,” Your smile widens wildly and you wink at him.

He grabs you suddenly by a fistful of your hair, and wraps a hand around your arm painfully tight. He bends it behind your back as he turns you around.

Youre slammed against the lockers fast, head and chest first. He pulls you back just to slam you against them again. “You need to learn your place,” His voice comes angrily through his closed teeth.

The hand in your hair relinquishes you and you at least feel relief there, but your arm still hurts at the weird angle it’s in thanks to Ezra.

His now free hand rips through your clothes until you’re no longer covered in the important areas, you still have a mess of fabric over your stomach, and tightly squeezing and burning your arms. “Ow! Ezra! my arms!” He doesn’t relent. He just frees his bully cock and forces it inside you, you let out a scream! It actually hurts!! “Fuck Ezra! OW!!! OW OW PLEASE!” You beg.

The guys watching take pictures and their smiles make your chest tighten. You know these guys, you hang out with them daily. How does that make you feel?

When he pulls out just leaving his tip he spits on his shaft. It doesn’t feel much better at first, but your body always accepts him quickly. Fat tears roll down the sides of your face and along the metal. His hand finds the front of you and rubs and fondles viscously.

Soon your sopping and your tears continue to fall, but now your groaning and moaning against the lockers, your fingers flexing almost unnaturally behind you and your legs becoming weak.

By the time your whole body is shaking and cumming he’s pulling out, dragging his dick along your walls giving you one last burst of pleasure before he shoots his load over your ass hole with a low groan, his hands spreading your cheeks roughly.

He pushes you down to the ground and snaps a pic of your bare, cum stained, and raised ass before leaving with his “boys”.

His still the same asshole you love.

[sluttyten]

UNHOLY - Chapter Eighteen

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

summary: you've been anxiously waiting the reunion with Ten and Yuta. But first, you have to break them out of their imprisonment in Hell. And, who knows, maybe while you're there, you'll learn some new stuff about yourself, too

length: 19,907 words

tags: supernatural, demons, happy stuff, stressful and nervous stuff, scared and angry stuff

<-previous || next–>

You wish you could say the first day of planning went splendidly and you were ready to go marching into Hell the next day. 

That wasn’t the case. 

Each day, your planning meetings end with nothing truly decided. Each night, you dream again of Hell, of the Queen of the Night, of the torture that Yuta and Ten are enduring. Each morning you wake feeling more stressed than you had been the day before, more afraid of what is happening to them, and how different you might find them – they’ve been imprisoned in two separate prisons, possibly tortured, who knows what sort of effect that’s had on them since you last saw them.

You cover lots of things in the meetings that should reassure you of the success of this mission, but they don’t necessarily reassure you of anything.

Jeno and Jaemin tell you about the layout of Hell, of secret entrances and passages and exits while they also regale you with amusing stories of their time at Hell’s boarding school. Johnny tells each of you how shadows work – not the obvious way, but the magical way that lets him twine them around his fingers and send them away to do his bidding. There are skills lessons – Ira instructing you more in the ways of the Watchers, Jaemin and Jeno giving you more information about demons that they’d learned in their demonic boarding school, combat lessons from Jaehyun the werewolf (which Haechan seems only too eager to go head-to-head with some of your new companions). Ira and the sirens discuss various plans to leave the island and to return, revealing the secrets you’ve been wondering about since Renjun brought you here.

You keep your distance from the sirens, still a little wary of them after the dream you had a week ago in which they’d drowned you. It doesn’t help that all three of them have a mildly terrifying aura anyway, and it only gets worse every time that you see Seulgi watching all of you like you’re her prey during Jaehyun’s combat lessons. But you know that the sirens are actually rather sweet. Sunmi is kind and truly nurturing with her sisters. Seulgi actually is quite adorable and soft-hearted when it comes down to it — one day after Johnny’s shadow-talks, you see Seulgi playing with his shadow tendrils like they’re kittens while Johnny watches on with amusement. 

Minnie, though, shows such affection for Renjun. She acts cute and flirty and clingy, constantly trying to steal his attention away from Haechan who, in turn, tries to steal Renjun’s attention back. 

You try hard not to find the dynamic between the elf, the vampire, and the siren very amusing and familiar. 

Finally on the morning of the seventh day, you wake in the darkness of your bedroom to find that Mark’s side of the bed is empty.

It’s late. Or early. The sky outside the window of your bedroom is still a deep, dark shade of blue with stars just barely visible, tiny pinpricks of silver light in the sky. You can see the ink of the sea in the distance, whitecap waves reflecting moonlight.

The night is truly silent tonight. Your view out the window could be nothing more than just a pretty picture in the frame for all the sound you catch – no wind blowing, you can’t hear the waves rushing against the shoreline. No one whispers in the halls or other rooms of Ira’s house. The only sound is the thundering of your own heart in your ears and the dull sizzling sound of your handprints you’ve burnt into the sheets where you’ve been clutching them.

A nightmare is what woke you.

It’s similar to the one you had a week ago, centered on Hell. Every part of it was confusing and disappointing as each element of your plot to rescue Ten and Yuta fell through completely. You woke when the dream couldn’t possibly have gotten any worse.

You saw them burning. 

Everyone.

Everyone burned. Yuta and Ten, although that should have been impossible. Mark and WinWin, Ira, the sirens, the others that Ira has drawn here to his island to help you with this mission. 

They were all burning in your dream. The dream was so vivid that you could smell burning hair and flesh; you could see the terror in their eyes; you could hear their cries and screams. You had heard the vile laughter of the Queen of the Night, cackling with wicked delight while they burned and she made you watch.

Now, as you lie here in the waking aftermath of your nightmare, you try to focus on your surroundings to ground you in the present. 

Behind you, WinWin is unmoving, an arm pitched above his head, the sheets twisted around his hips, one exposed leg visible and covered in white scars like lightning bolts originating from the silvery bite mark left behind by the Fell Beasts. Tonight he’s unbothered, deep in dreams so he doesn’t budge even as you leave the bed, as you quietly dress yourself. 

Soft snores sound from the bedrooms you pass. There’s no sign of anyone being awake, no sounds of the unsleeping vampires being aware of you moving through the house. You creep down the spiral stairs, taking careful steps to keep quiet as you make your way out through the front door. 

Dawn is just beginning to touch the perfect blue darkness of night. Peach colored sunrise swirls through the navy clouds and the steel gray of the choppy sea. Deep shadows remain over much of the island, and you stick to them, remembering Johnny’s advice of bending shadows to help hide you, which you apply skillfully as you leave the eaves of the house towards the cliff’s edge.

As you walk forward, you glance backwards, attempting to look up at the lighthouse tower’s peak, trying to see if maybe Mark is up there. You know he’s got a tendency to climb up the tower so he can sit there and stare at the stars. If he’s up there right now, you can’t distinguish him from the dark. And if he is up there, he must not notice you because he doesn’t descend to join you or stop you either way.

You don’t want him to join you.

The nightmares that have been plaguing you all week have been bad enough, but the one you just awoke from truly has put you in a state of panic. No one else can come with you, you saw the argument for that in your dream. Everyone here on the island has been helpful in these planning stages, but if they come with you, they’re just weaknesses for you, they’ll hold you back and make you much more noticeable than if you just go by yourself.

You know how to get off the island now, and you have a plan for exactly how you’re going to get into Hell, how you’re going to locate Ten and Yuta, and how you’re going to escape. You’ve even got a Plan B tucked away in the back of your mind in case your original plan goes awry.

The beach looks nearly the same as it had the day that you arrived. Foamy white waves crash against the shore, rushing through the pebbles as you near the water’s edge. 

Since your arrival to Ira’s island, you’d wondered several times how the portal magic worked for the island. Ira and Renjun had made it clear that it was only possible to enter the island via portal, and that made sense. Up until a few days ago when one rescue strategy had been discussed, you hadn’t known how to leave the island. At what point did the sea become a portal back to the rest of the world?

Ira had led all of the group out onto the porch outside the front door. With his arm outstretched, he pointed out at the sea visible beyond the cliff’s edge. “See the water, where it turns from a shallow turquoise to a darker blue? Do you see the circle of turquoise out a little further? It’s straight out from the inlet where you all came in.”

The sea faded from turquoise closer to the shore to a deeper blue as the sea floor dropped off, but then there was in fact a pocket of lighter color out in the deep.

“This portal works a bit different from other portals. To exit the secure space I’ve placed this island in, you have to have a specific mental picture of your destination, you have to focus on it and push through.”

“Push through? It’s in the middle of the water. How will we know when we’ve reached the portal to push through and to focus?” Jeno had turned to your father in confusion. 

Mark, standing beside you in the shadow of the house’s doorway, grimaced. “Trust me, you’ll know. Coming through is easy enough, but when we left to find you guys, I thought like you. It was in the middle of the water, so how would we know? But it’s like hitting an invisible wall. You have to focus on holding your destination in mind while you also push through what feels like a solid wall of water.”

Ira nods. “I didn’t make it easy to come and go.”

And now, in the present moment as you stand on the shore and face the morning gray of the sea, you hope you’ll be able to find the portal. From down here at the water level, you can’t see a difference in the water like you’d been able to from up above. It’s impossible to tell how far out you’re going to have to swim.

You stare out at the water. 

If you don’t go now, you’re going to lose your nerve.

Images of your dream last night flash through your mind.

Ten screaming as hungry flames consumed him. Yuta’s body stretched out on the floor as veins of poisoned fire wrapped around his throat, crawling over his cheeks and mouth. 

It had all seemed so real, so terrifying. You can’t take another night of not knowing that they’re safe, of not having them in your arms again.

The seawater is cool where it touches your bare ankle. 

Ira had said the portal is just a straight swim out from the shore. You can do this. 

You take a few steps more out into the water, shivering as the cool water rises up your body, as the waves splash it even higher. 

You pull in a deep, full breath and with one last glimpse back at the cliffs behind you – halfway hoping to see a familiar face, halfway checking to make sure that there isn’t anyone watching. There isn’t anyone. You face the horizon again, and you dive beneath the surface.

Below the water, the world is dark and still. You’re still close to the shore, in only a few feet of water, but as you begin swimming forward, the bottom falls away beneath you. Darkness grows around you when you reach the open water of the sea. There’s a different feeling to the water, a hollowness and a pull of gravity as the forever black maw opens beneath you.

High above you, the sunrise bursts in prismatic colors over the surface. Your lungs begin to ache and your heart longs for you to rise to the surface again, to feel the heat of the sunrise on your face and a fresh breath of air filling your lungs, but instead you keep swimming forward into the endless, deep dark.

The pressure grows stronger  in your chest, in your head, in your throat, and you feel like you’re being squeezed to death and frozen as the sea around you becomes entirely black. Momentarily, the thought crosses your mind that you’ve slipped right through the portal without being aware, that you’ve been somehow sucked into that Abyss that Yuta and Ten once told you about – the place where soulless supernaturals go when they die.

And then, you feel it.

A wall of pressure.

You pull an image of your destination into your mind, focusing on it with every part of you that’s not worrying about being able to breathe, and you push forward.

You feel as if you’re making absolutely no progress no matter how hard you push against it, and for a moment you’re right back trapped in that mirror at the House of the Watchers – again, you can’t breathe, you’re trapped against a barrier with everything you want on the other side. You push and you push, trying to keep a river a million miles away held in your mind, pushing, pushing, feeling your lungs seizing in your chest and dots of blackness and sparks of impossible light spark across your vision.

The world breaks around you, shattering and transforming into a world of bright sound and heat and so much air.

Each breath sears your lungs, your chest burning in an entirely unpleasant manner, but you can’t help gasping for more and more air. Your hair drips into your eyes, making them sting. There’s so much noise, and after the suffocation of the deep sea, all of this everything is very disorienting.

It takes a moment or two of treading water before you realize that your escape from the island actually worked.

River water stains your skin with tiny granules of silt, a twig has tangled itself in your hair as well as a slimy piece of plant life that has twisted through your fingers. You shake it off, pluck the twig from your hair, and you look back up to the banks of the river you’re in, at the high city buildings reaching up into the orange haze of the sky.

You’ve come back to Hell City.

Something silvery flickers by you in the water, and it takes a moment too long for you to realize what it is. Another pale streak rushes by you, and this time you recognize it for what it is. A memory rises to the surface of your mind.

In your early days here, as Ten and Yuta showed you around the city, they’d brought you here to the riverwalk along this river that marks the border of Hell City. Right now, you’re a bit upriver from that spot where the river splits in two, but you still remember clearly leaning against the railing with Yuta beside you, his arm wound around your waist to keep you from tipping into the dangerous water.

It’s the memory of that day that has inspired your rescue plan. 

“What do you see when you look at the water?” Yuta had asked you that day. And that morning, just as right now, you’d seen a whitish silver ribbon twisting through the water. With his hands on you, keeping you safely planted on solid ground, Yuta had explained to you, “Those are spirits of the damned. This river leads straight to Hell. Proper Hell, not just this city. Water is a transmitter, or conductor, carrying the spirits down where they belong. A little way down the way, the river vanishes underground, and it never resurfaces.”

It’s funny, thinking back on that now. You’ve definitely learned that water works as a pathway – it’s taken you to Purgatory and to Ira’s little special corner of the universe, and it’s brought you back here.

And if your plan works, this river is going to take you straight to Hell.

This is something that has come up in your week of planning. Jaemin’s voice echoes from the back of your mind. “Once you’re in that river, it’s a certainty as to where you’re going. Because the river is a one-way ticket to Hell. Spirit Express, no stops, no clear return.”

In the present moment, you can already feel the current of the river sucking at you, pulling you downstream. A cold wave slaps into the side of your head, and you swear you hear a voice whispering a death song in your ear, and you keep your mouth closed tightly, trying to keep your face above water, even as the current pulls you along, threatening to drag you under even as you fight to stay afloat.

And then you see it just up ahead. The river forks.

One branch of the river continues on through the regular, mortal, unmagical world towards the ocean. The other branch grows darker and darker until eventually it delves underground, passing briefly through Hell City’s underground, and then surging even deeper below to the realm of the demons; this branch of the river is the one that has you in its gravity.

And suddenly it really has a grip on you. You’re being propelled forward in the water, carried along faster than you had been just a moment before, racing towards the place where the river disappears underground.

The moment is obvious when the power of the great river of the damned finally overpowers the simple current of the natural river. One moment, you’re still able to fight to keep your head above water, and the next you can feel the force of the water pulling you downward.

You keep getting pulled under, managing one final gasp for breath in the instant before it’s impossible, sucking in a little of the river water despite all of your previous attempts. It tastes like poison as it trickles over your tongue, and the moment you resurface, you cough and gag, trying to expel the toxic water. Repeat.

Occasionally, you feel something else in the water, hitting against you, bumping and slithering and slimy. Mostly it feels incorporeal, as if you’re just feeling passing souls. Until you feel the tug at your ankles, the gravity pushing you down further from the surface.

You wish you had something to hold onto, some easier way to get to Hell than this, but Jaemin and Jeno had assured you that this was going to be the easiest way for all of you to get there, and even though you’re going this alone now, you don’t know any other way to get to Hell. 

You’re being sucked downward, and you flail around, trying to claw your way back to the surface for one last breath, one last glimpse of the sunlight –

Free-fall.

You’re in free-fall, no longer controlled by the river’s current but by gravity.

Lights flicker to life – far away and below you, growing rapidly bigger and closer.

You recognize where you are, but you’ve never seen it from this perspective.

You’re tumbling in the waterfall you’ve seen before, racing through Hell City’s underground, and within seconds you’ll be crashing into the next layer of the underworld. Streams of silvery light surround you, and if you could really force your eyes to focus on anything, you feel certain that you might be able to make out features of faces or limbs. These are souls, after all.

The air is full of voices – whispers of the souls, your own screams.

You feel the impact as your body crashes into the pool of water at the base of Hell City’s underground waterfall. It doesn’t hurt necessarily, but you can feel the water passing like a heavy wave beating against you when you stand unprepared in the surf. And then everything is dark and cool again. The air is filled with the rushing sound of water and passing air and all the whispers of the souls around you. And you’re spinning.

It takes a moment to really realize that, but soon you come to understand that you’re spiraling downwards in tighter and tighter curls, moving faster and faster, you and all of these souls are funneled to a point.

You’re spinning in the darkness, and then suddenly you’re not.

In a great cold splash and a burst of warm light, you’re standing dripping wet on a stone floor. 

“What the fuck?” You hiss, blinking and looking around.

Directly in front of you is the broad back of a very tall, large man. He doesn't turn to look at you, only shuffling forward a step. 

A cold wave of water rushes over your feet as a considerable splash sounds from behind you.

You glance over your shoulder and find an elderly woman standing there with round glasses sliding toward the tip of her nose, her hair curling loose down to her shoulders. She doesn’t seem to take too much notice of you. Momentarily, there’s another big splash, a second wave assaulting your feet as a spout of water shoots down from the distant blackness of the ceiling, the jet of water deposits another soul in what appears to be a line growing behind you.

You twist around to the front, leaning around the broad man in front of you to get a look at what you’re in line for.

“What the fuck?” You repeat, looking at the line that stretches into the impenetrable distance. It winds forward, twisting around rocky structures that jut up from the floor. A deep reddish-orange glow semi-illuminates this vast space, but the end of the line in either direction – as the spout of water continues to deposit an endless string of souls behind you in line – is swallowed by the same darkness that resides above your head.

But do you really have to wait in line?

None of the others around you pay any attention to you or anyone else. They all wear bored, resigned expressions, content to shuffle forward step by step as the line slowly shifts forward with some unknown signal.

It is eerily silent. Your brain can’t comprehend the absolute lack of sound when you can see so many people. You should be able to hear breathing or some slight shifting, fabric brushing together, feet moving on the floor, an exasperated sigh or grumbling under the breath. You even half expect to hear a distant echo, water droplets trickling down from somewhere or even dripping from clothes, but as the Hell Delivery System waterfall moves ever farther down the line, you can’t even hear its roar of delivery anymore.

And you’re soaking wet. Uncomfortably so.

You know that you could easily call your demon fire and make quick work of drying yourself off, but some instinctive feeling in your belly is telling you not to do that. It might just draw attention to you.

Not that there seems to be anyone overseeing this line, enforcing behavior. If you just stand here waiting in line for some unknown end, you’ll just be wasting time. There probably isn’t anyone who will even notice if you cut the line a little.

You’ve moved only a dozen paces since your arrival. 

You take a step out of line, pause, waiting for something to happen.

After a few beats, nothing has happened.

You begin to move, passing up the column of this endless queue. No one moves or spares you a glance, speaks or breathes or anything. So you walk, and you walk and walk and walk, searching for the front of the line.

Is this Hell? Just this, waiting in line forever? Moving forward inch by inch for all of eternity. Because you’ve been walking for at least half an hour, and the front of the line doesn’t seem anywhere in sight. Although, the scenery has slightly changed. There seem to be more outcroppings of rock here, and there are large torches mounted to the walls, providing a stronger orange light than the previous ambient red-orange glow.

Another fifteen minutes pass by in unchanging silence. You look behind you to see the line vanishing back into dim light some distance back, twisting out of sight around a big boulder. Ahead of you looks pretty much the same.

But then you hear something.

It sounds like footsteps, so you freeze. Sharp clicking footsteps pass over the stone floor. Heavy breathing and the acrid scent of brimstone.

A demon.

You don’t dare to move even a little bit. Wherever this demon is, it must be ahead of you, around the next curve of the line, but you’re sure even a slight move would draw its attention to exactly where you are as it prowls along the line.

Sure enough, around the curve ahead, you see a puff of black smoke, a shadow painted on the wall of a beast. It’s coming towards you.

You clench your hands into fists, and you feel your nails bite against your palms hard enough to break skin.

The demon’s shadow on the wall twitches, head tilting curiously to the side, and you glance down to see a trickle of your blood as it drips from your hand.

A sharp whistle cuts through the never-ending space, echoing off the rock walls and the invisible ceiling. The demon twists around, a growl rumbling from it. A second whistle, and the beast sets off in the opposite direction. You hear a grinding sound of stone against stone, a third whistle and another growl from the demon.

You take a step forward, conscious of the coarse sand that dusts the stone floor, aware that even a slightly wrong move could cause sound. If only there was some way to silence your footsteps so you could sneak forward, hopefully catching a glimpse around the next curve of the line, maybe to see what is happening ahead. Have you finally found the front of the line?

You take a tentative step forward, and there’s a soft crunch of a pebble beneath your foot.

Your heart leaps in your throat, but then you remember.

During the weeks of Ira’s lack of availability and assistance with this plan, you’d dug into any and all of the books he had in his home. There were boring books about gardening and maintenance, cookbooks, and even self-help books, but there had also been histories of the Watchers, but these were ancient texts that you felt must be from the early days of the Watchers because they were just histories, they held information pertaining to the instruction of young Watchers. 

Those texts you had devoured, pouring over them for long hours until Mark or WinWin had dragged you away, providing you with ample distraction. 

But you had learned some things from those texts about the powers of the Watchers, the abilities that you possess. You’d practiced a few things, but you are fully aware that you’re a long way from being adept at the skills. 

Although, one of the magical skills you’d read about, and that you’d once attempted semi-successfully, had been the power to become undetectable – invisible and silent – for up to an hour. You’d used that experiment to sneak up on WinWin and scare him, for which you’d had to apologize and make it up to him when you returned to detectability about ten minutes later.

But isn’t that what you need right now? To be undetectable?

Luckily, the process had been rather simple, and you’d made certain to memorize it before even attempting it that first time. 

The powers of the Watchers were magic like you’d not quite seen it before. Sure, some of it involved fancy words and waving your hands around, but there was a simplicity to it all that almost seems deceptive, like you feel like it should be much more difficult than it is, and by finding it easy, you must be doing it wrong. But that’s not the case at all. Maybe it seems that way because you’re so new to this power that you were actually born with; it’s a part of you, so natural that it just flows without having to work too hard at it. 

Either way, the effort to become undetectable right now is simple. 

