#from duchess' desk

[plethomacademia]

when should I reveal to the people on ao3 that my main inspiration for my Durgetash drama is regency romance novels lmao

[yandere-writer-momo]

No one asked but I’ve decided to post one of my favorite original smut works!

Yandere Short Story: Insatiable

Yandere monster x Afab reader x Yandere ex fiancé

Minors DNI

8.4k words

 “Cedric?” A tall, dark haired man glanced up from his paper work to see his small wife at the door. His red eyes gazing at her coldly. “Oh, sorry… my lord. You didn’t reply to any of my letters so I decided to come see you myself. I was wondering if you had time to-“

    “I’m busy with work. How about you go take a walk or something seeing that you’re not busy with anything.” Cedric replied coldly, causing the young woman to glance sadly at her hands.

    “Oh… I’m sorry-“

    “Stop with your needless apologies and shut my door. You’re letting the cold air in.” Cedric hissed before returning to his mountain of paper work.

    “Good bye, my lord.” (Your name) softly whispered, a sad look in her eye. The young woman shutting the door before looking at the small, cloth bag beside her. Its contents being one change of clothes, a pouch of water, and some bread.

    (Your name) had finally decided to leave him. Her feelings for him had gradually disappeared over the years of being engaged to him seeing that he couldn’t even return a fraction of what she felt for him. It was time for her  to leave this loveless, joyless place and to go live as a commoner. Hopefully Cedric would eventually read the letter she had sent him a few days ago about annulling their marriage.

    The young woman pulled her tattered cloak over her head, making her way down the manor’s steps with ease.

   Not a single servant paying her any mind. A smile made its way to her lips at the thought of finally no longer having to sit in her cold room up in the tower. How she’d be able to travel wherever she wanted and maybe she’d even find someone to love her eventually. How she could finally have friends that didn’t need her husband to pay them to talk to her.

     (Your name) soon stood outside the gloomy palace, a smile on her lips. The young woman giving the palace one last look before she headed into the forest.

     “Good bye. I won’t miss you.”  She then headed into the dark silent forest. Set on leaving the Southern empire forever.

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    “This tea is bland and terrible.” Cedric complained to his maid who began to sweat nervously. “Why isn’t it here on its usual time and why isn’t it its normal flavor?”

    “Ah… the duchess usually takes care of that…” the maid replied before giving the lord a bow. “None of us have seen her in awhile so we had to brew some older leaves.”

    Cedric sighed before rising from his chair, causing the maid to gulp at how large he was.

    “That stupid woman. I’ll go see what she’s up to now then I guess.” Cedric made his way towards the east end of the manor, climbing up the flight of stairs to (your name)’s room. 

    A frown forming on his face when he didn’t see a single servant on this side of the manor. Where were all the servants? Shouldn’t she have some around here to clean it?

    Cedric stood before the door at the top of the tower. His hand pressing against the old wood. A frown on his face.

    “My lady. Can you open the door?” No response.

   “My lady?” Cedric pressed his knuckle against the door, causing the door to squeal open. Red eyes widening in shock at the tattered blanket that sat on top of a pile of hay. This couldn’t be her room…

   Where was her bed? Her dresses? Cedric burst into the room examining everything in disbelief. 

    “Can I lay with you, Cedric? It’s starting to get cold?” 

    Cedric frowned at the memory. (Your name) really was cold wasn’t she? And he always turned her away…

  A small desk with letters littering the top of it caught his attention. Was this the only thing she had in her room? As a duchess, she only had this small desk? 

    Red eyes narrowed at all the letters that were dated and addressed to him. Cedric quickly opened one of the older letters his eyes softening at its contents.

     ‘I finally was able to get the maids to teach me how to make that chamomile tea you like so much. I hope we’ll be able to drink it together someday. When you’re not busy of course. I love you, Cedric.’

    Cedric opened another letter, a dried sprig of baby’s breath falling out of the envelop. His pale fingers picking it up with utmost care. Red eyes scanning over the delicate hand writing.

    ‘Did you know baby’s breath means everlasting love? Isn’t that neat? I hope that our love is ever lasting as well. I’d like to go on a picnic with you while it’s still spring. If you’re not busy of course. I love you, Cedric.’

    ‘Today, I saw a pair of swans in the pond in the garden. Did you know swans stay together for life? I read that in a book in the library. I thought it was pretty neat. Maybe it’s childish of me to think that way, but I hope we’ll be like that. I love you, Cedric.’

    Cedric continued to tear apart the letters with fervor. Sweat dripping down his neck as his hands began to shake. All of these letters and he’s never read any of them from her… he always returned them back to her… always ignored her… he was starting to get scared…

     ‘It’s getting colder up in the tower but the maids took my bed. They said they’re freezing too. Is there anyway I could also have some new blankets. I hope that’s not too much of a bother for you. Thank you. I love you, Cedric.’

   ‘I’ve been sleeping in the library over the winter. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your work. I heard there’s a ball upcoming in the neighboring empire. I’ve never been to a ball before. Is there anyway we could go? I’d really like a new dress. The one I had all these years is starting to get a little loose since we’re so scarce on food. Thank you. I love you, Cedric.’

    There was no scarcity in food. Who on earth hadn’t the servants been feeding her? Who took her bed? Her blankets?

     Cedric sorted through the letters until the last one stuck out to him.

   His pale hand opened the letter, his eyes widening in shock. She had filled out divorce papers… why would she do that?

