#and ofc i need it here to immortalize it

[vohtaro]

obkb for @madablues for his birthday !!! the gift ofc is a lot of snakes + obito Struggling (tm)

[genderlessdude92]

Hi, I really love your work! If your requests are open and if it's allowed, can I request for headcanons of Vox/Val/Alastor/Lucifer with their biological baby w reader?? I'm sorry if this is weird I just die for family dynamics😭😭 like, how would they act, would they be present or neglectful, and that stuff!! Ik it's impossible to have a child in hell but HEY. ITS FICTIONAL. It's really your decision if this is super fluff or super angst, but personally I believe it would be angst because it's hell and they are really famous 😭 THANKU

AUTHOR RESPONSE: First ask but urmmmmmm OFC OFC OFC!!! I’m all in for dis req :3 I feel like i absolutely will eat up Al’s part of this post so stay tuned. Other ones are questionable because idk if it’s OOC or not but…I’m just a girl!! >.< (I’m a genderless dude as you can see from the name ^^) I’m sorry i’m not funny- These might be short btw im rushing a little bit bc i’m trying to start a multi-chapter fix yay awesome but uhhh i’m still having fun with this 💋

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AL, VOX, VAL, & LUCI WITH THEIR BIOLOGICAL CHILD

(and reader that gave birth to em somehow <3)

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PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, Vox x Reader, Valentino x Fem!Reader (ALL SEPARATE)

SUMMARY: Alastor, Lucifer, Vox, and Valentino are dads now. Aw shucks. (Headcannons)

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Breeding kink, (obv bc Val is in here), Val mention, reader is female because they literally gave birth to them, mentions of pregnancy, birth, Valentino being a weird fuck, Valentino again, unhealthy duck obsession in Lucifer’s area, Breastfeeding, Cannibalism, physical slaps, everybody being nervous shots but Vox, really rushed, lmk if i missed anything pookie (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

please don’t steal/copy/translate my work. But thanks for liking it, though!!! (๑ᵕॢ૩ᵕॢ)*౨˚ൗ

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-Alastor is 100% nervous at first since he has to be the dad and his dad wasn’t…the best!! ^^

-But also doesn’t want to back away because, I mean, it’s kinda rude to just walk away from your creation that you INTENDED to make real.

-This gentleman’s baby was not an accident, I assure you.

-Alastor would absolutely dangle the baby off the edge of a balcony just to tease you.

-Also tried to feed the baby devil meat to make it a cannibal.

-Suprisingly worked.

-Um.

-He probably got taught to knit by Rosie so if the baby ever needs clothes he’s on it.

-Cradles the baby during his radio show hours, aw, and if the baby ever cries he immediately cuts to a quick song break.

-If both you and Alastor are like completely booked and can’t take care of the baby, he’s giving it to Rosie.

-Rosie can’t? Charlie.

-Charlie can’t? Cancelling all plans.

-He just cares for his bloodline, yeah?

-If the baby ever needs like a chewy sensory toy, he’s going to try and get one that resembles Lucifer.

-Like and apple or a snake OOO A SNAKE NVM

-Snake is better since it resembles two ppl mwuhehehe

-Alastor would be a great girl dad but in general i think he would be rlly doting to them.

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-Oh, you thought Alastor was nervous?

-Oh, you’re so funny.

-‘Cuz Lucifer is QUAKING once he finds out you’re pregnant.

-and expecting.

-…and that it’s alive and out the womb.

-Basicslly all because he wasn’t really in Charlie’s life that much.

-But you told him that this can be a second chance?

-Which made him cry more than he was before.

-Yikes.

-Feeds the baby the most fine meals to ever exist for a baby to eat, even tried to sneak in some wine in its milk bottle.

-Then earned a slap at the back of his head from yours truly.

-You.

-I see him as a helicopter parent at first, but then is just chill once they grow more older.

-But he’s like, devoting his immortal LIFE to this baby 24/7.

-The nursery is themed ducks.

-Everywhere.

-Sometimes you get dizzy when you walk in.

-He even wanted to name the baby duck.

-You slapped him again, of course.

-This man acts like a 8th grade frat boy whenever you breast feed the baby like he just scoots away gagging.

-Another slap.

IM SORRY-

-One time in bed you guys were like getting freaky or sum and then you but his nip

-“Honey…what was that?”

-“That’s just how it feels, Luci.”

-“…What?-“

-“When i breastfeed B/N.”

-“…Ew.”

-“BITCH I-“

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-Bro is so confident in being a dad.

-The first day after the baby was born he cancelled all his special guests on his show just for the baby to be the only one.

-This man is fucking insane.

-Puts this baby on his. advertisements.

-We’re talking billboards, pop-ups, etc.

-Only lets his supervisor babysit the baby when needed.

-Don’t expect Velvette or Val to even step foot near this baby without Vox in the room.

-It’s like a sibling love-hate relationship :D

-Now i wouldn’t say this baby was on purpose…most likely?

-But honestly, it might happen again because he thinks you’re hot pregnant.

-Who said that what.

-Omg who typed that???

-Fuck this is so short uhhh He like puts on child shows for the baby if they sit in his lap.

-But the baby never ever sleeps in the bed you guys share.

-not in a million years.

-Puts those shirts that look like tuxedos on the baby but they’re just printed on.

-Feeds the baby deer meat.

-Has a deer head mounted above the baby’s crib.

-Takes him deer hunting.

-Vox just needs em to learn early.

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-Valentino was “so, so careful” when you guys did it.

-and this baby was 100% and accident.

-obviously you guys couldn’t abortion because like some health reason.

-Val cried that night.

-It was kinda funny that he was crying to keeping a baby.

sorry not sorry

-When the baby is born,

-Oh god should i write that

-Uh

-He’s probably recording.

-Not posting just like…saving it.

-Guys, come on, it Valentino, you should’ve seen this coming.

-Deletes it later though fuck that’s hilarious.

-He starts whining and crying when he sees you breastfeeding.

-“Your wasting the milk, mi precioso, are you kidding me?”

-He’s like in the middle of being a good dad and a bad dad.

-Suprised he made it that far on the scale.

-whenever he’s busy, he gives the baby to some random star and tells them to bring them back by like 10:30 or smth.

-with a coffee order. Very iconic.

-Same idea with Vox and liking you pregnant, and tried to get you pregnant again but you ask him why he doesn’t have a condom on if you don’t have your pills.

-He gets frustrated when that happens lol.

-Can’t wake up the baby!

proceeds to wake them up each night 3 times minimum

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: zomg this was sososo fun to write <3 But it’s so fucking short and i didn’t even realize until i was done. I’m actually so sorry. I still like these headcannons, very humorous, very real, thank you for asking me to make this because this is my first ask i got, i still have exactly 16 more, so ur just a little lucky duck, asker. Support is appreciated! New multi-chapter fix i’m working on might be posted on Friday-Sunday!! Baiiii!!!!

-Genderlessdude92, Kiki

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master list ouuu

[devilmen-collector]

WHB Theory: Vessels of God's Sinful Emotions

A theory I have after reading Chapter 5 and discussing with @sparkbeast20

This post ofc will contain spoilers up to Chapter 5 and religious theme

(God, please forgive me for writing this because I have to use Your name for PB's fictional version of You)

God possesses sinful emotions

Firstly, in Story 5-64, we have Bimet says God was greedy and jealous, meaning he had Greed and Envy, to which Glasyalabolas replies by saying God possessed other deadly sins as well, namely rage/Wrath, Sloth, Gluttony, arrogance/Pride. He fails to mention Lust but we still don't know whether it has a deeper meaning or it's just Glasya is making examples and Lust just happens to not be in the examples listed.

Theory

I. God doesn't want these sinful emotions

My theory, God doesn't want the sinful emotions in him. There may be several reasons, maybe because he doesn't want sins, we all know too well why the Seven Deadly Sins are preached against and virtues are praised in real life, the consequences of the Deadly Sins are evil things such as murder, rape, oppression, corruption and many other evil actions. So God decided to keep the virtues within himself while removing the sins. But since those deadly sins are attributes of God, he couldn't just remove them and throw them away carelessly, he needed something to store them.

II. The 7 Kings were created directly by God, not through a pair of parents

We do know that devils don't give birth, but having their children made according to their likeness by Lilith. Even so, the devil child is considered children of the parents who requested Lilith to make a child. Some of the nobles have been proven to be born in this way (Andrealphus, Amon, Buer). Exception is the Unholyc, born through the union of Asmodeus and a human female, their case is procreation just like human.

However, my theory that I have been telling my friends since months before the game's release and the kings are created directly by God.

In Story 5-86, we have an NPC angel telling us about the rumors that subject no. 87 (Leviathan) was created carefully by God. My point here is why is this angel saying God "created it carefully", aren't all created by God? Why making the difference? So there are at least 2 different ways in which one is created by God. The superior one is that one's body and soul are both crafted by God directly. The inferior one is that one's body is created by God but indirectly through procreation of the parents (as in the case of human) or Lilith (as in the case of normal and noble devils), God only infuses the soul the moment life begins.

In Story 5-96, Valefor says that it's difficult to create a body equals or surpasses one that God created for Mammon. (My opinion: it's impossible lol). So Mammon's no different from Levi that he had his body created by God directly.

If it has been the case with two of the seven kings, I think it's safe to assume it applies to other kings too. Lucifer's a little different because he was an angel but since he was God's favorite Seraph, I think he falls into the same category of having the privilege of having God created his body directly.

Another proof is that you have never heard the kings mentioning a parent. For some of the nobles, their parents were mentioned (Buer, Amon, Andre, etc.) But for the kings, just no mention of parents at all (excluding Levi because he was kidnapped as a child), even though devils are immortal (they only die if they are wounded in a battle or a serious accident).

III. God created the 7 Kings for a very special purpose

The next question is why did God have to create them directly, different from all the others? It's understandable if they were the first generation demons whom God needed to create directly then let them make/give birth to the next generation, who would make/give birth the generation after that and so on. However, the kings are not first generation demons, there are demons who are older than them (Gusion is one example). So there must be a special reason why the kings got such a special treament.

Returning to what I was saying at the start, God wanted to remove the sins and he needed something to store the sins. And God, being the omnipotent Creator, he could create the solution himself by making 7 vessels to store the sins. And since demons/devils were made with evil attributes, the vessels were created living devils. And because they are devils keeping God's Deadly Sins inside, they are stronger than any other devils, and God made them kings. Remember the kings and the nobles keep saying they were chosen by God to be kings and nobles but they don't know why. I think the kings are appointed kings to hide the facts they are vessels storing God's Deadly Sins, this only God knows (perhaps Solomon too since God favors our peepaw).

In Lucifer's case, he was created an angel, yes, but remember, God can foresee the future. To explain it in religious term, God can see all the possibilities but he knows which possibility will become the future with 100% precision. God saw Lucifer falling and included him in the grand plan so he only needed to create 6 vessels more beside Lucifer (remember God had Sloth so it makes quick work for him).

IV. The kings are the original and only deadly sins

So that lets to another point of mine, which is the current 7 Deadly Sins are the original and only Seven Deadly Sins and kings of Hell. There is no king before them.

V. Sinful Divine Power

In Story 4-87, after hearing MC could die by Levi's hands, Satan gives in to his rage too much that it affects the surrounding environment, even nearly killing other devils, the only devil who isn't affected is Mammon, another king and Satan's equal.

Since the Deadly Sins came from God, if the kings don't or can't put their sins in check, they could bring disaster, even upon devils who they are supposed to protect.

VI. With Divine Power comes Divine Knowledge

Leraye tell us in the chatroom that only the 7 Deadly Sins know why God disappeared. It could be understood that God told the Sins why he had to go or they saw what happened to him. But I believe in another possibility. God disappeared mysteriously, no one knows where he has gone or why he disappeared, but since the 7 kings have with themselves the sinful attributes of God, they get a glimpse of divine knowledge on why God disappeared.

In the event "Where is Beelzebub?", Beelzebub says while Bael is sleeping about "things that are going to happen soon", which could be understood to be about MC/us. So how could he know that? I used to think Lucifer told him, of which I got the impression after knowing he owes Lucifer something. But could it be that he knows about MC from the Divine Knowledge in which he gets to participate. (Tbh, now I think about it, if Lucifer told him, then where did Lucifer get the info from, God doesn't seem like the kind to tell him, given how he let him fall, so Lucifer must have known it from the Divine Knowledge of his Pride too).

In conclusion, the 7 Deadly Sins are living vessels of God's sinful emotions. And thanks to that, they get access to powerful divine abilities.

That's all I'm able to put down from my brain for now. Please let me know what you guys think <3

[punchliiine]

something cute

art is by @happi_115 on ig

hi i got back from my shift a few hours ago and i usajakjskjda

a lot of things happened, but the highlight of it all is this one adorable thing (situation??) that has me all giggly and shiiiii!>W!"/.1 i literally cannot keep my mouth shut; i need everyone and their mom to know about it. so here's a little story time!%*^!!

short backstory;

one of my best friends in one of my dr/s (let's call him s) has power over all reality. he can manipulate everything whether it be weather, people, animals, gravity.. etc. (literally all), he can shapeshift, astral project, create, duplicate, regenerate, teleport, time travel.. and quite literally everything you can think of. he snaps his fingers and whatever he desires changes to his will.

so, me and s have tea parties at my place every week on wednesday, where we just talk about anything and everything. for next weeks' wednesday he suggested having a picnic instead of sitting at home. i agreed because why not? it sounds fun!

a little context and more backstory?;

s is immortal and is 1000++ years old, so he never runs out of stories to tell, and he's SOOOO funny. listening to his stories is just as fun as experiencing them (not like i would know but you get what i'm trying to say ^^)

so anyway time skip, wednesday comes, i went ahead to get my tea set ready, went to the market and bought tea, baked some cookies, made sandwiches, brought my cats <3 and made sure everything was ready, all i had to do now is just walk to the place with my little kittys

it was a nice walk. i arrived at 3pm 'he had already set the place with a snap of his fingers.. ofc' and as soon as he saw me through his periphery vision he got up to greet me and take things from my hands.

after he was done setting up the place (again, by snapping his fingers) we sat down and he immediately went 'YOU WONT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED LAST WEEK' and started talking about everything, almost as if his mouth had been taped shut since last wednesday ^^

one conversation led to another; time passed by so fast i didn't even realize it was sunset until he pointed it out. i looked and immediately was in awe. the sunset was ethereal; it was almost as if angels let heaven out by accident. all colors were present in the sky, and they all blended into each other as some sort of symphony. no matter how much i try to describe it, i will fail. it's that beautiful, a sight no amount of words can do it justice. the only fair description i could give of it is the song 'it's been a long, long time' by harry james.

as we were staring into the sky, i sighed under my breath wishing this sunset could last forever. and apparently he had heard me. so he snapped his fingers quietly, literally pausing the sun from switching with the moon "just so i can enjoy the sunset for however long it took for me to realize what he's done, tell him to unpause, and let things go back to their natural order"

also one more thing about him, he's not the type of person to just make everybody's wishes come true if that makes sense? although he has the power to, he just doesn't. he has his reasons and everybody respects that (he also doesn't becuase he's a little evil but anywayyy!!)

funny enough, he literally makes all my wishes come true, anything, no matter how big or small, if i were to say 'i wish i could have a piece of the moon' he would literally shrink it, wrap it, and gift it to me. maybe even gift me the sun along because the moon wasn't good enough.

anyhow! for context, sunset is around 5 (i am assuming he paused it as soon as i said my wish, so at 5pm everything paused) and as i said we were having so much fun that time passed by without us even realizing (when i tell you those conversations were THAT fun)

a call on my phone interrupted our conversation, i went to look at my phone and i see a lot of messages, not to exaggerate but i saw messages from everyone and their ancestors, it was so scary because i thought i had done something wrong or forgot to do something and it was a mess in every way possible.

"ig everyone knew it had something to do with s? so they all thought of calling his best friend 'me' to get him to fix what he's done, but i didn't know any of that, my mind wandered to things that are completely different, so you can imagine how anxious i was x_x"

i was scrolling through messsages and thinking to myself 'dear god..' then i reached the missed call from one of my best friends. i inhaled whatever air was left in the atmosphere and called her back. (don't get me wrong, she's a sweetheart!! but when thing are chaotic she can be.. yeeeah)

tiny info about my girly;

she's responsible for the order of the sun and moon, and she was failing miserably to switch them, because surprise, s is the reason behind it all!!!

it was strange because she's really not the type to call, and if she were to call, then it has to be something SERIOUS. i picked up and instantly, she goes 'whatever s is doing, please tell him to get things back to normal, everyone is freaking out' in a sort of panicky voice, then hangs up.

i noticed the time and it's 7. 7pm. it should've been dark outside about 2hrs ago. i subconsciously turned my head around, just to look at him and ask what's going on, and without skipping a beat he went 'they're no fun 🙄' and snapped his fingers, the sky instantly turns pitch black, the only thing shining is a bunch of stars he shrunk and hung mid air ?/..;'.;.

anyway, our little party ended about 20 minutes later since my kittys got tired. he got (got meaning snapped) me back home, helped (helped also meaning snapped) tidy up then went on his way.

bro. when i tell you everyone was FURIOUS at him. he got so much shit from my best friends. ALSO he literally kept the whole thing a secret!! never told a soul that it was my quiet wish, he literally kept telling everybody 'i was cold' 😭!!!!

i couldn't even be mad at him. yes, he messed up everyone and put everything out of order for like 2hrs, but he did it for me, just because i said i liked the sunset. bro. KUHGYFKYCDKT.

ugh this one goes in my favorite memories ever, it meant everything to me and so much more.. i am cryiimmjhm :')

i apologize that my writing is messy; i didn't go back to reread anything!!

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - A John Shelby/Vampire OFC Story.

Well, guys. It's happening. Kinda happening. Testing the waters, yep. We'll go with that. I'm not convinced it's any good despite my best efforts, so I thought I'd see what you thought by sharing the prologue. Who knows? You might love it and then I could feel a little much-needed cheer when I'm going through a bit of a black spot at present, but if not then I know I have to go away and work harder on it. Either way, your feedback matters to me, and I thank in advance those kind enough to leave it.

The story will differ slightly from canon here and there, as you will notice, but not so much that's unrecognisable. Slightly AU, shall we say!

Here we go!

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 1,956

Warnings - Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

Prologue

He stumbled, muttering cusses that fluttered off to permeate the silence of the night, rooting his feet as he straightened, pulling his overcoat around himself more. The cobbles underfoot already twinkled with a smattering of frost, the air thick with winter mist and pungent coal smoke, John feeling his pale skin tremble. The bitter December cold greeted him with her usual sting upon that night.  

“Don’t get so pie-eyed that you don’t know what’s what, John. That goes for all of us.” 

John Shelby wasn’t always the most proficient at following orders, especially when a bad business day had led to his arrival at The Garrison, a decision to sink nine whiskies one after the other and six pints, thus leading to him sitting there sloshed and grinning.  

His troubles had been far behind him as he’d revelled in merriment, loudly championing to his cohorts exactly what he would like to do to Clara Bow, for instance, should he have the screen siren within his lustful clutches for long enough. He’d heeded Tommy’s advice to begin with, but on that day, the loss of over a grand thanks to a horse who should have lost, and a jockey with other ideas, his elder brother’s words of warning had fallen on deaf ears.  

“Fucking Rasmussen’s,” he muttered, sniffing as he at least attempted to walk up Watery Lane in a straight-ish line. “Bastards can fucking try and ‘ave me, but they won’t. Fucking Geordie cunts.”  

The Rasmussen’s, of the family Rasmussen, were a definite thorn in the side of anyone with the surname Shelby at that moment, the Newcastle criminal outfit currently making their presence known, and loudly. Barges that moved through the canal systems anywhere close to their areas within the north had been firebombed, their cargo sunk, Shelby bookmaking stands ransacked at the races, and threats to the family delivered with malicious intent; stay out of the north, or else.  

The Shelby’s were not the type to simply back off, though. They were the type to be on their guard against any reprisal attacks, vengeance against the kind of Shelby retribution the likes of which had - after quite the bloodied brawl - sent the Rasmussen’s scarpering from a race meet in Derby two weekend’s past.  

The family would not simply roll over and take the threat lying down, and neither would the Rasmussen’s. They were great in number, and where hand to hand strength lay, perhaps the most formidable in force that the Shelby’s had ever encountered. That strength did not seem normal, more deity gifted than naturally arising.  

They bred ‘em hard as nails in the north, apparently.  

As he staggered, lying down was exactly what John wished to be doing, once again standing to root his feet upon the slippery cobbles, looking up at a streetlamp which had begun to flicker slightly, the bulb then suddenly popping with an audible bang.  