The sandy soil underfoot is actually much more fine than you’d believed. It’s a soft, reddish-brown powder that clings to your fingertips as you crouch and gather a handful. Disturbingly, it reminds you of dried blood. 

You spit into the small pile of soil in your hand, mixing it into a paste that you try not to think too much about as you dip your paste-coated fingers and paint them around your face.

It’s more difficult without a mirror to know if you’re getting the runes correct, but you hope that you don’t fuck it up too much.

You can tell it’s taking effect, and you begin to hurry before you lose the ability of physical touch. This spell truly makes you undetectable – invisible, silent, and intangible.

Just as you put the finishing touches on yourself, you see your fingertips fading away.

You lift your hand to your face, and you can feel your breath on your fingertips, and you think that maybe there’s the barest imprint on the air in front of you, but you can’t actually see anything there. Beneath you – where your feet should be – there’s no sign of your footprints, not even when you take a step forward.

As you walk around the curve, you don’t find the front of the line. You’re certainly closer to the front, but now the line straightens out instead of curving, moving forward into the far distance where you can see looming high in the shadows, the faintly lit arch of a massive doorway. But right here beside the line, just on this side of that curve in the rocks, is a hidden doorway. You can still see a glowing outline of it as you reach it, but your intangible fingers can’t find any purchase to pry the door open.

Again, this is where you’re grateful to be part Watcher. There’s a magical phrase for this, and a moment later the hidden doorway is grinding open again, revealing a narrow hallway roughly carved through the rock, winding away and downward. To a certain degree, it reminds you of the passages Yuta and Ten had led you through to take you from the surface of Hell City down into its underground, although these tunnels of Hell are much better illuminated. 

Once you’re through the entrance, you close the door again with a simple wave of your hand.

The rocky ridges in the walls of the tunnel are a warmer reddish brown than where the evenly spaced torches along the walls illuminate. You get a vague impression that you’re staring down a great beast’s throat, looking at the insides of its ribcage. As you pass silently down the tunnel – footsteps leaving no mark in the sandy floor nor even a scuff or sound of your footfalls – you grow even more aware of how you’re sinking further and further into Hell.

The flickering light of the torches on the ribbed walls of the tunnel truly gives the sense of being slowly swallowed by a beast, and you’re terrified and exhilarated to learn what awaits you.

And then you see it.

A small archway up ahead, open and unguarded.

Slipping through the archway into Hell Proper is easy, but what you find immediately on the other side is less so.

The hidden tunnel didn’t just bypass the rest of Hell’s eternal waiting line to the Great Gates. You managed to bypass a lot of the structure of Hell, and the tunnel has spat you out into the one place that you’ve feared and yet dreamed about for too long now.

You’re in the throne room of the Queen of the Night.

You’re in the very belly of the beast.

And you’re not alone.

You melt into the shadows at the edge of the throne room, pressing your back to the wall, your shoulders blend into an enormous woven tapestry as you make an attempt to conceal yourself even more against its pattern. There are too many people – or demons, you suppose – for you to feel safe even with your Watcher spell making you undetectable. Your heart pounds as you look around, observing the space. 

The ceiling vanishes above you into darkness just as it had in Hell’s lobby, but here there’s at least a hint of architecture. Something sort of Gothic, sort of Art Nouveau which adds an odd bit of whimsy to the otherwise imposing aura. Columns span the length of the room, leading your eye toward the apse – a semicircular space at the far end of the room, the ceiling ribbed and vaulted. The back curved wall of the apse is more window than wall, and it reminds you of something you might have seen in a Church before, although it’s much more dark and whimsical than the structured beauty of a Church’s stained glass window. It has an organic feel to it, like the wall is covered in vines that have grown around irregularly shaped black windows. 

You try not to imagine those windows as eyes, but it’s difficult to do. You feel as if you’re being observed. 

Seated there above it all, doing nothing to help the feeling of being watched, is the Queen’s throne. The high seat is housed in the apse, and you’ve seen it before.

Her throne is exactly as you’d pictured it in your dreams. Massive. An unscalable monolith, carved of black stone that reflects torchlight from the walls, thin trails of liquid darkness seep from unknown pores in the throne, and although you can’t see the base of the throne at the moment due to the throng of of demons in the way, you know that black liquid is dripping down into the black pool the throne rises from. You’d dreamed it exactly like this. 

And also like your dreams, seated atop the throne is the Queen herself, veiled in shadow.

All you can see of her are her hands, which are clawed and deformed. Her twisted long fingers are pale as bone until they taper at the tips into black points which she taps against the arms of her throne. Her voice is a rasp, reminiscent of dry leaves rattling against each other, like bare branches snapping in a strong breeze, and an underlying tone of train wheels screeching on the track. Whatever language she’s speaking in, you can’t understand it, although the demons around you certainly seem to.

They cheer at whatever it is that she’s rasping in her unholy voice.

A demon rises up above the crowd on stilt-like legs, pronouncing something that you still can’t understand. A few others respond, and the Queen laughs – her voice echoes sharply around the room, bounced back at you by all the hard stone. 

And then you hear the rattle of chains. An eerie clinking.

You need to get closer.

Even sticking to the edges of the throne room, skirting the gathered court, you narrowly avoid detection. There are guards stationed along the walls, as well as court members whose presences overflow even beyond their physical forms – similar to Johnny back on Ira’s island, with his shadows that reach beyond himself. 

At one point, you swear one of the demons turns its head to look in your direction, but it can’t see through your Watcher magic, so it turns back to face the Queen.

You keep moving until you reach the front of the crowd, until you can see the black pool beneath the throne. Heavy chains in the dark water, just like your dreams. But unlike your dreams, the chains aren’t looped around the limbs of your boyfriends. Now the chains lie limp in the water, empty.

You’re not sure if you feel relief or some other unnamed combination of fear and horror and frustration.

If they’re not here, like they had been in your dream, then where are they?

Are they hiding on the other side of the throne? Perhaps they’re just not visible from your vantage point here, and if you could just squeeze through the crowd….

It’s easier said than done.

More than once, one of the demons bumps into you, which shouldn’t be possible unless your undetectability is wearing off. Luckily, those that bump into you seem to think they’ve just bumped into another demon in the crowd with them, and they brush it off, but each time it happens you curl in a little tighter on yourself, pushing onward.

And then someone steps directly into your path, and you pull up short. 

Another demon stands slightly behind the first, reaching up to adjust the collar of the first demon’s jacket, to brush nonexistent lint from the demon’s shoulders. 

“Stop,” the demon hisses. 

The second demon drops his hands from the other’s shoulders, murmuring a quiet, “Yes, my Prince.”

A Prince of Hell. 

Ten and Yuta had once briefly mentioned the Princes to you in passing. The five Princes of Hell mostly kept to themselves, although both of your boyfriends had met them a few times. 

The Prince standing before you is very handsome. Dark reddish brown hair curls around his ears. His eyes glow a deep red as he turns to look over his shoulder at what must surely be a servant. 

Suddenly, another demon shoulders his way forward through the crowd. He’s taller than the first Prince, his hair a smooth ebony encircled by a crown of obsidian. 

“Kun,” he says, “We missed you.”

Prince Kun — the first Prince — turns to his brother. “Mother had me handling some business.” He faces the Queen, listening intently as she continues speaking her demonic tongue. “Hendery, don’t you ever wonder why she tries to keep us separate from our people? It’s only times like these she allows us among them, and even then she wants us to be kept apart. To be just simply out on display.” 

Hendery’s head turns slightly, and you follow his gaze to a small dais off to the side. Three other Princes sit there on thrones carved of dark stone, looking bored. 

“You know why,” Hendery answers. “It’s to keep us safe.”

When Kun looks at his younger brother, his eyes seem to flare a shade brighter. “If we’re never among our people, how can they ever hope to know us? How are we to ever understand them? And if they don’t know us and we don’t know them, what hope do any of us ever have of ruling them?”

His jaw clenches, hands curling into fists at his sides. Hendery only gives his brother a look of mild confusion. 

“Sometimes, Hendery, I think that Mother never plans to pass the throne on.” Kun’s voice has lowered to the point that you need to strain to hear it, meant only for his brother’s ears. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll have to steal it from her so I can fulfill my destiny as King.”

“Don’t say that.” There’s now a tick in Hendery’s jaw. 

“I’ve made it clear how I feel in the past about Mother’s rule, the changes and improvements I will make when I’m King. Don’t act like this is anything new.” Kun turns to face his brother, and you spot other demons in the crowd casting sideways glances at their two Princes. 

A third Prince, this one with silver hair and a light and bright expression, appears and throws his arms around the shoulders of his brothers. “Come, brothers. Let’s go sit. Mom says there’s a feast after her speech.”

Unwilling to continue their argument in front of their younger brother, both Kun and Hendery drop it. They carve a path through the crowd on the way back to the dais. You take the opportunity created in their wake, and you make your way clear through the crowd, following them although you don’t plan to reach their thrones with them. 

Instead, once you reach the edge of the Queen of the Night's audience, you turn your attention again to the pool at the base of her throne and the chains rusting in the liquid. 

On this side of the throne room, you can see that the pool of water trails away toward the sides of the room, trickling through a grated section at the back of the apse. There are more chains scattered throughout the water, all of them empty. Well, mostly empty. You try not to look too closely as you catch a pearly gleam of bones tangled in one of the lengths of chain. 

There’s a narrow strip of raised stone along the edge of the room just below where some of the chains are bolted into the walls. The dark water swirls, a light current keeping it moving on the way toward those grates in the back. 

High above you on the throne, the Queen’s voice still echoes out over her people. As you’re still invisible and unable to understand what the Queen of the Night is saying, you decide to take the opportunity to explore the apse.

The narrow pathway is just wide enough for you to fit without touching the water. Every few feet as you shuffle along it, you glance backwards.

All of the demons are still gazing upwards at their Queen. The dais of Princes are the only ones who aren’t devoting all of their attention to her. Kun is sitting on his throne, his left ankle resting on his knee as he disinterestedly picks at his nails. The dark-haired Hendery keeps casting glances at his elder brother. The young silver-haired prince is distractedly stroking the backs of the phantom shadow cats that twine around his ankles and stand on his shoulders and rest on the arms of his throne; as you watch, one stretches up to place its paws on his chest and rub its shadowy head beneath his chin. 

There are two other Princes sitting there, both of them with their heads bowed together in quiet conversation, although they appear to be joking around, judging by the barely suppressed laughter. One of them looks as if he’s part-bat – large membranous wings are tucked behind him. His wings are dark and angular, although the webbing is thin and paler in color. He’s very handsome, despite the bat wings and the vicious blood red color of his eyes. His hair is a deep, dark brown color, parted precisely down the middle, and two sections of his bangs fall down to perfectly frame his face.

The last Prince is round-faced, pale, and very relaxed. He’s handsome as well, although at this point you’re half-certain that being extremely handsome is a demonic condition. His jaw is so strong, his eyes gleam with mirth as he whispers with his brother. He exudes a sense of casualness, a very go-with-the-flow vibe that immediately puts you at ease even as you’re sneaking around behind his mother’s throne.

Perhaps it puts you a little too at ease.

Upon your next step, your foot slips.

Your toes dip into the water, and to your surprise, a few shallow ripples spread out over the surface of the dark liquid.

You dart a glance toward the high throne, toward the crowd, and to the Princes. 

Prince Kun has turned to look in your direction, his eyebrows furrowed together as he scans the shadows where you hide. You hope that your spell of undetectability, which is clearly beginning to wear off, stands up beneath the Prince’s scrutiny. His eyes narrow, focusing on the back section of the apse, but after another moment, he blinks and returns to his nails.

Moving forward, you go more carefully.

You’re not sure exactly what you expect to find back here. Maybe it’s something about those dark eye-like windows staring down at you, but you feel drawn into the shadows at the back of the apse, to the place where you can hear the dark water trickling and tink tink tinking down through the grate. 

When you reach the end of the stone edging, you’re right there upon the grating.

There’s an odd swoop in your belly as you take the first step onto the drain. Maybe it’s because it’s not a solid surface, and you halfway expect the thin bars to give way beneath your weight. But they hold and you take another step and another, making your way to the very back of the apse. 

There’s a doorway.

The door is recessed, half hidden in the shadows between intricate carvings, a leering gargoyle with wings like the Prince back on the dais. 

Of course, the strange pull you’re feeling is guiding you towards that doorway. 

You take a step towards the doorway, and as you do, the gargoyle moves.

A flutter of its wings. A shake of its head. 

It turns away from you, its ears tilting like dog ears do when they’re listening for something. You hold your breath, pleading with the universe to let your undetectability hold for just a little longer. You walk lightly, quietly, without breathing, and you slip right by the gargoyle, into the recessed doorway.

A yawning mouth opens before you. 

Almost literally.

The doorway has stalactites hanging from the top like jagged teeth. A cool draft plays with your hair as it breathes by you from the dark maw beyond the doorway. The air is damp, carrying with it the smell of mildew and sulfur. 

The knot in your belly tightens, rising in your throat as you whisper another helpful spell Ira’s books had taught you. Nightvision. 

Although the path had been pitch black a moment before, the way before you suddenly blooms in color. The night vision provided by the spell isn’t quite like what you thought counted as night vision in your old life. It’s not all green and black, like you’d seen in movies and on TV. Everything is just… glowy. Like there is an ambient faint light source providing just enough light that you can see the cracks in the stones on the floor and the walls. You can see where a few feet ahead of you the path becomes stairs diving down into the unknown. 

You take those stairs carefully, trying not to slip on the damp, slick stone where it’s been worn smooth by use over the eons. 

Down and down and down deeper you wind, until at last you reach the bottom, only to find a barred door padlocked shut. You’re surprised that you can see a little bit better through the barred window of the door, and as you peer into the dark, you think the increased visibility is due to a faint light source from high above; you can hear a soft trickle, and you realize that the light and the water sound is likely coming from the drain grate high overhead. 

You can see little else than some rough rocks – large boulder-like monoliths that glisten wetly. You think for a moment that you hear the rattle of a chain, but then there’s nothing. No movement, no sound. What if you’ve come all the way down here, and this is just the chamber where the Queen of the Night keeps some horrid, monstrous pet? 

But still, there’s a weight in your belly, a magnetic pull that swoops as you step right up to the bars of the door, as you curl your hands around the bar and press your face between the gap, trying to get a better look around even as the rusty texture of the bars scrapes against your cheeks.

High above you, there’s a distant roar. It takes a moment for you to realize it’s the clamor of the crowd gathered before the Queen. They’re cheering about something. Thunder rumbles overhead, and you swear a few pebbles dislodge from the faraway ceiling, shaken loose by the drumbeats of footsteps in celebration as the demons continue their rallying.

Again, you hear movement. A chain’s rattle. The quiet echo of a single footstep followed by a quiet incomprehensible murmur.

Your heart thuds a beat harder.

You reach for the padlock, and without waiting, without thinking about if this is a terrible idea that you’ll come to regret, you reach below your surface for the fire that’s always there. 

Demon fire bursts to life in your hand, glowing white-hot and then flaring blue at the core of your hand, wrapped around the padlock until the metal softens and then melts, dripping to the floor like small drops of starlight.

The cell door groans slightly as your luminous hand pushes at it, melting the metal even as it swings open on rusty hinges. 

In the light given off by your skin, you can see what you hadn’t been able to before.

At first you think it is a statue, as still as it is with its face upturned to the light and sound above. Then, you realize it’s another gargoyle. 

Ram’s horns curl from the sides of his head, clawed feet and fingers of abnormal length. He stands nude with his back to you, and where you would imagine wings would jut from his shoulders, there are instead cracked lines in the shape of wings stretching from the nape of his neck down to his tailbone. At his feet another gargoyle kneels, also nude with wings etched into his back, a tail curls over his thigh, shaggy hair reaches almost to his shoulders, and two sharp horns rise from the top of his head, curving slightly forward.

It’s only when the one standing turns his head that you gasp.

The eyes are sunken in shadow. The face is gaunt and pale.

But you would recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Yuta,” you choke out, tears rising to your eyes as you stumble forward. 

The kneeling one lifts his head at the sound of your voice, his eyes striking against your soul. 

“Ten?” You collapse on your knees in front of them both. 

Now that you’re closer you can see the manacles on their ankles, the chains stretching back towards the wall. You reach for Ten’s face first, your palms gentle as you touch his sharp, unfamiliar bone structure. “What happened to you?”

Ten turns his head, unable to meet your gaze. 

“Are you really here?” Yuta rasps, his voice dry and rattling in his chest. “How are you here? Did she find you?”

You tug on Ten’s chin, turning his face back towards yours. He meets your eyes once briefly before looking at the floor again – they’re the yellow cat eyes that he used to flash at you on occasion. You stroke his cheek tenderly; he might not look how he did the last time you saw him, but that doesn’t change anything. 

“No, she didn’t find me,” You answer Yuta, “Renjun got us out of the House of the Watchers; he got us safely to my father,” you tell them. 

Ten lifts his head, his eyes bright. “He did?”

Your heart warms in your chest when he looks into your eyes. “Yes. And the first thing I made my father promise was that we would come rescue you. Now here I am, and I’m getting you out of here, bringing you to safety under my father’s protection.” You rise to your feet again.

Yuta shifts towards you, and when you reach for him, he stops you with his fingers light on your wrist. “My love, you can’t.”

You jerk your hand away from his hold. “What do you mean ‘I can’t?’ What can’t I do?”

With a clanking sound, Ten stands as well. 

“You can’t break us out of here,” Ten explains softly. “We’re bound here by the Queen’s law. And if she finds you here, she’s going to destroy you.” Now he lays his hand on your cheek, just as gentle as you’d been with him.

“Fuck that. I can save you both. I didn’t come all of this way, sneaking out of my father’s place, finding my way to Hell’s entrance, and sneaking in here all alone just to find you and not save you. Why would I give up so easily?” You take a half step back, looking between your boyfriends. You haven’t even properly had the time to rejoice in finding them, and they’re trying to drown your mood with this dark pessimism?

Yuta shakes his head. “For the moment, we’re going to ignore that you just said you’re here alone, which is insane. You don't understand. You can’t break us out. We’re chained in here. We’ve never seen a key, and these chains are impervious to everything we’ve tried, which isn’t too much honestly because all that’s down here is rocks. We can’t even really use magic because demon magic doesn’t work well within the walls of this chamber; trust me, we’ve tried. 

“For weeks, each of us has tried time and again to get a message out to you, to contact you in some way or see you through a veil. We tried to build a binding connection between ourselves and you so maybe we could pass a message along, show you how to find us. A few weeks ago, Ten thought he was almost successful at opening a tiny window, but all we saw was starlit darkness and a tall light blazing in the distance.” 

You remember that night on the island when you and WinWin and Renjun sat on the porch. You thought you’d seen something in the distance. A blip of something. A light, maybe. Could that have been them? 

“Trying to reach you has taken all of what natural energy remained; it’s why we look like this. Our true forms.” Yuta holds his arms out so you can see all of him bared in the light from above. “How can you still want us when we look like this?”

You scoff. “Seriously? You think I’m so shallow that I care what you look like right now? I love you both. I have fought my way through Hell and high water – literally – to get here. And I’m not going to pretend, but I’m honestly a little distracted and turned on by the sight of Ten’s dick right now. So yeah, I still want you now.” You cast a small glance between Ten’s legs where there’s an actual goddamned forked penis. “Which I was right about your dick, Ten, and you lied, I’d just like to point out.”

For the first time in too long, you see a ghost of Ten’s smile. Before you first had sex, he’d told you that he definitely didn’t have a forked penis or a tail or horns; but now you’re seeing the real him, and it turns out he’s actually got all three.

“And as for the chains, I’m sure I can find a way to break them.” You take a step back, looking down at the chains and manacles keeping them prisoner down here. “I just need to think.”

Overhead, the sound of the Queen and the crowd pours down through the grate. 

“What’s going on up there, anyway?” You ask, crouching to get a closer look at the manacle on Yuta’s ankle.

Silence is the only answer you receive until you look up.

Both of your boyfriends look down at you. You ask, “What?”

Ten looks at Yuta. “Just tell her.”

Yuta sighs. “A trial. The Queen and the Princes and all of the court are up there, right? She only does that for a big trial.” He pauses, lifting a hand up to touch one of his ram’s horns. “Specifically, this is our trial. Although, it’s as much a trial as the one the Watcher’s were going to give us. Our Queen seeks the death penalty for our disobedience and disloyalty; and who among her court and sons are going to tell her no?”

Immediately, the red-haired Prince Kun appears in your mind. But that’s unimportant right now. What is important is breaking these chains. Once you break them, you’ll nearly be done with the rescue.

You grab Yuta’s chain in both hands, and you pull, putting all of your strength and reaching down into that well of power within you to summon your fire. 

Nothing.

“Told you,” Ten says, “Demon powers don’t work in here. If they did, we’d have prettied ourselves up for you, and burned our way out of here forever ago.”

Yuta clucks softly. “We appreciate it, my love, but the trial sounds pretty decided up there. You should leave while you can.”

Both of them flinch at the loud, jarring sound of the chain smacking against the floor as you throw it down and stand up. You’re not anywhere near tall enough to come nose-to-nose with Yuta when he’s in his pure demon form, but you do your best. 

“I’m not leaving you. You’re both absolute idiots if you think I’m going anywhere without you now.” You spin around, turning your back to the both of them as you think. You close your eyes, trying to picture everything that you’ve read and learned and plotted back on Ira’s island. Surely someone in all the planning had come up with something about how to actually break them out. Surely not all of your plans had relied on magic? 

You should’ve brought a crowbar. Would a crowbar help, though? Surely there are tools that would help in this situation that you could’ve toted through your journey to Hell? You should’ve brought a blowtorch or something. 

Ten actually laughs when you say that aloud.

You glare at him. 

“What? I’m just imagining you busting in here with a whole blowtorch, the welder mask, a fuel cylinder, and an oxygen cylinder strapped to your back.” Ten laughs again.