     ‘I don’t think you’re ever going to read this until you’ve realized I left. But I want a divorce. I can’t live like this. It’s so cold and miserable here. No one talks to me here. I found out that the only acquaintance I had here, you were paying to talk to me so I wouldn’t bother you… and I was really hurt by that. If I’m really that awful to be with, I’ll go. I just want you to be happy, Cedric. Even if it’s not with me. So good bye, Cedric. If you try to have a conversation with me in a few days I may reconsider but if not, you’ll find this then. I’ll probably be halfway through the forest by then. Good bye, Cedric.’

    Cedric began to shake. She had stopped by his office and he had turned her away… he unknowingly sent her away… he sent his loving wife away in the wild… wait.

     Didn’t she know the forest was infested with monsters?

     “Guards! Hurry. Send a search party to the forest, now!” Cedric threw the letter to the side, screaming on the top of his lungs. His legs running as fast as he could down the steps and through the palace.

     The guards rising up in shock before quickly springing into action.  

     “The duchess has gone missing! She could be in danger!” Cedric shouted, the Duke running to grab his sword and horse. “We have to find her by all means necessary!”

    Cedric frowned as he glanced at the dark forest. His eyebrows furrowed in worry. He prayed she was safe. He was so lucky he noticed her absence in just a day…

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    (Your name) hummed as she walked through the forest without a care in the world. So far, she’s been lucky and she hasn’t ran into a single monster.

    She knew there was a possibility she could run into danger but she truly believed the monsters wouldn’t bother her if she didn’t have a weapon on her. Plus, there wasn’t much meat on her bones since she wasn’t being fed at the palace.

     “Don’t you know there’s monsters in the woods?” A voice hissed at (your name), causing the girl to glance at a tall man wearing silver armor with an unfamiliar, blue crest on it. The silver helmet completely covering his face.

    Well at this point in her journey, she’s going to disregard the stranger danger rule.

    “Oh I know. I’m just passing through is all.”

    “Either you’re a very brave woman or a very stupid one.” A laugh left her throat as she smiled at the stranger.

    “A little of both. I’m just going anywhere to start a new.” The girl smiled at the knight before continuing her way.

    “Wait up!” The male trudged after her, standing above her. “You can’t just go walking in the forest by yourself. What if you get kidnapped or killed-“

    “Then I get kidnapped or killed.” The knight held in a laugh before offering her an arm.

    “I can lead you out of the forest if you’d like. My name is Etrian by the way.”

     “That’s a nice name.” (Your name) replied, taking the knights arm. “You can just call me (your first name).”

    “Hmm. You have a pretty name.” Etrian smiled at the girl, causing her to furrow her brow.

    “It’s a very basic name. It’s not even worth remembering so you can call me anything you’d like.” Etrian tilted his helmet down in worry at her words. Wherever she came from, she more than likely never was treated with kindness.

   “I like your name so I’ll call you, (your name).” Etrian replied, causing (your name) to giggle. 

    “It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed… thank you, Etrian.” Etrian gave (your name)’s hand a comforting squeeze.

     “I was on my way to the Lancaster Palace but I think a damsel in distress is much more important at the moment.” Etrian puffed his chest out, causing (your name) to erupt in giggles again.

    “Maybe I should call you the brave one then for traveling alone, Etrian.” (Your name) gave Etrian a smile, the male shaking his head in embarrassment.

    “It’s a knight’s duty.” 

   (Your name) laughed some more, allowing Etrian to lead her through the forest. Their playful banter continuing. 

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      Cedric searched the woods with fervor. Easily slaying any monster that crossed paths with them.

     “My lord. We found the body of the Northern empire’s diplomat and his party but…”

    “But what? Did you find the Duchess?!” Cedric hissed, his red eyes coldly looking at the corpses of the northern empire’s men. But one was missing their armor.

    “Where’s his armor?”

    “That’s what I’m afraid of. It appears a monster may be parading around as a knight.” Cedric sighed before glancing nervously in the forest. He really hoped (your name) didn’t run into that monster…

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    “Etrian. Do you like being a knight?” (Your name) asked her companion who hummed in response.

    “Not really. It’s kind of boring actually.” Etrian responded, his eyes glancing at (your name). “Especially listening to a lord’s orders all the time and standing guard? It sucks.”

    (Your name) laughed at his response. “At least you’re honest, Etrian.”

    “What about you, (your name)? What were you?”

    (Your name) smiled sadly as she glanced at the forest floor, causing Etrian to raise his hands up in alarm.

    “Oh I didn’t mean to upset you-“

    “I was nothing.” (Your name) replied with a solemn look in her eye. “Have you ever felt like that before? Like nothing? My existence didn’t matter where I came from before and after I ended up here.”

   Etrian placed a gentle, leather gloved hand on (your name)’s arm. “No I understand completely.”

    “Thanks, Etrian. You’re really nice even though I think you’re really strange.”

    “How am I strange?”

    “You abandoned the task at hand for me, which is very suspicious. But I appreciate you traveling and talking with me… I can’t remember the last time I actually had a conversation with someone.”

   Etrian gave her a nod, trying his best not to have his helmet fall off his head.

   “Isn’t that helmet uncomfortable? You could always take it off.” Etrian held up his hands as he began to laugh.

    “Maybe once we make it out of the forest.” 

    “Alright. Keep your secrets then.” (Your name) giggled, Etrian watched her walk a little further a head. A black tentacle creeping out from the helmet before quickly slipping back in.

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     Cedric continued searching, a smile on his face once he saw a pair of footprints.

    “She went this way!” Cedric shouted to his men. The men all nodding their heads before following the tracks. “She can’t be far-“

    Cedric’s red eyes widened when he saw a second pair of footprints beside hers. Their tracks barely as visible as hers.