First assuming a stray bullet had been responsible, it was just the sobering shock he needed to quickly take stock, his sky-blue eyes scanning the darkened street for any kind of movement through the thick fog, drawing himself up taller as his hand automatically hovered over the gun nestled within his ever-present holster. Bang, bang, bang, another three streetlamp bulbs all shattered, plunging the lane into darkness, John feeling the effects of the whiskey diminish as his senses prickled on high alert.  

He stood statuesque, his ears pricked, eyes still darting from left to right while his hand curled around the thick handle of the gun, primed, ready. They wouldn’t get the better of him, oh fuck no. He blinked, and a figure finally came into view a couple of hundred yards ahead, seemingly appearing from nowhere. He blinked again and saw that the woman dressed in white and stained with blood had moved again, John shaking his head in confusion.  

It must have been the drink. People did not move from one side of the street to the other at such a speed, seemingly vanishing and appearing once more within a blink.  

She appeared to be on high alert, John watching as she sniffed the air, a deep, foreboding rumble sounding through the night. He wondered whose dog was out at that hour, until it hit him; the growl was coming from her. It was a noise neither of human nor beast, an eerie, echoless reverberation, his heartbeat amping up a notch as he watched.  

Another blink and she was once again moved, a tearing sound filling the air, followed by a shrill cry, gurgling noises, spluttering. Looking to his right, he witnessed the woman dragging a man who had been concealed within the shadows out into the street, her mouth clamped upon his neck. John stood motionless, his eyes widening as he viewed the scene, a cold snap of horror shocking his bones as he witnessed her yank the man’s head clean from his neck with frighteningly swift finesse.  

His jaw began to tremor, his grip upon the gun in his hand tight as she walked to him, her fingers tangled in the black hair of the severed head she carried, a shock of crimson painting her chin and neck from where she had gorged upon the blood of the now lifeless, headless body slumped upon the cobbles.  

“Who the...” he began as she halted before him, changing track. “What the fuck are you?” 

Her lips curled into a smirk, holding the severed head aloft, blood and sinew dripping onto the ground below. “I am the one who saved you from Samuel Rasmussen. He waited for you.” Her head jerked back a fraction in the direction of the darkened lane. “Same as his three friends.”  

The silken purr of her voice was so alluring, it almost overrode the fact that John stood so terrified, he honestly did not know what on earth to say next. Had he truly seen what he saw? Was this merely a whiskey hazed dream? Surely, he was about to wake with a start, a thumping headache accompanying the morning that followed such peculiar dreams, for this couldn’t be real. 

Could it? 

Dropping the head to the floor, her hand reached for him, John’s shaking grip upon the gun solidifying as he thrust his arm forth, attempting to press the barrel to her skull. He found himself disarmed faster than he could comprehend, the Webley revolver landing with a clatter upon the ground.  

“Shhh,” she soothed, her enchanting eyes flitting over him, her long nails gently trailing his cheeks as she viewed him intently. “I mean you no harm.”  

Studying her up close properly, it was then that he noticed them, the two long, pointed teeth in place of where her canines should have sat, the smooth white smudged with red. His heart pounded like a war drum, his entire body feeling light. The lithe muscles of his form pinched tightly in fear, yet a juxtaposing sense of calm seemed to swirl through him at her softly delivered words. 

“You can trust me. I wish nothing more than to instil that within you.” What on earth was that accent? He couldn’t place it at all. 

How exactly, he could trust a woman who had just decapitated a man with her bare hands after drinking his blood, he didn’t know, but he felt on an instinctual level that he could. Unless it was the whiskey. Whiskey, of course, had the power to lie.  

The woman, though, seemed to be earnest in what she had told him, her nails stroking her cheeks as she studied him, her blue eyes flitting, taking him in. Oh, how she approved of what she gazed upon. He was magnificently handsome. Her nails stroked a hail of goose bumps over his alabaster skin, reaching his neck as she leaned forward, sniffing him. A contented sigh fluttered over her lips. 

“Your blood smells like earth and fire, honey and dark orchids.”  

What?  

He frowned, perplexed, opening his mouth to speak. No words came forth. He was so overcome by her that speech was beyond him. It felt like she was pouring soothing waves of calm into him, and little did he realise, but he was correct. Her kind could transmit energies to humans in order to placate their fears. 

Staring down at her, it struck him sharply, how much she didn’t quite look like she belonged there. Striking she was, with her milky skin that matched his own, her throat and chest covered in tattoos, symbols and swirls he didn’t recognise whatsoever. He knew tattooed ladies existed, but he was yet to witness one up until then, the dark-haired, blue-eyed woman smiling, her nails like sensual daggers upon his neck. 

She was unlike anyone else he’d ever encountered, a woman of distinct enigma.  

There was something about her that didn’t fit, decapitation and blood drinking aside. She looked as if she’d come from another time, a different age. This yanked at his interest almost as much as her allure, her pale skin seeming to glow beneath the light of the moon, now unincumbered by clouds as it shone its rays down upon them.  

“You are perhaps the most beautiful creature I have seen in a long, long time.”  

No, it was not he who uttered those words. It was the woman, her statement one of parting, John blinking and finding her vanished once more into the night. She’d left him breathless, with every hair on his body feeling like it was standing on end.  

Vampires tended to have that effect on the living. 

While the third youngest of the Shelby men made his way into their abode, the vampire moved at speed, perching herself atop the roof of one of the opposing back-to-back houses. The dark slate tingled against her bare feet, but being a creature of zero body heat unless she was sitting close to a source of warmth, it was of no bother to her.  

She sharpened her senses to the night, listening intently to every noise, every rustle. A bottle rolled over and tinkled over the cobbles a few streets away, a gentleman a few further on than that regurgitated the many beers he’d sunk in a nearby pub into the gutter, too, but other than that, all was quiet.  

Well, mostly all.  

Within the homestead she had been watching over, she heard the brand-new object of her desire being berated by the woman named Polly, as she’d gathered. Closing her eyes, she saw the one she knew to be named John there in her mind, a throb reverberating through her. Goodness, how handsome he was close up, perhaps the most divine man she’d encountered in a while.  

He carried himself with such pride and confidence, being a member of a notable criminal outfit, of course he would. A vampire of her age could tell so much more about a person, though, just by studying them, as she had with him and his family from the shadows. For all his acts of violence and authority, of which she had witnessed a couple, she sensed a man a little less ruthless than his elder brothers, with a heart a touch softer.  

It was the softness within him that pulled her in the most.  

She had gone there that night with the view of a single-minded agenda, only to encounter John Shelby up close for the first time and realise that her plight was perhaps not going to be quite as polarised as she’d first envisioned. Confident that the family were safe from any further acts of violent subterfuge, the vampire took one last look at the house.  

“Until next time, beautiful creature.”  

She was gone into the darkness within a blink.  

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

HELLO!!! i have a request for a platonic Crowley and Aziraphale x fem!reader with she/they pronouns 😄 if you know Nimona, then thats what i want the reader to be like. theyre a spunky, immortal, young teenager anarchist who can shapeshift and has unnaturally coloured eyes and hair. one day they find the two (husbands), and kinda just stays, so Crowley and Aziraphale accept their fate!! i dont mind if you decide to include a smudge of angst (or a shit ton whatever you prefer, but im impartial to both, so do with that what you will,) because after the newest season, i cant get enough of it.

many thanks!!

Oh! I haven't seen the movie but I know about Nimona!

......

You met Aziraphale and Crowley in 537 AD, encountering them by pure chance.

At first you intimidate them as a dragon, thinking they were two hapless knights who lost their way back to their kingdom..

Until you saw Crowley's snake eyes, and you realize he's not human at all.

"You there...I like your eyes.....are you another shapeshifter?"

"...um..nope." The demon in black armor looks incredibly confused, especially at this dragon talking to him. "Don't know what gave you that idea.."

"Well technically he is." The white knight adds on, smiling nervously. "You see, my erm..."rival" here is something of a serpent who was sent to-"

"Shut it, Angel. This beast doesn't need our lifestory! Now if you could kindly excuse us, o' great dragon, we have to discuss-"

"Hate to break it to you, but....I'm not actually a dragon."

"Then what are you exactly? You...said something about "shapeshifting" before, didn't you?"

To answer Crowley's question, you transform into a young human clad in knight armor, taking off your helmet to reveal your unnaturally-colored eyes and hair, smiling. "Bingo."

The pair are quite impressed, so they have no reason to hide the fact they were an angel and demon.

You explained how you've had these shapeshifting powers for a long time, being on the run since everyone thinks you're a "cursed child" or some monster that was once banished, wanting nothing more than to drive a sword through your heart.

When it's clear that neither Aziraphale nor Crowley have any intentions of hurting you....that's when you decided to stick with them.

It took them 20 years to realize you never aged, learning you're an immortal being in a teenager's body.

Your powers allow you to keep up with the times, disguising yourself as animals, people...or even angels and demons if your heart so desired.

Sometimes you'll turn into a snake much like Crowley's own snake form (although your scales have the color of your hair, ofc, so you're not 100% identical).

You haven't mastered turning just your head into a snake, however.

In the modern era, you enjoy being a nightingale after learning they were both fond of those birds, often singing in the bookshop out of boredom.

Although Crowley's fully aware you're not a demon, you got a spunky and rebellious personality and love getting up to mischief.

And he 100% encourages this (while poor Aziraphale's practically begging you to stay out of trouble).

But you're definitely on the angel's side anytime he compliments Crowley, who just snarls and denies ever doing something "nice" or "good".

You don't believe he's all that evil for even a moment.

While you're aware that they have to act like they despise each other bc they're on opposite sides...in your eyes, they behave so much like an old married human couple.

Aziraphale emphasizing "our car" when talking about the Bentley made you roll your eyes and joke about when the wedding's gonna start.

When Aziraphale returns to Heaven without Crowley, you realize that maybe your "marriage jokes" went a bit too far...even though neither of them blame you for their falling out.

Still, you feel bad bc you can tell Crowley was genuinely in love with him.

You overheard everything, and after his "no nightingales" remark, you're reluctant to shapeshift into one again out of fear of upsetting him.

Yet he asks you, too, as he couldn't bear the silence in the bookshop anymore...and listening to any of Aziraphale's music records would've been too painful for him.

You obliged, staying perched on his shoulder as he stared out the window for hours...hoping that his angel would come back to him.

You hoped so, too, waiting everyday by his side...until the end of time if you had to.

[inchidentally]

Write a list of all the landoscar concepts u want to read 👀

oh fuuuuuck anon

ok so bearing in mind I'm still way behind w fic reading so if these already exist pleeeaaaase link me up (and ofc if anyone writes these link me!!):

there's the vestal virgins thing I blurted out

vamposcar AU and this could go the way of it being more like a minor health condition that results in lots of daytime sleeping/sun sensitivity/needing blood during duress like races but Lando is ??? when he finds out, or full-blown immortal Oscar who keeps having to remember to act like a normal young man and not a highborn son from Renaissance Italy and Lando makes the realization during a stream when chat jokingly suggests Oscar's a vampire, basically I want lots of horny Lando and trying-to-hold-back-fangs-Oscar

EDIT: @nyoomfruits has this delicious and funny and beautiful vamposcar fic I’ve Tasted Blood (and I want more)!!

fae-but-doesn't-know-it Lando was actually found as a magic baby in part of an ancient forest near his family's Somerset home, nestled among bluebells when his brother wishes for a little brother - they raise him as normally as possible but have to hand-wave how often he gets hurt but heals super quickly and only Jon is informed for Lando's protection - Oscar being the first person outside the family circle to pay close enough attention to Lando and notice a few odd things: the strange light that seems to follow Lando wherever he goes even in the dark, the way the gold specks in his green eyes sometimes move around, the way certain metals make his skin rash up, how Lando isn't just a fussy eater he can somehow sense where food he hates is being stored even if it's out of sight, how he's wary of cats because they react strangely to him, and the way Oscar sometimes has to avoid looking directly in Lando's eyes because he's actually falling prey to Lando's instincts to trap and keep him. I'd love a scene where Oscar approaches Lando about it in private and does a little experiment he found on the internet where he intentionally hurts himself and Lando freaks while Oscar keeps telling him to "fix it, you know you can fix it" and hey presto! Lando has a lot of questions for his parent because he just healed Oscar with his hands and some weird glowing light came out?? EDIT: @lemonadedino has begun a fic for this!! and here's the finished fic!!

Lando who everyone assumes has been with guys but hasn't who then finds out that Oscar who has been with more guys than girls (Oscar having to talk Lando through a whole lot of realizing things)

Oscar adores casually sucking dick with no feelings attached and has blown just about every guy in racing that he could - except when he asks Lando he's unexpectedly excited and Lando is snorting a drink out of his nose in shock and oops has Feelings when Oscar gives him the best head of his life

Lando loves making straight men crazy for him and collects them like beaded bracelets but when it comes to Oscar he has an attack of guilt and can't work his usual wiles. Oscar assumes Lando is just especially not interested and ~miscommunication~ ensues

eternal-dork-complex Oscar has no interest in his own appearance and just kinda hopes the people he dates/sleeps with will be game but also lets a lot of hotties slip by because he doesn't bother - oops that's the case with Lando who Oscar assumed would be out of his league so he friendzones himself. Lando perceives this as Oscar somehow ?? not finding him smoking hot ?? what is wrong with this guy ?? but Oscar is also so incredibly kind and funny and attentive to Lando and his best teammate yet. he assumes it's that Oscar is just not interested bc it's not like being straight has stopped guys when it comes to Lando but ohhhh it hurts more and more that Oscar is the one to not be head over heels for him. lots of inside Lando's poor confused head POV and he ends up back in his apartment in Monaco all alone and wanting to cry every five minutes because Oscar just hugged him goodbye in Abu Dhabi and went off without a care in the world! texting miscommunication where Max F checks in worried and Lando spills it all out but through his blurry wet eyes he accidentally sends it to Oscar who had texted at the same time asking about the Autosport Awards videos they'd recorded. Lando falls asleep miserable and jetlagged and only wakes up hours later to the building's security guard pounding on the door saying that a Mr. Piastri has been asking to get in for the past hour but ofc Lando has missed all the texts and calls and intercom buzzes. Oscar is finally allowed in and he's frantic and rumpled with his little backpack and so adorably confused that Lando has to kiss him. LOTS of communication and feelings ensue etc.

ok that's all I could do for now but I'm gonna keep this to update anon, thank you for making me do this bc I had no idea I wanted all of this aslfjlashfljhf

[quitealotofsodapop]

Sorry MK XD Part 2:

(Link to Part 1)

Putting these two asks from @writingamongther0ses + @weaverpop (who asked Part 1) together for convenience:

It's not everyday that you learn that you're an asexually-reproducing eldritch stone monkey spirit and that you're in-fact Pregnant.

First person he tells immediately is Mei.

Not seeking advice, but comfort.

Mei has a moment of shock (her bestie is preggers), awe (she's gonna be an auntie!), and horror (it's a almost-always-fatal type of pregnancy). She hasn't any experience with this kind of dilemma. She does give MK a coarse glare when he (bashfully) explains how it likely happened - having a vacation holed away in a mountain cave isn't a bright idea when you're a stone monkey. She does give uber support for whatever MK decides to do with the pregnancy. Lots of crying hugs are shared.

However it's still S4...

When the rest of the gang are still busy being trained by Subodhi, MK is left alone for a bit to contemplate his situation - it's the first time he's had some time alone without Lao Tzu bothering him for medical testing.

Macaque appears asking whats up.

MK just starts bawling.

Macaque: "Whoa! Didn't think you were the crying type, kiddo." MK: "Monkey King is gone. The Jade Emperor is dead. I might be some sort of chaos entity. And I'm incubating an egg that will kill me. I'M ALLOWED TO CRY!" Macaque, shocked: "... can you repeat the last part again?"

Ofc much like Wukong, Macaque would 100% offer to get MK some "No-More-Baby Spring Water" from the Kingdom of Women - as he himself is aware of the extreme risks a stone egg carries. But the suggestion just makes MK cry even harder.

Cus MK *wants* this baby. It feels like something he has a true choice in. He didn't have an ideal start to life, and he wants to give his "Egg" a chance he didn't get to have, no matter the bad timing or risk.

Macaque insists MK reconsiders after the Brotherhood are dealt with.

Once they reunite with Wukong in the Memory Scroll, Wukong just *knows* something is off with MK. Gold-Vision clicks on and Wukong makes a startled gasp!

Wukong: "EGG."

Macaque, nods: "Egg."

Wukong: "Since when?"

MK: "Uh... a couple of weeks. Remember when I went on that break? I sorta... accidentally semi-buried myself in clay and paint for a week or something."

Wukong, pauses to think: "Idiot cub!"

(*Wukong pulls MK into a soft hug, and monkey-chirps that he's going to be ok. Worried tears stream down both of their faces*)

Once they get back to the crew and begin devising a plan to take down the Brotherhood, MK discovers somehting unfortunate from Nezha.

Nezha: "By the way Monkie Kid, I wish you good health." MK: "Huh??" Nezha, not reading the room: "Your condition. Lao Tzu was very excitable, even with the invasion from the Brotherhood putting a damper on things. No matter your choice, I wish you swift recovery." MK: "How many people know?!" Nezha: "Word spreads fast, practically all of the Celestial Realm knows at present. Gold Star of Venus was the first informed obviously. And of course Lao Tzu's assistant was made aware of your condition - how she's related to Jin and Yin I'll never know. And many of us in the barracks learned it from Lao Tzu himself talking in the halls." MK: "wut" (⊙_⊙) Pigsy, angry-worried: "...what condition are we talking about here!?"

MK gives an abridged version of whats going on with him to the gang, nearly giving dear Dadsy and Baba Tang heart attacks in the process.

Pigsy, fuming: "It's was that Red Prince punk wasn't it!?" MK: "Dadsy please calm down! I made it myself!"

Wukong and Macaque continue to offer the Spring Water so that MK doesn't have to go through with the process, but the monkey boy has made his decision on the matter clear. He wants his Egg. And if it comes down to him needing to weigh the price of immortality to survive and raise his kid, then he'll take it.

Now back to saving the world...

Azure Lion is ultimately defeated not just by the fury of a pregnant Shi Baomu, but by the worried protective power of multiple gods and immortals coming to MK's defence. Particularly with a giant Jade-Toothed Rake (Pigsy), the power of the Golden Cicada (Tang), the flames of a dragon and a god (Mei and Nezha), and the backup of the Queen Mother of the West herself - who pretty much rips Azure Lion in half with her bare claws in retribution for her felled mate.

Flower Fruit Mountain is still split in two. But it bursts back into life shortly thereafter.

The cosmos is still fractured, but the Queen Mother has taken her husband's burden in place of Nezha (he insisted but the Queen Mother dismissed him since he "was but a mere child").

The beach party occurs and the gang is still coming to terms with MK's condition.

Especially the Demon Bull Family. And especially if Red Son managed to dodge the Scroll in this timeline.

DBK: "When am I to expect my grandcalf?" Red Son: "FATHER!" MK: *shrugs noncommittally while eating an ice cream*

[lila-rose]

This story is dedicated to @sydnikov as part of the 2K24 Winter Fic Exchange. I apologize if it's not precisely what you wanted, Sydney. The story initially was much longer and had Jack getting injured and reconnecting with his ex-girlfriend. But I think I overdid myself and ran into some GI issues that may be exacerbated by stress. As a result, I was forced to cut things short. I also apologize if Jack or the Devils seem out of character. I had never written to them before, so I had to take a shot in the dark.

Pairing: Jack Hughes x OFC

Words: 11.5K

Additional Tags: @aqueersouthofthemasondixonline @kurlyteuvo @callsign-denmark @behoright @likegoinghome @wyattjohnston

"Looking at me. Naw, come get it. Like what you see then you have good vision. Boy, this beat was so different. Let me show you what you've been missing," Maisy sang to her reflection in the mirror, using her nude lipstick as a makeshift microphone.

K/DA's beat reverberated throughout the white tile bathroom from an iPhone speaker buried underneath the mountain of cosmetics spread across the marble countertop. Mascara and cleanser leaked out carelessly screwed tops, creating a disgusting mosaic that undoubtedly needed to be cleaned and disinfected at some point. But only two things mattered to Maisy then: perfecting her makeup and stopping the butterflies in her stomach. After Ahri, Akali, Evelynn, and Kai'Sa reached their chorus, she returned to reality and painted the deep beige tint over her lips.

Her phone vibrated with a notification somewhere underneath her morning routine disaster. Digging through, she saw a glimpse of her white and gold phone case, which suffered collateral damage from her blush.

"Aww, shit!" Maisy cursed, wiping off the powder with an old towel and hoping she wouldn't have to dig anything out of the tiniest crook and cranny. Once the phone was clean again, she swiped down on her notifications and realized she had a text message from her father.

Dad Sent at 8:15 am I can't believe you're starting your first day with the Devils. It seemed like only yesterday that I was taking you to your first game. Best of luck, Mae. I love you!