“I wouldn’t need all of that if I’d thought ahead. I could’ve just manifested something that works like it’s got all of that, but it could be small and portable, able to just fit in my hand.” You frown. You’ve created original things before; objects that you’d imagined up and wanted in your apartment in Hell City. You could create whatever you wanted there, in the House of the Watchers, on Ira’s island – shit, you’d even created your own miniature solar system.

Oh.

You’d created your own stars and moons and planets before. 

That hadn’t been just basic manifestation, Ira had assured you when you brought it up one day. That was the Watcher magic that made that possible. Being a Watcher meant that you had the power of creation. It was completely separate from your demon magic. 

You drop to your knees again at the feet of your boyfriends. When you cup your hands together and close your eyes, Ten makes a noise of confusion.

“What are you doing? We told you already that–” He starts, but you cut him off with a quick shh.

Yuta and Ten watch as you dip into your well of power again, and this time you dig deeper, searching for the warm glow of your Watcher powers, focusing on bringing it all together into your hands. You can feel the moment it begins to work, when you feel heat pooling in your palms, when the buzzing in your mind becomes the quiet whispering of thermal energy eating the air, radiant light glowing through your eyelids.

“Maybe you should both look away,” you advise, and you can almost feel the power on your tongue and lips. You can feel the shift of power as the miniature white star takes form in your hands, as you have to keep your mind focused to control it. The star hisses in the damp air, sending up spirals of steam as you move carefully, bringing it closer to Ten’s chain.

When the star meets the chain, it’s a similar effect to your fiery hand encircling the padlock to the cell. Gobs of molten metal drip to the floor as the star liquefies the chain.

Ten gasps when the strain disappears from his ankle. 

Without another moment wasted, you move to Yuta’s bond, melting through his chain just as quickly. As soon as what remains of Yuta’s tether hits the floor, you sink back on your heels, let your hands fall apart, and you focus on dissipating the star safely, cooling it until it sinks, just a perfectly round black pebble resting in the center of your palm.

Again, there is cheering from far above you, and then the cry of the Queen’s voice in one final declaration.

Ten and Yuta look at each other.

“What?” You ask, rising to your feet once again. You slip the dead star into your pocket. “What’s happening up there?”

Ten swallows hard. Yuta shakes his head. 

“It’s over.” Yuta looks at you. “The trial, I mean. She just cried out ‘Death to the disloyal.’”

Your heart does something very strange – it stops beating or beats harder or just simply jerks in your chest – whatever it is, you gasp, clutching at your chest. This can’t happen. You won’t let it. You didn’t come all this way, do all of these things, create a whole fucking white dwarf star to cut your boyfriends free only to have them give up because some fucking Queen up there decided that they should die. 

No. 

You won’t let them.

“You’re not dying today,” you command them. “I refuse to let that happen. We’re leaving. Fuck the Queen. There’s got to be some way out of here that won’t take us back up into the throne room.”

After a moment of uncertainty, Ten looks at you and Yuta. “Well, there is one thing I think we could try.”

Yuta nods. “Then let’s go.”

You try not to look too closely as your boyfriends begin moving. Since you’ve never seen them in their true demon forms before, you’ve never seen them moving, and it’s mildly disturbing honestly. Yuta has backwards knees like an animal, so each step he takes, his knees bend the opposite way that you’re used to seeing. Ten just seems to float a couple inches off the ground. With the horns and the tail and the deep scars down their backs, it feels entirely new to look at them, and you’re beyond grateful when Ten takes the first step through the doorway of their prison and immediately the version of him that you’re used to snaps into place. 

As soon as Yuta follows Ten out, he resumes his usual appearance as well. But you don’t have time to stand there and admire them. Each of them pulls together some semblance of clothing that seems to knit itself from the damp shadows around the edges of the room, covering up their nudity.

“Come on,” Ten whispers, and he glances up the long staircase that leads up to the throne room. 

Darkness puddles in the space under the staircase, and to your surprise, that’s where Ten leads you and Yuta. “I used to explore the palace when I was skipping out on guard duty,” Ten explains in a whisper, “I found plenty of the secret passages and trapdoors and all sorts of secret things. And there’s one that comes out right back here.”

In the dim light, you watch Ten feel along the stone wall until finally his fingers catch in the gap between one stone and the next. There’s a faint click, and then with a grinding sound, a door slides inward to reveal a dark passage within. 

Ten steps in first, then you, and Yuta takes up the end. Once the door swings closed behind you, the tunnel is plunged into darkness. 

You bring a tiny white star to life again in your hands, and for a brief moment you see Ten and Yuta’s faces. You don’t have time to admire them, to actually rejoice in the reunion with your soulmates. You can feel it in the air, in the stones, in the tense set of Ten’s shoulders as he turns and walks away: you’re short on time. 

“Go on, my love.” Yuta’s hand is light against your lower back. “Keep up.”

The tunnel is long and dark, cool and damp. It branches off a few times, it narrows and the ceiling drops to the point that all three of you must crawl on your hands and knees to pass through to a section with a little more height. But Ten seems to know where he’s going, and with the help of your little light and Yuta’s warm hand occasionally reminding you of his presence behind you, you steadily make your way forward. 

“Where are we going?” You ask after several long minutes. 

“There are three exits from Hell,” Ten explains in a whisper. “The first is the entrance, although it’s a little more difficult to leave that way since we’d be going against the flow of souls. The second is the way the Queen brought Yuta and I in; she’s in possession of a mirror that acts as a portal, and that’s how she usually dispatched us on important missions as it’s the most private method of exit.” 

He pauses then at a fork in the path. 

“And the last one?” You ask, stepping up beside him. 

There’s a draft coming from the pathway to the left, but there’s almost a pull trying to guide you down the one on the right. You can see a faint light rightwards, perhaps a little sound of music that makes you want to dance.

“What’s that way?” You take a step ahead, face turned towards the music and the light

Ten and Yuta each grasp one of your wrists. 

“No,” Yuta rasps, “Not that way.”

Again, you feel the draft on your left cheek. The air has a breath of something sweet, something that reminds you of autumn. 

“This way.” Ten takes the lead again, and neither of them releases their hold on your wrists. “This way is the third exit option. It’s the one we’re taking.”

The path toward the light had curved deeper down into Hell, but you realize that the autumn path is leading slightly upward, the incline causing a slight burn in your calves and your breathing comes out harder than you expected as the path grows steeper and steeper until eventually you’re basically facing a wall.

Far above you, you see a light. But in between that light and the three of you down here at the bottom of this wall are about a hundred rungs of a ladder carved into the stone. 

Ten starts climbing, and you have no choice but to follow. You’ve made it up about maybe twenty rungs before your arms start burning, unused to working like this. You wish that you were able to give yourself fully functioning wings so you could fly the rest of the way out of here, but instead you double-down your focus, breathe, and keep climbing.

You barely even notice when Ten disappears from a few rungs above you. It’s only when you reach for the next rung of the ladder and find your hand placed into Ten’s instead, that you realize you’ve reached the top. He hauls you up to your feet on solid ground, and you grip onto his arm as you look around.

You’ve emerged from what is basically a crack in the wall. There’s a crumbling bit of pathway directly in front of you that extends to your left where it eventually joins with a well-kept path. 

The realm opens up in front of you in a cavernous space. Curved bridges arc over canyons you can see down into. Fires of all colors illuminate the paths and bridges and buildings. It’s still rocky, still everything has the cast of the red-brown dirt that made up the tunnels and the entryway, but it’s so much more open than you were expecting it to be. 

Behind you, Yuta clambers up through the crack, joining you and Ten.

“That’s where we’re going,” Ten says, pointing ahead. 

From here, you can’t really tell what it is that he’s pointing at other than a bridge that leads to a floating platform of stone that branches off into four more bridges. 

Off in the distance, you hear a loud, angry cry.

Yuta’s face pales. “That’s her. She must have realized we’ve gone.”

“We don’t have long, then.” Ten grabs your hand.

You run. The three of you fly along the path, scree kicked over the edge to tumble down into the abyss below. You reach the first bridge, and you try your best to not look over the side; you don’t really want to see how far the canyon goes down, nor do you want to see what might exist at the bottom of it. Luckily, with Ten’s hand still firm around yours, you don’t have the time to worry either about what would happen if you slipped. Ten runs quickly and smoothly, and you have no choice but to keep up with him, Yuta sticking behind you like your shadow. 

You fly over the platform, taking another bridge that shoots you off in another direction, and now you can better see that there are many bridges and deep crevasses all over the place. A wary peek shows you that Hell continues beneath you in many layers – bridges connect islands of stone suspended in the canyons, and you can see the true fires of Hell burning deep below. There are stairs and ramps that lead down below, and you realize you’re just at the top of Hell.

There are buildings here on occasion. You pass a bridge and find yourself jogging down a street with buildings on either side and lampposts giving off a flickering red light. You pass by what could be a park perhaps with grotesque statues and benches and what you’re almost positive is a sand volleyball court. 

Each time you think that you must finally be approaching the spot Ten said would be the exit, he keeps going. Yuta keeps up a steady pace behind you. 

“Aren’t we almost there? How big is Hell, anyway?” You gasp when Ten suddenly jerks your arm, dragging you along another new bridge. Surely you must be getting close because you can see another great wall of stone looming out of the darkness before you, much like the one you’d climbed out of what feels like forever ago. 

“Almost there,” Yuta says from behind you. “And it’s damn near infinite, but that’s when you go downwards.”

Again, you try not to look too hard at what extends beneath you. Instead you focus on what’s ahead. 

This bridge leads to a grove of sorts. Trees made of shiny black stone cling to the edges of this stone island, their roots dangling over the edge, dipping out through the seemingly solid stone they grow from. It must be solid enough to hold the whole weight of this grove of obsidian trees. Their leaves shimmer and shiver in a nonexistent breeze, changing between moonsilver and steel, like blades. You scan the branches as the three of you jog along a cleared path, half-expecting to find nothing, but also hoping to see some little creatures in the branches — birds or squirrels, insects or bats even. 

A fork in the path through the dark trees presents you the choice between a small bridge over a crack through which the level of Hell beneath you is visible before it curves out across the open space to another area of Hell, or you can choose a path that winds deeper into the forest. 

Ten, of course, drags you towards the left branch, deeper into the trees. 

You do hear something above you in the branches. It snaps a branch in one tree before landing in another. But even when you look up, you can’t tell what it is. You can only see the silvery leaves fluttering down towards you, although they vanish in a puff of smoke before they reach you. 

And Yuta swears viciously behind you. Ten forces you to run faster. 

And then you hear voices. 

Sibilant whispers through the trees. A cackle of laughter. 

Up ahead there is a glimmer through the trees, as of a handheld light swinging. The volume of the voices increases, still just incomprehensible whispers. 

Ten breaks from the path, branches tear along your arm, tugging at your clothes and your hair. One twig burns across your cheek. The light continues swinging through the trees, and you find yourself rushing forward to meet it. 

And then there you are. 

Ten comes to a complete stop. You crash into his back, and he reaches back to steady you. Yuta steps around you, moving so he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Ten, both of them acting as a barrier between you and what lies ahead. 

At first you think it is just a small, empty clearing. 

But then you see the truth. 

A black pool of liquid sits restlessly in the center of the clearing, the surface of it is choppy and bubbling, a gray mist hovers above the surface. A hook beside the pool holds one lantern, casting light down on the pool’s surface, but another light is held by a demon that stands among his peers at the edge of the pool. 

They all turn to look at the three of you. 

“Ah,” drawls Prince Kun, drawing himself up straight. “There you are.”

His gaze passes casually over your boyfriends before settling on you. He lingers, cocking his head slightly to the side, the look of an intelligent predator glowing in his eyes. At his sides, his brothers shift on their feet, sizing up Ten and Yuta and, to a lesser extent, you. 

“Move out of the way, Kun,” Yuta hisses. “We just want to be free, not to hurt you or your brothers.”

“Well, Mother just wants to put you to death.” One of the younger Princes steps forward. “So who are we to stop her from that? We’re just here to stall you until she can arrive.”

“Chenle!” Prince Hendery hisses at the young Prince, jabbing him with his elbow. 

Prince Kun glances at his younger brothers, then back at you. “Forgive my brother. He doesn’t truly understand what we’re doing here.”

Yuta curls his hands into fists at his sides. “And what’s that?”

Kun grins, cocky and sly. “We are definitely stalling for Mother to arrive. But not for the reasons he thinks.”

In that moment, you recall Kun’s hushed words in the throne room exchanged between him and Hendery. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll have to steal it from her so I can fulfill my destiny as King,” Kun had said. And here he stands now, posted between you and your freedom, poised with three escapees who will do anything to escape from the Queen’s clutches. 

You lean forward, squeezing between Yuta and Ten. “You’re plotting to involve us in something, aren’t you? You’re the Prince who longs to be King, but as long as your mother sits the throne, that’s not possible. And she doesn’t show any signs of abdicating anytime soon, so you’re thinking a little coup…. A convenient ‘accidental’ death by two death-sentenced fugitives in an escape attempt would do well to insure your placement upon the throne without the eternal wait. Hmm?”

Yuta turns to look at you, Ten squeezes your wrist. But you don’t look away from Prince Kun’s vibrant eyes, suddenly alive with hunger as he grins. 

“You’re smart. I can see why Yuta and Ten like you so much.” He takes a step towards you. “We used to know each other well, your boyfriends and I. They were my personal guard, best of the best up until my mother decided they were too good to be left on my service, and she repurposed them for a more special mission.” 

Again, Yuta and Ten move so they’re blocking you. 

“Don’t worry,” Kun placates them, holding his hands up as he says, “Your girlfriend is right.”

Hendery frowns. Chenle takes a step back, casting quick looks at his other two remaining brothers. 

The silver haired Prince who interrupted conversation earlier in the throne room interrupts again by stepping forward and placing his hand on Kun’s shoulder. “I’m with you,” he agrees. “You know I’m sick of her control. I want some freedom.”

Kun nods. “Thank you, YangYang.”

The final brother, the one who possesses wings like a bat, shakes his wings at that moment. It’s a dry leathery sound that draws every eye in the clearing to him. He looks first at Hendery and Chenle, then says, “Don’t act like you’ve never thought of it. We’ve all been under the thumb of tyranny for too long. Haven’t we longed for freedom too? To be able to take a short trip up to the mortal world just to see it? To feel the wind on our faces? Feel the light of the sun?”

“She’s our mother.” Chenle bristles. 

The brothers turn upon each other then, bickering as they face each other. 

Ten turns his head, his eye catching yours. “The pond,” he mutters out of the side of his mouth. “That is the last exit from here. We just have to get in, keep swimming, and we’ll come out where we’re supposed to.”

You understand that magic. Something you’ve come to understand here is that the lines of magic between Watchers and demons and even with Renjun’s elf magic is that they’re all drawn quite closely together, overlapping in many places. 

“Make a run for it?” Yuta asks. “While they’re distracted?”

And then everything falls quiet. The Princes cease their arguments. The leaves grow still. Whatever small movements you’d heard in the trees earlier stop altogether. The air turns chill and so fragile that you feel as if a single sound could shatter everything. 

She comes from across the clearing, which is one moment empty and then it’s not. She moves silently and smoothly, her long gown dirty at the hem as she passes barefoot over the obsidian soil and detritus of shiny leaves. Her hair hangs free and wild around her shoulders, only a thin gossamer veil hides her face. The air crackles faintly as she moves, the way it does before lightning strikes. 

You stare as the Queen of the Night takes a seat, building herself a glittering black throne of shadow and stone as she lowers herself, trusting in her magic to catch her. . 

 “At last,” she says, her voice a sigh and a rasp, the creak of branches on a stormy night. Even though she wears the veil, which still muddles her features, you can tell she’s got her sights set on you as she continues, “At last we meet, face-to-face, my dear. I’ve waited years for this moment.”

“Mom,” YangYang begins, but the Queen flicks her fingers in his direction, and the young Prince falls silent. 

“Your birth, dear child, was an abomination.” Her words are a hiss. “The fact of your creation is disgusting.” 

You shrink into yourself at her words, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from her. 

“The power held in your bones is enough to transform the world, has anyone told you that?” She leans forward on her throne. “Power enough to feed me for eons if I could just get a taste.”

Yuta firmly steps in front of you, which draws a horrifyingly shrill scale of laughter from the Queen. 

“Oh, Yuta, do you think you could really stop me now? You’re weak, both of you,” she says with a lazy gesture towards Ten. “And her blood belongs to me, it calls to me, like to like.”

A chill climbs your spine. “I’m nothing like you.”

Again, the laughter. 

“Darling,” the Queen tips her head back, her laughter climbing up into the branches of the obsidian trees. “Just because I don’t share the same toxic combination of blood as you, doesn’t mean we’re not still alike.” 

The veil flutters away from her face, folded back over her wild hair by an invisible breeze, and she tilts her face forward again to look at you. 

Your heart free falls through the bottom of your stomach, and you clutch at Yuta and Ten as your knees threaten to buckle. 

The Queen of the Night wears your mother’s face. 

A pleased smile grows on her face at your reaction. “We share blood, my dear. Since learning the truth of your heritage, haven’t you ever wondered why the Queen of demons would spare your mother for her traitorous dalliance with your father? I wouldn’t have done that for anyone, nor would I have offered forgiveness so easily to anyone but my own sister.”

As your shock clears, you see now that her face differs slightly from your mother, but the similarities are certainly there. Her mouth sits a little different, her lips wind a little tighter. She doesn’t have the small mole your mother had beneath her right eye, or the faint scar that cut through her eyebrow. Close but different. Sisters. 

“You still did cause her death, though,” Ten interjects. “You may not have chosen to kill her right away, but you did call for her death, as well as the death of the Watcher.”

The Queen snarls, “I had my reasons, Ten. My sister was set to inherit the throne from our father. She had more power, so she should have been Queen of the Night, but she never wanted it.” The Queen laughs before saying, “She fell pregnant, began losing her powers once the holy seed of that Watcher took root, and she slunk away to the mortal world, glad that she no longer would be forced to the throne. But then she produced you.”

Her gaze is piercing, a blade of black ice straight to your heart. 

“That is the great irony, of course,” she says to you, “Your mother never wanted power, but she gave life to someone more powerful than any demon, than any Watcher. I took the throne from the King before he could make a deal with my sister, and my first aim was to take your life before you could grow up and realize that you have a claim to my throne. But the Watchers sought you out as well because they were afraid and intrigued by the result of a union between our kinds. We fought a war over your cradle, and it was only because your mother possessed such power that we were thwarted time and again until finally we settled on a treatise for peace. 

“You were to be raised in ignorance, never aware of your powers, ignorant of your heritage, of the entire supernatural world that you come from. So long as my sister could keep you unaware of this throne, and of the immensity of power you could have, we weren’t to touch a hair on your little head. My throne would be safe as long as you were blind to its existence, and the Watchers need not worry about your power if you didn’t realize you had it either.” She leers at you, such violence in your eyes that you can tell some part of the Queen – your mother’s own sister – longs to throw herself at you and attack.

To your surprise, it’s the youngest prince that speaks up now. “So what happened, Mother?”

She spares her son a minute glance. “I found a loophole, Chenle. I couldn’t have a living risk to my throne, despite the treaty. I knew the Watchers were surely looking for a way around it as well. Like I said, a half-demon half-Watcher is an abomination. Your mother was my sister, dear,” she addresses you again, “and I loved her dearly. But there was this tiny little loophole in our peace accord that meant you were only safe from us while you were under her protection. So, yes, I called for her death. And for good measure, the death of that Watcher as well.”

The Queen claps her hands, brushing her palms against each other as if ridding herself of dirt. “I sent a small troop of demons after her. They were to dispatch her and the mortal lover she took to help raise you, and once they were both gone, my demons were supposed to locate you as well, to bring you to me.” Her smile goes sharp as she says, “But they returned empty-handed, to my never-ending disappointment, and there was no sign of you. Somehow you were still protected by my sister even after her death. So, I set Yuta and Ten on your trail, and like the loyal bloodhounds they were, they eagerly went in search of you.”

The Princes – your cousins, apparently – all stand there, staring at their mother as she unleashes this story. You’re at least relieved to see that none of them look at her with any approval or admiration. Kun actually looks more angry and more determined than he did before.

“Raging cunt,” Yuta whispers under his breath. 

The Queen looks at him, her mouth twisting in a tight smile. “I wanted them to bring me your heart. But strangely their loyalty wavered as soon as they met you, and they hid you in Hell City, knowing that I couldn’t go there myself. Of course, them hiding you from me only made me want you more. Originally, I planned to only consume your power, and send you back to the mortal world to live your sad, plain mortal life.”

You can’t imagine going back to your life before. You’ve tried that once already since having your eyes opened to this world, and you couldn’t do it. She would have to erase all of your memories of this — of Ten, Yuta, WinWin, and Mark; of the Watchers and demons; of everyone and everything that has transformed your life over the last several months. 

You do not want that. 

Not that you’d be willing to give her your power regardless. You’ve barely met her, but judging by the hate her own sons feel towards her, you doubt she would do any good with the powers she would steal from you. 

“Now that they’ve betrayed me,” the Queen continues, “I have to show some punishment in return, do I not? No longer do I long just to punish Ten and Yuta with their own demise, nor to satisfy myself with your power and sending you merrily on your way. Now that you’ve conveniently dropped yourself into my lap, dear niece…” Her lips curl in a wicked grin, her sharp teeth shine in the light as she declares, “I’m going to eat your heart and make them watch.”

Suddenly, it doesn’t matter what Prince Kun was planning. You don’t give a damn if he was going to end his mother quickly or brutally unleash years of pent up rage on her.

All you know in that moment is that Yuta and Ten both lunge for the Queen. And you are filled with a white-hot rage that your physical body simply can’t contain – the inferno breaks through the barrier of your skin, and you can see yourself reflected in the black mirror of the Queen’s eyes.

In that moment you are more demon than anything else, just a raging inferno incarnate, hurtling at the Queen. 

Her sons stand frozen, watching. 

Yuta and Ten fall back, at your sides like two wings of shadow as you fly across the clearing, and the Watcher part of you pulls together your flames into the shape of a fiery blade, casting you in its golden light, painting you as a vision of a vengeful angel.