    “The monster is with her!” Cedric began to breath heavily, his hands shaking as he held the reigns to his horse tightly. He was going to find her. Cedric just prayed nothing happened to her.

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    “Etrian. You’re really light on your toes.” (Your name) stated, causing Etrian to laugh. “Do you like sneaking around?” 

     “It’s just an unconscious habit of mine-“ an arrow whizzed by Etrian’s head, causing a scream to leave (your name)’s throat. 

    “Jesus-“

    “My lady, step away from the monster!” one of the knights from the southern empire shouted, pointing his bow and arrow at Etrian.

    “Monster? That’s Etrian-“ (your name) replied, only for more knights to show up.

    “One of the knight’s armor was missing at the carriage accident up ahead-“ 

    “I can actually explain that.” Etrian replied as he grasped the helmet of his armor before pulling it off. Revealing a handsome man with long silver hair and blue eyes to all the knights. “It’s me. Duke Graham.”

     “Duke Graham?! I can’t believe it’s you!” One of the knights laughed, the others all releasing their breath that they were unconsciously holding. “You were the only one missing from the carriage.”

    (Your name)’s eyes widened in horror. While everyone else saw a handsome man, she saw a giant black octopus like creature as the head of the knight. Her body started convulsing in shivers. 

     “Are you alright, (your name)?” Etrian asked with worry laced in his voice, reaching a hand out to her. The tentacles moving in every which way, causing (your name) to hyperventilate and take a step back in fear.

    “(Your name)!” Cedric rushed over to her, quickly separating her from the monstrous Duke. Cedric quickly dismounting his horse to hold (your name). “I’m so sorry. Please don’t run off again.”

    (Your name) didn’t return Cedric’s hug, her eyes focused on the black octopus monster that was known as Etrian. 

     “Let’s head back home, okay? And Duke Graham. You can ride on one of the other horses we have here with one of the knights. My wife will ride with me.” Cedric stated, hoisting (your name) up on his horse. 

   (Your name) cast one last look at Etrian, the tentacles waving at her which on caused her to tear up even more.

     While with the guards, they only saw Etrian give (your name) a warm smile and a wave. Why was she so scared of him? It wasn’t like she was seeing a monster.

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    “Why did you try to run off into the forest?” Cedric asked (your name) who sat in the sofa in his office with a blanket tightly wrapped around her. “You could’ve died-“

     “It would’ve been better than being here.” (Your name) muttered, pulling the soft blanket closer to herself. “Anything is better than here.”

    Cedric stood up from his desk, sitting himself beside (your name).

    “I’m going to start being a better husband. I moved your room to be next to mine now and you have a bed again. I also am currently working on investigating all of the staff that has mistreated you. They’re going to have their hands cut off for stealing and then exiled-“

     “That’s alright. You don’t have to do any of those things.” (Your name) sighed, wrapping the blanket around her even tighter. “I would like to head to my room. I’m quite tired.”

     Cedric held a hand out for (your name) to take, which she ignored. The young woman choosing to stand up with her blanket securely wrapped around her.

    “Would you like to have dinner together then?”

    “No. Just send it to my room please. It’s kind of late for all of those things, don’t you think?” (Your name) asked, avoiding eye contact with Cedric. 

     “I… I’ll try more. Just please don’t run off like that again.” 

   (Your name) opened the door to her room before shutting it quickly. The duchess laying down on the bed in defeat. She really was wishing she would’ve left this place.

     It was a shame Cedric had no intention of letting her go. Not to mention that Etrian was also staying with them for the time being.

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    Etrian sat in Cedric’s office sipping some hot tea. Blue eyes meeting red orbs.

      “Thanks for keeping my wife safe-“

    “Why did she run off?” Etrian hummed, causing  Cedric to glare at him.

    “It’s none of your concern, Duke Graham.” Cedric hissed, causing Etrian to smile. Cedric narrowed his eyes at the doll like man. 

    “She’s really pretty.” Etrian smiled at the peeved expression on Cedric’s face.

    “What brings you to the Southern Empire?” Cedric gritted his teeth at Etrian who only gave him a hum.

    “Mostly for trading business but seeing that my men were mauled to death and looted by your monster infested forest, I’ll have to wait awhile till we can proceed in business. I may have to stay here awhile as well.”

     Cedric sighed in defeat. His red eyes narrowing at Etrian. This was probably the most Etrian has spoken to Cedric in their entire life so far… and it irked Cedric.

    “Alright. I can let you stay for awhile. Just please don’t cause any trouble for me.”

    “I won’t.” Etrian smiled, causing  Cedric to place a hand on his temple. 

    “I’ll have the maids organize a room for you.”

    Etrian beamed at Cedric, his blue orbs shining mischievously. He couldn’t wait to see (your name) again.

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   Etrian wandered the halls, ignoring the excited whispers of the maids when he passed by. The silver haired man had adjusted well to the staff’s ramblings of his appearance.

    “Isn’t Duke Graham really handsome?” One of the maids asked another, causing the other maid to nod in agreement.

    “Just like a porcelain doll.” 

    “I heard he’s unmarried.”

    Etrian made his way over to the library, his blue eyes widening once he saw (your name) sitting in a chair in the far back corner. Her focus completely on the book in front of her.

    “Ah. (Your name).” Etrian smiled at the duchess, who gave him a nervous glance. Her eyes completely avoiding eye contact with him. “May I sit with you?”

    “S-sure.” Etrian pulled out the chair beside (your name), the wooden legs squealing across the floor. 

    “What are you reading?” Etrian asked, causing (your name) to nervously glance up from her book.

    “Oh it’s just a fairy tale story…” (your name) shyly replied causing Etrian to furrow his brow.