Tears threatened to spill over Maisy's cheeks and ruin her makeup as she reminisced about her first hockey match and the photographer who was kind enough to immortalize the day. As autumn arrived in Newark, a chill permeated the air, and the verdant foliage surrounding the Pearson family home had long since turned burgundy and orange. Maisy sat at the kitchen table, stuffing her face full of cucumbers and trying to unscramble words for her first-grade homework. Her mother, a beautiful woman with waist-length chestnut hair, stood and julienned vegetables over the kitchen sink. From the driveway, a pair of headlights from a black Honda shined through the kitchen window, causing Mrs. Pearson to lift her forest-green eyes from her work.

"It looks like Daddy's home," she said over her shoulder to Maisy, who paid her mother no mind.

Within minutes, a dark-haired man dressed in a stuffy gray suit and a Prudential Financial computer case over his shoulder entered the home. Before stepping into the kitchen, he placed his keys in a catch-all tray in the mudroom entrance and his black loafers into the shoe rack. "Hi, Girls!" he greeted.

Mr. Pearson shared a kiss with his wife before turning his attention to his daughter. "How was school, Mae-Mae?"

"It was fun. Did you know that the Pilgrims first sailed here on a ship?"

"I did. They came here on the Mayflower. Maybe we should start calling you Mayflower!" Mr. Pearson jokes, patting Maisy on her chestnut hair. "But I have something that you may like."

Maisy climbed out of her chair to face her father, who placed his work bag on the ground and began to search through the pockets. After a few moments, Mr. Pearson produced an official envelope from Prudential with his name on the front and handed it to his little girl with a soft smile. Maisy did her best to open the envelope with her tiny fingers and pulled out a pair of red and black tickets to see the New Jersey Devils in the company's private suite at their eponymous arena in the Central Ward.

"What do you think? Do you want to go?" Mr. Pearson asked.

Maisy clutched the tickets to her chest and spread her lips into a large grin. "Yes, please!"

"Alright. It's not for a couple of days. But I'll pick you up from school, and we'll have a blast," Mr. Pearson replied before heading up the stairs to change out of his work clothes.

Mr. Pearson graduated with his Bachelor's and professional degree from Rutgers University and chose to dedicate his Juris Doctorate to Prudential. Most days, he would look over corporate contracts and occasionally had to persuade his bosses that Karen did not have grounds for a lawsuit because Brenda in Customer Service refused to transfer a call to her supervisor. But working for an insurance giant that was successful enough to buy the naming rights to an NHL stadium had its perks. Mr. Pearson had a few decorations in his office to bring life to its dull corporate atmosphere, including a picture of his wife and daughter and some artwork Maisy brought home from school. But the most helpful thing hanging in the office, by far, was the Devils' schedule.

Being only a few minutes down the road from the Rutgers campus, the Prudential Center, named the Continental Airlines Arena at the time, provided quick and accessible entertainment for the college-age Mr. Pearson and his roommates. They could typically scrape a few dollars together and secure decent seats to watch the Devils, and the boys in red have been a staple in his life ever since. A large flat-screen TV hung in his office, where he could watch his games if he ever needed to bring work home or if he wanted to free up the television in the den for his wife and daughter.

Occasionally, little Maisy would turn the ornate, brass doorknob to the office and poke her little head in. If Mr. Pearson weren't busy, he would allow Maisy to sit on the small black leather couch and turn the screen so they could watch the game together. Maisy would fixate her light brown eyes on the TV and watch the players go up and down the ice. She tried her best to understand what was occurring on the ice; sometimes, she would have to stop and ask her father to clarify something, which he did in the simplest way possible. Regardless, she soon began to understand the game using cues on when her father would cheer and when her father would boo. Mr. Pearson would look back over his shoulder with a smile and a sparkle in his eye as he saw his daughter enjoying something that had brought him so much catharsis over the years. It soon became their father-daughter activity to sit in the home office and watch the Devils games whenever their schedules permitted.

On the game day, Maisy and Mrs. Pearson woke up early to select an outfit for the game. They settled on a beautiful little dress with a black top and red polka-a-dots, and a red bow fastened on Maisy's right hip held a piece of tulle fabric over her matching skirt. For her hair, Maisy requested to divide her locks into pigtails with red and black hair bobbles. And as for her shoes, she selected a pair of sparkly black Mary Janes.

Maisy was the talk of her class that day. Many of her classmates approached her and asked why she dressed up, to which Maisy proudly proclaimed that she and her father were planning to see a Devils game later that evening. A few peers groaned as the teacher instructed everyone to take their seats. Whatever the lesson was that day, Maisy couldn't tell you because the teacher's voice seemed to fade into the background as she eagerly awaited for the clock to strike three. She watched the thin, black, minute hand agonizingly tick away above the classroom door. Every once in a while, she would try to divert her attention to their colorful classroom or the worksheet her teacher handed out as the daily assignment to make the time go by faster, but her eyes always found a way back to the clock itself.

Eventually, her suffering subsided as the school bell, at long last, rang its jarring melody, causing the school children to break into an excited cacophony as they rushed into the halls. Maisy did her best to dodge her way past her classmates as she clutched her bag to her shoulders and ran out the door. Stepping out onto the cement stoa, she found her father standing before her, smiling and waving as promised.

Father and daughter had to make a stop home for Mr. Pearson to throw on his old Martin Brodeur jersey that he kept for an occasion like this and explain their plan for the evening to Mrs. Pearson. Once they settled everything, the twosome climbed back into the car for dinner.

They traveled to a charming little American-style dinner on Broad Street down the road from the stadium. It sat in a small brick building with a red awning out front with the name Broad Street Tavern written in bold, white letters. What the restaurant lacked in curbside appeal, it made up for in its interior design. Several patrons sat at the metal bar and the reclaimed wood tables, enjoying a hamburger or other American fare by a roaring fire.

A waitress approached Mr. Pearson and Maisy within minutes of entering and led them to their table with a pair of menus. Due to the special occasion, Mr. Pearson allowed Maisy to indulge, getting her whatever entree she wanted and some ice cream. He quizzed Maisy on her hockey knowledge while dipping his French fries into her hot fudge sundae. Maisy, at first, wrinkled her nose at her Dad's strange eating habits. However, after some coaxing, she finally acquiesced and dipped a French fry into her chocolate ice cream, discovering for the first time the delectable balance of sweet and salty that she still sometimes enjoys almost twenty years later.

After they had filled their bellies, Mr. Pearson and Maisy headed to the Prudential Center. They used the parking garage tucked away at the end of the arena where VIP ticket holders — or anyone willing to spend $40 to park their car — could spare themselves from a long walk in the chill New Jersey climate. Maisy grabbed her Dad's hand and followed him to a large entrance decorated with portraits of the Devils, where her Dad handed their distinctive tickets to the usher. The woman dressed in red and black looked at the tickets, smiled and nodded, and opened the doors for Maisy and her dad.

The two walked the glass walkway that led to the luxury suites, high above the regular ticket holders mulling about through the concourse, exploring and buying their stadium food for the game while they waited for the game to start. Maisy turned her head and stared at the sea of people down below and, for once, felt grateful that her father's profession prevented her from getting lost in that nightmare.

It only took a minute or two for Mr. Pearson to reach the private concourse reserved for the suites, and it was evident that anyone willing to shell out the cash for a bit more privacy would get what they paid for. A chef in a white coat sliced meat under a heat lamp while their colleagues ran behind them, putting ingredients on the grill or in the fryer and ensuring the grab-and-go counters were well stocked. Several pairs of tables and chairs sat in a semi-enclosed eating area and faced large screen TVs, allowing whoever was hungry to follow the action on the ice without missing anything. The floor also contained multiple comfy couches and armchairs interspersed with Devils memorabilia, stretching back to their run as the Kansas City Scouts in 1974.

Maisy's mouth fell open slightly as she looked around at the luxury the piazza offered. She was so surprised she couldn't hear her father calling her name.

"What do you think, Maisy?" Mr. Pearson asked, shaking his daughter’s hand to get her attention. "Do you like it?"

But a shocked Maisy could only nod, causing her father to let out an audible laugh.

"Well, we probably won't be able to sit here all the time. But if you ever want to go again, I could pull some strings. C'mon, let's go find our suite!" Mr. Pearson said as he escorted his daughter down the hall.

There was one other perk of being a Prudential employee: the CEO's suite. The company designed it when it first purchased the naming rights to the stadium in 2007. It wanted a place to impress some of its more affluent clients. But sometimes, they were generous enough to allow their workers to use the room for private parties or to take their daughter to their first hockey game. The space was about the size of a single-bedroom apartment and several rows of padded seats near a sliding glass window. In the back was a small dining area with a fridge and a countertop well-stocked with snacks, drinks, and anything the patrons needed.

But to six-year-old Maisy, it wouldn't matter if her father and his bosses treated her like the princess of the world. What mattered was that she could finally enjoy something that had brought her and her father together outside the four walls of the family's home office.

During the intermission, Mr. Pearson had brought Maisy down to the regular concourse to visit the Devils Den to pick something up for his daughter to commemorate her first NHL game. She selected a small red and black teddy bear, whom she promptly named NJ after the team's mascot. There was still some time left before the second period, and Mr. Pearson inquired from Maisy whether she wanted to stay on the regular concourse or go up to the private suite.

Maisy tilted her head and stared into the distance, weighing her two options. On the one hand, returning to the private suite would rescue her from dealing with the crowds of people wandering outside the store. But on the other hand, she never knew what she would find if she did explore.

After thinking, Maisy looked up at her Dad and excitedly announced, "Let's go explore!"

Mr. Pearson nodded and led his daughter back out and into the congregation of fans. The main concourse was not as nice as the private concourse. Maisy held tight onto her father's hand as endless lines of people seemed to pass, chatting about the first period. Others stood around with beers in their hands or waited in a long concession lines for the second period. Despite clinging to her Dad as close as possible, Maisy couldn't help but take in the sights and smells of a Devils game. She scanned the large murals covering the walls and turned her ears to pick up on what some of the grown-ups were saying about the game for posterity.

During their walk, the two encountered a pair of Devils staff holding cameras next to a backdrop.

"Daddy, let's take a picture for Mommy!" Maisy stated as she dragged her father over to the photo booth.

"Say cheese!" instructed the photographer once the two had selected a background for their snapshot.

Maisy couldn't have known then, but that game was pivotal in her life. Watching the match from the CEO's suite was such a magical experience that Maisy resolved to grow up and work for the Devils to help recreate the same happiness for the later generations of fans. She wanted to become precisely like that photographer who had helped her enshrine the start of her journey.

Returning to the present, Maisy shifted her gaze from the picture to her face in the mirror and smiled, reminiscing about all the hard work that went into bringing her to this moment —  her summer job at the Den, internships at the Newark Museum of Art, position on the Rutgers women's ice hockey team, and Bachelor's in Fine Arts. It led to this moment where Maisy would walk proudly into the Prudential, not as a fan but as an employee.

She stopped the playlist on her phone, which had long moved on to Fifth Harmony, and began addressing her bathroom calamity. Re-screwing the caps, Maisy collected everything and dumped it into an acrylic bin sitting on the free-standing bookshelf next to the counter before wiping down the countertop with some disinfectant. She took a step back to look over her work once everything was spotless and mentally scolded herself that, as a recent college graduate, she did not precisely have the money to risk losing her security deposit because she fixated on making herself look beautiful rather than taking care of her apartment.

Domiciled a block away from the Prudential Center, Maisy didn't have to go far to get to her new place of employment. She could see the arena from her apartment window. She spent many nights reading about daguerreotypes and the works of Adams and Cartier-Bresson for her courses, listening to the faint sound of the goal horn from the stadium and dreaming of the day she could proudly proclaim herself as one of their photographers. It would only take a few-minute walk and a couple of left turns to get to work, so Maisy looked over her outfit and belongings to ensure she had everything ready for her first day.

The clothes she selected for the day were a change from the skirts and sweaters she wore during her college days. When the call came in from the Director of Human Resources that Maisy had gotten the job, her best friends immediately took her over the river into New York City to buy her several outfits that would make her look more professional. She didn't exactly know what kind of work attire the Devils' creative teams wore, so she opted for an outfit that was both professional and casual by using a dark blue pants suit, a matching blue and off-white striped sweater, minimalist brown belt, and a pair of off-white slip-ons. Looking over herself in the bedroom, Maisy let out a relieved sigh upon seeing that her work outfit was devoid of makeup, strings, or tears.

"Lenses … check … Filters … check … Memory card … check … " she mumbled as she looked over all the slots in her camera bag. Everything seemed to be coming together, but not even that idea could assuage the butterflies flying around her stomach.

She checked her phone and realized it was finally time to face the fire. It was time to head over to the Prudential Center. "You have this, Mace. You already have the job, and the only way that you could fuck it up is if you take bad photographs. But you can't take bad photographs, can you? I mean, you could if you wanted to. But you don't because you went to Rutgers, one of the most prestigious schools in America, for your Bachelor's in Art."

Maisy continued her pep-talk as she fetched her black woolen overcoat from her hall closet and swung her work and camera bags over her back and shoulder. She stepped out in the hallway, locked her apartment with her keyfob, and pushed the down button on the elevator. Thankfully, since most people would be at work by 9:00 am, there wasn't anyone around to listen to Maisy’s endless monologue. The elevator arrived at the ninth floor with a ding and opened its doors, allowing Maisy to enter onto its tiled floor. She requested the lobby and gently began to rock on her toes as she watched the screen go from nine to eight to seven and so forth. Some of her wished the elevator would get stuck somewhere during the ride down and it would take the Newark Fire Department several hours to get her out. But alas, the lift did its job and brought Maisy to the lobby.

Maisy exited the elevator and readjusted her bags before heading towards the door. A young woman in an indigo suit, paying homage to the name of the apartment building, stood behind a dark gray modern desk, typing away at her computer.

"Have a good day, Maisy!" the front desk woman said with a wave. "Best of luck with the new job!"

A nervous Maisy gave her a friendly wave in return as she left the building. Buttoning up her coat, she took off down Broad Street, where the Devils' Creative Director promised he would be waiting to let her into the Staff entrance. She did her best to meander down the sidewalk, trying to slow her gait. However, as she neared the arena, she saw a glimpse of a tall, dark-haired gentleman wearing a pair of khaki dress pants and a black Devils pullover. He stood before a large black door with a matching metal marquee above that read STAFF in large, white letters. There was only one option for who this person could be: the Creative Director.

Maisy took one last deep breath and plastered a large smile, attempting to hide her anxiety as she approached the man. "Hi, Mr. Gambiano!"

"Please, call me Nick. You're part of the Creative team now, and we're nowhere near as fussy as the Front Office or Legal. We all operate on a first-name basis," the man responded.

"Right. I'm sorry, Nick. I'm ready for my first day of work."

"Sounds good. Come with me, and I'll introduce you to everyone!"

Nick produced a keycard from his pocket and swiped it on the scanner to keep the staff entrance locked away from unwanted visitors. The box beeped, turned its light green, and opened the door with a click, allowing Nick to pull.

"Ladies first!" he joked,  gesturing for Maisy to enter.

The entrance led into a bleak white stone hallway that desperately needed some decorations. Only an old, framed corkboard with various notices hanging from it decorated the walls. On either side, several large gray doors stood, leading to different offices. Nick gently bypassed Maisy and stopped at the door frame to her right, conversing with whoever was inside.

"Maisy, c'mere. I want to introduce you to our security team," he explained.

Maisy poked her head around the corner and looked into the office. To the security team's credit, they did their best to brighten up their austere surroundings with pictures and other posters. Two men sat in front of desks with multiple computer screens with security footage from several places in the building, from the entry gates to the concourse. A few others enjoyed a quick breakfast or coffee to begin their workday at the small kitchenette. Everyone lifted their gazes and greeted Maisy with a friendly smile, welcoming her to the Devils' crew and promising they would get her a security badge by the end of the day. In the meantime, she could use a guest keycard that would allow her to get into various other parts of the arena, such as the tunnel and the employee elevator.

One by one, Nick and Maisy visited each door in the hallway, meeting the departments that kept the Prudential Center up and running, such as the Facilities Management Team and Groundskeeping and Landscaping. Maisy's shoulders drooped, and her gaze softened with each pleasant face she met, discrediting her fears that morning and finally settling the butterflies in her stomach. Once the two greeted everyone correctly, Nick led Maisy to a massive red freight elevator at the end of the hall.

"This is the maintenance elevator," Nick explained as the cage doors opened, allowing himself and Maisy to enter. "I don't take it too much because you never know when someone needs to bring down a large delivery. There's another one up the stairs that's a bit nicer. But this one is closer, so I thought we could use it for convenience." He placed his keycard on another reader and pushed the button for the seventh floor.

Upon arrival, the two stepped into a large, colorful open area. There were no designated offices on this particular floor. Still, it was evident that the employees who worked there all had their areas, given the eccentric collection of mismatched furniture. Various people mulled about, checking the broadcast equipment, discussing the season's social media strategy, and designing their graphic design templates.

"This is the Broadcast Floor," explained Nick. "All of the team's creative and social media specialists work here — social media, graphic design, broadcast, radio, and photographers, like you, Maisy."

He wandered deeper into the floor, taking time to say hi to some of his colleagues, with Maisy in tow. Unlike the departments working in the basement, few paid Maisy any mind. Some would give her a quick smile or nod before returning to their work. Maisy allowed their quietness to roll off her shoulders because she knew how annoying it could be to arrange an artistic vision and have someone constantly interrupt you with trivial things. Eventually, Nick and Maisy arrived at a group of people moving various graphic elements into place to create distressed posters of the Devils.

Nick cleared his throat, capturing the team's attention. "Everyone, this is Maisy. She's the Junior Photographer for the season. I expect you all to make her feel welcome."

"It's nice to meet you, Maisy," a thin, gray-haired man with angular features said, standing up from where he was fiddling with his camera and filters. "My name is Thomas, and I'm the photography director for the team. I will be helping you get acclimated to the job. Why don't you sit while we wait for Human Resources?"

Maisy shook Thom's hand, taking the empty seat next to him. She watched as he popped out a memory card from his camera, entered it into one of the USB drives on a nearby computer, and pulled up a project the team had been working on. The piece featured a distressed photo of Nico, edited to look like he was gritty and exhausted, standing in a sea of water in a raging storm.

"Wow, that's pretty cool!" Maisy complimented.

"Thank you!" replied Thom. "The theme that we went with this season is resilience. The guys gave it their all during last season's Playoffs. As a result, we wanted to message the other teams that, come hell or high water, New Jersey will persevere.

Together, Maisy and Thom walked through the proper steps of helping the Graphic Design team make artwork for the club's social media teams, from tips and tricks for getting the best shots of the players in the Prudential Center to uploading those photos to the company computers. After some time, a stuffy woman dressed in a business outfit strode to the group.

"Are you Ms. Pearson?" the woman inquired from Maisy.

"Yes?"

"I'm from Human Resources. Follow me, and I'll help you complete your paperwork."

"Don't worry. HR is a lot scarier than it looks. Just don't do anything reckless," Thom muttered to Maisy.

Some other Graphic Design members overheard Thom’s instructions and giggled as Maisy grabbed a folder of essential documents from her tote. She slowly rose from her chair, trying to avoid eye contact with the HR lady, who glared at the laughing bunch from behind her wire-framed glasses with pursed lips. Maisy silently followed the woman toward the employee elevator that Nick referenced earlier. It wasn't much smaller than the freight elevator in the basement. But Maisy still found herself fidgeting and clearing her throat, doing whatever she could to alleviate the deathly silence that permeated the air between her and the HR person.

A few minutes later, the lift finally arrived a few floors below, and Maisy stepped onto carpet. A gray plaque on the far plaster wall offered directions to three separate offices: the Legal Department was to the right, the Front Office staff was straight ahead, and to the left was Human Resources. She followed the stuffy HR lady into her corresponding office, where multiple employees kept their noses in their work, not even giving her the time of day. Eventually, Maisy and the woman arrived at an average-looking conference room with a medium-sized circular table and multiple black leather swivel chairs arranged around it.

"Have a seat," the HR woman instructed, taking a seat and readjusting the glasses on her face.

Maisy followed her instructions and took the nearest chair. She opened her folder of essential documents, such as a copy of her social security card and passport, and folded her hands in her lap, not wanting to show any signs of trouble.

Despite her appearance, the HR lady was reticent but polite, walking Maisy through her W-4 and Payroll information and answering any questions Maisy may have about the job expectations and benefits. When the HR woman concluded everything, Maisy shook her hand and stepped back into the Human Resources offices. An analog clock on the wall read that it was half past ten, meaning the players should arrive shortly for practice. Wanting to make a good impression, Maisy returned to the Broadcast Floor and scooped up her camera backpack from the corner of Thom's desk, where she left it for safekeeping.

"Would it be alright if I head down to the tunnel?" Maisy inquired.