The Queen’s eyes widen, but her lips curl in an awed smile — full of terror and delight as you come soaring towards her — even at the very moment that you swing your blade, as it connects with her throat. 

Her wicked head separates from the rest of her unholy body.

Her smile doesn’t falter even as her head falls from her shoulders, her tangled hair twisting over her face as her head rolls across the floor of the clearing.

One of the Princes cries out, another turns and you hear him vomiting into the grass.

You point the tip of your fiery blade at the corpse of your mother’s sister, the Queen of the Night. A twisted, dark part of you considers cutting open her chest, pulling out her heart, and eating it in front of her sons much like she had wanted to do to you. But you restrain yourself, satisfying the urge by simply touching the tip of the blade to her body and watching it engulf her in flames.

A hand falls on your shoulder as you watch the body burn.

“That’s enough, my love.” Yuta’s voice is gentle, placating, trying to get you to draw back into yourself because you’re still masquerading as a vengeful angel, wreathed in dancing flames.

Ten reaches for your hand that isn’t clutching the sword. “Come back to us, darling.”

You’re not sure whether you drop the sword or if it just simply vanishes from your grip, but your hand is empty as you lift it to Ten’s face. His eyes flutter shut as you brush the backs of your still-afire fingers against his cheek. His fingers trace up your burning skin from the bend of your elbow up to the softness of your inner wrist, and when his fingertips connect in a loop around your wrist, Ten opens his eyes as he turns his head and sighs over your skin.

His breath is a gentle wave, extinguishing your flames in a domino effect beginning with your fingertips and spreading everywhere until you stand as normal before them. A little smokier and charred than usual perhaps, but otherwise normal. Your clothes seem to have barely survived your personal inferno.

Beside you, Prince Kun clears his throat.

Ten drops his hold on your wrist, but he doesn’t let go of your other hand, nor does Yuta release your shoulder. 

Kun’s brothers are gone from the clearing, save Prince YangYang who lingers at the mouth of the path, looking back at you and his eldest brother, although you can tell he’s determinedly not looking at what remains of his mother – her head and the smoking lump that used to be her body. 

“Can I have a moment alone with the Prince… or King?” You ask your boyfriends. You’re looking at Kun, but he’s not looking at you. 

Yuta squeezes your shoulder and takes a step back, but when Ten lingers, Yuta has to take him by the hand and pull him away to the other end of the clearing. YangYang disappears too, leaving just you and Kun and the dead Queen.

“Well, that’s done,” Kun sighs after a few moments. He lifts his gaze from the corpse, and to your surprise, he offers you his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, cousin. She never told us that’s what you were to us. Actually, I’m not entirely sure how much my younger brothers knew of her hunt for you.” 

You look over at the path down which YangYang disappeared. “I know this is along the lines of what you wanted, Prince Kun. But what of your brothers? They may have agreed to having her off the throne, but was this too much?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know how they thought it was going to happen. But once she started threatening you, I could see where it was going. Honestly,” Kun says, nudging his mother’s disembodied head with the toe of his shiny shoe, “I don’t know what she thought would happen. As if you were just going to peacefully give yourself up and let your lovers watch you be eaten by her?” He scoffs and turns away from the smoking remains of the former Queen of the Night. “You should leave, cousin. Now, before the realm realizes what you’ve done. There’s deeply-rooted demon magic in this place, and if you don’t hurry, I can’t guarantee that you’ll make it out.”

Your first thought is his brothers – that they’ll turn on you and sic the demon army and all sorts of horrible beasts after you. But Kun quickly clarifies, “Whatever magic was used to build this place knows who is in charge, and if it senses that the Queen was murdered, it might do things to ensure that you don’t escape. It’ll close the exits, set the hellhounds after you. My brothers won’t get involved, don’t worry about that.”

A knot works its way up your throat, drawing tighter and tighter until you force out the question that’s been bothering you. “And what of you, Your Highness? Are you going to pursue justice for your mother after I leave? Am I going to continue being hunted by demonkind for the crimes I’ve committed here, for the power I possess that apparently gives me a claim to a throne that I swear I don’t want?”

Kun smiles and shakes his head. “Trust me, cousin, I don’t give a damn what you do with the rest of your life. Be free. Take Yuta and Ten with you, and be happy. As long as you don’t try to make a bid for my throne, you’re free to live your life in the mortal world or in Purgatory with the other Watchers; you can even visit or live in Hell, I don’t care.”

You know exactly where you want to be. You want to return to Ira’s island, safely with Ten and Yuta in tow. You want to be reunited with WinWin and Mark because although it’s only been a day since you left them behind, it feels like it’s been months. And it’s been even longer since you’ve had all four of your boys together, and you just know that it’s going to feel so good to have them together, all yours.

But now the Queen is out of the way, Kun is telling you that you’re free to go, and the pond that Ten says is the portal back to the surface world is right there. 

You sigh. 

You’ve almost got everything you want.

And then the surface of the pond begins to bubble and slosh over the sides. With a vast cloud of steam that erupts and fills the air with the smell of burnt rubber, the pond dries up entirely.

“Shit,” Kun swears, “That’ll be the deep magic I was telling you about. It’s trying to lock you in.”

Distantly, you hear baying – howling and barking that sends an uncontrollable shiver through your entire body. 

“And that’ll be the hellhounds. As I recall, the alpha Cerberus wasn’t particularly fond of Yuta the last time they encountered each other.” Kun looks past your shoulder towards your boyfriends. “Run. I highly recommend going as fast as you can back to the palace. Ten should know the way to the mirror.”

You turn away, ready to heed Kun’s words as you can already tell the hellhounds are growing closer. 

Kun catches your wrist before you can take two steps. “My last piece of parting advice, if the hellhounds catch up to you… don’t look back. Not even once you’re through the portal.”

You don’t ask why. You don’t linger for another moment as a loud snarl sounds from somewhere along the path across the clearing.

“Let’s go!” Yuta hisses, racing forward to grab your hand.

Ten leads the way, setting out full pelt. Yuta’s fingers stay laced with yours as you sprint back through the obsidian forest, across a bridge, down a crumbling set of stairs to the next level of Hell. The whole time, you can hear the growling of the hellhounds chasing after you, and whether it’s through your own supernatural strength or just pure luck, you manage to keep ahead of them.

Ten winds and wends you through Hell, up and down stairs and through tunnels. At one point he leads you and Yuta to leap over a chasm between two areas, a deep river of magma swirling at an incredible heat beneath you. 

You wish you had the chance to actually look around and explore Hell because from what you can see of it, it truly looks like an interesting place. But any time you slow even slightly to admire the bizarre architecture and landscaping of this realm, you hear the scraping of claws against stone, the panting of the hounds, and Yuta’s grip drags on your hand to speed you along after Ten. 

“When we reach the mirror,” Yuta tells you, his voice shaken with each labored breath, “You’re going first. Ten and I will be behind you to try to fend off the hounds if they follow. We’ll be right behind you.”

“No, I want you two in front of me where I can see you, so I know that we’re all making it out of here.” You try to argue, but that’s pretty hard to do when Yuta’s suddenly jerking you around a sharp corner, Ten’s footsteps slap against the stone ahead of you, and you can see the three of you are rapidly approaching a wall.

Ten skids to a stop, and you watch as he starts touching the wall, running his hands along it at eye-level, searching for a seam. Just as his fingers catch on something that you can’t see, as you hear a faint click and a panel in the wall pops inward slightly, you hear the clatter of tiny pebbles being kicked across the floor and claws scrambling to turn a sharp corner.

You don’t even realize you’ve begun to turn your head towards the sound until Yuta’s palms are warm on your cheeks, keeping your head from facing back. “No, you can’t look at them. That’s how the hounds trap souls that attempt escape. If you look at them, if they look back at you, they’ll capture your soul and you’ll be stuck. Don’t look at them. Follow Ten.”

“Come on!” Ten cries as he holds open the door he’s found, waving you and Yuta forward.

No sooner have you both crossed the threshold than the door slams shut behind you. A split second after that, there’s an immense bang as a heavy body throws itself against the door.

“They might not be able to open this door,” Ten says, “But it’s not going to stop them from finding us for long.”

“Where are we?” The space you’re in is almost entirely black, only a faint glow emanates from small crystals embedded in the walls. 

Yuta answers, “The palace. This is a servant’s entrance to the royal baths.”

Ten snaps his fingers, and a ball of fire appears in his palm, illuminating his face. “I wish that we could take you to the baths, darling. They’re exquisite. Heated by the magma core, so it’s delightfully warm. There’s every scent of every kind of body care you could hope for. When we were in Prince Kun’s service, I admit I spent quite a bit of time in the baths.”

“Too much time enjoying the pleasures of the baths rather than working, if I recall,” Yuta laughs. “And as wonderful as a nice bath sounds right now, shouldn’t you be taking us to the Queen’s mirror? I assume you know some secret, faster way to get there?”

Ten grins. “Like I said earlier, I spent plenty of time exploring the secrets of the palace.” He looks at you, his dark eyes reflecting the light of his flame, the heat of his passion. “I know a shortcut that’ll get us there in no time. And the sooner we’re free and it’s just us, the better. I’ve missed you so much, darling. I fully plan to make up for lost time, and remind Mark and WinWin that we were your lovers first.”

His fingers brush your collarbone where your shirt has been burnt away, and you know there’s probably a hickey or the lasting imprint of Mark’s teeth there. 

Yuta is smiling. “I’m excited to see them, too.”

“Then let’s go. The sooner, the better.”

Ten nods, turns, and begins walking off down the dark tunnel. Behind you, there’s another solid thud against the door, the baying howl of a frustrated hound, and then silence. 

“There’s a main door to the palace not too far from here,” Yuta tells you, “So we’d better hurry before the hounds reach it. I fucking hope Ten knows the secret passages as well as he thinks he does.” He waits for you to take off at a jog before he follows at the same pace, chasing after Ten’s distant flame. 

When you step out into an open chamber, you’re surprised by the stunningly humid air ripe with floral scent until you realize this is the royal baths. The baths have been dug into the floor, and their surfaces give off curls of steam that rise to caress the ceiling, lovingly wrap around you and welcome you in. Iridescent bubbles float from the surface of one bath that smells like cotton candy, and another bath you pass by shimmers like the water is made of molten gold. 

Ten’s light is just a hazy orange glow ahead of you, and you nearly lose sight of him as the steam grows thicker around you and Yuta. Yuta has one hand touching your lower back as you wind carefully through the pools that make up the baths. At one point, in a narrow ledge between two pools, your foot does slip on the slick surface, and it’s only by Yuta quickly grabbing the back of your clothes that you manage to not take a dip in the unnaturally blue water. 

You can feel the humidity threading through your hair, dampening it until it sticks against your face and neck. You’re sure you almost look as if you had actually fallen into the pool, but as you finally draw up next to Ten, you’re pleased to see that he looks the same, and Yuta does as well although he’s raked his fingers through his hair to push it back away from his face. 

“Here,” Ten murmurs, “One of you hold this.”

You offer up your hands, and Ten pours his flame into your palms. 

You’re reminded of the first day you made your own flame, sitting with Ten, his hands warm on yours, his flame passed from his fingertip to yours, the way it had felt like a fluttering heartbeat. Now you feel that way again, and you realize how familiar Ten’s fire feels, like a welcome kiss from your long lost lover. 

You pull your hands towards your chest, longing to press his flame over your heart. 

Ten crouches on the floor in the middle of the room. 

Here, the floor is made up of a million tiny tiles all coming together to make a mosaic image of a figure upon a throne over the burning masses below. An interesting choice of artwork for a relaxing bath space, but whatever, everyone has their own taste in artwork. 

Ten runs his fingers over the tiles, and you watch the colors shift, responding to his touch. Until he reaches the small tiled throne. It glows as his fingers pass over it, and then it transforms into a handle, raised from the floor just an inch or two. 

“Yuta, help,” Ten grunts as he fits his fingers around the handle and attempts to haul open this secret passage’s door. 

Yuta crouches beside him, and you watch in the wavering light of your handheld flame as they both work in tandem to lift open the hatch. 

Ten jumps down, you follow, and Yuta brings up the rear again, dragging the door shut easily as he comes. You pass Ten’s flame back over to his hands so he can lead the way. The passage goes straight for a short distance before it becomes a set of stairs rising upwards. 

You’re surprised you only stumble once or twice as the three of you climb the stairs at a run, though luckily it is only a few flights before Ten shoves against a wall, and it swings outwards.

You run out into a large, beautiful chamber. It’s full of rich reds and golds, marble tiles, a large fur rug that looks as though it comes from a massive beast or many pelts sewn together, heavy furniture and fine fabrics. You look around in awe, trying to catch your breath even as Ten drags you forward by the hand. 

“It’s just over here.” He directs the words over his shoulder. 

Various doors lead out of this room. A large set of double-doors probably lead back out into the rest of the palace, if you had to guess. A smaller set of doors have panes of glass set in them, through which you can make out the dim firelight of Hell, so you assume those doors lead out to a balcony. You’re sure one of the doorways leads to the late-Queen’s bedchamber, another possibly to some kind of an office, and then there’s the small door Ten leads you and Yuta to. 

It’s rather nondescript, nearly blending into the wall itself. 

You’re just a few short feet from it when you hear a sound coming from the other side of the large double-doors. 

Raised voices, panic and heavy footsteps moving rapidly along a corridor outside. And then, amidst the clamor of the guards, the keening howl of hellhounds on the hunt. 

“Fucking shit!” Yuta is right behind you, close enough that you feel the kiss of heat as he summons his flames. “Go, Ten. Get her through the mirror. If they make it through, I’ll hold them off.”

Your arm wrenches painfully as you twist around and plant your feet. Ten is still trying to drag you towards the door that leads to the mirror portal, but you won’t leave Yuta. 

“No, you can’t stay here!” You argue. “Come with us. If we just run, they won’t catch us.”

Yuta’s fire is burning hot enough to distort the air between you with waves. “I’m not staying behind, I swear. Just until you’re through the portal, and I’ll be right behind you.”

No. 

You’re this close.

You reach for him, reaching through the waves of intense heat, and you clasp your hand around his wrist. “Defend our position from inside the room, then. Not from out here.”

There’s a softness in Yuta’s eyes when he’s and your face. His flames dim slightly. “Alright, I guess that works too.”

Ten throws open the small door to the portal room, waving you in first. 

The room on the other side is a small, dirt room. There’s nothing to it — dirt walls, dirt floor, dirt ceiling, a singular torch with its end planted in the ground illuminates the bare room; its light is only intensified by the only decoration: the large gilt mirror that stands tall enough and wide enough to be able to admit two tall men standing abreast of each other. 

Yuta bumps against your back before sliding around you, and then Ten is there too, his hand at your waist as the door to the room clicks shut. 

You can see your image reflected in the mirror — the unwavering image of all three of you standing side by side. 

A knot forms in your throat, but now is not the time to cry. You can do that later when you’re all safe and free back in your father’s little bubble, when you’re reunited with Mark and WinWin as well. 

On the other side of the door, you hear the loud bang of the double-doors being thrown open. Footsteps, the clacking of claws, the whines of the hounds. 

Yuta turns, his flames rising in heat and brightness as he faces the last door between you and the hounds. 

Ten wraps his arm around your waist dragging you along with him towards the mirror. 

As you stand facing the mirror this time, knowing you’re about to travel through it, you hope it goes smoother than the last time. You lift a hand to the surface, and as your fingertips brush along the image, minuscule ripples expand across the mirror. This mirror feels so much more liquid, like actual cool water, no resistance. 

“Go,” Ten urges, “Now. Think of our destination as you pass through, and that’s where this will lead. Go.”

A thud that shakes loose a few clumps of dirt from around the door. You can hear claws scraping against the door, you can see the shadowy movement as one hellhound attempts to dig under the door. The door holds, though it rattles in place. 

“Go,” Ten repeats. 

“I’ll hold them off,” Yuta growls, and his fire is still building. “But you have to get through.”

“I’m right here, right behind you,” Ten keeps his voice gentle, encouraging. “Just step through the portal, my darling.”

He’s holding one of your hands lightly in his own, and you use that hold of his to have him help you balance as you lift a foot to step through the frame. 

Ira’s island, you think, imagining the sight of the lighthouse, of the island, the kitchen, the study, the living room, the cove with the sirens. 

The mirror smoothly drinks you in, wrapping around you like stepping into blessedly cool air conditioning after standing in the disgustingly sticky heat of a humid summer day. A long passage extends before you, which is somewhat different from the mirror journey you experienced with Renjun, but it feels so blessedly cool on this side that you don’t hesitate to keep pulling yourself through the mirror. You pass through until all that remains on the other side is your fingertips pinched between Ten’s, but even then, Ten lets go, and the last of you sinks inside the mirror. 

Ten stands just on the other side, staring at you through a faintly blue tint. 

“Come on,” you say, “Hurry.”

The door into the chamber bursts open. Yuta sends up a wall of flame. 

Ten whips around to aid Yuta. You step back towards them, ready to throw yourself through the mirror as well to help, but your palms crash against the inside of the mirror as if it were back to being solid glass, no longer the fluid surface that let you in. 

You slam your hands against the glass. You yell, scream, cry, swear. 

Both Yuta and Ten stand wreathed in flames, putting up walls of fire between the door and the mirror at their backs. They’re being pushed back, you realize. Soon they’ll be backed against the mirror. 

You can see Yuta gritting his teeth together as he puts his all into maintaining the inferno he’s creating. His usual appearance is fading slightly, you can see his true demon features beginning to peek through. The same can be said for Ten. 

You hit the glass one more time. 

Ten twists his head around to look at you. His eyes are the piercing narrow-eyed slits of his cat-like eyes. “You need to go,” he calls to you. 

“No, not without you.” You lean your forehead against the glass. “I can’t come back through. I can’t come to you. Come here, hurry!” You can see shadows, smoky figures moving in the walls of flame Yuta and Ten have thrown up. “Hurry!”

“Go!” Ten shouts, his voice raw, raging, echoing up the passage behind you. And then, a little more gently, “We’re right behind you, I promise. Just trust that we’re behind you, and don’t look back! Now, go!”

This time he says it with enough power in his voice that you stumble back from the force of it. 

On the other side of the mirror, Ten turns back to face forward, to face his flames and the hellhounds. 

You take another step backward up the passage even though everything in you is telling you not to leave, to run back at the mirror and do something to make it let you through it, even though your mind is saying that, your body won’t obey. Your body is listening to Ten as you turn and start running up the passage. 

Your throat feels raw as you pant for breath, but you keep going, running up the sloping tunnel even as you feel as if your chest is going to cave in and your heart is going to burst. You can’t hear anything at all over the racing of your heart and the thunder of your breathing, so you can’t even hear if Ten and Yuta are behind you. Hell, you can’t even tell if the hounds are still pursuing you or not. 

Kun’s warning and Ten’s last words ring in your ears.

Don’t look back.

You just have to trust.

Sobs tear from your throat with each jolt of your feet against the ground. You feel like you’ve been running for hours, days, weeks. You just want to peek backwards, to know if they’re behind you because if they’re not then all of this will have been in vain, and they’ll be re-imprisoned in Hell for the crime of the Queen’s death.

Don’t look back.

You’re almost certain you hear a footfall behind you, rock scattering under someone else’s foot. Was that a breath? Was it an echo of your own breathing, or was it the panting of a hellhound almost upon you?

Don’t look back.

An entire lifetime ago, you’d sat in a literature class that taught mythology. At the time, you’d felt a bizarre mixture of shame and interest – your highly religious upbringing made you feel that learning these stories was improper as they were based on false idols, but you were so intrigued by the pantheon of gods, their many stories and interactions with mortals that differed so greatly from the stories of the One God that you were familiar with.

Among those many myths you’d learned in that stuffy classroom, there was the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. The woman who died from a snakebite, and her lover who journeyed into the Underworld to bring her back. 

The story comes back to you now. 

Orpheus, who rescued Eurydice, who was allowed to bring her back to the mortal world on the sole condition that he didn’t look back at her until they were both in the mortal world. And now, more than ever, you understand that story. You have two lovers behind you, death nipping at your heels, and as you race out of Hell, you can’t look back – it’s a warning you’ve received now twice, and as much as you want to look back to be certain that Ten and Yuta are behind you, you know the mistake Orpheus made; in the last moments before success, Orpheus looked back. 

Eurydice was lost forevermore.

It could have just been a tale, except that when poring over tomes and tales at Ira’s kitchen table during the useless planning of this rescue, one account had been that of Orpheus. 

A miserable tale that you’d barely been able to stomach reading given your circumstances. How Orpheus, barred from telling her that he was forbidden to look back at her, marched before his wife out of the Underworld, both of them in cold silence. He heard no sign of her – not a footstep or a sniffle, not the sound of her voice or a whisper of her breath as they walked for an eternity – and he wondered if she was truly there, or were the words of the gods false and he was walking this endless path from Hades for no reason? 

With mere footsteps left before he and his wife rejoined the mortal world, with hope burning bright in his heart as the light of the Sun warmed his bones, Orpheus couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. As he turned, he heard her anguished cry of his name, he saw the horror on Eurydice’s face, and Orpheus had no choice but to watch as she was reclaimed by shadow and drawn back down into the Underworld, screaming for him.

Don’t look back, Kun and Ten had both uttered the warning, Orpheus’ tale echoing the words at you again.

You run until your knees feel like liquid and your feet like stones, your chest burns with each breath, and surely if you didn’t have the power of your mother and father both in your veins, you’d have collapsed long ago. How far can this path from Hell possibly be? 

Your toe catches a loose stone on the floor, and you stumble. Your palms burn as they scuff along the rough floor, your knees bruise and sting where the tatters of your clothes don’t cover them. 

There’s no sound behind you. No hands reach forward to help you up and urge you on as you stay there for a moment – hands and knees on the dirty floor with your head bowed as your tears drip into the dirt, your ragged breath still loud in your ears. 