     “I’m quite fond of fairy tales. Which one is it?”

    “Beauty and the beast...” 

    “That’s my favorite one.” Etrian smiled, his tentacles flailing around excitedly, much to (your name)’s fear. “My mother used to read it to me all the time as a child.”

    “That’s really nice.” Etrian tentacles suddenly laid flat on the table, one of them laying on (your name)’s shoulder as if to show that he was concerned for her.

    “What’s wrong? You haven’t really looked at me since the forest.” (Your name) gulped, her hands trembling when the tentacles began to slowly caress her body. 

     “I… I’ve just never seen anyone that looks like you is all…” (your name) replied honestly. She wasn’t wrong. She’s never seen someone with a black octopus like head before and she was terrified. 

    “Oh… is my appearance not to your liking-“

   “My lady. The lord is looking for you.” The butler interrupted her and Etrian’s conversation, the young woman quickly rising up to her feet.

    “Ah. Sorry, Etrian. I have to get going.” 

    Etrian clutched his chest, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Could she really see him for what he truly was? 

   Etrian glanced at the book she was reading in awe. Was their story going to be just like beauty and the beast? Pure ecstasy consuming him.

     She had to be just like his dad. His mom always told him his soul mate would be able to see his true form just like dad could see hers. 

    “(Your name)…” Etrian couldn’t wait to find out.

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    “You called for me, my lord?” (Your name) bowed her head to Etrian, who frowned at her formality.

    “I did call for you, (your name).” Cedric motioned for his butler to go bring some tea for the two of them. “I’d like to have some tea with you-“

    “I’m not very fond of tea.” (Your name) wrapped her arms around herself, ignoring the disappointed look on Cedric’s face. “But thank you for the invite.”

    “How about a walk in the garden? You love the garden.” Cedric asked, a hopeful tune in his voice. (Your name) frowned. Didn’t he acknowledge that she had sent him divorce papers? Why on earth was he trying to court her now, of all times? 

    “Alright…” Cedric held out an arm for her, which (your name) hesitantly took. The dark haired Duke leading her down the halls and towards the garden.

    A certain silver haired man watching them from the library’s window. His blue eyes studying the discomfort on (your name)’s face.

    “You’re not comfortable around that man are you, (your name)?” Etrian softly whispered to himself, his blue eyes memorizing her soft features on her pretty face. “I wonder if I can make you smile again…”

    Etrian’s shadow revealed his tentacles flailing about in excitement. The birds that sat near the window quickly flying away in fear of the monster that was in the palace.

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    It was a stiff silence between Cedric and (your name). The two walking side by side in the garden without muttering a word to each other.

    “There’s some swans in the pond, (your name)…” Cedric smiled, softly breaking the silence. His red eyes glancing at her face, his eyes lighting up when he saw her smile at the swan pair. 

    He had finally found something that seemed to make her smile… Cedric was starting to get really worried about saving their relationship, especially with someone like Etrian in their home. Cedric had to admit that he was jealous of how beautiful Etrian was but he felt that there was something incredibly off about the silver haired male. Even when they were children, he was almost completely emotionless but he wasn’t that way around (your name)… it was very unsettling to Cedric.

    “(Your name), do you like Etrian?” (Your name) froze, her eyes wide at Cedric’s question.

    “I wouldn’t say like or dislike… I’m…” Afraid. (Your name) thought to herself. I’m afraid of him. “Indifferent towards him. He’s a Duke from the northern empire so I have to be respectful to him is all.”

     Cedric hummed, the Duke satisfied with her answer. His wife was a very respectful young lady, he didn’t doubt her answer at all.

   (Your name) narrowed her eyes at Cedric. Cedric couldn’t be jealous, could he? It wasn’t his place after years of being together without him ever caring about her personal life or feelings. 

     “It’s cold. I’m ready to head back inside.” The couple made their way back in, unaware that Etrian had overheard their conversation. 

     The silver haired man determined to have (your name) change her mind about him.

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     Etrian had found out many things about (your name) over the last few weeks he’s been staying in the Lancaster’s palace. 

    (Your name) used to live in a tower here, she didn’t like tea, she liked to write and read, her favorite food was (favorite food), she liked to eat pudding sometimes as well, her favorite color was (favorite color), and she was almost always alone.  Just like Etrian usually was.

     Etrian was thrilled to be finding out all this information from the maids who were more than thrilled to talk to him. The Duke was especially happy that one of the maids had even slipped up and told him that (your name) was trying to divorce the Duke. It made Etrian’s heart soar at the thought of (your name) being on the market for marriage.

   It wasn’t very hard for him to bribe one of the maids into sending that paper work to the emperor either. Which would make his end goal even easier to achieve.

     Etrian peaked his head in the library, a smile on his face when he saw (your name) sitting in a chair, sketching some birds that sat in the window. He’d have to add drawing to his mental list of her hobbies.

     “Hello, (your name).” (Your name) nearly jumped out of her shoes when Etrian snuck up behind her. One of his tentacles affectionately caressing her cheeks, something she tried to ignore.

     “H-hi, Etrian.” (Your name) responded quietly. Placing her pencil down on the table.

     “I haven’t seen you in a minute. I missed seeing you around.” (Your name) tried to hold her tears in when his tentacles slowly began to wrap around her body, caressing her affectionately. 

     Over the course of Etrian’s stay, she’s noticed that his tentacles tend to tell his emotions. She could tell when he was excited, upset, annoyed, happy, or even sad. And the tentacles were especially fond of her, touching her any chance they got, much to her displeasure.