Thom lifted his head from the digital album of player portraits the team had taken several days earlier. "I don't see why not! All you have to do is hop back onto the elevator and push the R button for the rink."

Maisy nodded and threw her backpack onto her shoulders. Upon reaching the tunnel, the elevator doors opened to a long, intimidating hallway. It resembled the basement connected to the staff entrance with its white-stone walls, several stick racks, and equipment bins pushed to the side. Memories flooded Maisy's mind as she recalled the few times she got to greet the Devils as they walked down onto the ice. They were once her idols and played a critical part in how she shaped the early years of her adult life. But now, these same men were her co-workers, and this was her place of employment.

Several Bauer sticks stood in one of the racks, waiting for the team to arrive. Maisy bit her lip and looked in both directions but saw no one. It would hurt for her to have one little touch, would it? Just one touch?

"Hey, what do you think you're doing!?" a tenor voice exclaimed.

A red and black glove caught Maisy's wrist before she laid a finger on the twig and pulled it back. Her eye drifted upward to see his slightly tan, youthful features. His face had a stern expression, but his gray eyes did not show malice toward Maisy. Several strands of his shoulder-length hair poked out from his matching red helmet.

"I asked you a question," the young man said, lowering his voice. He moved his face closer until his pink lips were only a few inches from Maisy's.

Maisy's eyes grew wide as the tiniest wisp of his body spray flooded her senses. She wanted nothing more than to free her arm from the man's grasp and try to stop the blood flowing to her cheeks, but his hand remained firm on her forearm. "You … you're…" she stammered, trying to ignore the growing lump in her throat.

"Yes, I'm Jack Hughes, and you need to answer my question. Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"Maisy. Girl. Newest junior photographer for the New Jersey Devils."

"Do you have anything to back up your claim?"

Jack let go of Maisy's wrist to allow her to reach for any proof. She gently removed the black security lanyard from around her neck and handed it to him.

He flipped the card back and forth, scanning the plastic piece for spelling errors or other inconsistencies. "This is pretty good. You girls are getting good at replicating these things," Jack finally said.

"It's not fake, jackass. I got it from the Security te一"

"Ms. Pearson?"

Maisy and Jack turned their attention to the source of the new voice, one of the security guards. He looked between the two before clearing his throat and continuing, "I wanted to come and bring you your official security badge. Nick said that you would be down here."

"Yes, of course. Thank you so much for bringing it all this way," Maisy replied, turning and smirking at Jack. She yanked the guest keycard out of his hand without resistance and returned it to the guard. "I greatly appreciate it!"

"So … you do work here?" Jack asked Maisy, who exchanged a wave goodbye with the man.

"Yeah, that's what I just said about five minutes ago," stated Maisy.

An uncomfortable Jack shifted on his blades and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you or anything. We've had problems in the past of psycho fans making homemade security cards and using them to get into off-limit places like our locker room."

"Like the fabled underwear thief?"

"How did you know about that?"

"It was all over Devils Twitter a few years ago."

"That was one awkward meeting with the Front Office. But yeah, just like the girl who broke into our belongings and stole our underwear during games."

"I can't fault you for being suspicious. Even though it was impressive that the underwear thief managed to elude the Devils for several weeks, it wasn't fair that you had your privacy violated. Not everyone understands the boundary between fantasy and reality. I would've done the same thing if I saw some random girl I had never seen before wandering the tunnel."

"Thank you for understanding. Let's try starting over now. I'm Jack." He tucked one of his gloves under his arm to free a hand and extended it.

"Maisy!" she responded with a shake.

One by one, the Devils slowly wandered into the rink for practice. A few of them stopped upon entering the hallway to take notice of Maisy, exchanging gentle whispers amongst themselves as they observed how relaxed Jack looked while conversing with her. The elder Hughes was not known for idling when a big game was approaching. Though it was still the pre-season, the Devils needed to use this crucial time to perfect every little aspect of their play, mainly if they wanted to make it to late April. Their match against their rivals in Southern New Jersey, the Philadelphia Flyers, went splendidly, with the Devils winning against Philadelphia in a surprising 6-0 shutout. Everyone seemed eager to get their blades dirty after the team fought so hard to make it to the second round of the 2023 Playoffs but tragically lost to the Hurricanes in overtime. Their passing and puck handling were almost flawless, and the Flyers never seemed to be able to get comfortable anywhere on the ice.

But New Jersey had little time to celebrate because the league scheduled them to face their cross-river rivals, the New York Rangers, in a few days. During the 2022-23 season, the Devils kept the Rangers mostly at bay, finishing five points ahead of New York. The team also rallied to return from several multi-point losses during the postseason to close the series and move on to the next round. Undoubtedly, the Rangers would be just as eager to prove to the Devils and the rest of the league that they grew from their mistakes.

"I should get going," stated Jack, looking over his shoulder and realizing that Ruff and most coaches and players had arrived. "But it was nice to meet you, Maisy."

"Likewise," Maisy responded. "Best of luck with practice. I'll be sure to take some wonderful pictures for you."

Jack walked down to the end of the tunnel where Luke was waiting for him, while Maisy wandered in the other direction to the photographer’s hole. The Devils did not know who the Rangers would start in their goal. But because professional ice hockey also involved a few mind games, they practiced as if Laviolette would start Shesterkin by working in three groups to set Daws and Vanecek off-balance and try to get the puck into the net. Everyone lined up at middle ice with Jack and several forwards near the left wall, another line of forwards at center ice, and the defensemen waiting on the other side. At Ruff's whistle, two forwards and a defenseman would start skating down the ice as their teammates moved down the queue.

Jack glided down the line as his teammates ran through the drill. Each time he arrived at his new spot, his eyes would drift over to Maisy, who stood on the rink floor, talking to the photography director and taking snapshots of the team. Nico tried several times to start a conversation, but Jack responded with an affirmative grunt and forced his friend's voice to the back of his mind. He tried searching for a reason to explain why he felt so enamored with a woman he only met almost an hour earlier. Perhaps she wasn't like the other girls who flocked to him as a professional hockey player or that she stood up to him. Whatever the reason, he knew he didn’t want this to be the last time he saw her.

Suddenly, Jack felt the sting of Nico's stick blade against his calf. "Ow! What was that for?" he yelled, recoiling his leg.

"GO!" Nico shouted, pointing down the ice with his stick.

Jack followed the direction of the twig and realized that the second forward and his brother were already well into the offensive zone and prepared to take a shot on Daws. He skated as fast as he could to catch up with his teammates as Daws slid back and forth across his crease, attempting to anticipate where the puck would come from. In a moment of synchronicity, Jack, Luke, and the second forward realized that Daws failed to see Jack joining the action, giving them the opening they needed. Luke passed the puck to Jack, who tucked the puck into the back of the net under Daws' flank. As the attacking trio returned to their cheering lines, Daws fell on his side with his legs in the air. Players came and went until the coaches noticed a pattern of success with their current goaltender. At this point, Ruff blew his whistle for Vanecek to replace his partner. Vanecek took one last sip from his water bottle before placing his helmet on his head and giving a friendly blocker bump as he made his way to the pipes. Once Vanecek prepared himself and the coaches set up the puck back at center ice, Ruff blew his whistle again to complete the exercise a second time.

Like with Daws, the players went through their routine of trying to get the biscuit past their goalie, except this time, Jack was a bit more attentive to his place in line lest he wanted to face the wooden wrath of his captain again. Practice continued as planned until the team felt more prepared to face the Rangers, working on their shooting and defending against New York's robust checks. Eventually, practice slowed to a trickle until the players started mulling about and holding friendly competitions between themselves, such as seeing how many times they could bounce a puck on their sticks before it fell to the ice.

After noticing that his players were getting tired, Ruff blew one last whistle. "Alright, that's enough!" he called out. "Everyone, gather around!"

Jack, Nico, Luke, and several others skated over and took a knee before Ruff while the rest of the team remained standing. They listened intently as the head coach congratulated them on successful practice and reminded them that Rangers had everything to give when they met New Jersey in Newark for the first time since their elimination. A loss would not count against their record, but the Devils could still not afford to undo all their progress during the off-season and the first pre-season games. They needed to match the Rangers at every corner of the ice. But for now, the team deserved several days of rest to recuperate and reflect on the lessons they learned during today's practice to prepare themselves physically and mentally for their game in a few days.

Ruff dismissed the team, and Jack immediately rushed into the tunnel without a second thought. Perhaps it looked strange to his teammates, but he wanted to be the first in and out of the locker room to catch Maisy one last time before heading home. He flew into the room and immediately began to unlace his skates, stripping himself down to his jock before rushing into the showers with his post-practice clothes. Doing his best not to trip over the bathroom tile, he selected a few bare essentials 一 shampoo, soap, washcloth, and towel 一 set out by the Wellness Department before every practice and game. Jack didn't need to smell like he finished a cologne commercial, but he didn't want to make a second horrible impression by smelling sweat as he selected a shower stall and turned on the water.

The faint sound of conversation and the bathroom door opening and closing came through the shower's spray as Jack allowed the warm water to trickle down his chest and abs. A sigh escaped his lips, and his muscles slowly began to relax. If the Devils did lose to the Rangers, his body wouldn't soon forget the work ethic necessary to try and beat them. After some time, Jack grabbed the soap from the stall's built-in corner caddy and began to wash away any spec of dirt from his body. He gave his appendages a final glance, deeming himself presentable to Maisy, before turning off the shower and wiping himself down.

"You okay?" Luke inquired as his fully dressed brother returned to the dressing rooms.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because you've just been out of it since I saw you talking to that girl in the hallway."

Jack rolled his eyes and continued to dry his locks. Luke was the quietest of the Hughes children but also had the biggest heart and wouldn't hesitate to check up on his elder brothers if he thought something was wrong. "I'm fine, and her name is Maisy," he responded.

"Who, do tell, is this Maisy?" asked Nico from the other end of the row as he collected his stuff from his locker.

"She's the newest photographer for the team."

"Maybe you should ask her out. You seem to like her a lot," Luke suggested, putting on a pair of sweatpants.

"That's not a good idea!" Nico retorted.

"Why?"

Luke froze in place and looked between Jack and Nico with his downturned eyes, trying to decipher whatever silent message they exchanged. Jack widened his eyes and tilted his head, almost as if to tell Nico that he piqued Luke's interest, which meant that he had to tell Luke what happens when personnel get involved with the players.

Nico pursed his lips before turning to Luke and saying, "We generally try to avoid going out with the female employees because the organization can fire them for having romantic relationships with the team.”

"They were serious about that?" Luke murmured under his breath as he finished dressing.

"Yes, they were," responded Jack, tossing the used towel into a nearby laundry bin. "But don't worry, I wouldn't count saying hi to a girl five times before awkwardly shuffling off would constitute having a romantic relationship with someone."

"I still think you should get her number."

"Why?"

"I mean, if she could get The Big Deal to smile, she seems cool."

Jack shifted his gaze to Nico, looking for a final piece of advice from his captain.

"It's up to you. But if you do give her your number, I would suggest that you try to keep the relationship as professional as possible. You don't want to be that person who ruins a girl's career because you couldn't keep it in your pants."

Jack nodded as he threw his black duffel bag over his shoulders and exited the locker room. He watched as the equipment managers ran back and forth, putting back the pucks and the sticks from practice. But as far as Jack could tell, there didn't seem to be any sign of Maisy. Jack reassured himself that she had to be down there as he slowly wandered the hallway. There wouldn't be any reason she would have to return to work so soon. He poked his head in every corner, searching for any sign. However, as the minutes passed without success, Jack's expression started to sour, and a slight frown formed. If she wasn't in the tunnel, she could have return to the Broadcast Floor to learn how to touch up her photos. Jack could request access to the Broadcast Floor if he wanted to. The only problem was he would have to explain to Ruff why it was a good idea to allow the team's star player near their newest hire to give her his phone number.

As Jack tried to formulate a backup plan, a woman's laugh broke through his thoughts. He couldn't place a face to the giggle, but his heart already knew who it was: Maisy. Clearing his head, Jack rushed to the source of the voice and found Maisy conversing with the photography director over the pictures she had taken during the practice. Jack couldn't do anything in that moment lest Jack wanted to risk exposing his plan to the director, so he was content to watch for several moments. His frown transformed into a smile as he watched how her lightly freckled cheeks lifted every time she spread her lips to reveal her perfect, white teeth or how she sometimes lifted her manicured nails to her nose to stifle her laughter.

The photographer director left after a while, leaving Maisy alone. Jack immediately placed his back to a nearby wall and kept perfectly still to prevent the photographer director from noticing him as he passed. He relaxed his body once the photographer was safe and revealed himself from his hiding spot.

"Hey, Maisy!" he said, shoving his hand into his pocket, trying to act natural despite feeling his heart skip a beat or two.

"Hey, Jack! I saw you during practice. You looked good out there. Do you feel ready to face the Rangers?"

"Yeah, yeah … but, umm … I wanted to come and apologize again and see if I could get your number."

"My number?" Maisy asked as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Aren't most guys supposed to pull out some cheesy pick-up line like, 'Are you a camera? Every time I look at you, I smile.' I heard that one a lot while I was a student."

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm not that kind of guy," Jack reassured, keeping Nico's advice at the front of his mind. "Just like a pair of friends going to get lunch or something. That's not awkward, right?"

"I thought you hockey-types usually go after the long-legged, skinny, blonde model-type of girls."

"Some do, but not all. I prefer a girl more like you — a short and feisty one who looks, well, healthy."

Maisy smiled a bit before placing her camera bag on the floor and pulling out a pen and paper from a small side pocket. "I suppose we need to test your theory of not being like other guys."

"I should get going," she continued, handing Jack a neatly folded paper square. "There's still a few more things I need to learn before heading home. But if you ever get bored, hungry, or bored, text me, and maybe we could do something together."

Jack unfolded the paper and smiled at the pristine handwriting that wrote out Maisy's numbers. He could hear Nico's voice in his head, admonishing him for putting himself in a situation that would probably end up with either the Devils reprimanding Maisy, Jack, or both. But Jack's consciousness quickly shooed Nico away like an exasperated linesman trying to break up a scrum and didn't get paid enough. He knew that he needed to be careful moving forward. Still, he wanted to learn more about Maisy and perhaps himself, particularly if he had never felt this way about a girl. His gaze lifted once more to see the steel doors of the elevator closing on Maisy's visage as she waved to him.

"Win against the Rangers for me!"

A hockey photographer's life was unlike your typical 9-5. Many artists worked long nights, reviewing their photos and ensuring that everything looked right before submitting them to the team, league, or even Getty Images. Thankfully, Maisy would be able to make it home before the sunset. Thom, Nick, and the other members of the Creative Team wanted Maisy to stick around so that she could learn more about how the team would use her pictures to create art for the club. It was interesting, but Maisy couldn't wait to return to her cozy, warm apartment and change into something more comfortable.

She hung her keyfob on a mahogany key rack in the entryway and placed her bags near the little island in the kitchen before opening the small door protecting the closet in her one-bedroom apartment. There were clothes of various colors and textures sticking out from every angle in the little shoebox. The accommodations worked so well for Maisy while she was studying at university. Still, she was starting to get tired of the lack of space and decided to save up enough money to move out while she struggled to hold back the clothing avalanche that was threatening to spill over. Once Maisy felt the disaster subsided, she stepped back and looked at the mess for anything that looked clean and comfortable. Eventually, her eyes picked up a distressed band tee and pair of shorts. As Maisy finished putting on her shorts, her phone rang from the kitchen, catching her attention. A picture of her and her father standing in front of the wrought-iron Rutgers gate leading to the campus with her diploma popped up on the screen, causing Maisy to smile. Mr. Pearson had long since gone gray, and he was even considering retirement, but his eyes and smile still retained that same energy he had all those years ago.

"Hi, Daddy!" Maisy stated after a moment of reminiscing.

"Hi, Mace! Is this a good time to talk?"

"Yeah, I figured you would be calling. I just got home from the Prudential Center."

"Really, I never would have guessed! Anyway, how was your first day of work? Did you meet any cute hockey players?"

"DAD!"

Maisy and her parents talked well into the evening about everything, how she met some of the team, loved her new co-workers, and was happy to do something she loved. Once she had given her parents a play-by-play, her mother started a saga about how she ran into a book club member at the grocery store, which Maisy pushed to the back of her mind while searching her refrigerator for something quick she could make for dinner. As her mother babbled, Jack was the only thing she had on her mind. It felt like there was a massive debate going on inside her head. One side of her wanted to tell everyone that she had given her phone number to Jack Hughes, the Jack Hughes. Another part told her to keep things on the down low because it wasn't very professional for her to rush into a workplace situationship on her first day at her big-girl job. It didn't hurt that Jack Hughes had her phone number. All she needed to do is be careful when approaching this situation.

"Maisy, are you there?" her mother asked, interrupting Maisy's train of thought.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm probably just tired from a long day of work."

"Alright, then, we should probably let you go. But we want to see you the next time the Devils have the day off!"

"Sounds good. I'll call you when I have more information. Love you!"

"Love you, too! Have a good night!"

Maisy disconnected and breathed a sigh of relief that her mother didn't pry any further like a detective interrogating a homicide suspect. She wouldn't know what to say if anybody asked her about her feelings for Jack, so it is best to keep things quiet for now. After sifting through various bottles and containers of Tupperware, Maisy finally settled on a container of sesame chicken from yesterday that she should probably hurry up and get rid of. With a belly full of food and an episode of her favorite reality blaring on the TV, Jack had almost faded into the back of Maisy's mind until her phone vibrated with a text message.

Jack Sent at 9:30 pm Hi, Maisy. It's Jack. 🙂

Maisy glanced over the phone, thinking it was probably her parents or some promotional text message from a store that she had forgotten to opt out of. But when her brain registered what the message said and who the sender was, she immediately sprung from her stupor and into action. Jack Hughes was texting her, which meant that it was go time. A thousand thoughts danced around Maisy's head as she attempted to figure out how she was supposed to handle this situation. Eventually, she took a deep breath and typed a generic greeting back before shutting off her phone for the night.

She plugged her phone into the little floating shelf beside her and immediately climbed into bed. Starting your dream job and meeting one of your favorite players, who also turned out to be super cool and accepted your phone number, takes a lot out of a girl. And Maisy wanted nothing more than this day to end. But as she laid her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes, she couldn't help but wonder if she was doing the right thing.

The Rangers game eventually came around, and the Prudential Center filled up with equal parts Devils and Blueshirts fans. Being the only member of the photography team to appear in the public eye, Maisy decided to dress up a little bit with a powder blue blouse and a pair of matching nude pants and heels. She waved to the security guards, who stood outside the staff entrance in their neon yellow jackets, feeling very proud and sophisticated as she swiped her keycard to enter the building. Ordinarily, she would be standing in line with the other fans with her father's old Martin Brodeur jersey. But tonight was Maisy's night to shine, to show how hard she worked over the years to obtain this position.

Maisy journeyed up to the Broadcast Floor, where Nick, Thom, and everyone else were busy preparing for the game. She retrieved her setup from the equipment lockers, activated the appropriate settings, and returned to take pictures of the players entering the arena. Jack hadn't responded to her message from last night, so Maisy figured that he understood that she didn't want to rush into this relationship. However, that didn't stop her stomach from threatening to spill the contents of her lunch in the streets.

After moments, she noticed movement across the parking lot, where the players traditionally parked their cars. Her eyes adjusted a bit and discerned the slicked dark brown hair of Brendan Smith, poking out from the top of his BMW driver-side door. Maisy smiled as she recalled rumors she had seen online of the rosy-cheeked Brendan, one of the team's more organized and punctual guys. He smiled at her and greeted her with a raise of his coffee cup before heading inside the stadium with the help of the security team. One by one, the players began to trickle in after Brendan – Dougie, Jonas, Nico, the other Nico, and Vtek. However, there was no sign of Jack. Players generally had to be at the arena three or four hours ahead of game time to prepare for the match, and Jack was cutting it real close. Maisy entered a vicious cycle of checking the time and lifting her head again. His delay was not helping Maisy's already heightened anxiety as she debated what she should do about the situation. She had his phone number and could certainly text him.

Thankfully, there was no need for intervention as Jack and another player, whom Maisy identified as Luke upon closer inspection, came running up to the door. She took a snapshot and shouted, "You're late!"

"Blame Luke!" a breathless Jack called back as he gently shoved his brother into the hallway.

Maisy giggled as she took one last photo and followed the Hughes brothers into the stadium. All the players disappeared into their locker room to dress for warm-ups while Maisy went to the ground floor to take pictures of the fans in the stands. It wasn't much longer afterward that the Rangers and Devils emerged to warm up for the game, and a deluge of fans descended upon the glass to try and compete for either a stick or a puck. As Maisy stuck her lens through the hole in the glass, Jack skated up to her and placed his face right up to the lens, giving him a fishbowl appearance. She smirked, turning off the flash and taking the picture of Jack for posterity.