Are you alone? Or is that deeply-rooted demon magic Kun mentioned holding Yuta and Ten under the same spell as Eurydice had been – unable to make a sound or touch you, unable to make their real presence known to you?

You find the strength to push to your feet again, to start forward again. Your mind races, and you can’t help thinking, I just want to go home, to be free of all of this. I just want to be happy with my boyfriends again, like we were in our apartment. All four of us. Why did everything have to go so wrong? Why did everything have to play out like this? 

You run even as your bones ache and your mouth dries out. You feel hollow.

And then the ground evens out. 

And you look up, and you can see watery daylight ahead of you.

You remember this: the sight of the world through the inside of the mirror. The watery distortion of everything when Renjun first led you through a mirror portal to escape the dungeon of the Watchers. You pray the exit runs smoother this time than the last – that you won’t feel like you’re drowning and suffocating and stuck within a glue trap as you had last time.

A fresh burst of energy rolls through you as you see it so close, close enough you can reach out and touch it.

Your fingertips pass through like reaching into water.

Your toe catches the inner lip of the mirror.

The world tilts and blurs, nausea rolls your stomach as you fly through the mirror and dash yourself against the floor on the right side of the mirror.

And you wait.

You don’t dare to turn to look into the mirror. You don’t know what you would be able to see. Does it look just like a regular mirror, reflecting only you and the room you’re in? Is it semi-transparent, so you’re able to see back into the passageway you’ve just escaped through? 

But more terrifying than that – in some version of Orpheus and Eurydice, he reached the safety of the mortal world, and rejoicing in that, he turned to celebrate with his wife, only to find that she had yet to pass the border between the realm of Hades and the surface. Thus, he lost her because they were not both with their feet safely on the soil and in the sunlight.

You won’t make that mistake, even if it means you have to wait here forever with your cheek pressed against the wood of the floor, your clothes crumbling even more into charred bits after the rough friction of passing through the mirror and colliding with the world. 

Tears still spill down your cheeks, and you squeeze your eyes shut because you’ve nothing to look at anyway. 

<-previous || next–>

a/n: Thank you for reading! I'm so excited to see what y'all think about the rescue finally happening! It was a little bit different than originally planned, both in the opinion of the characters, and also different than I originally planned lol This chapter is the reason it took me so long to finally finish writing this story.

As usual, likes, comments in the tags, reblogs, messages about your thoughts, all of that is of the highest value to me! I love feedback, and I hope you can share this story with more people too 💗

[lowkeyremi]

𝙏𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝘼𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 -> Aizawa Shota x afab!reader

➼ Sum: In short, you're fired from your main job. The worry and stress hits you while you're ugly crying outside of the building of your old workplace. You happen to meet a man who can give you a job. The question is... should you take it?

➼ Chapters: Prologue, 1

➼ Content Warning: Implied fem reader, reader has fem parts, eventual sexual content, suggestive language, all characters are aged up, eventual relationships, strippers, reader is struggling. (I'll add more as time goes on)

Prologue - I'm Fucking Losing It.

banner by: cafekitsune

"Please... I promise it won't happen again." You're on your knees in one of the halls, pleading- no begging to keep your job. It couldn't be helped though, why should you let people get handsy with you when it makes you uncomfortable?

"I'm sorry but that was your last chance. You've beaten up too many customers.. publicly at that and it's scaring away customers." Your manager says, he seems to feel for you but that frown may just be as fake as your life right now.

"But I'm your top money maker!" This is your last resort. You cannot lose this job because you don't make much at your coffee shop part-time.

"Technically, that's no longer true. Your performance has been sloppy lately, so Ami has risen and taken your spot." His words shatter what's left of your hope. Your makeup runs as you cry ugly tears. A man walks past the two of you, most likely toward the restroom. Any other time you'd be embarrassed, but right at this moment all you can feel is emptiness.

"So I'm being fired for defending myself?" You ask between sobs and sniffles.

"No, you know we wouldn't let anything happen to you. It's policy after all. You also know better than anyone that people at clubs are drunk and high even, so, of course, they're going to touch you. It's what you signed up for." He says to keep it professional.

Anger starts to seep into you. "Fuck, if that's how it's gonna be then I'll leave!" They don't deserve your service anyway.

"Ms. L/n...?" Your boss asks and you look up at him. He sees you struggling to stand because of your sore feet, these heels do you no justice. A hand is held out and you take it, trembling as you get up.

"I could recommend you to another club-" You cut him off.

"I'm good, thank you for everything you've done for me." It breaks your heart that you're leaving this place. As weird as it sounds this club was the closest thing to a home for you.

You start your walk to the backroom to get your things. Emptying your locker was the hardest. The tears start flowing again when you see the old Polaroid pictures you took with some of your coworkers who you considered to be some of your best friends.

Once changed out of your lingerie and you've packed everything you turn in everything the club let you use.

There was no way you'd say farewell to this life, it'd only make leaving it behind all the more hard. You walk outside and slump against the club's wall. You allow yourself to cry it all out.

You call your mother not sure what to do.

She picks up on the second ring, "Hello?"

"Hey.." you mumble. Your voice is hoarse due to crying.

Your mother instantly sighs, "Did you get yourself into some bullshit again?"

"Um.. yeah. Can I stay with you until I-" You're cut off by your mother's stern voice.

"Y/n, I cannot keep covering for your ass. You are twenty-six years old and every time you get into some shit you come crying to me or your father to fix it. I raised you better than that." And so the lecture begins.

"Mom please, just for a week or two.." You plead, usually she'd give in but she seems to be set on teaching you a lesson.

"No. You can call me if you need anything, but you need to get your life together. Life is not all cupcakes and rainbows. You need to learn how to deal with it. I love you but I have to go." Your mother, the one who's supposed to have your back through thick and thin is in your opinion giving up on you.

Your crying continues. What the hell are you supposed to do? Bills are due a little while from now and you work a small paying part-time.

"Shit I need to look for a job." You say sniffling.

"I could be of some assistance." A deep voice rings in your ears. You assume whoever it is is making a phone call and is not talking to you.

"You are in need of a job, correct? I could help you get into an honest line of work." The voice tries again. This time you look up to see a man with long raven hair casting down his shoulders, he has stubble covering his face alongside a few scars, and an eye patch that hides his right eye.

"Me?" You ask stoked about his appearance.

"I don't see anyone else out here crying their eyes out." He says with a hint of smugness. Wait.. how does he know you need a job?

"How did you-"

"Those walls aren't that thick." He replies somehow already knowing what you were bound to say.

"I need an assistant, I teach in a high school." The scoff that leaves your lips is inevitable.

"Teachers don't make shit, how am I supposed to pay my bills with a job like that?" Sarcasm is laced in your tone, you search his eye for any sign that he'll leave you alone but he seems determined.

"It's not just any high school. I'm a first-year teacher at UA high school, you'll be making around $20 an hour as my assistant. Also room and board is provided." Your eyes widen, now the offer is more tempting.

Looking down you get a glimpse of his prosthetic leg. "You need help because of your leg?"

"No, I could just use an extra set of hands, it seems every year the hero students get a little bit more naive." His sigh does not go unnoticed by you.

"Don't you need like a degree or something? Why are you asking an ex-stripper?" It's not even out of spite just pure curiosity.

"Usually you would, but I can get you the job. I'm asking because you seem to be struggling and if I can do something about it then I'll try to the best of my ability to make it happen."

Oh. So he's one of those people. The kind to pity anybody, you assume.

"I'm not struggling, I'm fucking losing it." The tears threaten to come back.

"What would I do?" You ask.

"Bring stuff from the printer, monitor the class, answer questions on current subjects, get coffee, other simple things like that." The calmness in his voice is a little unnerving.

"And I'd get paid $20 an hour for that?" The shock in your voice causes the man to chuckle a little bit.

"Correct. Any other questions?" His voice is smooth.

"How can you trust me? I just got fired for beating people up." You fear losing the potential job but you just had to ask.

"As you said, you were defending yourself. Your job should have considered that, even if the people are drunk that is no excuse for them to touch you when you have asked them to stop." He explains simply.

"Okay, I'll take the job.. when can I start?" This is what is crucial to you, those bills need to be paid, and getting behind would only cause you more trouble. But then again room and board is provided... would you even need to live in your crappy apartment anymore?

"Next week or the week after, I need to speak with the principal. Once everything is set straight I'll contact you about moving in." He rubs his face, and when looking into his eyes there was no way to tell what he was thinking. He looks so good though, you couldn't deny that.

"Eraserhead, a pleasure to meet you." That must be his hero name.

"Do I need some kind of code name? I'm not a hero. My stripper name was Golden Tiger." Your face flushes a little bit.

"Should've been Golden Kitten, you clearly haven't reached tiger status yet. Just give me your last name." It was clear he was teasing, his voice gave it away.

"Okay, just call me L/n then." He chuckles at your little huff of annoyance.

"Alright L/n, you think I could get your number to contact you?" That easygoing tone not leaving his voice.

You hand him your phone and you watch with interest as he types in his number. You hear a little hum escape his lips signaling he was done.

"Text me," he commands handing you back your phone. Something about the way he said that gave you goosebumps.

'Golden Tiger here.' you text biting your bottom lip. All you receive is Eraserhead shaking his head at you with a smug smirk.

"You need a ride home, Golden Kitten?" You can't even be upset when that smirk looks so good on him.

"Oh fuck off. My car's over there." You point to your ugly beige 2006 Honda Accord. (let's just pretend those still exist even tho the mha timeline is in the future)

"Is that any way to talk to someone who just got you a job?" His voice dropped an octave and you weren't sure if it was on purpose or if he was doing it unconsciously.

He looks like a tired man anyone wouldn't consider being attracted to but something about this man is drawing you in.

Instead of responding to his question, you ignore it, "I'm leaving."

You push yourself off the wall that hasn't been cleaned since who knows when. You'd forgotten that your feet were sore because of Eraserhead's presence but they reminded you of the pain.

Eraserhead mumbled something that sounded like 'be careful' but it wasn't certain, you already started limping to your car in pain.

Once situated you shut your eyes and let out a sigh.

"As cliché as this is, I'm glad my life is starting to work out a little bit." Your statement was heard by no one but yourself. When pulling out of the parking lot you play some music to prevent yourself from being left alone with your thoughts.

➼ AN: And that's a wrap for the prologue. I hope it's okay, this story came out of no where tbh. I'm not sure on how long I want it to be yet. I'm working on being more detailed in my writings. Also this is NOT beta read yet, bc I need to find someone to be my beta reader. Feel free to like, reblog, and comment! <3

[jungle-angel]

Two Boys and a History Class (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Normally you and Bob would leave Auggie with your in-laws, but since his mother is having surgery, you officially welcome him into the classroom family

Tagging: @bobfloydsbabe Helena I couldn't help myself with this one because the thought of Bob with a baby does things to me that I just can't explain (lol). I hope you're ok with me including Auggie in some of these and I apologize in advance, the baby fever is out of control at my end (lol).

Warnings: Mentions of a breeding kink, Bob popping off on a visiting teacher who's clearly beneath him etc.

"Alright, so does anybody have any clue as to what the most important part of Erik the Red's reign was?" Bob enquired.

"Not only was he an explorer but didn't he found the first settlement in Greenland?" Deshawn asked.

"You would be right my friend!" Bob declared proudly. "Erik the Red was indeed an explorer and did also found one of the first Viking colonies in Greenland...."

He was suddenly interrupted by the click of the door handle and the creaking of the classroom door before Mrs. Hess, the painting teacher, stuck her head in the door.

"Mr. Floyd might I borrow you for a minute?"

Bob signaled for the class to wait a minute before he followed Mrs. Hess out into the hallway. "I'm so sorry to bother you Bob," she apologized. "But your father came by with the baby."

"Is everything ok?"

"Oh yes," Mrs. Hess assured him. "Auggie's fine but he said that your mother's surgery was moved to later this afternoon and they won't allow him to take him."

"Shit," Bob hissed.

"My thoughts exactly," Mrs. Hess said. "Your wife said she's going to get him but I think she also asked about combining classes."

"Perfect timing," Bob said. "We do that every Friday afternoon."

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Hess said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'll tell you right now too, if that detestable visiting teacher says anything to you or to (y/n) I'll have him shipped to my neck of the woods and see how he deals with the folks in Chatham County, Georgia."

Bob had to laugh. Just like Mrs. Reyes, no one dared to mess with Mrs. Hess. She was a Southern lady through and through and always had a good quip for anyone who got on her bad side. The high schoolers even had their own slogan for kids coming fresh out of the lower school......"don't mess with the Hess."

Bob waited patiently for you to come down the hall with baby Auggie. "Alright guys, it's looking like it's that hour!" Bob announced once he was back in the room. "And this time Mrs. Floyd brought a little guest this afternoon."

All of the students collectively gasped when they saw you walk in with the baby. Any time you brought Auggie in, the grew excited beyond words. Nobody in the entire school could resist his cuteness, let alone the fact that he looked so much like Bob.

"Everybody put the desks together," you announced, carefully picking Auggie up out of his carseat.

"You want me to take him sweetheart?" Bob asked you.

"Do you mind?" you asked Bob.

"It's not a problem at all," he told you. "We made him together and it means I help you shoulder the duty together."

"You're right," you told him. "But lest you forget mister, that part of the reason we made him was due to that fiery breeding kink you keep buried until we're home alone."

Bob chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Don't even start," you laughed, warning him. "Let's get back to business."

You and Bob wrangled together your students to continue the lesson while Bob kept Auggie safe and secure in the curve of his arm.

"Now in Mrs. Floyd's literature block," Bob continued, touching up his notes on the chalkboard. "We're at a point where the Fellowship has reached the woods of Lothlorien and left behind the mines of Moria. What sticks out to you guys most in this part? Any major themes? Elements? Justin."

"Um, I'd say the biggest one is kinda that darkness turning to light," Justin Daly answered. "I remember picturing the scene in the films where the mines were like really deep darkness and then you get to the woods where at night it's all brightly lit."

"That is an excellent point," Bob told him, adjusting Auggie so that the baby rested against his chest. "We come across alot of that throughout the books, but also vice versa, right?"

"Right!" the students responded.

A knock at the door suddenly had Bob rolling his eyes. "We're not to be disturbed!!" Bob announced loudly.

"Mr. Floyd, it's Mr. D'Nadi," answered the male voice on the other side of the door.

Bob groaned and rolled his eyes. All of the students fell quiet as Bob opened the door to find the pretentious visiting teacher from another school standing before him.

"You're not wearing dress slacks but jeans?" Mr. D'Nadi asked.

"In some cultures I'd be considered overdressed," Bob informed him.

"Yes well, I um.....I came to enquire about that proposal you're working on for the school?"

"Yes," Bob said flatly.

"I cannot stress enough that the proposal is what's able to allow your students to go on these field trips that you plan every year," D'Nadi explained rather sharply. "If you plan on taking these kids to Norway....."

"Already done," Bob told him.

"Mr. Floyd....."

"Listen dipshit," Bob interrupted. "We all know that you're only here as a visiting teacher......keyword there....visiting. You are merely here to observe and then go home. Under no circumstances were you to tell anybody in this school what to do or how to implement their lessons."

"Listen I know it's more responsibility but...."

"Do not lecture me on responsibility," Bob told him sharply. "As you can see, Mrs. Floyd and I take care of our students who are like our own family and if your observation skills were up to par, you'd see that we've got a baby to take care of as well. Now if you'll please remove yourself and your foot from the door, that'd be great."

"You do know that protocol doesn't allow you to bring your own children to work?" D'Nadi tried to tell him.

"Fire me," Bob told him before shutting the door right in D'Nadi's face before he could say anything else.

Bob pressed a soft little kiss to Auggie's cheek before turning back to the students who were trying not to giggle.

"Shall we keep going guys?" he asked them.

Both you and the students cheered and applauded Bob, without a doubt proving that he was the best history teacher in the entire school.

[floredaqueen]

💋Besos Castos💋

Part 2 to Curiosity at First Sight!

Billy Hargrove X Isabela Wheeler (OC)

Strangers - Friends - Lovers

♡

⚠️WARNING(S)⚠️: Suggestive Writing, Cursing, Bad/Graphic Writing, Billy Hargrove being Billy Hargrove, 18+ MINORS DNI, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Sexual Inuendos, I'm not good at writing :>

♡

...

It was a normal rest of the week... that is if Isabela could count the unsettling feeling of a specific pair of ocean blue eyes boring into her soul every time she sat in Algebra class normal. Those gorgeous blue hues belonged to the new guy, Billy Hargrove. So far, he was already stealing Steve Harrington's spot as the King... whatever that was supposed to mean. Guys wanted to be him. He was inching closer and closer to the team captain spot on the basketball team. Girls wanted to be with him, and Isa could see why.. she kind of did, too. The way Hargrove would smile mischievously at the other girls against their lockers, hover over them while speaking a soft whisper of all the things he could do to them. Not only that, but he was already making out with a few in the halls.

Isabela would catch herself gazing sometimes, watching the pretty boy's cheeky smile persist as he talked up the girls who fancied him. Her doe brown eyes would also glance at the hungry kisses he'd give them, forcing herself to put the thought of it being her his hands gripped around while their lips locked in the far back of her mind. Although, she couldn't stop picturing the images of him taking their breath away, shoving his tongue in their mouth, and even his lips sloppily trailing to their jaw and neck. It was a sight to see.. like two wild animals in their natural habitat. Still, Isa kept herself focused and mostly unbothered. The more she did that, the easier it was to avoid him.. until Calculus. They had two classes with one another, but she would always hide behind the bleachers. The guys were out and playing basketball. Other than that, math was the only time she was caught out like a deer in the headlights.

As the week passed, the Guatemalan girl found a rhythm, coming to school, finding time for her friends and academics while also completely avoiding any eye contact with the dirty blonde whore she sat next to 2 times a day. In those 45 to 50 minutes, Hargrove takes his sweet time trying to get her to notice him. The first time, he just tapped on her shoulder. Isa would look over to the side, her eyes finding his blinding smile and wandering eyes. Although, when he tried to introduce himself, she had already turned back around, flipping her hair right behind her before tuning in to the daily math lesson. This would persist for the rest of the week. He'd keep tapping her shoulder, pull her chair back against his own desk, and his tight grip would even find its way to her dark brown locks only to pull at them, not a second later. And every time, she'd look back at him with a look. Irritated, annoyed, and/or pissed. It was one of those, but Billy couldn't tell which one.. he didn't care either. To him, any attention was good attention from her, just to see her pretty face turn to him, to see her nose scrunch up when she got upset, or even see her flip the bird to him. She was feisty as hell, and that made him want to keep chasing...

Then she'd flee. She felt stupid for her behavior sometimes, wanting to give him a chance. At the same time, something could go wrong. She'd overhear talk about the relationships her friends would have and how if the guy was too pretty, he'd be unattainable, especially in high school. The guy would hop from girl to girl. While she was tempted to be one of those girls, the timid girl was looking for something a lot more long-lasting. So every time, the adopted Wheeler would turn away or pretend like she didn't hear him whenever Billy tried to make any advances.

Today, though, was different.

Isa was jotting down notes on the board, putting them in a particular neat way before she felt a tap on her shoulder. I'm routine, the Latina looked to the side she was tapped on, annoyed, meeting eyes with the new infamous pretty boy. As her doe eyes did their best to keep steady one his, Billy's oscar winning smile appeared while taking in her features thoughtfully. God, was she cute. With the way she presented herself, she must know it. It was a few seconds before he began.

"Hey, do you understand this question?" He asked, leaning over to her to point to the 5th question on their worksheet. When he did, she got a whiff of his cologne, her cheeks tiniting a soft pink because he smelled of a fresh ocean breeze.. and a new car? It was soothing apart from the hint of a cigarette smell around. She examined the specific equation, scooting closer to him in habit when helping others. In turn, his eyes focused on her concentration. Considering she had already finished her own assignment, Billy had an inkling that Isabela was good at this type of work. Her eyes glanced up to meet his again, only for her to blink away as she spoke.

"You have to use the unit circle method before using the other formula to find the final equation," the studious girl explained, tapping her pencil nervously to the glossy wooden finish of her desk.

"Okay.. how do I do the unit thing again?" Billy's question had Isa's right eye twitching. He really wasn't listening in class, which was super annoying, considering it was only causing confusion. Shaking her head, Isa pulled out a fresh piece of notebook paper. Billy watched slightly disoriended as the quiet girl began doodling a quick "how to" on the notebook paper and handing it to him. For once, he understood what he was doing in this shitty class. Isa cut it down into pieces for him on this piece of paper, and so he continued to use her formula before handing his own worksheet to her. She checked it, nodded to him and handed it back.

It was a simple interaction. Something she was personally proud she got through without anything going south. Soon enough, the bell rang throughout the school, the young woman grabbing her bag and confidently leaving the classroom as quick as she usually did. He was contemplating running after her, but instead walked up to the group of guys that seemed to follow him into almost every party he's crashedso far. He listened for a bit, leaning up against the lockers before his eyes settled on a certain girl with long chestnut hair. Soon the conversation he was listening to was muffled as he not-so-secretly peered at Isa while she gathered her things for her next class.

"What do you guys know about, that girl over there?" Billy pointed to her, Tommy looking over at Isa before a smirk came to his face.

"Oh, Isa? I think she's like Mexican or something like that- She's super hot, but she's a nerd.She doesn't even talk much, at least not to guys. Nancy, Nova, Chrissy, Chelsea, and Rex are the only people she talks to in and outside of school." Tommy explains, Hargrove listening while his vision was glued to the girl they were speaking about. He had half the mind to ask him why the hell he knew so much about her, but he didn't. Soon, Nancy and Nova walked up to the hispanic scholar, watching her lips move while trying to make out why they were saying. Soon enough, his focus is on Nancy and her when he turned back to Hagan.

"Isn't she a Wheeler?" Billy asks, crossing his arms as he gets more comfortable against the metal doors behind him.