     “I’ve been around. I’ve just been spending a lot of time with my husband is all.” (Your name) tried not to flinch when she saw the tentacles suddenly point at her like swords. It’s seems she upset Etrian by mentioning Cedric. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.” 

     The tentacles instantly relaxed, going back to their idle position of affectionately caressing her.

    “How about you draw me?” Etrian asked, a soft smile on his lips. He really wanted to know how (your name) saw him. 

    (Your name) smiled, opening a new page to her sketchbook, her body shaking when Etrian took a seat in front of her. The black tentacles retracting into themselves, as if they too, were folding together like his black gloved hands on the table.

     (Your name) shakily got to work. Tears gathering in her eyes as she continued sketching the monster she saw in front of her.

     Etrian frowned at her nervous expression. Why was she so nervous? Didn’t she understand that they were soulmates because she could see him?

     (Your name) glanced up, her face going pale when she saw two tentacles directly pointed at her eyes. The tentacles opening up to reveal two icy blue eyes staring directly at her. 

    Etrian smiled brightly. She finally made eye contact with him-

     A lord thump was heard, (your name) had fallen out of her chair. Etrian quickly rose up, his hand grasping (your name)’s shoulders, helping her up. 

    “Are you alright, (your name)?” His eyes widened at the drawing that she had made so far. A dark octopus like head sat on top of his body, a deranged smile crawling on Etrian’s lips. He was so excited. She could see him.

     “I-I’m sorry, Etrian. I… I need to go.” (Your name) stuttered out before she grabbed her book. “I’ll see you around!”

     Etrian could only watch as she took off, his blue eyes glancing at the pencil she had dropped in excitement.

     She could see him… she could see him. The real him. The monstrous curse his mother and him both had. 

    Etrian picked up the discarded pencil, blue eyes glancing around the library, making sure no one was watching him. 

      Etrian then placed the pencil in his mouth, suckling on the wooden utensil as his eyes rolled back in his head. Etrian wondered how her fingers would taste in his mouth when he- 

     Oh he was getting a little too far ahead of himself. He needed to calm down a bit before revealing his insatiable lust for her.

      A very disturbed Cedric stood outside of the library. Why in the world was Etrian eating a pencil?

    The dark haired Duke now more determined than ever to keep Etrian away from his wife. By all means necessary. 

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. 

     (Your name) laid in her bed. Her form covered in a lightweight, white gown.  It was a little chilly at night, but nothing she couldn’t manage. It was the feeling of eyes on her that she couldn’t shake off. 

    (Your name) slowly rose from the bed, shutting the curtain to her balcony. The feeling still not leaving her. Perhaps she was being paranoid after the library incident.

     (Your name) made her way back to bed, the duchess pulling as many blankets as she could on top of herself. Maybe if she went to sleep, she’d be able to relax? 

     As (your name) drifted off, she failed to notice a body laying under her bed. A certain silver haired man crawled out from underneath her bed before he stood over her, blue eyes greedily taking in the sight before him.

     Tentacles gently began to caress her body, a soft groan leaving her throat before she unconsciously cuddled into the warm appendages, causing a smile to crawl on Etrian’s face. 

    He knew she would grow used to him. Maybe if he started visiting her every night, she’d stop fearing him as much. Etrian reached a hand out to brush some of her hair out of her face. 

    His soulmate was so pretty and cute… he couldn’t wait to steal her away from here…

    Etrian hummed before walking over to her little desk in the corner. The male setting down a small (favorite flavor) pudding on her desk. 

     Hopefully she’d like his little surprise for her.

. 

. 

. 

     (Your name) had terrible nightmares last night about a certain tentacle man. Her body covered in a light sheen of sweat.

     “My lady, your husband would like to have breakfast with you.” One of the maids said at the door, the maid’s eyes widening at the helping of pudding on (your name)’s desk. “Did you order pudding last night?”

     “Pudding?” (Your name) furrowed her brow in confusion before her eyes widened in shock at the (favorite flavor) pudding that sat on her desk. “I didn’t ask for pudding…”

     (Your name) smiled softly. Maybe Cedric had gotten her some. He has been a lot more attentive lately. 

     “Tell him I’ll be there. I just have to clean up a bit.”

    The maid nodded before heading off, leaving (your name) to wonder who left her the mystery pudding.

. 

. 

. 

     “Thank you for the pudding, Cedric.” Cedric furrowed his brow in confusion at (your name)’s statement. “It was a nice sweet treat to have after a nightmare last night.”

     “Pudding? I never sent you pudding.” (Your name)’s face turned pale at Cedric’s words, a concerned look now on Cedric’s face as well. 

     “Then who knew I liked pudding and even my favorite flavor?” (Your name) nervously glanced over to the side. A certain man with a black octopus head, began to flail around excitedly before holding its tentacles like a shy school girl. And why were they slightly wet this time?

   Cedric followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing at the stoic Duke. There was no way Etrian was holding a torch for his wife right? Etrian wouldn’t sneak into her room to drop off pudding… no. Etrian was eating a pencil the other day. There was a chance Etrian was weird enough to break into a lady’s room.

    “Good morning, Duke and Duchess Lancaster.” Etrian bowed to the other dukes, his blue eyes studying Cedric face while his tentacles excitedly rubbed (your name) face. “I will be heading back to my empire in a week. I had a lovely stay here.”

    “I’m happy to hear that, Duke Graham.” Cedric gave Etrian a tight lipped smile, red eyes focused on the uncomfortable expression on (your name)’s face. 

   “I also heard a fun little rumor during my stay here.” Etrian placed a hand over his chin, an amused expression on his face. “I heard you two are getting a divorce.”