Jack skated away to join the other players in helping Vancek and Daws warm up and the goal. The Devils won 2-1, causing the Devils fans in the building to leap from their seats in celebration. They hugged and high-fived each other as the disgruntled Rangers fans gathered their things to head back over the river. Meanwhile, the elated Devils lept from their bench to give Daws his congratulatory head bumps and the Blueshirts filed silently back into their locker room.

The games came and went over the proceeding months. As planned, New Jersey returned with a vengeance from their elimination during last year's Playoffs. There were a few teams who had the Devils' number. But the boys in red did their best to hold on and secured the second spot in the Metropolitan Division. However, that wasn't the only big narrative that circled through Newark that fall. Despite their promise to remain just friends, Jack and Maisy slowly started to break their boundaries one by one. They didn't do it outright to avoid suspicion, but rumors about their respective departments were circulating. Their families, friends, and co-workers could see it in how they smiled at each other, or they always seemed to find time to talk

As everyone suspected, Maisy and Jack's relationship grew underneath the surface. Their first date was pretty simple because they didn't want anyone – or even themselves, for that matter – to know that they had feelings for each other. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Jack invited Maisy for a hike and picnic at the South Mountain Reservation in West Orange. Both of them rationalized that there was nothing wrong with them getting a little exercise, particularly considering that Jack is a professional athlete and food was necessary for the body to rebuild muscle after exercise. There was nothing romantic about Jack and Maisy sitting together, surrounded by the beautiful leaves, laughing and conversing away from the prying eyes of the fans and the Devils organization.

There was one problem, though. These casual dates, which were nothing more than two friends and co-workers hanging out, soon became a pattern. Jack and Maisy would lie awake at night, contemplating their mistakes and how they should proceed. One day, on a team break day, Maisy was lying on her sofa, listening to music and surfing social media, when a text came in from Jack.

Jack Sent at 1:05 pm I'm bored. Do you want to go out and do something?

Maisy smiled as she sat up and clicked the notification on the top of her phone. She asked what Jack wanted to do, and Jack said he wanted to go to the Newark Museum of Art. Maisy pursed her lips at this idea. It wasn't the fact that she didn't want to go to the Museum. She still had many friends from when she interned there during her college years and popped in occasionally to see them and what new exhibits the facility has. But Jack never showed an overt interest in art. He thought Maisy had incredible talent and sometimes asked her about different photography terminology. Besides, he seemed more than content hanging with his brother or playing video games — typical guy things. Maisy was still intrigued all the same.

Jack Sent at 1:05 pm I just thought it would be fun.

Maisy just shrugged her shoulders and found a cute outfit before heading out to the Museum as planned. She pulled into the small parking lot beside the old stone building and selected a spot next to Jack's dark gray Mercedes-Benz Sedan. Despite its mundane appearance, the Newark Museum of Art had a lot of space and held tons of exhibits. Maisy opened the door and approached the white desk in the middle of the foyer, where a man and woman sat behind a glass countertop.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Maisy!" the gentleman exclaimed, causing the woman to look up from whatever she was doing on her computer. "Have you come back to visit the little people?"

"You're never little to me," Maisy replied, pulling out a pamphlet from the plastic holder on the countertop and opening it. "I'm here to meet a friend. Are there any new exhibits that I should know about?"

"There is a new exhibit that documents art from various cultures in America during the 20th and 21st century that I think you may like," the woman said, standing up and pointing to the page Maisy had open in the pamphlet.

"Sounds cool! It was nice to see you guys again!" Maisy responded as he waved goodbye and headed to the large, colorful arches leading to the exhibits.

"Of course! Don't be shy and come see us again!" the man and woman replied as they returned to work.

Maisy stepped onto the modern exhibit floor and wandered through some individual pieces as she examined the map. A lot had changed since she was just a teenager, working there to help stage pieces, sell tickets, and direct to the people where the bathrooms were. However, there was one thing that stayed the same: its eccentricity. Public historians had one main job, and that was to make history more accessible to the public. The Museum's art director certainly had that covered by ensuring that every exhibit was fun, interactive, and different than the last. Some say that it is a bit tacky and prefer the more sophisticated stylings of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. But it worked for the everyday citizens of Newark, got more people in the building, and made the place feel a bit more homey.

Maisy had no idea where Jack was in this whimsical maze, but that gave her more reason to wander around and see the Museum. She took the advice of the guides sitting at the front desk and visited the exhibit on Modern American Art. It was a gorgeous exhibit that featured art from many of the country's minority populations, from Indigenous Art to the Harlem Renaissance. Maisy stopped and looked at each piece of art, admiring the mediums and use of color as she wandered the different halls. She had almost forgotten about Jack until she saw him staring at a statue of Aphrodite of Knidos in an ongoing exhibit about ancient art history. Jack had his face turned to the installment, but Maisy could tell he put more effort into his appearance today. It wasn't that Jack was unclean or anything. As someone who spent half of his week in his suit and another half under several layers of padding, Jack usually liked to dress down on his days off, typically wearing a basic T-shirt and jeans. However, today, Jack looked extremely dashing with his brown hair brushed back, matching black shirt and pants, and matching gray sweater.

Maisy joined Jack at his side. "It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

"Even though she's missing her head and limbs, you can still see there is beauty in how much care the sculptor put into the piece," Jack responded.

Afterward, there was an awkward science between the two, and a feeling of easiness settled into Maisy's stomach. There was a reason why a well-dressed Jack had brought her to a place that played such an essential part in Maisy's life for several years. The only problem was that Maisy did not know whether this was a good or bad sign.

"She kind of reminds me of you," Jack finally said.

"What do you mean?"

"Over the past few months, I have gotten to know Maisy, the photographer. But I haven't gotten to know the other sides of Maisy in the past few months. I'm pretty sure everyone has seen it, but I don't think we can remain friends — or at least not remain friends without acknowledging our underlying feelings."

Maisy shifted the strap on her purse and looked down at her ballet flats. This is the one thing she feared. She promised herself that she would never allow herself to land in this position when she accepted Jack's phone number. He was super sweet and did so much for her. He made her laugh, made it a point to talk to her every day after every game, and checked up on her whenever they had the day off. Maisy had written off the behavior as Jack just trying to be excellent. However, looking back on everything, she considered whether Jack developed feelings for her, she developed feelings for him or both. The problem was that if she indulged in these affections, she might lose the job she had worked so hard to obtain.

Was she ready to take this leap?

Jack's gray-colored eyes watched Maisy as she considered her options. "What are you thinking?"

"I think that's a lot to ask for. Surely, you know what happens to employees, particularly female employees, to get involved with players!" Maisy replied.

"Yeah, I have. And I'm not suggesting that you jump right into a relationship with me, but it would be a bad idea for us to let these feelings foster.

Maisy took a deep breath and asked, "What if I did take that chance?"

"Are you sure about that?" inquired Jack.

"Yes, I am definitely sure," Maisy finally confessed, letting go of her purse strap and relaxing her shoulders. "I have spent all of my life preparing for this job. Not once have I ever had time to think about the fact that this job is not guaranteed. And if I am ever going to let go of my fears of losing this job, I have to let go of my attachment to this job. And there's no one I would rather risk my job for than you, Mr. Hughes."

A large smile appeared on Jack's face as he grabbed Maisy's hand to bring her closer. Maisy could feel the calluses on his fingers, where he had spent so many days learning how to shoot pucks with his father and brothers on the homemade pond in their backyard. Yet, they were gentle and soft, reassuring Maisy that her decision would not go to waste. "Well, then, I think we should reintroduce ourselves," Jack joked. "My name is Jack Hughes, and I'm Maisy Pearson's boyfriend."

"It's nice to meet you, Jack Hughes. My name is Maisy Pearson, your girlfriend," Maisy replied with a giggle.

Without a moment's hesitation, Jack pulled Maisy in for a kiss. It all happened quickly, but it felt natural, like their bodies had been waiting for this moment for months. Maisy softly smiled, and her eyes fluttered shut as her mind began to process the sensation of Jack's lips being against hers. The kiss was warm and tender but delicate and tempting. It would be remiss of her to say that she didn't want more. She could see images of her and Jack sharing a passionate kiss several months later when their relationship was much more profound, and they weren't worried about any potential repercussions because of Maisy's job. For now, though, Jack's kiss was just enough to let Maisy know that there was something more that they could explore.

After a few moments, Jack broke off the kiss and offered Maisy his elbow. "Now that is settled, why don't you show me around the Museum? I hate to admit, but I kind of pulled that Aphrodite thing out of my ass."

"Oh, that's really nice to say to your new girlfriend!" quipped Maisy, giving Jack's shoulder a little slap as she linked her arm with Jack's.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Jack said. "Everything that I said was true. It was just a little hard to make up on the fly because I'm not good at this art thing at all."

"What color do yellow and blue make?"

"Uh, blue?"

"Look, you're learning!"

"Well, it's easy when you have such a smart and beautiful teacher!" Jack answered as he escorted Maisy deeper into the Museum and the great unknown.

[cookiesupplier]

A Friend Down In Hell - Part Twenty-Two END

pairing: Nick Folio x ofc (Ishtar)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, pining, idiot in love, language, drinking, mentions of violence, mentions of torture, mentions of religious mythology.

summary: Folio can't quite tell you how long he's been dead, but it doesn't matter when he has friends like his, and Ishtar. Ishtar, with whom he fell in love the moment he met her. The problem? She doesn't know it. How does he convince a demon, who is practically immortal, to date him when he's dead? How did Ellie do it so easily?

author’s note: Final Part for Folio & Ishtar.. but don't worry the Hell-Verse is not over yet, keep an eye out..

To read from the beginning: A Friend Down In Hell Masterlist

And for those that missed Noah & Ellie's Story previously, all Hell-Verse stories will be included here: Combined Hell-Verse Masterlist

tags: @spicywhenspeaking @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @lyschko666 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @sorrowsofsilence @collapsedglasshouses @vinyardmauro @dsireland86 @4rtificialfolio @emmmm127 @badomensls @agravemisstake @sunsshinesunny @blackveilomens @jilliemiw86

Tag lists are open, please let me know if you'd like to be added to this story, the Hell-Verse as a whole, or Everything

“Let's go, Sunshine, give them some time to think it over.”

Ishtar joined Nick as they left the bar to head back to her apartment. She’d teleported to the bar to get there, this morning, so it was no trouble at all to choose to go with him on his bike, or summon her helmet with a snap of her fingers. Neither was a bother, if anything she preferred it, spending time with him was always something she preferred. Yes, she’d sent him away last night, but everyone needed a bit of alone time when they were stressed now and then, even her. Now, now she was overjoyed, and she just knew she didn’t want to be apart from him. Knowing that he was willing to face a man that had just tried to stab him last night to defend her, ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, but, she just wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go.

Of course, as soon as they got to her apartment building, when they stepped into her apartment, the door closed behind them, Ishtar spun around on him and smacked her hand across his bicep. She used an open palm, right across his skin, a nice slap. Not as hard as she could, but none too lightly either, she wanted him to feel it a little bit, just a little anyway, not to much, just enough to know she was serious.

“Ow!”

So she did it again, and again.

“Ow, ow! Okay, okay, I get it!”

“Do you, Sunshine? Tony tried to stab you yesterday, and you just walked right into that office to confront them alone? You didn’t even tell me you were going!”

At the very least, he looked a tiny bit sheepish at that.

“You would have tried to stop me and told I didn’t need to go in, and I know you had it handled, but Ishtar, hear me out, I caused the problem, I wanted to at least try to fix it. To go and see your boss in person and tell him to his face just what kind of man that Tony is. In my experience, horrible people like Tony get away with the shit that they do, because they get away with so many little things, that when something big like yesterday happens, everyone goes.. Oh well, no one will punish him for it, so what’s the point?”

Nick expression was set into a fierce gaze, and Ishtar couldn’t help but wonder if her Sunshine hadn’t met men like Tony in his time in the living realm as well. Then again, he was a biker he worked in a bar just like she did, they got all kinds and that she knew well, who knows what kind of people might have crossed his path during his life. It was fair to say that he might have indeed come across others, just like Tony, that got away with all kinds of things because no one challenged them. Taking in a slow deep breath at his words, she sighed.

“Alright, I understand, but you understand mine, too, right? You could have taken Noah, Nicholas, or even Jolly, anyone would have been better than no one, Nick!”

Her voice cracked a little at the end when she thought about what could have happened if Tony had attacked him again, and her boss had done nothing to stop it. He had been friends with Tony longer than she had worked there, longer than she’d been alive in this lifetime, who knows what could have gone down once he had arrived. Nick might not be able to die again, but it would not have been a fair fight, not when Tony had backup this time.

Folio wanted to continue to insist he would have been fine, he wanted to argue that he could handle Tony just like he had last night. He was a coward at worst, and a pansy that couldn’t throw a decent punch at best, but then when her voice did that thing, he swallowed it down. No, he wouldn’t argue. Taking in a deep breath instead, he reached for her, arms circling around her waist just as hers then wrapped around his shoulders, hugging him to her tightly, a soft sound escaping her throat.

“I’m sorry, Princess. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you so badly, I’ll remember to be more careful next time I have to deal with them, I swear. Always with you, always with backup. Never let myself get away with me.. You have my word.”

Not be stupid enough not to accept Jolly’s offer next time! That would be a good starting point at least.

“Oh, Sunshine, I don’t think there is going to be a next time.”

Pulling back from her to groan,

“You don’t seriously think they’ll still have the gall to fire you after that? Noah and Nicholas will rip into them when they find out what Tony did! Can they send him to punishment? Are there punishment realms for demons? Please tell me yes, please!”

“Hold on, Sunshine, hold on, that’s not what I mean. Hearing everything you said to Mario, and Tony in the office, about me, about what I have to put up with there, even if I don’t get fired, I don’t want to work there any more. I’m done. Working at the bar, I wanted to work my way up, and it's not worth debasing myself like that any more. They aren’t going to let me get anywhere, I need to make my own way. I’ve always wanted my own place, and it's about time. Maybe a little café.”

Folio lit up at the sound of it, Ishtar had talked about her dreams of owning her own little café one day more than once, and the thought sounded perfect for her. She was wonderful with people, and he loved her baking, how could he ever not support her in this?

“With breakfast wraps?”

Hearing her lyrical laugh when he asked her that. Of course, he was going to ask that, there was no way he was going to be going to the shop across the street when he was going to be going to Ishtar’s instead. Breakfast wraps or not. He would just get something else instead if she chose to make a different variety to keep up a fresh menu.

“Maybe, or maybe something better. I’m sure I could come up with my own version. I found a recipe for breakfast muffins, and I’ll throw in an apple crumble one on the house just for you, Sunshine.”

“As if you haven’t already gotten me sold, Princess.”

Cupping her face in his hands, he pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss, grinning all the while, over the moon right then. For a morning when he had been absolutely distraught with the disaster that the night before had been, he was overjoyed right then. Looking into her bright, sparkling eyes, the joy there, he just knew, Folio knew..

“Ishtar.. I want to bond, I want to bond with you. I love you more than anything. I want to share this life with you, and your next life, and the next.. Not to mention every life after. I want to wear your vines proudly on my skin for everyone to see.”

Hearing her giggle when he mentioned her vines, her lips pressed right back against his in response, he would take that as an agreement, an enthusiastic agreement! He knew it would be different for him, in a sense giving up reincarnation to stay with her, but any time he’d even thought about going back, the pros did not out weight the cons in his point of view. While he openly talked about having no interest, he was sure everyone considered it, at least sometimes, who didn’t wonder about the world of the living sometimes.

Ishtar preparing for their bonding didn’t take long at all. Some liked to make a ceremony of it, but Ishtar always considered it to be something that should be more personal, something that was very private. It was a bonding of the souls, it was a magical ritual that was about to voluntarily bind the very essence of what made them who they were together for the rest of eternity. Yes, she had been surprised when Nick had told her he had never wanted to get married, and yet had sort out the information on bonding with her so readily. Marriage was nothing but a signature on a piece of paper for her, a vow for humans she supposed, but bonding was a magical blood tie that lasted beyond death.

For her, she had always dreamed about whom she might one day want to bond with, but Ishtar never thought it would be like this, though, so intense, so quickly. Ishtar knew others that were involved for years before they even considered bonding, and here she was, only weeks with Nick. Weeks, well, weeks after five years.. But she knew. She knew the moment that Nick told her that he wanted to bond with her, warmth had swelled in her chest, that she’d made the right choice. She’d known the moment she’d mentioned it in the field, under the starts. The way he assured her he never wanted her to push her into human ways instead of demonic ones, how could she not want to wrap him up and keep him for her own? 

Some might say it was selfish in so many ways, that it was asking him to give up reincarnation. She didn’t see it that way. Nick would have to live with her dying and having to wait for her to come back to him every few hundred years, and if she had to do the same now and then? If he wanted to reincarnate and go back into the world, and she had to remind him of who she was when he came back to hell, she would, each and every time he wanted to go. She could only hope he’d still fall in love with her still, for while her soul would be bound to his, but his soul wouldn’t be bound to hers.

That didn’t deter her, he’d always be her Sunshine, no matter what.

It wasn’t even lunchtime when they were kneeling in the middle of the sitting room. Ishtar had cleared the furniture from around the space and laid down a sheet. She used charcoal to draw the binding symbols in a circle around the space on the sheet where they were now kneeling in the middle of. Nick was shirtless, while Ishtar wore one of her light sun dresses, so her arms were completely bare along with most of her shoulders. She had written the runes that she needed him to use onto a piece of paper, and where he was to place them, but the next step some found a bit squeamish. Thankfully, she full well knew that Nick would be able to handle the sight of blood.

Ishtar was careful was where she sliced their hands open, the worst mistake anyone made was cutting open their palm to affect their nerves. Not that either of them had to worry about not healing, or that their nerves would suffer permanent damage from the cuts. Just the same, the ritual spell required them both to bleed into the bowl between them, mixing their blood together. From here Ishtar painted a series of runes with her fingertips in a mixture of their blood, along Nick’s shoulder blades, and down his biceps and forearms, and he did the same to her. The runes on each of their bodies were different, one denoting that she was binding her soul to his, and he was the one being bound to. 

Once Nick was finished, Ishtar smiled softly to herself. He had insisted that she have a way to check to make sure that he got all the runes perfect, which was why they had a handheld mirror inside the circle. It had to be inside, they couldn’t leave the circle before the bonding was complete, or it would dissipate the runes, and they’d have to start again from scratch. She checked, and sure enough, thanks to her guidance, and his careful following of the guide drawing, he got them just right. 

Taking his hands in hers, she grasped them and began the final steps of the ritual. The demonic language of the spell flowed from her tongue seamlessly as she spoke the words to bind herself to him. To give her soul to him for the rest of her life, all of her lives, with every death and rebirth. Just as he would bare her soul mark from here on, he was in her heart always.

The moment the words ended, the runes seemed to melt into one long line on both of their skin and flowed into the air forming a scarlet ribbon made of their blood. It flowed through the air, and wound its way around their arms. One wrap around each arm, before tightening around their skin, as if to act as the very binding, before the blood ribbon fading and sank into their skin. This was their red string of fate, it was always going to be a part of them, and Ishtar would have it no other way.

“It’s done.”

Seeing Nick beaming back at her,

“It’s finished?”

Her eyes flickered down to the side of his neck slightly with a smile, “Have a look for yourself, Sunshine.” She held up the mirror for him to have a look at himself. Ishtar watched him as he held up the handheld mirror to see the mirror image of the vines that ran down the side of her neck down the bare side of his neck, the side that was previously unmarked. Seeing the way he practically radiated pure joy at that moment, sunshine, just as she always called him.

“It’s perfect. Now, every time I look in the mirror, I get to be reminded how lucky I am to be bonded to you, Princess.”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[endless-ineffabilities]

Hi, I was wondering if would you be able to do something where the reader is with Morpheus when he tells Nada he still loves her? Only if you’re comfortable with writing about Nada or just angst in general ofc

Only you can set alight the fire in me

pairing: Morpheus x reader

warnings: allusion to smut, angst

summary: Reader is the half human, half immortal (take your pick - goddess, angel, witch, etc.) soulmate of Morpheus. When they come across Nada in hell, Morpheus makes a confession that the Reader simply doesn't like, to say the least.

Main Library

When I found out that he came back, I was elated.

It had been nearly a century since I last saw my beloved Morpheus, who suffered captivity in the wretched hands of Roderick Burgess. I tried everything in my power to free him, but even I cannot stray from the rules of magic.

I was able to communicate with him several times, and each time I had strained my power completely, to the point where he discouraged me from attempting to do so.

I knew that I just had to wait. Somehow, someday, my love would come back to me.

And he did.

He came back different, broken. But in my arms, he was still the same. I could sense a rage had developed within him - against his captors, from finding out that most of his subjects had left, from losing Jessamy.

From being away from me. I could also see that he tried to temper it down, for my sake, simply being content with basking in the glow of our reunion.