"She's adopted. A total charity case.. 'though it definitely wasn't a bad idea," Tommy's eyes followed Isa's polyester clad ass as she shut the door and walked off. She could feel the eyes, the heat of embarrassment rushing to her face and causing her to walk faster. Billy found himself mindlessly watching her hips sway back and forth, her foreign curves excentuated in her form-fitting pink tee and colorful maxi skirt. He wasn't even a foot guy, but he couldn't help by appreciate the way her sandals made them look even more dainty and smooth. There was a word for someone like her that the new king couldn't quite figure out yet.

♡

The next day after Calculus, Isa was once again at her locker, it being a routine at this point. Her right hand reached into the small metal compartment to reach one of her notebooks. As Isabela turned to peak into her bag, she was startled, Billy Hargrove standing in the only space she had. She jumped and groaned in annoyance at his quiet stature. He was hovering, Isabela eyes struggling to stay steady on his.

"What do you want, Billy?!" The timid girl pressed herself against the lockers away from him. She assumed he came over here to ask her something. Whatever it was, she was intent on saying n-

"Can you tutor me in Calculus?" He asked, his confident demeanor at a low simmer as he asked. She hesitated, curling inside herself more but standing her ground.

"Why should I..?" Isa's left eyebrow raised, and the nervous girl blinked a few times so her face wouldn't heat up.

"C'mon, it'll only be a couple of times," He continued, watching as the shy girl barely kept her cool. He could tell he was getting under her skin. His hands subconsciously hovered over those voluptuous hips of hers but settled on his own instead. One of his hands rested itself on the metal beside her head, completely trapping her.

"Hell, you know I need the extra help,"Once she shook her head, he rolled his eyes, and a groan escaped him that Isa's spine shiver. Her head turned away, a soft pout coming to her cute face.. then his face got really close, feeling the slight heat of his breath against her ear. That seemed to have no problem heating her up, the Guatemalan going as far back in her shell as she could, but it wasn't working. Hargrove already got Isa where he wanted her.

"Pleeease~?" He pleaded hotly, his voice entering a lower register as that stupid smirk of his curling on his lips as his blue hues longed on her ever blushing cheeks. If she had the right mind to push him away and flee, she would, but at the moment, she was considering it. She didn't mind helping him with his education.. and God was he handsome. Handsome enough to have you mentally laying out the pros and cons of the situation. Pro: You had the upper hand on where to hold the study session. Con: It had to be public, or he'd most likely start aggressively flirting. Pro: She'd tell him her rules of tutoring, hoping he would abide by them. Con: He wouldn't do that at all.

"...I'll think about it," Isa muttered in that voice she'd use sometimes when she wasn't sure about something. The Latina girl would turn back to her locker, only to shut it quickly before booking it to her next class. It was English, so she had finished her work fairly early, which gave her more time to think about it. Another pro: it could be fun. Another con: he might not even pay attention to her because he's just interested in getting into her pants. Another pro: she could actually help him learn something important, and maybe he'd feel more confident in his academic abilities. Another con: He'd get bored with her and leave. Another pro: Maybe they could have fun, and she'd be able to see that smile on his face again. She kept tally on a loose sheet of notebook paper, coming up with more pros than cons.. albeit as biased as they were.

♡

Later that day, Isabela made up her mind, forcefully dragging herself over to a table a group of boys sat at during lunch time. There, Billy sat, stuffing his face with fries and whatever else was on his tray. That was the first time she's ever seen him eat. It was good to know that he did. She wasn't sure, considering all she saw was him putting a cigarette to his lips.

"Hargrove!" The smart girl called out to him, his head sharply rising to see her eyes nervously meeting his. Once she was close enough, she handed him a sticky note. It had the address of the Wheeler residence on it, her eyes looking away from his when he looked back at her.

"My house at five-thirty. Don't forget!" Billy's grin appeared, his eyes half lidded as he chewed on a couple of seasoned sweet potato fries. He shrugged, then nodded. Isa nodded in return, wanting to leave as quickly as she got there.

"Bye," Isa trailed off as she turned away, almost leaving skid marks behind with how quick she was walking. It had the pretty blonde smiling hard, his boy's casually cheering and egging him on while his eyes remained on her until she was no longer in his vision. For the rest of the day, Billy's mind was clouded with thoughts of Isabela, so much so that he stopped a sloppy, hot make-out session with Tina Kingston mid way just so he wouldn't be late for their tutoring session.

Tina was one of the hottest girls in school, aside from Rebecca, Nova, and Chrissy. Most guys barely had a real chance with them, but with Tina hanging on his trail, Billy couldn't pass up a chance to taste something close to heaven.. Heaven was something Billy believed to be somewhere else, like at the Wheeler's house. It wasn't long 'til Tina was kicked out of his car, her scoffing and cursing being shadowed by the rev of his engine as he drove off. He's never been on time for something in a long time, Isa hearing his loud engine at the end of the road of the parking lot. The foster Wheeler looking at the clock on the wall. It was 4:25 p.m.

Isabela sat out the fruit bowl she made for him five minutes ago onto the dining room table. She rushed herself to the front door, although the scholar waited for him to knock on the door. When he did, she opened the door a few seconds later, greeting him with a nod before leaving the door open only for Billy to shut it once he entered.

"Just put your things on the table and we can get started," She spoke as she went upstairs to grab her own work a clean worksheet she took to work on with him before leaving class.

While she was upstairs, Billy took in the environment. It was warmly lit and smelled like fresh raspberry and sweet cinnamon. It explained why she smelled so good every time he got close to her. It was clean as well, the tiled floor shiny, and the carpet away the couches vacuumed and sprayed down. The pillows on the sofa were neat and the only thing on the round table were two bowls of cut fruit. She made that for him while she waited? Billy sat down, setting his work onto the table along with a pencil before taking a bite of a piece of green apple that was in his bowl. His ears focused on the sound of her coming back down, turning himself in the chair.

"What's up with the fruit?" He asked, just wanting to see what she'd say about it. Isa pouted at the immediate hard time she was having.

"Well, you're eating it, aren't you?" She'd rebuttal, setting her own work down on the table. Already she could tell this was going to be an interesting few hours. She could see the smug look on Billy's face at the corner of her eye.

"I'm not the type to pass up free food. Why'd you make it?"

Isa bit her lip, shrugging as she thought what to say other than 'Because I wanted to make it for you,'. Out of kindness, out of her crush for him, out of he'd notice both, which he definitely could sense. Instead though, what came out of her mouth was,

"Fruit is good brain food.. also, you had lunch at one, so I thought you'd want a snack or something," Isa confessed, sitting down only for her eyes to meet his suggestive ones. His smile was genuine, appreciative of her little gesture to him.

Soon enough, the tutoring started, Isa's were carefully curated as she broke her notes down to the infuriating charming Billy Hargrove. His eyes never looked away from her, except for when he was told to focus on the problem at hand. Her teaching was the most easy-to-understand instructions he's ever had, and she's not even a teacher. Billy had felt relieved to get the material down finally. He was ready to call it quits and fail the class, although Isabela had reminded him that he needed this credit to graduate, and so he was here, studying.. wishing he was doing something else with her that required a bit of a workout.

"How come we can't go up to your room?" He'd ask, Isa snapping towards him in aw. Did he really just ask her that? Did that just come out of his mouth? It did. He was curious about it, usually being able to finesse himself in a girl's bedroom to snoop. He was definitely the type to find himself going through a girl's diary for kicks.

"Because it's my bedroom.." She looked over at him, her statement almost posed as a question. Billy grinned playfully, watching the heat rise up in her cheeks. He scoffed, leaning in to continue his flirtatious ways.

"You afraid I'll find the love letters you made for me?" He'd tease, his irritating smirk persisting as Isa held eye contact with him. She was struggling, though, her eyes wanting to divert back to her homework, she was already done with. While she was done, she still retreated to her finished work, going over her answers while avoiding Billy's goregous, lidded hues.

In time, the sweet hispanic gal once again felt the exasperating presence of the handsome bad boy. Isa felt light traces from the eraser part of his pencil stroking itself up and down her arm. Jesus, can't this guy just concentrate?? The young woman flinched, turning to snatch the wooden graphite piece out of his hand only to huff frustratingly at him a second later.

"Do you need help, Hargrove??" She whined, Billy biting at his pretty bottom lip teasingly in return, his eyes traveling down to her blouse. He noticed something about it as he took his quick peak. She wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples gentle peering out. They weren't big, nor were they small either, but they were perky enough to have dirty blonde horndog's mind racing with thoughts it groping them while whispering sweet nothings to the latina.

"Not with my homework, no," His hand gripped around her face gently, pulling her in while scooting himself closer. Isa feels the heat rush to her cheeks, his digits ribbing into her smooth side.

"Sweetness, the only thing I need is your attention," He cooed to her, her face flaring up more and more as he seemed to get closer and closer. She'd flee again, her heart beating so fast she thought she was gonna pass out. Billy'd whine a bit, leaning over her seat as she anxiously grabbed all of her things.

"Listen.. I-I'm glad I could help you out, but-"

"Isa, wait-" but it was already too late. Isa was already hurrying herself. Once she had made up her mind, she wouldn't turn back.

"But, if you don't need anything else, please leave. Have a good night!" And she takes her stuff and quickly woddles upstairs to her room. Billy sighed, shaking his head while leaning it near the table. He ate the last of what was left in his fruit bowl before taking the hint, grabbing his own things, and heading for the door. He turned back, looking near up the stairs where the pretty girl was hiding... his pretty girl. Sooner or later, that was gonna be her title.

♡

The next day, the popular bad boy was surrounded by his usual crowd. That day, he was sporting his denim jacket with a white tee, which hugged his Adonis physique perfectly. It had girls drooling as he walked by, Tommy H. and Jason Carver on either border of him alongside a few other dudes. While the other boys talked of sex, booze, parties, and basketball, Billy's mind was on something else. His head rang the sound of Isabela's voice, the image of her soft, plump lips, long goregous hair, sweet doe eyes, warm hands, pretty tits--

Although his fantasies were interrupted shortly after he made it to his locker, Tommy asking about something. Billy snapped his view to the asshole, giving him a look of confusion.

"The hell are you on about, Hagan?" He'd question, Carver rolling his eyes.

"We just wanted to know how your 'study session' went?" Carter explained, a smug look on his pale face as he took to question his 'friend's sneaky whereabouts. Billy looked back at him, glad he was able to put his thoughts back on the pretty hispanic scholar who did her best to tutor him.

"It was fine." Billy lied, obviously hiding a whole bunch of details from last night. He decided he'd like to keep what happened to himself.. even though the truth was nothing happened. He scared her away and shoved her back into her well-kept turtle shell. Plus, he enjoyed their speculating. It was entertaining.

"Wait, you had it with Isa, right?" Tommy remembered, looking over to Carter with a little smirk. They both giggled boyishly, Tommy shoving his hands in his pockets while Carter tapped on Hargrove's denim clad shoulder.

"God, I just know she'd look so hot begging," Hagan imagined, sighing like the lover boy he wasn't. Billy was, though, now thinking of the soft peeps that would escape her as he grabbed her every way. Whatever way it was, he was certain it was going to be near her. It was nice thought. The popular boy was soon interrupted once again by his sheep's words, looking back at Carter when he spoke.

"What the hell did you say?" Billy's tone was low and fierce, but calm as if he was ready to strike under any sort of pressure. Unfortunately, Jason didn't pick up on his quick irritation.

"I said, 'How long did it take her to spread her legs?' I gotta know man-" Billy scoffed, that domineering smile coming to his face as her turned to completely face the younger basketball player. He even chuckled a bit, but his anger was boiling under the playful surface that was his own misconception.

"I don't know, Jason. How long would it take for your legs to spread when I shove a pool stick up your ass? How about we find that out, yeah?" The charming smile of Billy's remained on his face for a long moment before he eyes deadpanned and his curved lips flattened. He was dead serious. Jason knew it too as he backed up, his hands raising in a surrendering position.

"Alright, man. Jesus," He backed off real quick, Billy turning back to his locker to grav his things before slamming the metal door and heading towards Isabela's locker.

There she stood, the prideful whore finding the sweet girl at her locker. He noted the cotton thin, long sleeve, cropped pink shirt she was wearing. He also noted those nice jean shorts that looked let they were barely holding on to that ass of hers. Did she work out, or was she just naturally gifted with those curves around her torso and the perfectly quafted muscles on her thighs and lower legs? Soon enough, he was behind her, the hair standing up on the back of her neck as she turned to meet his eyes. She just winced, his face so close to hers, but his eyes diverted to her lips. His expression was eager, yet concentrated as if he was holding himself back.

"God, Billy! You scared me," Isa huffed breathlessly, him seemingly taking in her immediate flustered state as his presence. He chuckled in view of it, a soft pout coming to her pretty face.

"My bad, sweetness. 'Just wanted to know if we're still on for today?" Billy would suggest, Isa rolling her eyes almost immediately at his usual flirtation.

"Don't call me that," She spat before shutting her locker.

"Okay, Sugar–"

"Don't call me that either"

"Whatever floats your boat, Babydol–"

"¡¡Dios mío!! I have a name, y'know! A-And It would do you some good to use it.." And as she turned, he'd meet her halfway, standing in front of her whole turning uo his charm meter ten times as much. It was obvious he wasn't a very serious guy, even when he was trying to be serious.

"Isa, listen, I just need to know if you want to tutor me today..?" Isa knew he wouldn't admit it, but Billy was pleading at this point. It might be small, but he was so used to getting what he wanted. He wasn't one for desperate measures, but he liked her.. a lot. Soon enough, he got to her, Isabela sighing softly before glancing up at Billy again. Gosh, he really was persuasive.

"...Don't be late, okay?" She spoke softly, exchanging her notebooks for her previous class for others. Out the corner of her eye, Isa could see the grin on Billy's pretty face. Even if it was for just a moment, the young woman felt her face heat up a bit. She wasn't used to it, and whether she admitted it or not, Isa couldn't deny the obvious feelings she had for Billy either.

Once again, it was 4:15 I'm the afternoon, and once again, Billy found himself sucking face with some other pretty girl to take his mind off of Isabela. Although he couldn't this time, this time all he could do was picture her . Her big does eyes, her flustered expression whenever he got a rise out of her, how soft her hands were, how tight her shirts were. Even if he couldn't see much, he could see enough. He subconsciously pictured it was her lips he was planting kisses on , and it was her soaking wet core he was plunging himself into.

It took all of five minutes for him to finish, the pretty girl under him moaning with him before giggling. Billy was just panting, pulling himself out and quickly buckling his pants again. Immediately when she began to speak, the popular pretty boy kicked his distraction out, the revv of tuning out her cursing as he drove away. He took a shortcut to make sure he wasn't late, looking around his Camaro to see if he could find his spare cologne to freshen up with.

By the time he knocked on the door, Isa had brought out the strawberry cream cheese she had hid from Mike, as well as the two bagels that were left in the pantry. The timid Latina had just finished cutting one of the apples she had bought yesterday after their session when she heard the doorbell ring. She almost ran to get it, opening it quickly only to be met with the heavily smell of cologne overriding the smell of sex as Billy practically forced himself inside.

Billy himself attempted to ignore that he smelled like a good rutting, sitting himself down at the table with her only for her to get started on her work. Today was easier, Billy finding his way through a couple of mathematical obstacles and even jotting down notes. He'd continue his silent, flirting, stealing glances of the girl beside him. How thick her eye lashes were when she blinked and how defined the curls of her coffee brown locks. He admired her look of determination to understand and comprehend oamrthing she wont ever need in her life.. like ever. Billy continued to gaze at the petite young scholar while she worked and bit on the end of her pencil..

"So how was it..?" Isabela question, her eyes still glued to her paper filled with equations. Billy's expression turned puzzled, his jawline sharpening itself while he slowly raised his perfectly quafted eyebrow.

"How was what?" He slightly scrutinized, her gorgeous, siren blues zooming in on the way she but her cheek.

"The girl you were almost late for. Was she any good? You still smell like her.." Yes, it was obvious! She couldn't help but think about it, the scent of cheap lavender and the thought of him.. getting his rocks off while she was preparing a colorful snack for him. It made her head pound and her stomach turn in.. greed.

Greed for the way he looks at her when she's not looking or when she's looking directly at him. Greed for his hands hovering over her hips before desperately wanting to touch them. Greed for the raunchy flirting, the pleading, the succumbing to his effortless charm, the surrendering to her blatant kindness. Isabela thought what they had was raw and filled with potential.. and he had to throw away with a quick fuck before he even got here.

"And that's any of your business because–"

"Because it would be great if you didn't come in here smelling like a brothel," She'd say roughly, Billy paying it no mind to the Latina's snappy attitude. He only responded with a chuckle and his usual response to a girl getting pissed at his slightly reckless antics.

"It comes with the territory, sweetness." He'd coo, leaning in only for her to get another whiff of wooden apple and hot, sweaty sex. The frustration in her eyes was very telling. All of her skin flushed the more she thought about it. The more she wished she was the one who wrinkled his shirt, and the one to be kissed dumb, and the one to be manhandled with such passion.. but she never wanted it to be once...

...

...But— but she never wanted it to be just once, and she never wanted to be one of Billy's girls. Her hands sweated and her cheeks burned at the thought of being Billy's girl.. Billy's only girl. It was a stretch, a shark jump even, but she was an 18 year old girl with hopes and dreams.. and the hopes and dreams were stubborn and vivid and goddamn delectable.

"Break! We need a break.."

When Isabela had realized her face visibly red, she stood, exhaling hotly before hastily walking around back to the kitchen counter. All the while, she was silently cursing herself, trying to regain focus instead of feeling like she wasn't worthy. She wasn't the one who was supposed to be feeling like that. It was supposed to be the son of a bitch who was sitting at the dining table and gazing knowingly at her. As if Billy knew her feelings, as if he knew what she yearned for. He was just dangling the goddamn carrot in her cute, doe eyed face.. and it hurt.

What Isa didn't know was that Billy did know.. he knew deep down. He knew she wanted to, but he didn't know why he kept stopping herself. He knew she was too good for him, but that never stopped him before. That never stumped his drive to get see it to the end. It wouldn't stop him now either. He stood from his seat, pulling off his denim jack only to show off that goregous Adonis physique Isa knew he loved to show off. It was paying off.

"Need any help?" He'd suggest through that sweet, promising smile that he's shown to her once or twice. It always got her hopes up about him and his motives.. and if he actually liked her. Isabela shook her head, finishing up the slicing and dicing of a green apple in the eighths. Soon, she placed the bagel smeared with hazel nut and cocoa spread with a few apple slices on top and the side of a plastic plate. She handed the plate to him soon after before making her own plate. He stood still though, finding time to make his move while she was distracted by her own thoughts.

Suddenly, his being was behind hers, Billy slightly scoffing at the immediate tense up he could feel from Isa. His hands gently gripped at the skin of her wrists, Isa instinctively stopping her rushed plating, only to feel his smokey breath against her jawline and neck.

"Either you move aside, and let me help, or have to force you back to the table.."

...That.. she wasn't expecting that. She wasn't expecting his want to help or him even pushing himself to do so. Isabela was quick to move, Billy amused as he ogled strutting her cute butt to the other side of the island counter. Her arms crossed against her chest, her cheeks puffed out and her full bottom lip pouted as she frowned. She watched him finish up her plate, even going as far as to place some of the slices strategically on her spread.

"I don't like this" She didn't like it.. she loved it.

"Yeah, yeah.. and your scrutiny is very effective," Billy knew she liked it. He knew she liked being helped, and flirted with, and looked at like she was something.. she was something. That's what Hargrove thought.

"Hurry up. I don't like this.." She turned back to the dining table, feeling the ocean eyes behind her admiring her back side. She mean mugged him in response, getting flustered at his cheeky, and quite frankly charming, response.

. . .

After they had eaten their snack, things started to lighten up. Isabela and Billy had continued their tutor session, the Guatemalan girl giving him notes and suggestions while the pretty boy simultaneously made jokes in return. Isa of course didn't listen to most of them, but she did laugh at one.

She laughed. It was a cute laugh. Squeaky and light, and enough to make the pride in his stomach swell. He leaned in a bit close, his tongue brushing against her teeth.

"Ah, I finally got one outta ya," He'd gloat, slightly kicking himself with how easily he was fawning for that sweet smile. He's never felt like this before.. jesus, he could gawk at the curling of her plump lips anytime of the week.

"Yeah, well don't get used to it.." She huffed, shaking off her laugh and attempting to turn back to her work.

"But your laugh is cute, I should make you laugh more often." Suddenly, it was agonzing to keep eye contact with Billy. He must've known his was pouring a thousand sultry poems into her soul. Her face was burning. She was definitely giving herself away. His smile didn't help either. He got closer.

"There are a lot of things I'd like to make you do.." Her arms crossed again at his mild attempt at seduction.. it was working.

"Like what..?" She questioned, Billy's smirk persisted.

"Oh don't ask me that idea tell ya.. well," their lips are only an inch away from yours.

"How about I show you..?" She could feel the heat from her cheeks, as he moved close, his lips lingering over hers for a moment. Isa attempted to back out..

"Billy, that's not–" He didn't even fathom the thought of listening to her after that, closing the very small gap between them and melting into the whimpers and peeps Isa was giving off. He grunted against her soft lips, feeling her hands grip his thinly clothed bicep and watch ridden wrist. Billy noted that she tasted of peaches and the hazelnut chocolate spread she just had. Billy on the other hand was an "aquired taste", Isa savoring the taste of a smokey bagel and a hint of.. mint?

For a second, Isa practically dissolved, the warmth of his mouth and tongue blurring her thoughts. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered with desire as he attempted to pull her closer.. then she realized this was exactly what she was trying to avoid. The needy kiss only lasted for a second, but even then, that second, she was plotting her their house plan and a trip to California.

The next second, Isabela was realizing how hard she was falling for the guy over a kiss. And so the absurdity of the situation hit her over the head with a brick.

She pulled away, hysterically getting up and grabbing her things.

"You need to leave," Isabela breathed hastily while she was booking it towards the stairs.