    “That isn’t going to happen now-“

   “Well you should’ve told that one little maid. Seems she sent the paperwork over to the emperor-“ Cedric quickly rose to his feet, his loud voice booming at the staff to quickly intercept the letter to the emperor.

    Etrian and (your name) now the only two left in the dining room. Etrian turned his head towards (your name), causing her to gulp in fear.

    “You’ll be single by the end of this week and I’ll be leaving home. When the emperor gets that letter, you’ll be demoted to a commoner.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles tightly wrapping around (your name), Etrian pulling her hand up to his face. Her body flinching when she felt his soft lips press against her hand. “So why don’t you become my wife? You won’t have to live as a commoner then and I’ll treat you well. Plus you can see what no one else can…”

    “What?”

   “Don’t play dumb. You can see me. The real me. And I can show you pleasure you’ve never felt before. Just think about it. I have 8 extra appendages compared to the average man.” Etrian whispered in her ear. “I’m also one of the richest men in the four empires. You’ll never have to struggle or starve again.”

    “Why me?” (Your name) whimpered, the tentacles slowly moving lower on her body, a few teasingly squeezing her legs and hips.

    “Because you can see me just like my dad can see my mom. Don’t you get it? We’re soulmates, baby.”

   (Your name) nearly cried when he pulled away. The tentacles smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes.

    “Just think about it, okay?” Etrian smiled, the tentacles flailing around excitedly. “I promise you’ll be very happy.”

    “You bastard!” An angry Cedric hissed, a fist colliding into Etrian’s face, the silver haired man barely moving. The tentacles now pointing at Cedric like swords, causing (your name) to freeze in terror. “Why would you do that?! You sent that letter a week ago-“

    “You don’t appreciate your wife. I found all those letters, Cedric.” A taunting chuckle escaped Etrian’s throat, the tentacles sharpening as they prepared to strike Cedric at any moment. “You’ve probably never even touched her-“

    “Please stop!” (Your name) stood in between the two, tears cascading down her face. Cedric’s heart clenching at her terrified expression. It was just an argument, why was she so scared? “I’ll go with you. Just please don’t hurt Cedric. Please…”

     Cedric froze when he saw the thrilled smile on Etrian’s face. Leather gloves hands held (your name) face with such tenderness, it made Cedric sick to his stomach.  

     “I’ll make you so happy. You’ll never be sad again.” Etrian cooed, his blue eyes gleaming at Cedric. “You can stay in my room for the time being seeing to it that you’re now a single woman. I’ll get you a nice pretty ring when we reach my empire.”

     “What does he mean (your name)? You’re not going to marry him are you?” Cedric froze at the defeated look on (your name)’s face. Her (eye color) orbs tiredly glancing at Cedric. 

    “I’m sorry, Cedric.” Cedric could only hug himself as he watched his wife be dragged away by Etrian. The silver haired Duke excitedly droning on and on about how much she was going to love their new life together.

. 

. 

. 

     Cedric peaked through the doorway of (your name) and Etrian’s room. His heart clenching when he saw how he tenderly held her in his arms.

     It wasn’t fair… if Cedric never messed up, she would’ve never met Etrian… she would’ve never divorced him… they’d still be happy…

    But were they ever happy? No… Cedric couldn’t remember the last time they shared a smile together or even a dance. Cedric never really deserved her… but he didn’t think Etrian did either.

.

. 

. 

     Cedric could only watch as (your name) and Etrian headed off to the northern empire in a carriage together. The silver haired man fretting over her every need while Cedric could only watch from his study’s window in utter distaste and envy.

      “My lord, she left you a sketchbook.” Cedric glanced at the book, tears gather in his eyes as he looked at all the intricate drawings of birds. The swans being his favorite.

     The last drawing was what made Cedric’s blood run cold. A terrifying eldritch monster with a black octopus head over Etrian’s body stared back at him, a small note in the bottom of making a shiver run down Cedric’s spine.

     ‘I can see him, Cedric. He likes that I can see him. Help me.’

      Now Cedric knew why she was so terrified of Etrian… it was because he was a monster.

. 

. 

. 

    “I can’t wait for you to meet my mother.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles excitedly flailing around the carriage. One grasping (your name)’s chin. “You’ll like her.”

     “(Your name)… are you sad?” Etrian asked, the male grasping her hands in his gloved ones. “You won’t ever feel like nothing here. I’ll treat you to whatever you like.”

     (Your name) could only fully glance out the window. Her heart aching as she began to miss Cedric. She hoped he would at least be happy…

     A tentacle suddenly gave her a tight squeeze while another forced her head to look at Etrian. Smooth lips pressing against her own, her body shaking in fear as the tentacles began to grope her body.

    Etrian pulled away, her eyes widening when she finally got to see some semblance of a face on the man. A smile crawling on Etrian’s face.

    “There. Don’t think of other men around me. I don’t like it.”

     (Your name) could only silently cry as Etrian continued to press kisses on her face. His lips burning her with the  passion he held for her.

    “We’re going to have our wedding in a few days time once we arrive. Is there somewhere you’d like to go? Or something you’d like to do when we get there?”

     “I’m alright for now. Thank you, Etrian.” (Your name) politer responded, folding her hands in her lap nervously. 

     Etrian smiled before continued to excitedly chatter on about the wedding. His tentacles dancing around excitedly.

. 

. 

. 

      A regal woman with long silver hair and bright blue eyes stood outside of the Graham palace. Her cold gaze focusing on the carriage that had arrived. 

     Former Duchess Guinevere had gotten the news that her son had found a bride while he was in the southern empire. She just didn’t think her son would latch onto the other duke’s former wife so quickly.