"My love," he whispered, voice breaking. We held each other for the longest time, Lucienne having excused herself much earlier to give us some space. Whispering sweet nothings, and promises of devotion repressed through the years. Sitting there in his throne room, almost wrapped in each other's skin, I never wanted to let him go.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," he breathed against my skin, nose nuzzled in my neck.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. They did this to you."

"But all of that caused you pain. You have no idea how," he runs his fingers down my arm, "badly," his hand now gently moving up my knees to my thighs, "... I needed you."

"Morpheus," I whispered, voice getting caught in my throat, "welcome back."

His lips crash to mine, gentle yet demanding, and all else was forgotten.

--------

Of course, there was much work to be done. My love had been robbed of his tools during his time in captivity.

We ventured off to London to retrieve his sand from Johanna Constantine, whom I've grown quite fond of, due to her tireless wit and devil-may-care attitude. I made a note to catch up with her another time.

And now, where else would we be but in the cold, depths of hell -myself, Morpheus, and his new raven Matthew, determined to take back his helm from a demon. Being here feels excruciating, as if hell is pricking through my damn skin. The ceaseless tortured screams of the damned don't do much to help, either.

Morpheus firmly holds my hand, as we follow Squatterbloat through each cursed area of hell. I was distrustful of the demon immediately, knowing that their kind was prone to acts of deceipt and malevolence, no matter how mild-mannered they may show themselves to be in the moment.

We start to climb the cells of the damned, a sprawling block of dreary towers covered by a sky of smouldering fumes. We pass cell after cell, and I try to avert my eyes from every tormented soul, as I don't think I can bear it.

"Take heart, my love," Morpheus squeezes my hand, sensing my discomfort, "We'll be out of here soon."

"I know," I try to focus on him, and nothing else, "Let's get your helm, and get out of this hellhole."

"I am grateful that you came with me. You give me all the strength that I need." He lifts my hand, and leaves a loving kiss.

"I would go anywhere with you, my love."

"Aww, you guys are so cute." Matthew intervenes, "It almost made me forget that we are literally in hell. Almost."

"Well, I nearly forgot that you were flapping about with us, Matthew. Almost." I turn to him playfully.

"Ha-ha," he responds dryly, "Leave it to you two to get all loved-up in hell, of all places."

Matthew and I had gotten into a routine of friendly banter, ever since Lucienne assigned him to be Morpheus' new raven. I appreciate the reprieve that it offers in this situation.

"Just walk on, you two," Morpheus says, feigning disinterest, but I could tell he was amused.

We walk on, and I dread the view that surrounds us, but I dread coming face-to-face with Lucifer even more.

I shuffle closer behind Morpheus, when a strained voice echoes from inside a cell.

"Kai-ckul?" A woman breathes heavily, peering through the jarred bars of her entrapment. "Dream Lord?"

Morpheus halts. He recognizes her voice.

"It is you." Her eyes well up in tears. I can't even imagine what she is going through.

"I greet you, Nada." Morpheus responds, his grip loosening on my hand.

So this is Nada. Morpheus had once revealed to me all of his past lovers. He said that he didn't want to hide anything from me, he wanted me to know what exactly being with him entails. All the good and the bad that came with it.

"But now, there is only you. There will only ever be you, my love. If you'll have me," I remember that he had said to me then, eyes ablaze in passion.

I stay silent as they speak, even when Morpheus drops my hand entirely.

Then I hear her ask, "Do you not still love me?"

I feel myself tense at her question, and Matthew and I exchange a knowing look.

A moment passes, and I assume that he is simply choosing the right words to reject her, while still being considerate.

Until he responds, "It has been 10,000 years, Nada. Yes, I still love you."

Her face lights up in realization, and I try to steady myself, disappointed at what I just heard.

"But I have not yet forgiven you." he turns away from her, and starts walking.

"Come, my love. Come, Matthew." he calls out to us, gazing straight ahead.

"You," Nada's eyes find mine, "are with him?"

"Yes," I answer weakly. I don't wish my words to bring her any further pain.

"He loves me," she grips the bars of her cell, as if wanting to break them off, "He said so himself. One day, he will forgive me and we will be together once more."

"I'm sorry," I don't know what else to say, feeling empty inside from hearing Morpheus' confession.

I walk faster to catch up with Morpheus, with Matthew promptly following behind.

Morpheus reaches for my hand, but I pretend that I don't notice and say, "Let's go. I've just decided that I really hate this damn place." I walk past him.

"That's rough," Matthew quips beside me.

"Tell me about it."

--------

We succeeded, as I believed we would.

Triumphant, and helm in hand, Morpheus, Matthew and I made our way back into the Dreaming.

I had been so afraid for my love when he engaged the Ruler of Hell in combat, that I nearly forgot the exchange that he had with his former lover.

Nearly.

Upon returning, Lucienne greets us with a relieved smile. However, she looks as if she's thrown off by my expression.

"Is something wrong?" she asks me in concern.

Everyone looks at me expectedly, but I'm not really in the mood to share so I just shrug, "Not at all, I'm fine. I'll just head to my library."

Morpheus tries to catch my eye, but I am already heading off. He calls out to me, "I'll be with you shortly, my love."

I enter my library and feel a sense of calm wash over me. Morpheus had constructed this library just for me, and it contains only the books that I love, as well as the ones that I have yet to read but am bound to love afterward.

This room is but a single proof of his efforts to win me over, and that he did, but now I can't help but wonder if I am truly special, or if he had achieved similar feats for his past lovers too. Perhaps he had, and normally I would be fine with that, but then again, he said that he loves her. Does he still love all of them? If he does, then his love will never be just for me.

The door flies open, and he strides in, unbothered and unaware of my thoughts.

He sits next to me on this plush, dark gray loveseat, but I don't look at him.

"Something's wrong?" he asks slowly, "Something's bothering you, my love. Tell me."

"You love her."

"What?"

"You still love her. Nada." I turn to him so he fully see the extent of my emotions. Maybe I am overthinking things, but his declaration of love didn't sit well with me.

"I..." he seems at a loss, choosing his next words carefully, "I will always have a love for her, yes. But it's different with you, of course."

"How so?"

"What do you mean? You know how important you are to me. You are everything." he reaches for my hands, eyes imploring me to understand.

"Morpheus," I pull away, and pace the room, "what if I had encountered any of my exes - Aeneas, Gabriel..."

"Don't mention those names in front of me," he cuts me off, his voice darkening.

"What if I meet them, and tell them I still love them?" I press on, as he looks up at me, brows furrowed, "How would you feel then?"

"You wouldn't dare do that, my love," he stands, adding the term of endearment in a slightly menacing tone, far from the usual doting one.

"That's how I feel!" I raise my arms in exasperation, "I mean, do you still love all of them? Your past lovers?"

"It's not the same. I am an Endless. It's almost impossible for me to simply get rid of old ties. My love runs deep for whomever I devote myself to. With Nada, she's an extraordinary woman... but she's nothing compared to you."

I find it hard to wrap my head around it, and take a few deep breaths. If he thinks that flattery, and a couple of sweet lines will completely diffuse the situation, he is sorely mistaken.

"I'm sorry," he reaches out to me, and I let him wrap his arms around me tightly, "I'm sorry I said that, and that it upset you. I do have a kind of love for all my former lovers, but all that pales in comparison to my love for you."

"I don't know," I mutter against his chest, "what to think."

"Then don't." He leans down, and kisses me. I try to stay angry, but he kisses me harder, moaning low and deep against my lips, and I lose myself in him.

His hands run down my sides, settling on my waist, pushing my back down onto the loveseat.

He proceeds to kiss my neck, biting a trail along the way.

"No one else can kiss you like this," he rests his forehead against mine, and runs his fingers down my chest, "No one else can touch you like I do. You're mine."

I wrap my fingers around his wrist, halting his movements, "And you're mine. Don't ever tell a former lover that you love them ever again. Not like that. I understand the extent of your compassion for each one of them, but you wouldn't want me to do the same to mine."

He gazes at me for the longest time, before a soft smile emerges on his lips, "Understood. And I'm yours."

He kisses me again, and again, and again.

Endlessly.

The end.

first oneshot/request done! It's not as angsty as I intended but hopefully it's got enough 😂

Yes, I do take requests, for Morpheus, Corinthian, and potentially other characters in other fandoms too. Drop me a message!

And, Ineffable's next chapter will be out in a couple of days. Corinthian will be making an appearance - I simply couldn't resist.

[polutrope]

End of Year Fic Recs

Thanks @sallysavestheday for starting this template, and for the tag!

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

This was so hard. I need time for ten more rec lists because I read so much good stuff this year. If you are not on here but I commented on your fic this year, know that I sincerely wanted to put you on here. If you are not here and I didn't comment on your fic this year, please help me find it next year!!

Multi-Chapter/Other

Such a Marriage by DifferentSong (M, 29k, WiP). f!Maedhros/Maglor. Beautiful and unique treatment of these characters and relationship in the years after the second kinslaying. If you’re uncertain about this ship but curious, I highly recommend giving this story a try. 

Droit du Seigneur by destinedatoms (E, 6.4k, WiP). Various elven kings hook up with their mortal vassals. Each chapter is so funny and hot, and features povs from very underwritten female characters. 

Loyalty: A Tale in Three Voices (not rated, 10.1k, WiP) by @grey-gazania. Caranthir, Uldor, Easterling OFC. Compelling story, characters, and incredible worldbuilding following three unique POVs as an alliance is forged between the Easterlings and Feanorians. Great use of first-person. 

Price of Eternity (series) by Encairion (E, 1.83 million, WiP). The novels and stories in this series are not going to be for everyone. They tackle basically every difficult topic you can imagine. They include takes that would probably make some of my mutuals torch the swanships. But Encairion does it all so skillfully. She’s like an artist who has mastered the techniques (i.e., the canon) and then does something radically original that only works because she has that foundation down. Some of her characterisations rewired my brain. I’m still far from done reading the series, but it’s truly a monumental achievement and so worth diving into with an open mind.

Celegorm by @dawnfelagund (reference work). Dawn’s bio of Celegorm for the Silmarillion Writers’ Guild is meticulously researched and engagingly written. Definitely worth a read for any fans of the Fëanorians or just how Tolkien’s characters evolved over the course of the legendarium’s development.

One-shots

The dining room by @ettelene (T, 8.8k). Ettelene kills it with group scenes and dynamics and this riotous fic about a Feanorian family dinner at Formenos from Celebrimbor’s POV showcases it beautifully. 

Against His Wisdom by @melestasflight (M. 3.7k). Fingon/Fingolfin. A stunning, insightful look at the complexities of this relationship. Melesta handles the nature of the relationship so artfully. As always, their prose is so satisfyingly economical and impactful. I know the pairing may make some wary but I really encourage people to give it a try.

stardrop by @welcomingdisaster (T, 0.7k). Daeron/Maglor. I almost wept when I read this fic because it's so perfect. Lena somehow managed to get everything I love about this ship into 700 words. Doom, deceit, cultural misunderstandings, telling the narrative of your own life, immortality/mortality… if you want to know why I love Daemags, read this. 

As Little as Might be Thought by @imakemywings (T, 2.9k). “Kidnap fam”. Rocky is a master of the argument and this spat between Maedhros and Maglor over the peredhel’s upbringing showcases it. So much characterisation and complicated relationship dynamics packed into this short piece. 

Memories, Like Grains of Sand by @cuarthol (G, 1k). Elrond & Elros. cuarthol wrote some beautiful, complex works this year but this short piece stood out for me. The peredhel twins return to Balar and try to piece together their memories of Sirion. Showcases cuarthol’s talent for little moments of intimacy that will make you cry, not because they are particularly tragic (though they may be), but because they feel so real.

Oldies

Maglor and Daeron Sing the Blues by Voidflower (G, 5.6k). Maglor and Daeron meet in the Mississippi delta in the 1920s. I want to pour this fic in a crystal glass and sip on it on a rainy evening. Gorgeous prose and deeply satisfying character dynamics. 2018.

Dancing with my punchlines by LiveOakWithMoss (M, 321k). I know this Modern AU is fandom-famous already, but by god there’s a reason. I could not put these dramamonsters down. It was funny, it was touching, and it was spicy. I want to rip this fic open like a bag of chips and shovel it into my mouth in great handfuls. 2016. 

What We May Become by @naryaflame (M, 8.8k). Caranthir/Finrod. Narya’s prose is delectably crisp and sensuous and I just loved reading this well-constructed nonlinear story of a fascinating rarepair. 2020.

The Redemption of Daeron by Rhunedhel (T, 7.3k). Daeron/OFC. I actually just found this and have not actually finished it, but I’ve read the first two chapters and it’s such a beautiful alliterative verse poem (!!) and original story of Daeron among the Avari. 1997.

An Education by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor (M, 49.4k). visitor has some of the most scrumptious, clever prose and most memorable characterisations I have read in the fandom and this first installment of his Elrondverse covering the early years is bursting with peredhel coming-of-age delights. 2021.

Mine

Scorched (E, 4.9k). Elrond/Maedhros, Maedhros/Maglor, Elrond & Elros. A psychosexual unfamily drama on Amon Ereb. Really enjoyed the experience of letting this tale unravel as I dipped into the minds of all four characters. 

First Contact (T, 2.7k). Daeron/Maglor. Post-canon (they both sail). Daeron meets Fëanor. It’s a silly bit of sitcom, but also it’s about healing. 

Who By Fire (M, 4.9k). Amrod/Fingolfin. A deep dark dive into the psyches of two hurting men in the early days of Fingolfin in Beleriand. 

If You Are the Healer (E, 4.6k). Maedhros/Maglor. Liege/vassal dynamics and heaps of angst surrounding Maedhros’ decision to abdicate to Fingolfin. It’s fucked up, but they love each other. 

Everlasting Darkness (E, 10.2k). Earendil/Maedhros, Elwing/Maglor (also Elwing/Earendil, Maedhros/Maglor). Canon divergence shitshow where Maedhros and Maglor are released from their oath on condition that they serve Eärendil and Elwing. My first fic of 2023, and it set me careening off the rails. No regrets.

[Bonus fic under my pseud: Played (E, 12.1k) by disastrousexpense. Maedhros/Maglor, Fingon/Maedhros. Absolutely off-the-rails smut between two asshole brothers in Valinor. It was SO FUN to write.]

Tagging the people tagged already and @curufiin @elentarial @lightqueer @searchingforserendipity25 @ladysternchen @tethysresort if you'd like to share your recs!

[vynnytypesstuff]

Umm hello!! I hope you don't mind me requesting this, I saw your dating hcs for Sun and Macaque and I loved them! May I request some marriage hcs?? Like what would include being married to these mistical monkeys?? Please and thank you! ^^

꒰୨୧﹒Lego Monkie Kid - Marriage Hcs for Sun Wukong and Macaque 

I swear I'm not dead it's just been busy lmao

Ofc I don't mind!! Here you go <33

Warnings: None

Sun Wukong

• Dating him was one thing, but marriage? That's a whooole other ballgame. Definitely has its ups and downs and they are very prominent

• Not going to lie, you’re probably the one who proposes. Wukong is immortal, so the thought of proposing has never really crossed his mind (neither has marriage tbh). He doesn’t see the point in getting married since you two already act “married.” If you want to make it official, though, he’ll give in 

• He doesn't stress over taking you on extravagant dates or giving you expensive gifts when you're dating, and it's the same attitude when married. Hell, your wedding only consisted of family and a few close friends and there wasn't much planning involved 

• There’s not much discussion on the topic of moving in together, it kind of just happens on its own? When you were dating you’d always show up at each other’s homes (often unannounced on Wukong’s end) so there’s not really much to talk about since you're both already kind of used to staying in the same place together

• I hope you know how to cook because he sure can't! He travels a lot and ends up snacking on peaches and peach chips so he hasn't tried to learn. The most he can do in regards to "cooking" is brew you a cup of tea. Don't worry about preferences, at this point he'll eat anything as long as it tastes good.

• This man leaves his stuff all around the house. There's probably an extra room somewhere dedicated to some of the stuff he's hoarded over the years. Unless you want to spend days cleaning everything, make sure he picks up after himself

• One word. Commitment. We all know that Wukong can have some trouble when it comes to commitment Don't be surprised by his tendencies to run off on adventures while notifying you at the last second. You're going to need to call him out on his behavior because he most likely isn't aware that he may be hurting you 

• After you both start to get settled in the marriage, there are lots of traveling together, whether it be for business, adventures, or vacation. You've probably seen more little corners of the world now than before you were married

• Watching the sunrise together. I know, cheesy, but honestly, a relationship with Wukong is going to be a little cheesy sometimes. He loves watching the sunrise because it makes him feel at peace and boosts his mood (especially since the view from his home is incredible) and he wants to share that with you

• Personally, I think Wukong wouldn't mind trying to start a family, though he wouldn't be in any rush to do so. Don't get me wrong, he likes the thought of it, but even he's aware of how much knowledge he lacks when it comes to familial relationships

Liu'er Mihou/Macaque

• His anxiety really said [insert upwards trend chart emoji here]. He didn't think he'd ever get married to anyone (not that he isn't over the moon about it). He's both excited and anxious

• Like Wukong, Macaque prefers a smaller wedding with a shorter guest list, though he takes wedding planning a bit more seriously. Part of the reason for this is that he likes things organized. The other part is that he wants your wedding to be as memorable for both of you as possible

• Congrats, you've domesticated Macaque /hj. Seriously though, he finds himself spending more time at home with you. When he leaves the house, it's typically to do something absolutely necessary (ex. when the Lady Bone Demon needs him for something). He sees both home and you as an escape from his troubles

• There's this brief period after you get married when he won't stop doing nice things for you (making/buying you gifts, doing tasks for you, etc.). Of course, it's because he loves you, but it's also because part of him thinks that the marriage is too good to be true and that he needs to prove that he's worthy enough for it

• Splitting chores because he doesn't think it's fair for one person to take all the workload, nor does he see a point in doing so. You'll take on the bigger chores (such as cleaning out the house) together

• Has a huge rush of pride when he sees you wearing the ring on your finger. Sometimes his eyes will linger on it, though he'll immediately avert his gaze if you notice

• You thought he couldn't get any more protective when you started dating, but that was only scratching the surface of it. It's still not too overbearing but it's on thin ice. At this point, you've probably become best friends with the shadow clones he sends to look after you when he's gone

• Speaking of shadows, he teleports around the house a lot. For example, you'll be doing a mundane chore (let's say the dishes) and he'll just jump down from the ceiling out of nowhere

• There's this sort of unspoken rule between the two of you where neither of you can go to bed upset/angry at the other. What I mean by that is if there's an argument, you can't leave it unresolved. It helps encourage communication between you two

• Ngl,,, I think Macaque is a family man at heart. Is it something he's going to admit on his own? That's debatable. He thinks that if he ever has kids he'll end up scaring or hurting them. He'll open up to you about the idea eventually, he just needs time

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Earth & Fire

Chapter VIII - The awakening of earth and fire

02/20/2024

Pairing: Hades (Hozier) x Anthea (OFC)

Word Count: 8,664

Warnings: language, fluff, plotting and scheming, abduction, blood (ichor), violence, cruelty, attempted rape, memories of past sexy times, nudity, blackmail, angst, so much angst, and Zeus (the God of Red Flags needs a warning of his own)

Summary: When the King of the Gods at last finds a way to lure Anthea from the Underworld, nothing will ever be the same again. 

A/N: Nothing to say, just grateful you're still here.

Earth & Fire - Masterpost

Picture found on Pinterest

Divider by @firefly-graphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

His lover’s naked body gleamed enticingly in the golden hues of the fire light and he could not help himself from reaching out for the prominent curve at the far end of the young man’s back. He knew it would be silky as a freshly bloomed petal even before his fingers found the smooth skin. Hermes had never felt anything—or anyone—even remotely comparable to the touch of his beloved mortal, Krokos, and not a single day went by that he did not thank the Fates for the fortunate day their paths had crossed. 

The god basked in the pureness of this moment, free from prying eyes, free to give himself to his lover completely and shower him with all the affection he deserved. He was not usually this sappy, he could not afford to be since, even though he was a god, he was well aware that there were far more powerful amongst the Olympians, who would only be too happy to use his enamoured state against him. They were vultures, all of them. Well, maybe there were a few exceptions, but he surely was not one of them. And he chuckled as he recalled the moment he had done to poor Hades what Hermes himself so desperately tried to avoid by meeting his lover in secret. 

“Care to share your thoughts with me, my love? You know how dearly I like to laugh.”

Krokos’ words were muffled by the pillows, but he could not hide the drowsy slur they held. Hermes had tired him out thoroughly with their passionate lovemaking, a fact that sparked the sweetest of warmths to spread inside his chest. That alone would have been enough to sway him, but it was the anticipation of Krokos’ beautiful smile that ultimately set Hermes’ tongue loose.