"Isa, where–"

"LEAVE!" She'd yell from the top of the stairs, her eyes wide in and filled with tears. Her mixed emotions frustrating her til no idea. It was silent for a moment, his bewilderment multiplying the more he went through it in his head. He charmed her up, helped her out, made her feel special.. and yet she was special. She was different. She wanted more than the others, more than just a quickie or a flirt. He couldn't put a pin on what, but he knew it was something. Eventually he did leave, Isa hearing the front door slam shut on his way out.

Billy hadn't really grasped the idea of being in an actual relationship. He thought he wasn't good enough, thought the girls only cared for one thing.. the facade he put on. The front inflated his ego and kept him feel like more than he actually did. After he'd had his fun, he'd trail right back to what he actually felt. For a very long time, Billy had felt empty, angry, heavy-hearted.. but when he's with Isabela. Billy sped through the road as his mind raced through the suspicions.. it was like she sees potential in him, to be better.. it was like she could see right through him, past all the bullshit bluffs and party personas, and whatever else he used to build this image that kept him together for so long. Hell, it had only been a few weeks, and she probably knew so much about him.

He had to approach her another way.. and as much as he hated the idea.. he had to do it, honestly.

Billy had let few weeks pass before he even thought of asking her to tutor again. Her constant avoidance of him as if he were the plague helped his plan. When Friday came around, he hoped Isa calmed down enough to at least hear him out. Throughout the entire week, Isabela had noticed something crucial that's heightened her desires. He didn't fraternize with other girls.. at least for the last 6 days. Not that she's heard of, and she definitely would've heard of Billy's sexual escapades.

As Isabela frantically walked home, her thoughts were accumulating. She went through the effects, seeking to decipher the cause. Of course, her biases got the better of her, the heartache she was experiencing, yelling for it to be about her. . .

It was 7 p.m., Isa finishing up her studying when she heard a knock at her window. Her wide eyes wavered up to the pane, weary only for a moment considering there was a tree a bit too close to the side of her house where her bedroom was. But again, a few seconds later, after she turned her attention back to her homework, she wind of the three panged knock.

Isa slightly panicked, slowly rising from her dainty organized desk, but not before grabbing a sharp pair of scissors. Slowly, she stepped over to the pan, and her vision narrowed as she quickly put aside the curtains. When she figured out who it was, her she heaved a sigh, her hands moving to her hips.

"Billy, what the hell are you doing here? You can't be here!" She was pretentious about it, of course. Why was he here? Did he come to try again? God knows Isa definitely wasn't in the mood for more of his schemes.

"Wow, swearing does not suit you," Billy began to climb from the window and into her room. Of course, she protested the entire time, but in the same breaths, she made sure he wouldn't get hurt as well.

"Why are you here, Bil??" Isabela, her arms crossed, waiting for a response. She stood, only to watch him sit on her comforter. When her maneuvered his way through her window, she got a whiff of him, the man smelling decent enough to not stink up her whole room. Also, he was wearing that red shirt.. jesus, the way he could pull off something so simple made her want to fold right then and there.

"This is a nice mattress is real nice! Mind if I borrow it for–"

"Billy, Lo juro por Dios!!" Sensing her sincerity, Billy dropped the act, gesturing a surrender as he held his hands up.

"Alright, alright! There's no need to switch the language up on me," He'd assure her, standing up from her lavender made bed.

"Do you not like me or somethin'?"

"What?"

"You've been avoiding me for 2 weeks. I literally screamed your name across the hall."

"I-I didn't hear you,"

"Bullshit, you looked at me.." Isa could see Billy's annoyance written on his sleeve. She remembered that day, Isabela ignoring Billy and Nova immediately figuring it out what was going on. "You're avoiding him because you're infatuated with him.." She predicted, Isa completely denying it immediately after. So far the most annoying thing about Nova was that she was a hell of a reader.. which meant she was always right.

"I.."

"You–"He'd mock, stepping a little forward towards her.

"I do like you, Billy I jus-" She hesitated, still looking for the words to clarify her actions to him. He seemed like he was amused with his impact on her. Isa could feel very cheeks crimson and her palms got sweaty.

"You kissed me back," He'd state, putting it out there that she yearned for the burning passion between them just as much as he did.. if not more.

"I know... I.. want to keep doing that. I want to keep kissing you," Isa observed the growing smirk on the lone wolf in front of her.

"We can do that.."

"I want to kiss you everywhere. At the Alley, the skating rink, the Starcourt, at your house, at my house, in my room, in the backyard, in the cafeteria, in the halls, before and after classes–" She exhaled, her face hurting from how flushed it was.

"–I wanna go on dates, I wanna cook you food, and have not-so-study study sessions. I want to watch movies with you, laugh with you, be there for you. I don't wanna drive you away, but God damn it, Billy, you make me nervous! Every time you choose to be around me, my hands get clammy, my face resembles that of a tomato, stomach starts to hurt, my heart beats like I'm having a goddamn heart attack!" She paused again, watching it sink in for him.

"You're insufferable, Billy Hargrove, but I really like you... and i don't wanna be just 'one of your girls'. I wanna be.. the girl.." The smitten girl shut herself up after that, suffocating herself as she let the agony of his response sink. He didn't respond for a moment, still aiming to decipher the thought that she would even want to spend more time with him. Most girls usually just want a taste, an appetizer. Shit, Isabela wanted the full course, then the entire buffet. Whether good or bad, she'd taste it all.

Billy hasn't fathomed the thought of someone by his side for a long while, thinking that he was only good enough for a quick adrenaline rush for most people. He was the life of the party, but when the party ended, people didn't want much to do with his life. But she did. She actually wanted to get to know him.

The silence was long enough for Isa to assume his rejection, tears starting to stream down her cheeks. Thank God her hair was long enough to hide her face. She knew this was a bad idea, but she had to know. She took a step back, gesturing to her bedroom door.

"You can, uhm.. leave through the front door," Isa's voice started to break, the girl trying her hardest to hide the way her heart was sinking and at the same time rising up her throat. But instead of heading straight for the door, Billy stepped to Isa, walking slowly and letting the wait of his boots hit her carpeted floor.

"So.. I make you nervous?" Immediately, she was baffled, her cheeks heating up tenfold.

"Billy–" Isa looked away only for the rougish guy to keep her in place and against the wall. His hand went up to her chin, forcing her to look his way.

"Eyes on me," His eyes.. they were expressing something very crucial.. His answer. His answer had her folding like a deck of cards. It was enough that her entire face was betraying her, but her fingertips and ears got in the blushing mood.

"Y-you have my back to the wall here," And to top it all off, what Isabela expected to happen was thrown out the window.

"Good," Billy moved to pull down the tanktop she was wearing under her sweater, leaving her shoulder bare. He leaned down to peck at her smooth collarbone, his hand moving to her wrists to gently holding onto them as he tended to her.

The more he kissed the more passionate he got. He stayed at her shoulder blade for a moment, moving uo to her neck when she started to mutter to him. The light whimpers and whines only egged him on. Soon Isa could feel his breathe become heavy against her earthnut spread skin.

"God, you smell fucking good–" He huffed against her skin, groaning while he inched closer and closer to her lips. He kissed at her chin, then the pink of her cheek, then she corner of her soft lips.. his eyes flickered to hers, hungrily looking for her approach. Her eyes told him it was only green lights, her hazily brown hues yearning in silent response.

The dream-filled teen felt herself nod rapidly, inhaling as his goregous face got centimeters, millimeters closer than before. Then.. and only then did Isabela get to experience the true sensation of Billy's soft lips against hers, locking in complete passion and trust. It felt like the kiss went on forever, their lips tugging and pulling on one another, dancing with such rapture and animation. His calloused hands gripped at her hips, and her cocoa butter covered hands gripped at the red shirt he was prancing around in prior.

Billy seemed to have been starving for some action, Isa feeling the tug at her polyester clad waist. She let the arousing kiss go on for a little long before pulling away, warranting her over-stimulated expression and kiss bitten lips open to Billy's gaze. Somewhere in there, Hargrove could sense the overbearing hope.. then he realized he never really answered. He let his hands hover over her petite waist, thinning about the various was he could ask her out.

"You doin' anything tomorrow..?" Hed asked, immediately watching her expression straighten and light up.

"I-I'm free," Isa almost spat out her answer, she was so quick to speak. It made him chuckle, she realized how cute she was when her excitement about something blasted through. It was like a laser beam, putting a whole though his brain and making it mush while the appendage in his chest swelled.

"How 'bout I take you around town then? Buy you somethin' pretty, then show you off.. You are my girl after all," With that, Isa was smiling like she had just fulfilled her sweet tooth to its maximum capacity. It was big, silly, and it had Billy smiling too, genuinely and even more so when she embraced him. Her arms were tight around his waist, and her head snug against his chest, but the warmth she gave off was so welcoming. It had him thinking he was worthy of something that was honest and raw. As real as the sweet kisses he continued to give Isa as she walked him back downstairs and to his car.

Once he made it to his Camaro, he'd salute her off, taking a long exhale after he wanted his first person to walk back inside. It took guts to do what she did. To be able to dump her feelings, she's had for the past several weeks into his lap and hoped he'd understand. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't have cared to.. but it was her.

It was the woman who walked up to him just to accept his suggestion of tutoring him. It was the woman who took everything he threw at her. The flirting, the raunchy behavior, the way he approached her in the first place. It was the woman who took time out of her busy day to help him with his school work, make sure he understood the material, and made him all kinds of snacks so he wouldn't complain about being hungry. It was the woman who showed she cared.. through her heckling, sometimes bold statements, sudden actions, and just being there.. She was truly Billy's girl... ♡

. ♡ .

Thank you so much for reading all the through! I apologize that it took me so long to finish, but here it is! Hopefully, I'll finish the other one as well! Again, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!♡

Thank you @buckysgrace for your help finishing this.. very long fic

P.S. If you'd like to be tagged when I post the next part, please let me know in the comments!♡

[luci-is-a-bitch-x3x]

Obey me! Nightbringer Diavolo Drabble:

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Welcome! To this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

⚠︎Caution: Nightbringer Post⚠︎

CW: nightbringer talk, could be spoilers. Lemme know if I miss any other warnings!

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Can we just talk about nightbringer Diavolo? I love it. He's giving zero fucks, madly in love vibes. Puppy love. Like the reality that his father may and probs won't wake up hasn't set in yet, so he hasn't gotten semi more serious about doing his duties. He disobeys Barbatos and runs around with Mc like high school sweethearts. Nightbringer Dia is doing the craziest shit man, I feel like it's still him when he feels like that prince that doesn't have any responsibilities yet, just the young fun Prince. In og obey me he's still fun and silly but he's got himself a more serious, I've been doing this for a bit so I kinda know what I'm doing vibe. He gets like that in nightbringer after a certain situation or whatever, but the point is that we get to see Dia live for a bit. We get to see him just be a normal demon to a point, yeah hes still a royal so he has to live up to a certain standard but besides that he gets to do a lot more silly and goofy things. I mean he also has to do a lot of not so silly really hard traumatizing, this is what makes me so good at being the Demon Prince, and basically Demon King, things too but everyone has to experience character development. Nightbringer in general is fascinating to me and like looking at all the characters is cool but I really enjoy seeing Diavolo in this light. Like nightbringer is complicated and stressful for Mc, but I think nightbringers good for Diavolo, in the sense of him having a moment to just experience what it's like to not to live. To fall in love with someone and run around without permission trying to see the person you love. This specific thing I'm gonna talk about is a spoiler for a chat with the royals I think. But the fact that Barbs texts the group chat with Diavolo and Mc and is basically like calling Diavolo out for not being at the castle, and then Diavolo like tries to play it off and just be like oh why do you ask? And then Barbs sends a picture of Diavolo lost, kills me. But what really kills me is that Diavolo has the audacity to ask Barbatos to take him to Cocytus Hall because he's lost. Like he didn't even ask Barbatos for permission to go, and still he has no shame In asking Barb to take him to Cocytus Hall to see Mc. That and another chat where Diavolo accidentally texts the royal chat with Mc instead of just texting Mc, Diavolo is supposed to be working but is trying to sneak away to take a break and hang out with Mc and then like Barbs is just like "My lord? Do you plan to go somewhere with Mc?" I just find it so funny, like it's basically two highschool sweethearts running around trying to not get caught by their parents but instead of it being their parents it's Barbatos, who knows like everything so sneaking around him is basically impossible. Now I don't think Diavolo's love language and will to disobey Barbatos changes much in og obey me, but I still think it's changed a small amount, like yeah he still disobeys Barbatos sometimes but it's just not the same in my opinion. Like in og obey me it's kind of like a friend and a friend, with a little bit of Barbs still being a strict parent of a butler. In og obey me Diavolo is more serious about his duties so Barbs doesn't have to work as hard to keep him in check. But I'm NB obey me, it feels more like a parent and a child, Barbs has to sit there and try to keep Diavolo in check until he gets serious, and Mc is not a help in Barbs case.

Also can we just talk about NB Dia and Barbs, like okay I don't know the lesson but this is a spoiler, but like finding out that child Dia tried locking Barbatos in a room until Barbatos swore loyalty to him, is insane and so f-ing cute. There is so much of a relationship going on between those two hidden under that butler and master relationship thing they've got going on. You know Barbs gives shit to Lucifer for being soft on his brothers or when Lucifers soft on Diavolo, but Barbs is like that with Diavolo too. Like giving in and swearing your loyalty to a child who locked you in a room even though you could get out with your powers, that's giving in and being soft on them. And for Dia's birthday lesson thing, Barbs gives in and goes soft trying to let Diavolo go have a normal birthday. I'm not going to put a label on their relationship as man would that cause problems, but whatever's going on between them is cute, and I enjoy getting to witness it.

I can't end the Dia nightbringer talk without talking about Dia and Luci. Now here's my thing with them, yes even Diavolo acts like the reason he took them in is because the brothers are shiny jewels that'll make the Devildom more powerful, but he took Lucifer in, because that's his boy. Like I don't know what kind of relationship was going on between the two of them when Lucifer was still an angel, but Lucifer talks about knowing Dia before falling obvi, and when he talks about it, he acts like they got along and we're friends. As much friends as they could be, Lucifer is the Avatar of Pride and looked down on demons. The two of them have such a weird but cute relationship/friendship?? I don't care what you think it is, it's cute. Like do you think when Lucifer was still an angel Diavolo still acted the way he does with him? Do you think Diavolo just sat at the meetings between angels and demons and just complimented and complimented Lucifer until he was bright red in the face and cursing Dia to stop? Also in my opinion what makes Lucifer so special to Dia compared to the other brothers is I bet Lucifer interacted with Diavolo's father a good few times before the fall. So yes, his father did put the brothers in their order so all the brothers may have technically met Diavolo's father, but Lucifer would actually know Dia's father a little. So when Dia's all in the dumps, all is this what my father would've wanted? Am I living up to my father's expectations? Lucifer may be able to be like Barbs and give Dia reassurance as he probably met the guy before he decided to take the longest nap in history. Dia's dad literally makes Belphie look weak, Avatar of Sloth my ass, Dia's dad is the true avatar of sloth. Jkjk.

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That's all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! Would you guys like me to do more of these but for the other characters? Lemme know, or if you have any nightbringer content you want in general let me know. I'm at lesson 40 in nightbringer. Anyways more content is coming soon so Stay Tuned! Stay Safe! & stay Spooky! ♡

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⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

[phddyke]

What Blitz doesn’t know:

1. Stolas’s marriage is abusive

* He might not even know it’s bad. All he’s seen is royal portraits of their happy family together as he’s been led through the halls, and the Hellhound security team brought him in after Stella finished her rant. Based on his expression after Ozzie implies their affair ruined Stolas’s marriage/relationship with his daughter, he feels guilt about that. Maybe he feels like a homewrecker.

* I’m not entirely sure he knows Stolas asked for a divorce immediately after their one-night stand. Based on the pilot, he ran away with the book too fast to hear him.

* And, by that token, he doesn’t have a clue Striker was hired by Stella to not only kill Stolas but torture him first (and he never told Stolas Striker was a danger because he didn’t think he was especially unique, and now feels bad about that, I’m sure).

2. That his reaction in Ozzie’s was about being humiliated in front of so many people, not actually because he was ashamed of Blitzø.

3. By that same token, Stolas only responding with “okay” when Blitz says that their relationship is clearly only about “wanting me to fuck you” was NOT actually confirmation that Blitz’s suspicions were correct.

4. Stolas’s text messages were him trying to reassure Blitz he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want—he just became really unclear about what he wants in the process, which makes it look like he doesn’t want him to visit.

5. That he improved Stolas’s life, he didn’t ruin it. Because of Blitz, he got the closest he ever did to telling his daughter the truth about his relationship, asked for a divorce, and even after Ozzie’s he stood up for himself and DEMANDED the divorce! Not to mention Blitz clearly gave him the only happiness he had in a while.

6. The only pictures Stolas has on his phone of them make it look like Blitz is constantly annoyed by his presence.

7. He has absolutely no clue whatsoever about Blitzø’s feelings. None.

8. Striker made fun of him about the fact that Blitz didn’t come to save him.

9. He probably offered for Blitz to be his bodyguard because Stella said “Can you imagine if he didn’t have money!”, so he doesn’t think anyone will have sex with/hang out with him if money isn’t involved.

10. Stolas isn’t actually racist or classist, it’s more like he says things thoughtlessly and is blinded by privilege in many aspects. But he doesn’t have some weird fetish for imps.

11. Stolas loves him!! We all know he’s a horny motherfucker but he does deeply love Blitz so much.

What Stolas doesn’t know:

Oh man, where do I start.

1. Blitzø’s biggest fear is dying alone.

2. He’s afraid to get close to Stolas because of commitment issues and the “eventually everyone goes” mentality, BUT also because of the race/class difference he’s scared to lose his freedom and basically become one of Stolas’s servants.

3. He comes toward Stolas in the hallucination anyway. Away from everyone else and toward him. (Crawls toward him, in fact.)

4. That he stole Verosika’s car, ran three rings to Wrath, maxed her credit cards on shitty horseback-riding lessons, and left her to pay for the hotel room while they were dating. (He does know that Blitz was a selfish lover to her and broke her heart, though.)

5. He’s in awe of Stolas. You can see it when he sees his demon form when Stolas saves him, when he puts on his human disguise, and when he’s being trampled on the ground and sees Stolas’s tail feathers as he’s being carried away above him. He’s put him on such a pedestal that 1) he can’t believe Stolas would ever love him back and 2) he’s forgotten that Stolas is mortal and can be hurt, both emotionally and physically.

6. Blitzø has no idea of Stolas’s feelings toward him—since episode 2 we’ve been aware that he’s operating under the assumption that “no one” loves him, and since Ozzie’s we know Blitzø thinks that Stolas makes it clear “all the time” that their arrangement doesn’t go deeper than fucking. Therefore, when he invited him to the date at Ozzie’s, he wasn’t cruelly playing with his feelings; he had no idea said feelings existed (though, he probably should’ve been honest that he wanted to spy on M&M). Even when Moxxie says, “He seems to like you, sir,” Blitzø responds with “Okay, my dick is GOOD—but it is not that good,” misinterpreting Moxxie’s observation of Stolas’s feelings for him as Stolas’s sexual interest in him.

7. His “oh yeah…I guess it is, huh” when Stolas called Ozzie’s their first “real” date wasn’t him being like “ew I don’t wanna go on a date with this guy,” but more like “Oh right…this is our first real date and I’m using it to spy on M&M, this isn’t really how I wanted our first ‘real’ date to be.”

8. Blitzø’s obsession with M&M stems from his own desire to have a happy, healthy, monogamous marriage like they do, despite constantly mocking them about it.

9. Blitzø has a picture of Stolas asleep and himself looking happy to be cuddled up with him forefront on his phone.

10. Blitzø has scratched himself out of every picture of himself, his friends, his daughter (and twin sister) on his walls.

11. The betrayed look on his face—the “I knew this was going to happen but I was hoping it wouldn’t” when Stolas covered his face at Ozzie’s.

12. How concerned he looked when Stolas said “I seem to have been stolen by your little cowboy friend,” how much MORE concerned he looked when Striker spoke to him directly, that he was so furious he broke his phone AND damaged his car after that before he started driving recklessly and seemed to be seriously contemplating going for Stolas himself. He even grilled M&M on their ability to do so, rushed through the doctor’s appointment, vented about it in the waiting room, and looked so happy when he thought they’d brought Stolas back safe and sound. (Didn’t even correct the doctor who called him “Bingo,” just wanted to get out of there.)

13. The look on his face and the genuine surprise when he said “he can get HURT?” Not to mention the “Stolas got what?” and the crack in his voice when he said “how?”

14. When he said “If you promise this isn’t some fuck-fest invite it does sound like a blast and a half,” he wasn’t annoyed with Stolas, he was annoyed that the only thing he thought Stolas cared about was sex with him.

15. That he changed the screaming sound of Stolas’s ringtone to a cute bird one and presumably changed the contact name from “Creepy Mouth (aka one night stand bird dick)” to his actual name. Not to mention, his ringtone for Loona is a dog one—what does it say that he made Stolas’s a bird one?

16. When Blitzø is giving Stolas that weird look when they meet as children, he’s not finding kid!Stolas weird or annoying, he’s weirded out because Stolas’s father is there acting like a jackass and hitting him in front of Blitzø. (It took me multiple rewatches to notice that one, actually.)

17. That despite saying “We ain’t bodyguards. That was a one-time thing we did badly,” he saved Stolas from Striker the first time without 1) being asked or 2) paid to do it. He just did—and didn’t tell him afterwards in order to receive any type of accolades. He saved him quietly.

18. He didn’t actually deny that Stolas was his boyfriend when that’s what Millie called him.

19. Striker was the first person outside of I.M.P. to call Blitzø on his feelings for Stolas—and mock him for them.

20. “I’ll take the first watch” and “You guys better go make sure Stolas is okay” in Loo Loo Land.

21. Blitz tried to get his attention when he was attempting to break into Stolas’s room. That’s gotta mean something, idk what.

22. Blitzø lied to everyone, including himself, that he had to sleep with Stolas to get the Grimoire when he actually did that AND spent the entire night with him of his own free will (which actually jeopardized his mission, let alone helped it).