     Her eyes glared at the pretty young woman who exited the carriage, her eyes widening when she saw her son’s tentacles all over the girl. The girl subtly trying to push them off. Her son had found his soulmate… Etrian had found his soulmate!

     A bright smile was on the former duchess’s lips, the servants immediately blushing and whispering to each other. Guinevere never smiled and here she was smiling at the fiancée her son had brought.

     “Welcome home, son. I see you brought me home a daughter as well.” Guinevere smiled, her blue eyes gazing intensely at the trembling woman who wouldn’t look her in the eye. Was it a possibility she could see Guinevere’s true form as well? How interesting…

     (Your name) tried her best not to cry at how much larger the octopus like creature that Etrian called his mother was. She was terrified at how the other woman’s tentacles were poking her face as well.

      “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, duchess.”

     A hearty laugh let the woman’s throat, the regal woman gesturing for her servants to make her new family member feel welcome.

     “Please. Call me mother.”

.

. 

. 

    (Your name) tried her best not to cry at the feast Etrian’s family held for them. Etrian’s mother’s tentacles were all over the former Duke. Who didn’t seem to mind as much as (your name) did.

     “Welcome, my dear. I see you’re still getting used to Etrian’s… quirks.” The former Duke, Rolfe, smiled at the young couple. His eyes narrowing at his son intensely staring at (your name). “Etrian, I’d like for you to start a toast for your lovely fiancée here.”

     Etrian quickly sprang to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding (your name)’s. While to other held up a glass of Chardonnay.

    “I’d like to raise a toast to my lovely fiancée, (your name). I cannot wait to be wed to such a lovely girl who can stand to be around the real me.” No she could not. (Your name) was doing her best not to pass out at the table right then and there at all the eyes (and tentacles) that were on her. 

    “(Your name), my dear. I’m so happy my son seems so fond of you. He was such a lonely boy growing up…” Guinevere sighed, her tentacles cradling her body as she continued to talk about Etrian. “He loves reading all the time. I swear he loved books more than his own mother-“

    “Mother. Please. You’re embarrassing me.” (Your name) could only smile politely as Etrian’s tentacles pulled her closer to him. The male pressing a kiss to her head. 

    Guinevere only smiled all knowingly at her son and husband. Rolfe sighing before gazing at the young couple. “You both have our blessing. We can have the wedding as soon as you’d like-“

    “Tomorrow.” Etrian stated boldly, causing his father to laugh.

    “Impatient just like your mother was.” (Your name) could only watch as Rolfe tenderly caressed his wife’s affectionate tentacles. “I’ll send some dress makers down to your room tonight then.”

  “Dear, remember when we were young?” The older couple soon got into a private and affectionate banter. The two giggling and whispering to each other like a young couple in love. 

    “See? You’ll be happy here.” Etrian stated, the young Duke pulling out (your name)’s chair. “How about we go on a walk while those two continue to flirt?”

     (Your name) nodded, hesitantly taking Etrian’s hand as the much taller male lead her out of the dining room.

     Her octopus fiancé motioning to the portraits on the wall of the most beautiful family she’s ever seen. Rolfe being the only one she recognized in the portraits.

    “Who are they?”

    “You don’t recognize your own fiancé?” Etrian chuckled as he pointed to the tall handsome man with long silver hair in the portrait. “I’m right there or can you only see these?”

     (Your name) tried not to squeal when the tentacles starting tickling her, trying her best not to smile at how playful Etrian was being.

    “I… I can only see those.”

    Etrian suddenly pulled her to himself, pressing a long kiss to her left collarbone.

    “My mother said my father finally saw what she truly looked like on their wedding night. So maybe you’ll just have to wait till then to see me.”

     (Your name) smiled, casting one last look at the handsome man in the portrait. There was no way that person and this tentacle abomination were the same person.

    But then again, Rolfe seemed super into Guinevere with or without her tentacles…

. 

. 

. 

    (Your name) stood at the alter across from a more than eager Etrian. The tentacles on his head flailing around excitedly while also trying not to touch her until after the ceremony was over.

    “You may kiss the bride-“ the marriage officiant didn’t even get to finish his words before Etrian pulled (your name into a passionate kiss, (your name) shutting her eyes so she didn’t have to see how the tentacles were running themselves down every inch of her body.

    The crowd going wild at how happy Etrian seemed, much to the dismay of Duke Lancaster who sat the farthest away from the ceremony. The Duke fiddling with a dried sprig of baby’s breath. He was here for closure but he didn’t want to accept the fact that his wife had practically been forced to marry some sort of tentacle monster.

    Etrian pulled away before scooping (your name) up in his arms as the crowd cheered for their union. The silver haired Duke giving Cedric a victorious smirk.

     Etrian had won. (Your name) was his wife now. He even had something planned for Cedric as well. Something that would make sure that Duke get over (your name) for good.

. 

. 

.

    Cedric groaned, red eyes widening as he realized he was bound and gagged in a chair. The Duke of Lancaster nervously glancing around until he saw Etrian standing in front of him. The silver haired Duke giving Cedric a smirk.

    “I’m going to let you watch our wedding night.” Etrian smirked, causing Cedric to scream at him through the gag, only for no sound to come out. “And maybe if you’re good, I’ll even let you in. I feel kind of bad for stealing your wife but I’m not opposed to sharing her.”

   Cedric’s red eyes widened when Etrian pulled out a syringe. The dark haired Duke thrashing in his restraints, causing Etrian to shush him.

    “It’s just a very strong aphrodisiac. I want you to feel everything and I also gave some to (your name) as well. I want both of you to be as aroused as possible. Plus you’ll be able to see what she can see while you’re on these drugs.”