“I just thought about Hades.”

“While caressing my behind? Is there any reason for me to be jealous?”

There was not. And Krokos knew that all too well. It was more than obvious that he was just teasing him as his mortal did not even stir underneath his lover’s tender caress.

“Krokos, please! He’s my uncle.”

“As if that were reason enough to stop you, or any of you immortal beings.”

He was right of course. Gods rarely cared about the degree of kinship when the heat of desire befell them, still Krokos’ remark earned him a pinch to his pliable flesh.

“And besides that,” Hermes went on pointedly, “he is still Hades, the most boring god the cosmos has ever had the audacity to create.”

“And yet the thought of him made you chuckle.”

“The thought of what I did to him today sure did.”

That statement finally made the young man sit up straight. “Oh?”

Hermes was silent for a moment as the full beauty of his love rendered him speechless. Those sparkly blue eyes never failed to pull him in, and he would have all too gladly let himself drown in them, but he was far more eager to see them burst with pride after hearing the story of his triumph over one of the great three. 

“You remember how I told you of the greatest weakness a god can suffer, don’t you, my sweet?”

Hermes cupped the young man’s cheek as he sank deeper into the two pools of blue.

“Love,” Krokos’ whispered as his eyes briefly fell to his immortal lover’s lips.

“Exactly! It makes us vulnerable, even more so if our beloved is a mortal, an easy target for the other gods.”

Krokos’ eyes went wide. “No! You’re not telling me that Hades, of all creatures, fell in love with a mortal?” He chuckled before his eyes suddenly softened. “But then again it is only logical for death to fall in love with life, isn’t it? And so poetic.”

“Hush, don’t spoil it now. I was so proud of myself for playing them both, but if you put it like that, I almost feel bad for meddling with them.”

“Ah, no, my love,” now it was Krokos who reached for his lover and cupped his face gently. “If their love is as true as ours, I am sure it can’t be meddled with, not even by a powerful being like you.”

“That remains to be seen,” Hermes grinned wickedly. “For Hades is not the only one of the great three whose heart this mortal has bewitched.” The warmth of Krokos’ hands fell away, his sparkling eyes suddenly clouding over.

“I hope you know what you are getting yourself into, Kharidôtês. To do your mischief at the expense of the God of the Dead is one thing, to offend Poseidon or—Fates forbid—your own father—”

“Is something not even the Messenger God would be dumb enough to risk,” a boisterous voice broke the strained silence. “Or would you, son? And don’t disappoint me now, it was me after all who made you the God of Wit, amongst many other things you owe to me.”

No, it could not be. He had been so careful in choosing this place, and yet despite all the precautionary measures he had taken, the figure that stepped out of the shadows left no room for the hope of illusion. It was him. Unmistakably. And he did not blame Krokos for clutching his arm before freezing in place beside him. 

The All-father was a fearsome sight to behold, and despite the calm facade he carried himself with, Hermes could feel his fury rage behind those azure eyes. Slowly he came closer and Hermes' own heart froze in his chest as he watched his father reach out for the defenceless youth.

“Aww, are you scared of me, puny mortal?” he scoffed before leaning in closer. “You very well should be. I could end you in an instant, you know. And I will not hesitate a single moment to do just that if my son won’t do exactly as I tell him.”

“I will, father,” Hermes was quick to comply. “Anything you ask of me, but please don’t—”

As long as he could remember, Zeus had never shown even the slightest bit of compassion. He did not know why he had hoped to find it in his father’s heart now. And the All-father’s haughty laughter seemed to prove once more that Hermes had been right not to expect anything different today. But at least he had let go of Krokos.

“Very well then,” Zeus did not waste another moment to state the true nature of his visit as he began to circle the bed. “First, I have a question for you, son, and I need you to answer me truthfully. As simple as that. Understood?”

“Yes, father.”

“So, I couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation and I fear it left me wondering who this mortal woman is that seems to have turned my broody brother’s head.”

Hermes had feared this day would come. He had feared it from the moment Hades had made him swear that oath, knowing that, faced with the impossible, it might very well cost him his life. And he had sworn it anyway in the face of being confined to the Underworld for an unforeseeable amount of time, separated from his lover. How ironic that it might very likely cost him far more than his freedom now.

“I…please, father,” he stammered, “you have to believe me! I would tell you if I could, but I can’t. I swore the divine oath.”

Hermes shifted on the bed, panic leading his body to move to keep his lover shielded from the All-father as best as he could. It would not make much of a difference, he thought as he awaited his father’s godly wrath. But to his great surprise, it never came. And when Zeus spoke again, his voice was completely levelled.

“I see. In that case, I suppose my brother made you swear not to tell anyone the mortal’s name.”

“Yes, he did. I am so sorry, father. Please…please…”

“Well,” Zeus continued, unmoved by his son’s desperate pleading, “did he also make you swear not to confirm should anyone—by pure chance—guess her name?”

It took Hermes a moment to realise what his father had just said, but his mind had understood already, a wave of relief washing over him instantly.

“He…he did not.”

“I thought so.” Zeus had stopped his pacing and was licking his lips in anticipation now. “And is that mortal woman’s name by any chance Anthea, daughter of Hephaestus?”

“It is.”

Hermes could see the spark of triumph igniting his father’s untameable desire anew. Nothing would stop him now, his prey finally within reach once more.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The Messenger God shook his head, his tongue suddenly too heavy to move as he realised his father was not done with him yet.

“Then there is only one more thing I need you to do for me.” 

Hermes swallowed thickly.

“Bring her to me.”

“But father, I…that’s impossible. Hades will rather kill me than let me take her from the Underworld.”

Without a single word, Zeus flicked his fingers and Hermes could feel the warmth of Krokos’ body vanish from his side. In horror he peered down at the spot where he had just been sitting, but instead of the sweet sight of his lover, all he found was a tiny, violet flower. It could not be. It could not. On their own, his fingers reached out, still hoping to feel warm flesh instead of silky petals, but then he hesitated, afraid to damage the delicate flower and cause even more harm than he already had with his unguarded tongue. At least his eyes showed some mercy as tears began to cloud the cruel sight in front of him.

“A mere insurance, you do understand, my dear Hermes, and some motivation for you as well. Bring me what I want and he’ll be back to normal before you can even blink.” Zeus voice had been unnaturally balmy, designed to lull him into a sense of false security, but now his tone changed, piercing him to the very core with its icy touch. “However, should you fail, I will crush him underneath my foot and take comfort in the thought that if I am denied what I desire most, so will you.”

The horror of the thought was enough to make Hermes scream as if Zeus had already made do on his words. “No! Noooooooooo!” 

But the All-father was gone, leaving his distraught son on his own. Still Hermes kept on wailing, even though there were no ears left to pick up the utter despair in his cries, no heart to be stirred by his woeful sounds but his own, not even a set of violet petals to shake in the air that left his lungs or tremble under the weight of the teardrops that fell from his eyes freely. It was only him now. Nothing less than a god, but also nothing more. Crumbling in the face of the impossible.

Darkness surrounded her. The eerie kind. The one that made the tiny hairs all over her body stand up straight. And the strange silence did not do anything to calm her growing sense of fear. 

A sudden noise made her turn around. And even though it seemed to come from far away, the metallic sound made her shiver. 

Anthea thought her mind was playing tricks on her when in the distance her eyes finally caught onto a dim sheen of light. But it was certainly there and the closer she came, the clearer it was to her that she was heading towards the dancing lights of a fire that fell through the entrance to a cave.

She was almost there, ready to face whatever was waiting for her, when a deep, familiar groan made her stop in her tracks. Ready to face whatever was waiting for her, but not this, please, not this. And as she finally stepped through the rounded hole in the stone, her eyes found him immediately.

He was chained to the wall across from her, the solid links leaving angry red marks all over his arms, legs and exposed chest. He was barely holding on to consciousness, his eyes already closed as he released another heavy breath. Besides the marks from the chain, he was covered in dark bruises and his face was drenched in the golden shimmer of fresh ichor. It still kept oozing from two deep cuts, one on his forehead, the other following the line of his cheekbone. She had never seen him like this and nothing could have prepared her for the dreadful sight, the panic that befell her and clutched her racing heart in an icy grip.

She wanted to run to him, free him from his shackles and take him home where she could tend to his wounds and see that he would find the rest he needed to recover. He would. She was sure of it. After all, he was a god and it would not take long until the ichor stopped flowing and his wounds would close. Soon there would not even be a single hint of them left, in fact, she was beginning to wonder why they had not already begun to heal. Unless…

“Anthea!” his blue eyes had opened and must have caught on to her sight. And the resignation she found there broke her heart all over again. 

“Father!” 

Her feet had started to run even before her mind had caught up with her actions and she crossed the distance in a heartbeat. 

“Father,” she whispered again as she sank down beside him, trembling hands cupping his cheeks. “What happened? Who did this to you?” 

She could see that he wanted to talk, but his tongue was too heavy to move. And so she got to work without an answer. Feverishly her fingers clawed at the heavy chains, using the full weight of her body as she tried to pull them out of their attachment to the wall. But however much she tried, they did not budge. With the realisation came the tears, making it even harder to focus on her task, still she was not ready to give up. She was groaning and grunting, pulling harder than she had ever pulled in her entire life, when the sudden touch of Hephaestus’ hand made her stop. 

It was gentle but firm, and when her eyes found his, even through the salty veil of her tears she could see what he wanted her to do. And with the last strength that remained in his body, he spoke only one word.

“Run!”

Anthea’s eyes flew open and she was surrounded by darkness once again. Surrounded by darkness and him. He was everywhere, his scent invading her nose, his steady breathing breaking the silence and his arm draped around her middle, securing her against his chest. And it was his very presence that brought her to her senses again.

It was just a dream, she reassured herself as she stirred in his embrace to turn around and face him. Sore limbs and the slight ache between her thighs reminded her of the night before and she dreaded the darkness even more for veiling his beloved features from her.

He had been so gentle, so soft spoken, whispering words of desire and affection to her all through their tender lovemaking. Anthea could not hide the placid smile from curving her lips as her hand found the softness of his bearded cheek. Careful fingertips began to trace the prominent line of his cheekbone as he pulled her closer. 

Even in his slumber he seemed to know exactly what she needed and so she stopped the exploration of his face and let her head sink against his fuzzy chest instead. His breaths came evenly, creating an enchanting rhythm as they mixed with the slow drum of his heartbeat. 

She felt safe here in his arms, a safety she had only ever known in one other place: her home. But that lay abandoned now at the foot of Mount Mosychlos, while her father was at some place only the Fates knew to lead Zeus astray. If only he was well, and her dream nothing more than just a nightmare, one of Morpheus’ cruel tricks. 

She could feel the panic begin to rise once more as the images resurfaced. What if he had found him? What if her dream had not simply been a nightmare but a vision? She had heard of that before, people seeing things in their sleep before they actually happened to them. What if Zeus—

Anthea jolted as a dull sound broke through the silence. It must have come from the balcony. On instinct she dove deeper into Aidon’s embrace. She would have to wake him because whatever it was that was moving about the balcony, it should not be here.

But then there was something else, a high pitched noise, like a bird’s chirp, and she suddenly knew what had landed right outside the room. Under any other circumstances, this could have waited until morning, but with the horrible images of her nightmare still fresh on her mind, she needed to know that he was safe. And so she wormed her way out of Aidon’s arms, careful not to wake him. She would be back in no time, calmed by the knowledge that her father was alive and well, ready to fall into blissful sleep once again. 

It was not easy to find her way around in the dark and unfamiliar room, and it felt like an eternity until she had finally managed to make out her peplos on the ground and was ready to follow the blue sheen of light that fell through the tiny slit between the door and the ground. 

Without the comfortable warmth of Aidon’s body next to her own, the air felt unusually cold as she stepped onto the balcony. Anthea needed to be quick. Find the mechanic messenger, read the news it brought from her father, and then hurry back to the source of heat she missed as dearly as if she had been separated from Aidon for days, not mere moments.

Step by step she moved forward, her eyes scanning the ground for the metallic sheen of the robin, but it was only when she had reached the doorway to her own bedroom that she finally made out the tiny bird—or what remained of it. Its formerly smooth and shiny wings were now crumbled and crushed, like the rest of its body. Trembling hands scooped it up from the ground as it tried to flap its broken wings. Once more it released that high-pitched noise she had heard before, a shrill tweet, and if she had not known better, she would have said it was in utter pain. Then it went limp and Anthea was left in the silence once more.

She did not even dare to allow herself the thought, and still she knew it was true. This could only mean one thing: her dream had been more than just a dream. A nightmare come true. And her father—

“I’m sorry.”

In an instant she stood, her eyes trying to blink through the tears, but when she finally spotted the dark figure leaned against the railing, she did not need to see clearly to identify the god.

“I should have known it is you. Is this your doing?”

Accusatory hands held out the crushed robin towards the intruder.

“No, it is not.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I am merely doing my job, Anthea. I am here to deliver a message.”

“A message? From my father?”

For a brief second a flicker of hope washed over her face, but it died away as quickly as it had come as Hermes shook his head in negation.

“I’m afraid not.”

He could see that her mind was still fighting the thought, but it did not take long before the former hope was replaced by realisation.

“No. No, this cannot be. I have been so careful,” she stammered as she had to lean against the palace wall for support.

“Not careful enough as it seems.”

A dark glare hit him. He had known it would come, and still it cut deep, allowing him a taste of the anger and despair she surely felt. He knew it all too well.

“Anyways, I am here to tell you that he wants to see you. And I was asked to make it abundantly clear to you that, should you refuse, your father’s death will be on your hands.”

Hermes could almost hear the thoughts racing behind her turmoiled eyes, and then it came, the reaction he had been waiting for. It was almost imperceptible, the slightest turn of her head in the direction of her sleeping lover.

“Oh, I wouldn’t even think about it. You’re on your own this time. No sweet Aidon to protect you. Or the deal is off.”

She glared at him again.

“What? Don’t kill the messenger!”

“Ah, shut up, Hermes, you little fuck. Everything that comes out of that mouth of yours is nothing but a lie. You are far more than the messenger in this game. Or how would Zeus ever have found out about this?”

Once again she held out the damaged bird to him and even though Hermes did not rise to her provocation, his silence probably spoke louder to her than any answer could have.

“You know very well Hades made me swear that oath. I could not possibly have—”

“Do you take me for a fool? As if you of all gods would not have found a way around this oath.”

Why? Why was it always him who had to take the blame? Why did she not see that he was merely a pawn in this game, just as much as she was? 

“I am flattered, but I fear you take me for more than I am. And besides, what reason would I have to rat you out to the boss?”

She huffed. “I could think of a few. Do you want me to deliver them in chronological or alphabetical order?”

This was taking way too long. Any more of this agitated talk and Hades would surely wake and his whole plan would come to naught. He did not even want to think about what this would mean for poor Krokos. He needed to act quickly, force her to come with him if necessary. And so, in a gesture of utter despair, he closed the distance between them and grabbed her arm firmly. 

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she hissed and before he knew what was happening, she had shaken off his hand with ease. 

This…this was impossible. She was nothing but a mortal. How could she…? But Hermes was careful not to let his surprise show as in her rage she did not seem to notice what she had just done.

“You better cut out that bullshit and loose the attitude before meeting my father or you will regret it.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” she hissed.

“No, just a heads-up. And now let’s get moving. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“And I don’t like being raped. Tough luck for both of us it seems.”

Hermes seemed to be completely unimpressed by her words. And why would he be? She probably was not the first he had approached like this on behalf of his father. And like the others, he knew that she had no chice but to accept her fate and let him take her away. To believe she could somehow escape the All-father had been nothing but an illusion from the very beginning.

She just wished she could have said goodbye, not for her own sake, but for Aidon’s. Because even if she should find a way back to him, she would not be the same woman he had fallen in love with anymore.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Hermes move, and this time, she did not resist again as his fingers wrapped around her arm in a tight grip. He dragged her along a few steps before he pushed himself off the ground and even though she felt her feet loosing the ground too, it seemed as if part of her stayed behind to watch herself fly off to finally meet her fate.

Anthea had never felt time the way she did now. Not when she had passed these tunnels for the first time, after she had left the mortal realm behind to hide away in the Underworld, not even in the mere moments she had been alone with Zeus before her father had arrived to prevent the All-father from occupying her body. Because back then, she had still had hope.

After everything he had taken from her, her safety, her home, her freedom, at least hope had remained. But now even that was lost. Or maybe not all of it. If they could make it in time, if she would be complicit, there might still be hope for her father’s life.

“Can we not go any faster?”

“What now? Suddenly so eager to please the All-father?”

Anthea could not see his face in the pitch dark, and she did not need to. All it took was the malicious tone of his voice to picture the haughty smile on his lips.

“Oh, right. How could I ever believe that you of all gods would know what it feels like to have a loved one’s life threatened by Zeus?”

She had never anticipated her words might have any kind of effect on him, and it was more than possible that she was merely mistaken, but all of a sudden the whooshing noises of the passing rocks and cave walls seemed to speed up. It was not the first time that Anthea wondered how Hermes managed to glide through the gloomy caves this expertly, but just like before she would not find an answer to her question. She squinted, just to be sure, and soon the warming of the air around them confirmed what her eyes had not been able to tell without doubt: they were almost there.

Anthea had imagined this moment in her mind over and over again, up to a point that she had been convinced she could already feel the warming rays of the first sunlight on her face, but as they finally left the labyrinth to the Underworld now, she dreaded the golden light that hit her face. The rich crimson of the sky was much more to her liking. She had also anticipated Zeus to be waiting somewhere near by, eager to finally seize what he had been denied for weeks. And yet again, she was proven wrong as Hermes kept on travelling. Further and further he took her away, and when she turned around, the entrance to the cave was nowhere to be seen anymore. 

Instead, in front of them the faint shapes of a number of buildings slowly appeared in the morning mist. It was a large site, a sanctuary that held not only one but many temples, and also the destination of their journey as Hermes steps became continuously slower until their feet touched the ground in front of the largest temple in sight.

“Where are we?” Anthea demanded to know.

“Olympia.”

Of course. What other place would he choose to force himself upon her than the very symbol of his power? Every child knew that sacrifices to the gods were best made inside the very heart of their own place of worship. And so she did not even blink as Hermes allowed her no time to marvel at the impressive columns that lined the entrance to the temple and merely dragged her inside without ceremony.

The strong smell of frankincense pushed itself upon her and she could feel herself starting to get dizzy when her eyes fell upon the vast centrepiece of the sanctuary and washed away any other sensation from her system.

Anthea was sure she had never seen anything even remotely comparable to the ostentation right in front of her in her entire life. Its magnitude was ridiculous, despite the shocking resemblance to the original it indisputably held. She had heard of the statue before, everyone knew of it, and still she could not quite believe her eyes.

The body was built from the finest ivory and clad in a gilded robe that was splayed out across his lap and cascaded down the legs, leaving his chiseled chest on full display. They had crowned the King of the Gods with a wreath of olive sprays and made him take a seat on a beautifully ornamented throne. Anthea guessed he was almost ten times her size and if he were able to rise from his throne, his head would easily break through the roof and enable him to take a good look around. Around his feet, a massive pool collected the liquid—probably oil—that covered his whole body in an unearthly shine, his reflection doubling the effect of his divine height. 

In his right hand he held another deity which Anthea without difficulty identified as Nike, the Goddess of Victory, to symbolise his triumph in the Titanomachy and the beginning of his reign as the All-father. The meaty fingers of his left hand clutched a huge sceptre, topped off by an eagle which was flapping its massive wings. The sight caused a shiver to run down Anthea’s spine, so massive that she could feel small bumps begin to spread all over her skin.

“Do you like what you see?”

His voice was close and so heavily laced with arousal that Anthea’s heart stopped beating for a second. And when she spun around to face him, he was there, right in front of her, grinning down on her petrified form. For a moment, she could do nothing but glare at him with all her might, and still his eyes kept on shining with the full confidence of his victory. 

“I didn’t think you would have your henchman drag me here just to hear my expertise on your temple.”

As a god, and the king of his kind at that, Zeus was not used to anyone talking back at him, but it could not have been more obvious than in this very moment how much it vexed him to be denied his rightful reverence. And the punishment for that was always the same. It was just her luck she was no use to him dead and so he opted for grabbing her chin instead of her throat.

“Humor me.”

“Very well then. I think the likeness is quite true to the original. Whoever is responsible for this has done a fine job, especially the display of megalomania is excellent.”

A rush of satisfaction ran through her as Zeus could not hide the twitch in the corners of his, until now, unwavering grin. His grip on her also tightened just the tiniest bit, but apart from that he stayed excruciatingly calm, no fit of rage she had counted on.

“I see you have lost nothing of your belligerence,” he said calmly before he leaned in. His lips brushed along her cheek and ear in the process, and Anthea could not tell whether it was his scorching breath that crawled along her neck or the ferocious excitement in his voice that caused her to shudder as he whispered, “I can’t wait to see what it takes to drive the disobedience out of you.”