23. Blitz remembered him for over two decades—Stolas had forgotten him until he showed up again, it seems.

24. Blitzø had a chance to go home with Cash Buckzo but he stayed and played with Stolas instead.

25. He was about to say something when Fizzarolli called his love life “a pile of shit” before Verosika cut him off. He also looks at Stolas and back when Fizz sings, “Some nerve you’ve got to comment on a relationship.”

26. He cried after Ozzie’s.

* He got wasted off his ass after Ozzie’s.

* He said he could drink Queen Bee-lzebub under the table because “you have no idea what kind of night I’ve had” and told Loona he had “a really shitty day.”

* He was gonna have sex with a dude who looked like Stolas but in the end got rid of him—and requested a man by the same name as the lead in the soap opera Stolas also watches.

* He made out with, at minimum, four strangers (if Dennis was in the five-person makeout).

* He cried that Fizz was right that he was gonna die alone again.

* Even though he couldn’t remember Dennis’s name when they’d been making out ten seconds ago, the last word on his lips before he fell asleep was “Stolas” (he also seems to have gone in increasing order of importance with the names he muttered).

27. That he slept with Chaz, but said he was terrible in bed, used him for information, and snuck out as soon as Chaz was asleep instead of staying beside him all night.

28. That Blitzø was paid to hang out with him that day (though thankfully neither of them know that he was only worth $5 and a slim-fit condom to Cash Buckzo), and he didn’t want to steal from him.

29. How scared Blitz looked when he was being led back to Stolas’s room after he said “I will deal with him accordingly.”

30. He’s almost definitely reading Stolas’s apologetic and “only if you want!” texts as lack of interest.

31. How hurt/annoyed Blitz is every time Stolas thoughtlessly says something about imps, which is especially prevalent in “Harvest Moon Festival.”

32. Despite the persona he puts on and what Stolas probably believes because of that persona, Blitzø is clearly struggling with self-hatred and self-worth issues in general.

33. How much it’s going to hurt Blitzø when he reaches out and Stolas rejects him (or what he’s going to see as Stolas’s rejection when he gives him the crystal)—because that’s exactly what happened with his sister. For all we know, Stolas isn’t even aware that Blitzø has a twin sister.

34. He loves Stolas with everything he has and deep down he’s aware of that, even if he’s lying to himself about it.

Conclusion: AHHHHHH

[killedbythehuntress]

Stockholm Syndrome

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Also On: AO3 and Wattpad

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Beautiful art work below by @diligentcranberry - Thank you again, love!

Tags/Warnings:

Rape/Non-Con Elements, Twisted Love, Dark!Sebastian Sallow, alcohol use.

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Chapter One.

She doesn't know what makes her stop. She's walked past this stand a lot of times, the moving pictures barely catching her eye before she continues on her way. But something inside her makes her stop today. Hand over a sickle to the tender and take a copy of the Daily Prophet before she continues her daily errands.

It's not until she's home, everything unpacked, the door locked thrice and a cup of tea on the table in front of her did she finally pull out the bunch of papers she'd felt compelled to buy. The air suddenly feels like it's sucked out of the room and she can barely breathe.

Breaking News!

The Wizarding Community is on high alert at the news that Dark Wizard, Sebastian Sallow, has escaped Azkaban prison. The 24-Year-old has been in Azkaban since being convicted of the murder of his uncle in the winter of 1891. Nothing has yet been released on how he escaped the notorious prison, but we urge the community to stay safe and vigilant.

She doesn't even finish reading, instead, her eyes find their way to the picture next to it. A fifteen-year-old Sebastian stares out at her, a frown on his lips, dark eyebrows furrowed, and a look of sadness, betrayal, and regret in his eyes. She couldn't bear it, instead, she whipped out her wand and cast a quick Incendio, the Prophet immediately turning to ash on the table. How could she have been so naive to have thought the Wizengamot would've gone easy on him given everything? She may have only been 15, and while she'd been a part of the community for a good few months, she should have known that an Unforgivable - especially Avada Kadavra - would land someone in Azkaban for life. Something that Sebastian Sallow didn't deserve, regardless of his actions.

With another flick of her wand and the ash is gone, cleaned up, and almost forgotten. Her elbows rest on the table, her face buried in her hands as she sobs for the first time in years for what was lost - she'd only wanted him to learn his lesson, she hadn't wanted to lose him. Hadn't anticipated the entire fallout. Anne and Ominis had been beside her at the time, happy for her to be the one responsible to make the decision - probably to save themselves the guilt of it - but also likely using her naivety and lack of understanding of the Wizarding Law in hopes she wouldn't feel the guilt herself.

That had lasted all of three days when she saw the article detailing Sebastian’s sentencing. That had been the first time she'd broken down about her decision, she'd screamed at Ominis in the Undercroft for not telling her turning him in meant never seeing him again. She'd collapsed into his arms, sobbing into his chest but the thought that it wasn't Sebastian brought the sobs harder and faster until she pushed Ominis away and curled in on herself.

She'd finished her last two years of Hogwarts in silence, only speaking when a professor asked something of her. She pulled away from the many friends she'd made during that fateful year - not from their lack of trying - she just couldn't. She spent any time not in class in the Room of Requirements, she'd even gone through a period where she didn't eat because she couldn't face the Great Hall. But Deek had caught wind of that and made sure to always have something set on a table for her.

For as excited as she was to attend Hogwarts, leaving had felt like a relief. There were too many memories haunting her of him, and the friends she'd left behind. Part of her had wanted to run as far away from Scotland as she could, but the other part - the larger part - couldn't.

Even if she couldn't be with him, she wanted to be close.

The thought terrified her, he knew it was her decision. He'd looked so angry, so hurt as he was hauled away by the Aurors and the article detailing his sentence had quoted him. He'd promised he'd get revenge.

It was stupid of her - likely still naivety - that made her move from the Highlands surrounding Hogwarts to a small Hamlet in the northernmost area of Scotland. She'd managed to buy a single cottage on the outer edge of the hamlet, the back leading to the forest and while being there was lonely, she hadn't made much of an effort to befriend anyone. It was private, it was hers, and honestly, if Sebastian had to deal with life alone because of her. She felt she deserved it too.

Her sobs quieted after some minutes, the air in the room still heavy with the melancholy she felt. Her tea had gone cold, not that she felt she could stomach it. Her insides were in knots, she felt that any attempt to eat or drink could cause her to vomit. Any movement could cause her to collapse further in on herself.

She took a deep breath, a sigh escaping her as she reminded herself that no one knew where she lived. Not from lack of trying on their part, Ominis, Natty & Poppy had continued to try and open her back up for her last two years to no avail. Following their graduation, they'd reached out via Owl. Although the more she ignored them, the less they came.

A knock at her door pulled her from her increasingly spiraling thoughts and she frowned, pulling herself up slowly from the table. "Who is it?" She called cautiously, although it probably wasn't her best idea. It was likely just the friendly old woman down from the house closest offering her something she'd baked.

"Open the door, it's Ominis." Her eyebrows furrowed then, stepping closer to the door but not unlocking it.

"How do you know where I live?"

"I work for the Ministry, it wasn't hard." She felt a pang in her chest at his clipped words, she'd never admit it but she had missed it, missed him. Finally unlocking her door and pulling it open, she took a look at Ominis. The years had treated him well, his hair was still slicked back and his suit still made him look as regal as he always did.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, a little exasperated at the situation. Her words, while firm, still held the edge they did when she'd been crying and she hoped it had been long enough that her unexpected guest didn't notice.

"Checking in. I don't suppose you heard the news." And there it was, his way of letting her know he still cared but not in such a way she'd run and lock the door in his face. "Sebastian escaped." Stepping back slightly, audibly so that he knew he could come in.

"I did catch a glimpse at the Prophet, yes. Is that why you're here?" She asked, her voice needlessly harsh as she continued. "Here to see if I'm hiding him somewhere?"

"No, of course not." He mentioned with a frown of his own. "You surely remember what he said upon sentencing. I was merely worried about you." The words took all of the fight from her and once again she found her lip trembling as she held back her tears, another wave of guilt washing over her.

"How long has he been out?" She brings herself to ask, the newspaper was from today, sure. But if Ominis thought Sebastian could have already found his way to her, perhaps it'd been a few days.

"We think he escaped Monday, but we can't be sure. The guard he'd managed to switch with was in no condition to talk." Monday… They thought Monday and he'd only shown today for fear of her safety. It was Saturday for Merlin's sake. She felt a small flame of anger flicker in her chest. "No one realized until Thursday when the next guard was sent through."

She couldn't help but laugh at the sheer stupidity. No one noticed a guard had disappeared on his rounds. She knew the tales of Azkaban were horror stories, but for Helena's sake, she didn't expect them to be that bad. She could only imagine what it was like to be there full-time.

And that thought was enough to snuff out the anger and bring back the melancholy from earlier.

"If you're wanting to look around, just in case. I haven't been home for long." She murmured, not even sure why she'd said it. But Ominis was quick to nod, his wand flashing its usual red as he walked around the small cottage. Picking up the cup of forgotten tea, she couldn't help but feel on edge, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the news of Sebastian or if it was because there was someone other than herself in her house. No one else had been here since she moved in six years.

She busied herself doing the dishes, staring out the window into the small Hamlet until Ominis had finished his sweep. She could feel him standing by the table but she didn't turn, neither of them saying anything for a while.

"I think it's time you-"

"I want you to write to-"

They both spoke at the same time, and she finally pulled her eyes from the children she saw running in the field to look at her guest. "You first." He assured, clearing his throat. She suddenly felt a little awkward, her nose wrinkling slightly as she thought back on what she was going to say.

"No, you first." She finally decided it was for the best since she'd been about to tell him to leave.

"I want you to write to me, let me know you're okay at least weekly." Her brows furrowed and she felt another flicker of irritation.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Ominis. I made sure that when I moved here no one would know me or that I'd moved here. Until you showed up, that is." She couldn't help the bitter tone in her voice, she'd tried so hard to make sure there was no way anyone could track her down. She supposed that even without that effort, his connections at work would mean he'd always known.

"I'm serious, I just want you to let me know you're okay. At least until he's back in Azkaban." The genuine concern in his voice was bittersweet, he clearly wanted her to know that he meant it. "If I don't hear from you, I'll have to stop by again."

Heaving a frustrated sigh, she gave the blonde boy a glare that he couldn't rightfully see. "Fine. If it means I'm left alone." Deep down, she realized she didn't mean it. She'd felt so lonely and part of her felt that perhaps she wouldn't follow through just so he would turn up. But then she remembered the guilt and knew that she had to be lonely because that's what she'd sentenced Sebastian to eight years ago. "Now I'd you'd be so kind to leave, it's getting late." She finished, leaving no room for argument as she stepped to the door and pulled it open.

"Take care of yourself, please," Ominis said as he stepped back through the door, still a small look of concern on his face that made her turn away.

Once he was out, she closed the door and once again triple-locked it before checking the windows. Only when she was sure everything was secure did she curl up on her couch with a blanket, and a book open in front of her - not that she paid it any mind. Her focus was on the flames licking in the fireplace as she waited for the time she'd move from the couch to bed. 

— — — — — —

The feeling of something trailing over her forehead caused her to stir slightly, sleep slipping away from her. She groaned, turning over and burying herself further into the pillows and blankets of her bed before the realization struck her.

Sitting up quickly, she looked around the bedroom, the low light from the lamp on her dresser casting shadows. But besides her and her heavy breathing, the room was empty.

She was going crazy. Paranoid.

It had been a week since the article and Ominis' visit. A week of knowing that Sebastian was out there somewhere, likely looking for her. A week of constantly feeling like she was being watched when she wasn't. It was taking a toll on her.

She briefly contemplated asking Ominis if she could stay a few days with him, to see if she felt any different. But considering last Saturday was the first time they'd spoken in years, she likely wasn't welcome.

Sighing softly, she pulled herself up from her bed. Some tea would likely help calm her. Grasping at the lamp, she stepped from her bedroom and into the main room, heading for the stove and her small tea kettle. She got busy, setting the water to boil and taking hold of a cup she'd used earlier in the day. Her eyes settled out of the window just as they had a week ago. The streets of the hamlet were dark and empty, it was raining heavily, and for some reason that soothed her a little. She'd always liked the rain.

A loud bang from her bedroom jolted her from her thoughts, dropping the teacup she held as the sound of wind howled through her home. Once more grasping her lamp, she took her wand from the counter too and crept to the doorway, looking through it cautiously. The room was still empty, there weren't any hiding places after all. The room was only big enough for a bed and a dresser.

Her eyes lifted from their observation of the room to the window. Seeing it had flown open. Frowning, she stepped further into the room and towards the window until she was able to pull it closed, locking it. She swore she'd locked it before she'd gone to bed. But perhaps the stress of the last week was getting to her, her days blending together.

She had nothing to worry about. No one but Ominis knew where she lived and he wouldn't tell anyone. It had to have been the wind from the storm, she hadn't latched it properly before bed, clearly.

The sound of a quiet whistle sounded from her kitchen and she sighed. Right, yes. Tea. That's what she needed. Pulling her curtains closed, she made her way back into the kitchen to finish her tea, hopefully when she drank it she'd be able to get back to sleep.

— — — — — —

A few days later, she found herself stopping next to the stand holding the Daily Prophet, she glanced at the headline.

Sallow Still at Large!

She didn't bother picking up a copy this time, it was likely just going to be a reiteration of what was said in the original article. Instead, she forced herself to push on, the hood of her robe pulled up over her head.

The feeling of being watched magnified each time she left the house, to the point where she was seriously considering dropping her errands to one day a week and holing herself up inside of her cottage.

She stopped at the produce vendor, picking up some pieces of fruit and vegetables as she did often, paying quickly before turning on her heel. Usually, she'd make a stop at a few more stores, but right now, she wanted to go home. She wasn't in dire need of anything else - today at least.

Walking down the main street of the hamlet, her hood up and her head down to avoid being seen meant that she wasn't looking where she was going. So it wasn't surprising when she walked into someone, the bag she held falling to the floor.

"Merlin, I'm sorry!" She said, reaching down to collect her things.

"Don't be, miss. Accidents happen." A friendly voice said she looked up briefly to see a man of around her age, brunette hair and while his smile was friendly and it definitely wasn't Sebastian she was looking at, she couldn't help the flash of his face in place of the strangers.

Suddenly she was in a bigger rush to get home, her hands trembling as she fought to ensure everything she'd dropped was picked up.

"Let me help." The young man offered and she frantically shook her head, scooping the last of the produce into her bag and standing quickly.

"N-no n-need. It's fine. I must get home." She brushed off, pushing past the kind stranger that made her think of Sebastian and speed walked her way back to her cottage, not looking back. Although that feeling at the back of her neck, that she was being watched only grew as she stepped over the threshold and once more thrice locked her door. A sigh of relief fell from her lips as her clammy forehead rested against the cool wood.

— — — — — —

Two weeks. Two weeks had passed since she'd seen that article since Ominis had visited and nothing had happened besides her losing her mind from her paranoia.

Since her run-in with not-Sebastian, she hadn't left the house. A traitorous part of her brain just wanted him to be found and back in Azkaban so that she could go back to how life was before.

As much as she didn't want to leave, she had to head into town. If she didn't want Ominis stopping by again she'd have to drop off the letter she'd written him. She also needed to get some food.

She supposed she could be quick about it, not stopping beside the two shops she needed to and then heading straight back. Chewing on her bottom lip, she considered not leaving, her eyes staring at the front door as if it could decide for her. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and blinked against the bright sun. 'Quick, just be quick.' She told herself, closing the door behind her and heading towards the main street. And if she stopped to buy a bottle of fire whiskey while she was there, who was going to judge? 

— — — — — —

Slamming the door behind her, she panted - a slight panic overtaking her. She was definitely going crazy, she swore she'd seen Seb so many times in the small time she was out, only to do a double take and there would be no one there. She had to be going crazy.

Dropping the bag of food onto the kitchen counter, she rummaged through the bag until she found what she was looking for. The bottle of fire whiskey glinted in the sun streaming through the winter. Briefly, a voice in her head told her it was too early to drink, but she shut it up quickly as she pulled the top off and took a large drink.

The fiery liquid trailed down her throat and she held back a cough, even as the wince made it through. Dropping herself into the chair at the kitchen table, she held the bottle in an iron grip. As she took another long drag from the bottle, she could feel the familiar haze of calm falling over her.

She tried to remember when she'd last eaten and realized it had been breakfast yesterday. Pair that with the fact she didn't drink often and it was only normal for barely a quarter of a bottle to hit her so fast.

Time passed slowly, and the contents of the bottle also slowly dwindled as it got dark outside. At some point, it started raining again but she didn't care. She'd drunk a good amount of the bottle and she couldn't very well keep her head up off the table.

She'd never be able to get herself to bed in this state. Rolling her head to the side, she looked at the couch, wondering if she'd be able to make it there. It was only five steps, maximum.

Pushing herself up, grasping the edge of the table hard to steady herself as the room spun. Once she felt situated enough, she took a step.

So far, so good.

Another step, then another and that's when her knees buckled. Her stomach churned and she closed her eyes as she waited to meet the floor. But the meeting never came. Two arms had wrapped around her, catching her in her fall.

"Woah, there, Sweetheart. Missed me?"

[just-some-random-blogger]

Ok, but what about Morpheus with a Angel Child?

A Lesson Of Tongues

Dream of the Endless & Angel!Reader

Summary: "You're saying it wrong, father." Dream makes a sound, "I was there when the language was mad-" "Then why are you saying it wrong?"

Word Count: >800

Warnings: fem!reader because i love girl dad!dream, im right!reader, youre wrong!dream, fluff, slice of life, typos, etc.

A/N: In my head, this child is the daughter of my pairing in 'Harbinger Of The Dusk' and 'holy' but you don't have to read it to understand this fic also LOL IM IMAGINING THIS GIF IS HIM JUST BEING SO DONE WITH HIS DAUGHTER HELP ASHFHAS HAHHAH also also the eyeliner T_T Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

A small child with dark curls and shining skin walked through the halls of the library. She was wearing a dress that belonged to her mother, simply because she could, for mother was not present at the moment.

Her hair bounced on her shoulders and the way too big clothing, with way too long sleeves and way too long skirt, dragged across the floor as she carried a large book in her arms. Well, she could barely carry it.

She struggles to put the leather bound tome on the table, but after much fuss, she finally manages, finding a sudden strength in her grip. She sniffles as she grabs her dangling clothes and lifts them as she climbs up a chair. The chair she wanted to sit on was one that quite high off the ground, which was why she favored it. It made her feel like the princess she was. She struggles to get up, but after a while, finds again her strength and manages.

Once she sits down and turns to the book on the table, she catches sight of something important, someone important.

Uh-oh.

The King of the Dreaming stares at her with crossed arms. It was actually because of his power that the girl was able to place her book upon the table and to climb the chair without falling off. He would not say this though, so she would forever think it was by her own strength that she accomplished these things.

"Father," she mutters softly and slowly.

Dream nods, "daughter."

Suddenly, the feel of her mother's dress was burning her skin... or what it her father's gaze that was doing that?

"What are you wearing?" Dream asks.

The girl blinks, "hmm... a dress."

"Evidently," Dream uncrosses his arms, "who does it belong to?"

Dream knows angels cannot lie, or at least it goes against their nature to. But then again, she was only half angel. He tilts his head, awaiting a confession that still has not yet arrived. But then again, her Endless half would not make her deceptive either.

The girl decides to keep her silence.

A clever tactic, but not clever enough.

"I asked you a question," Dream presses, leaning on the table.

She decides to ignore him. She drags the book in front of her and opens it, "I don't wanna say."

Dream stills upon hearing the girl's words. Ridicule? In his own home?

He thinks if Desire were here, they'd laugh and love on the girl, encouraging her ways. He purses his lips tightly. Half Endless indeed.

The king decides to circle over to her, thinking his looming presence would coax out a what he wanted. It does not. She is rather undeterred.

Let's see how undeterred she'll be once he tells on her mother.

He finds himself examining the book she picked out. With but a glance, Dream immediately recognizes the script. It was a book about angles, written in the language of angels.

The girl goes through the book without sparing too much time. He gathers she is more interested in the pictures rather than the words.

She stops at a page that displays a picture of a glorious being, the Star of the Night, the child's mother. She smiles at it, rubbing the face of the illustration. Dream finds himself smiling as well.

In his fondness, the Endless begins to dictate the words on the paper. He speaks of the accounts the author made about the angel, his lover, and the girl turns to him upon hearing his words.

Dream continues to read the script, thinking his daughter was enjoying it. But then she waves her hands desperately and shakes her head.

"That's wrong!" she says.

Dream's words go dry.

The girl leans onto the table and points at the text, reiterating the words her father just spoke, though her finger was on the wrong side of the page. Upon speaking her people's language, she turns to Dream and says, "now you."

Dream is at a disbelief. Was this girl really correcting him?

The Prince of Stories narrates the words again, making more effort to sound more exact.

The angel girl is severely disappointed yet again.

"That's not how!" she says. She repeats the phrase he just said.

He cuts her off, "I assure you, child, I know how to speak the speech of your mother."

The girl disagrees and stands on the chair. Dream immediately reaches out for her, hands coming to her small back, securing her in place. He adjusts the drooping shoulder of her ill-fitting dress. Her soft hands come to his bony face. She repeats the words for him. Dream sighs.

The girl's father mimics her again, yet still she is not pleased.

"You're saying it wrong, father."

Dream makes a sound, "I was there when the language was mad-"

"Then why are you saying it wrong?"

Dream grunts and leans his forehead on his daughter, "you think yourself so wise little girl?"

The girl giggles at his attempts to intimidate her, registering his actions as affectionate gestures, which was why she threw her arms around him. Quite quickly she latches onto Dream and finds no more interest in the lesson she was giving him, "fly! Fly!"

Dare she demand things from the king after such insults?

"Fatherrrrrr!"

He sighs.

"At once, my love," he mutters and flies around the library.