Sharp teeth dug into the soft flesh of her earlobe and Anthea could not suppress the whimper that forced its way out of her throat. It was followed by a guttural chuckle, a mere foretaste of what was yet to come, and still it made her stomach twist violently. It would not need his gloating and amusement upon her pain to make this the most harrowing experience of her life, and even though she knew hardly anything about the All-father, it was enough to predict that there was no need to hope for mercy once he would be alone with her.

And it seemed the King of the Gods could not wait to begin his ravage as he forced his attention away from his trophy to talk to the one who had lured her here. 

“I have to admit, you did well, son. I did not expect your return so soon. And successful at that.”

He did not wait for a reply before he reached inside his robes to pull a tiny flower to light. Anthea had never seen a plant like that before, she was sure she would have remembered those delicate, violet petals. But there had to be more to it if it was the reward Hermes was about to receive for delivering her to his father. And once again Anthea was proven right as Zeus placed it in his son’s hands with a rare display of carefulness. Hermes’ eyes flickered treacherously in the light of the young morning as he stared up at his father with such hope that it made Anthea’s heart clench for him. It did not take more than a flick of Zeus’ fingers to finally release him from his anguish and instead of the flower, the Messenger of the Gods held a young man in his arms. Immediately he clutched him to his chest, the tears he had fought so hard to push back now flowing freely.

“Krokos, my Krokos,” he sniffled as he pressed his face into the crook of the other man’s neck and as much as Anthea wanted to keep on hating him, she could not. 

“Leave now! I don’t have time for your sentimentalities.”

Zeus did not watch as the lovers did as he had ordered and hurried towards the columns that led them outside. But Anthea did, her eyes glued to Hermes and Krokos as they made their way towards safety. Oh, how she wished with all her might she could follow them, to run as far as her feet would carry her and find a way back into the Underworld, even if she had to give her life to be granted access. But the pity she found in Hermes gaze as he turned one last time before vanishing from view, reminded her more than sufficiently that the Fates had other plans with her. 

“Finally alone.” 

His teeth were bared in a grin so jubilant that it made her hand clench into a fist, ready to punch it out of his nauseating face should the opportunity present itself. But it did not. Instead she found herself dodging his advance as he reached out for her while taking a step forward. 

“Where is my father?” she snarled. There would be no reward without a bargain first.

“Your father?” Anthea had hoped that the change of topic might be just as effective as a punch to the face, but instead of wiping the haughty grin from his mug, her question only seemed to make it grow an impossible inch wider. “We both know the cripple you are talking about is not your father.”

“Hephaestus is my father in every way.” The father you should have been for him instead of getting rid of him by throwing a helpless baby off a fucking mountain, she wanted to add, but bit her tongue instead.

“In every way but one, you meant to say.”

“In every way that matters.” Her voice echoed from the high walls of the temple and Anthea used the short moment of silence that followed to make it abundantly clear that she had nothing more to say on that matter. “And now tell me where he is.”

Now it was Zeus’ turn to fall silent for a while and the longer it took him to answer her, the more she felt her heart sink. But it was only when the first grunt of amusement had wormed its way from his chest that she realised what was really going on. A trick, it had taken nothing more than a measly illusion to lure her from the one safe space in the whole cosmos, and she truly deserved the mocking fit of laughter he spat at her now. All their efforts in vain. The agony she could have prevented by simply giving herself to him on the day he had first demanded to have her. What a waste. 

“Did you really think you could run from me, kasalbas? You and your father, you must be rather delusional if you ever truly believed that you could hide yourself away from me in the Underworld forever. Or did you hope for my brother’s help? Is that why you became his whore?”

Aidon’s whore. The thought made her huff. If only the god in front of her knew that she would rather be nothing more but Aidon’s whore forever than be so much as looked upon by this…this creature.

“What is it you want, Zeus?” she hissed at him with all the venom she could muster. “Do you want me to submit to you? To surrender so you can finally do as you please? Feast your sick and twisted understanding of passion and desire on me? If it will free me of you, I will do as you wish.” She took a step closer, arms spread wide so he could help himself to what she had promised. “I will give myself to you. My body. Because that is all you can have. The rest of me will never belong to you and there is nothing you can do about it. Imprison my father? Kill him? Take everything I love from me? Do it. But know that it will only make me hate you more. I will never belong to someone who calls himself the Ruler of the Cosmos, the All-father and yet acts only to his own benefit. The god of moral conduct? Of law and order? Of justice? You’re a fraud Zeus. It couldn’t be any clearer, yet you expect my devoted worship. And you dare call me delusional.” 

“Enough!” 

He surged forward in pure rage, and Anthea did not know what had happened. All she felt was the violent ache in her back and head where they had hit the column behind her. And the vibration of his booming voice that still shook the building. The rest of the world had gone dark for a moment, tiny stars dancing before her eyes as the heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of her peplos. He would conquer her body now, the plundering and pillaging had already begun, one eager hand helping itself to her flesh while the other pinned her own hands in place above her head. He was more than ready, his arousal pressing into her stomach hard and heavy and everything that remained was the urgent wish that she had fallen unconscious the second her head had hit the column in his brutal attack.

“I’m going to make you mine now, Anthea,” he grunted before his tongue darted out to leave a sticky path all the way up her neck, “consent or not. You will be mine.”

He was still far gone when he first felt it. 

In the beginning there was only warmth. Slowly it invaded his peacefully slumbering form, gently caressing the surface before it sank deeper, and then deeper still, until it settled in his very core, the warmth now pumping through him with every steady beat of his heart. 

Next came the colours. Hues of gold and rust, dancing across closed lids, creating shapes and patterns that had been long forgotten. He had banned them from his memory, the images too painful to ever think of them again. Memories from a past life that he had left behind the moment he had become the God of the Underworld. 

It was strange, the time they had chosen to resurface, but not entirely implausible. With the first spark of light that had befallen his heart in centuries, it seemed only natural that more light wanted to follow, even if it was only a faint memory. 

“Anthea.”

Her name left his lips in a whisper, the hoarse tone of his voice not able to veil all the feelings that surged through him as the memories of last night came rushing back to him. The warmth within her touch. Her scent, floral and intoxicating, making him crave more—more of her kisses, her caress, her sweet song of desire that she had sang for him so ardently.

But it was more than passion that had bound them last night. What he felt for her, words could never do justice. He could hardly believe himself that feelings like these were meant for someone like him, a creature of darkness. And yet loving her was easy. Everything was easy with her by his side, it came naturally, like the first light of morning, soft and hazy, just to burst into all colours imaginable at once. It had altered him completely, had gifted him with a hope he had buried centuries ago, as if the sun was truly shining on him for the first time. 

Would it always be like this? Every new day beginning with the thought of her? 

Hades stretched his long, sleep-drugged form, yearning arms reaching out for his beloved mortal, but all they found were ruffled sheets, the other half of the bed cold and deserted. His lids flew open, just to close again as the golden sunlight burned brutally in a pair of eyes so inured to darkness.

What in the name of the Fates? He tried again, this time carefully squinting against the brightness. One hand lifted to protect him from the blinding light, he sat up. This was impossible. And still it was real. The God of the Underworld could not recall when he had last seen the golden disc rise from the ground, but it was a sight too imposing, too elemental to ever forget. But most importantly, it was a sight exclusive to the mortal realm, never to be enjoyed on the Underworld. In his bewildered state he took a quick look around. Relief washed over him for the tiniest moment when he immediately identified the familiar features of his bedroom, but it was easily drowned out by another heavy wave of unease. 

He was up in an instant, hurriedly wrapping his form in the chiton he found at his feet. He needed to see for himself, needed to make sure he was not just delusional, and still, what he found when he finally reached the railing of the balcony, made him question his sanity all over again.

Where he had expected to find the usual rocky wasteland of his realm, there were meadows, woodlands and golden streams everywhere. Beds of flowers grew wherever his eyes went, some already beginning to climb the palace walls, their bloom seeming even more colourful in front of the dark stone.

He could have stared and marvelled at this miracle for the rest of his life, but his ears had picked up the soft patter of bare feet on the marble ground. Anthea. It must be her. His heart beating heavily inside its cage, as if it was about to jump out from all the joy it felt, he turned and in an instant it fell silent.

“Minthe?”

“My lord.” The naiad bowed lowly, eyes respectfully cast to the ground.

“What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear last time we spoke.”

“You did, my lord. You told me not to set foot into the palace again as long as the mortal was still around, and I didn’t.” 

She lifted her head, a pair of watery blue eyes gazing up at him, and the hope he found there made his heart freeze in his chest.

“What do you mean?” he pressed out between gritted teeth and when her only answer was a wry smile, he could feel something snap inside of him. He moved quickly, leaving her no chance for retreat. Furious hands grabbed her in a tight hold, shaking the gleeful nymph until her eyes went wide and her insolent grin had faded from her lips. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!”

If she knew anything—or worse—if she had done anything to harm the woman he loved, not even the Fates would be able to help her. And Minthe knew, he could tell from the way she crumbled in his hands, from the way her eyes clouded over, the fire of hope they had held extinguished at once. She was just about to open her mouth and confess, when someone else beat her to it.

“My lord.”

He knew that voice. Dark and soothing. It made him want to set the nymph down, crawl back into his bed to forget about the all-consuming panic that had befallen his heart and sleep, just sleep.

“Hypnos, this is not a good time.”

Hades refused to face the intruder, instead he kept on glaring at the naiad, whose feet had slowly made contact with the ground again.

“I know, old friend. But you will want to hear this.”

The God of the Dead closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to calm himself down. There was no use in enraging the God of Sleep. He was too good a friend and ally, and still he needed him to understand that they would have to postpone their conversation. And so he turned to face the god. Covered as always in a grey cloak, it was hard to make out his face in the shadows of its hood. The only thing he could make out clearly was the pair of gleaming white eyes, and his matching hair that fell down his chest. The huge set of white wings that sprang from his back was crossed in front of him, an unusual sight, but Hades had no time to pay it any mind.

“Right now, all I want to know is that the woman I vowed to protect is safe.”

Hypnos sighed, and before he even opened his mouth to speak, Hades felt the last bit of hope dying inside him.

“I’m afraid she is not, my lord. Quite the opposite.” 

And with that he opened his wings to reveal another winged figure. He looked very much like his father, the only difference being, that his hair, eyes and wings were tinted in the darkest of black. Gloomy shadows engulfed him, floating around his body, veiling him and revealing his true nature all the same: Morpheus, God of Dreams and Nightmares.

“Tell him, son. Tell him what you did and hope that it won’t be too late.”

There was no time to lose. If it was true what Morpheus had so ruefully reported to him, it might as well be too late already. The thought almost too much to bare, his heart clenched violently and he had to pause his steps for a moment. Just long enough until he had mustered the strength to push it aside. But unfortunately it had provided her with the opportunity to catch up with him.

“Please, Aidon, I beg of you. Don’t risk your life! Not for her.”

He stopped in his tracks, white heat rushing through him as he turned to face her.

“Don’t you ever dare call me by that name again, Minthe, or I swear I will make do on my promise and turn you into a bloody plant. And just to be very clear about this, I will risk my life for whomever I please, without needing approval from you or anyone for that matter.”

He was about to turn again, mere steps away from the two things the needed before he could leave, when she grabbed his arm.

“But she does not love you,” Minthe almost screamed, yet under his fuming gaze her voice became nothing more than a feeble whisper, “not the way I do.” 

Hades huffed. This was ridiculous. They had already discussed this at length and now was not the time to—

“I love you, Hades, I do. I know everything about you, every little detail. I know that figs and goat cheese are your favourite food, and that darkness brings you unease. I know when you are upset, angry or happy from the way your eyes slightly change colour. I know that you sometimes sneak away to the Upperworld just to take a look at the moon, that you love the smell of soil freshly soaked with rain and the feel of Cerberus’ dark fur between your fingers. I know you, Hades. Every little thing about you.”

Minthe had fallen to her knees during her passionate speech, still holding onto him, and he could not help but see her as the dead weight she was to him in this very moment. But he knew that he was not being fair. Then again, neither was love, or life.

“It’s true. You know all these things about me, Minthe.” He found himself crouching down by her side, her chin held up by his fingers to make her face him. “But Anthea, she is the one I want to know all of these things about me. And everything else there is to know, even the darkest parts of my soul. She will know them one day, and if she still doesn’t run, then that, Minthe, that will be love.”

There was realisation in her eyes, and still, Minthe was not ready to admit her defeat. 

“How can you be so certain that she won’t runl!? How do you know she does not only see the God of the Underworld and the power he harvests? Even a lovelorn fool like you cannot deny that it is quite convenient in her situation to have a strong protector wrapped around her finger. Although this power of yours might still not be enough to defeat your brother and save her.”

Hades stood, a feeble smile on his face as he took a step back. “Maybe not. But I vowed to protect her and I intend to keep my word.”

“Even it will cost you your life?” Minthe spat, unable to hold back the tears that had threatened to fall this entire time. He knew that his honesty was cruel, but she needed to understand, once and for all, no matter how badly it hurt.

“Even it it would send me right to Tartarus for all eternity.” Minthe gasped. “I love her. There is nothing more to say on that matter.” 

He left her there, on the cold floor, silently weeping as he was finally able to grab what he had come here for. His fingers wrapping around the bident, the very symbol of his divine strength, he felt the power he wielded surge through him stronger than he usually did. He would need every last bit of it in the hours to come. But power alone would not suffice. He needed cunning as well, needed the element of surprise to stand even the slightest chance against his brother. And so he reached for the other item, a dark helmet, forged by the Uranian Cyclopses to help win the war against Kronos. Never had he believed he would ever need to use it against one of his siblings, one of the gods who had fought by his side, but times changed. And so, with a heavy sigh, Hades donned his helmet and disappeared from view. 

“Goodbye, Minthe,” he whispered, as the ether opened before him with a flick of his hand and the God of the Underworld let the waiting darkness swallow him once more.

taglist:

@ashesofblackroses

@lowkeysimpinloki

@appreciating-fanfics

@notmanagingmymischief

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

How's about follower kallamar with a squid reader that is the head doctor and a former follower of his

On the day of your indoctrination...an ugly plague was currently infesting he entire cult. It definitely wasn't the best first impression.

You saw so many sick followers shuffling around, trying not to throw up (although some failed miserably) as they went about their daily tasks.

Lamb excuses themselves to go yell at the healthy followers who didn't bother cleaning all the puke lying around, before sending the sick to their beds and shoving thermometers in their mouths.

And of course, an elder decides to die right next to the goddamn shrine...resulting in those still hanging around to vomit at the sight.

Once everything's slightly under control, Lamb rushes back to officially welcome you into the cult, but you're not impressed at all.

"You promised me sanctuary, Lamb. But all I see is illness and death here...was I right to trust you?"

"....you can blame your "bishop" for all of this......I promise this is a safe haven."

You give them the benefit of the doubt, considering they did save you from being sacrificed to Kallamar.

But when asked why his followers chose you, you explained that you're actually a doctor who treated a lot of sicknesses back in Anchordeep. Sore throats, stomach bugs, flu, pox, etc. You were seen as sort of a miracle worker.

Unfortunately Kallamar saw your skills as a threat to his power, insisting only he can perform "miracles" and decide who's worthy of healing...and his fanatics were inclined to agree.

Luckily, your new leader allowed you to take on that role once again without fear of persecution, and you got the plague under control practically overnight.

You've implemented a system where every follower got a regular checkup. Even if they looked or felt fine, it's better to be safe than sorry.

When Lamb started bartering with ???, they gifted you a gold immortality necklace to ensure you didn't die of old age (seriously, they needed your medical expertise).

You already had a skull necklace, but were grateful nevertheless.

Ironically, Kallamar became the most troubling patient when he arrived into the cult, getting sick right off the bat just from his spiraling anxiety.

He hid behind a tree upon seeing you.....and Lamb found him, literally having to drag him over to your medbay (now a small building instead of a single shrub hut) and order you to treat him.

Great Ones forbid he caused a plague as both bishop and follower. They weren't going to tolerate that.

Ofc, he was hesitant to say anything to you, but after quietly treating his stomach ache and changing his bandages...he breaks down sobbing on the cot, begging for forgiveness.

"I-I was wrong. You do..s-so much good work. You were thriving, performing all these miracles, and....a-and I tried to take that all away....why heal me?"

"Kallamar, I'm not holding that against you anymore." You reassure him. "You're free of the Blue Crown's influence. I know you didn't really want me dead, did you?"

"..n-no, my...followers suggested it. Cult morale was low a-after what happened to Leshy and Heket so...I had to do something!"

Whether that revelation made you feel better or worse, you find it in your heart to forgive him, never denying him treatment even if others in the cult disagree.

You wanted to help him. One squid healing another.

To this day, he still feels bad visiting your medbay, but with time he becomes more comfortable approaching you whenever he gets sick.

Soon enough you find out one of the primary causes of his stomach pains.

It's cauliflower stew (while there's a 5% chance of sickness for everyone else who consumes it, his is always at 100% for some reason).

As it turns out he, ironically, has a severe cauliflower intolerance.

Poor guy never knew that was a thing.

[deathbxnny]

Hi there! You asked some HSR angst, well here you go! can i request Jing Yuan and Blade x s/o who was the royal guard and prince/ss of Khaenri’ah.

More context on reader:

They were the second born child of Khaenri’ah’s Royal Family and part of the royal guards. So somehow during the Cataclysm the reader was transported to the HSR universe. They were VERY traumatized of just what happenend and had put up an upbeat and plucky personality as a coping mechanism for what happened. They traveled the universe for sometime before they met Jing Yuan/Blade and ofc learned of Aeons. They dont like the Aeons and any mention of them would get rid of their upbeat facade quickly. They associate the Aeons with the Archons that destroyed their nation, now they know they arent the gods that did it but they cant help it. Basically Dainsleif’s attitude to anthing archon related but much chiller? Bc again they’re not the same ones who destroyed their nation so their willing to give them a very small benefit of the doubt.

How would they react to their s/o revealing their past and immortality to them after they had snapped at someone for something (probably aeon related that hit a bit too to home?) and became distant towards everyone for while. They tearfully revealed their past and then later go on a rant about their hatred toward gods. Also how would their lover react hearing about the curse (The pureblood and the half blood/non blood khaeri’ahns) the people of Khaenri’ah received.

How would they react towards their s/o being suicidal because the erosion that the curse cause them to have is THAT bad they just wanted to die but cant bc they cant die from being murdered as they can self regenarate or from old age. (Think of the demons from kimetsu no yaiba, like when yushiro got his head decapitated, yeah im pretty sure their lover saw their head get regenerated like one time)

Hope you enjoy this angsty request and have a good day/night!

- Flower Anon 🌸

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A/N: I re-read this 5 times, but for some reason my brain refused to process any of it, so I hope this still turns out okay lmao... thank you for the request tho and sorry for the long wait.

Content: Angst, hurt/comfort, established relationships, some rough description of the Khaenri'ah curse thing, small mentions of reader being suicidal

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

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》Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan always silently questioned your past and often wondered why you were so secretive about it. However, he also respected your boundaries and therefore never pushed you for any answers, as he knew how sensitive some topics were. But when you one day just snapped at someone for the simple mention of the Aeons and God's, he started slowly piecing together your story on his own. It definitely also helped, that you eventually just spilled everything to him.

He was understanding and supportive, horrified to hear about the curse and it's consequences. He had heard of and seen many evil things, but this still shocked him. Especially after learning what the curse did to you as well. He was deeply upset when he heard about your want to die and despite understanding it, he still made sure you knew how important you were to him.

He tried making you see the bright side of it at least, as the curse gave him the opportunity to spend an endless lifetime with you at his side, something he deeply wished for. And he was glad, that he could, even with it being a horrible curse that allowed him to be.

-----♡

》Blade

Blade didn't really care about your past at first, as you never seemed to care about his. It was a mutual understanding between you two to just not mention it and try moving past it together, despite Blade's need for revenge. And at first, he was content with that, until he noticed your strong disdain for God's/Aeons. This confused him, as he didn't understand what it was that bothered you so much, until you eventually broke down and told him about it in a long rant.

He listened to you quietly, as you spoke about your people and their curse. About how you were sick of living and just wanted to finally rest. About how you were just really done with everything. And he understood you perfectly. He really did. Especially as he himself was cursed to immortality and wanted to die more than anything. The fact that you felt the same as him brought him more solace than anything in this world ever could.

But that's exactly why he also was so adamant on you continuing on even through your curse. After meeting you, he realised that immortality may not be as bad as he originally thought, especially when it's just spent with you. He'll help you get your revenge, as long as you promise to stay with him forever too.

-----♡

A/N: I'm genuinely praying this is even slightly coherent. Sorry for the wait Flower Anon and thank you again for the request!