     No… he didn’t mean. Cedric gasped when Etrian stabbed the needle into his bare leg, pupils going wide at the true form of Etrian being revealed to him.

    “God. I’m going to love this.”

     Cedric could only slightly struggle, the friction from the rope turning him on. The male watching helplessly as (your name) stumbled into the room. The poor girl a panting mess as Etrian slowly began to toy with the lacy white undergarment that hid her body from Cedric’s eyes.

    “Look, (your name). I brought your ex-husband here to watch as I defile you.” A sharp gasp left (your name)’s throat when two of Etrian’s tentacles squeezes her chest, the poor girl panting as Etrian ran his hands down her hips and dipped by her privates. “We’re gonna give him a show, okay? And if you’re both good, I’ll let him fuck you too.”

    Cedric gasped when the tentacles suddenly ripped apart the lingerie on (your name)’s body his greedy eyes taking in the soft curves of her bare body. His head spinning with lust at the thought of being able to touch his wife.

   Etrian suddenly wrapped two tentacles around her wrists, holding them in place as he positioned himself behind her. (Your name) moaning loudly at how rough Etrian was being. 

    “What do you say, (your name)?”

    “Please.”

    “Please what?”

    “Please… take me, Etrian.” Etrian’s pink tongue darted out to lick her tears away, causing (your name) to blush. Right now she was able to see Etrian’s human face while under the influence of the aphrodisiac, much to Etrian’s joy. 

    “Good girl. You’re such a good girl, (your name).” Etrian sheathed himself in one thrust in (your name) a strangled cry escaping her throat as he started to pound into her like a madman. “Shit. Look at how well you take it.”

    “Ah! Ah! Ah!” (Your name) began to cry as she felt her body being pounded into and Cedric’s eyes on her. “It feels so good!”

    “Does it? How about this?” (Your name) began to cry as she felt Etrian’s tentacles rub against her clit, practically seeing stars at the intensity they were going.

    “Etrian! I’m going to-“ Etrian tightly grasped (your name) body. The white haired man releasing deep inside of her as (your name) rode out her orgasm. The Duke kissing her face as he turned to look at Cedric who had a mess between his legs as well.

  “You’re a sick freak, Cedric. Getting off watching another man fuck your wife.”

    Etrian cut Cedric’s binds with one of his tentacles before motioning over to the moaning mess that was (your name). “Have at it.”

    Cedric slowly rose up before greedily pressing kisses onto (your name)’s bare skin. The dark haired Duke slipping himself into her with ease. His pale hand grasping her hips tightly as he drilled into her doggy style.

    “Fuck. I love you, (your name).” Cedric cried as he started to go into a brutal pace. “We could make this work right? A throuple?”

    (Your name) cried and moaned as Cedric continued to pound into her poor abused body. Etrian placing his thumb in her mouth as he stroked his cock in another hand.

     “Shhh. How about you put me in your mouth while he has his fun. It’ll be nice to have something in your pretty mouth.” 

     (Your name) could only nod her head as Cedric continued to pound into her. His balls slapping roughly into her ass as she started choking on Etrian’s cock.

    “Look at that. Such a good girl taking two cocks. You’re gonna be both of our wife. It’ll be fun won’t it?” Etrian cooed as Cedric started to cry.

   “I’m gonna cum. Fuck. I’m gonna get you pregnant, (your name).” Cedric threw back his head as he came deep inside (your name) the other Duke panting as he collapsed beside (your name), who continued to suck off Etrian.

     “Look at us, (your name). All three of us are practically insatiable.” Etrian cooed as he watched Cedric start eating (your name) out. 

     “I told you I’d make you happy here.” Etrian cooed, (your name) pulling herself away from his cock to whisper.

    “Yes I love it here, Etrian. I love you and Cedric so much. Ah!” 

    “Such a good girl.” Etrian cooed, his tentacles wrapping around (your name) as he continued to play with her body. “You’re gonna be pregnant with twins by the time we’re finished with you.” 

    “Thank you… thank you…” (your name) cried as she felt her body be flipped over by Cedric who decided he was going to go for another round. 

    “Isn’t she such a good girl, Cedric.” Cedric nodded his head as he started pressing hot kisses on (your name)’s body.

    “You should be happy to know that you two never actually divorced and now the both of us are married to her. My empire just allows polyamory so it’s easier for us to have fun here.”

    “Isn’t that fun, Cedric? We’ll all be one big happy family.” Etrian soon pushed (your name) onto Cedric’s lap, who was still pounding into her like a madman.

    Etrian positioned himself behind (your name), a wicked smile on his beautiful face.

     “Now let’s see how well you can handle two cocks in one hole.”

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Background: (Y/N) Morningstar with her partner, Alastor, has decided to put some of the Overlords in their place.

Warning: Alastor being Alastor, mentions of pregnancy but no one's pregnant, and Alastor might have a breeding kink

_ _ _

"(Y/N)! What a surpri-!"

"I believe that's Princess (Y/N) Morningstar, Heir to the throne of Hell, and Duchess of Chaos - to you," Alastor loved doing this. He adored how (Y/N) had decided to start using her true power, and to bring respect back to her name.

The family name, to be exact.

Valentino chuckled nervously as (Y/N) scoped out the place, her horns ever presenting and tail flicking with annoyance.

"What a pleasure to be hosting you, Princess. What would be the reason for this visit?" Valentino asked, offering her a drink.

"I'm fine, thank you," She dismissed it, already smelling the poison inside the cocktail.

"I'm here to discuss Angel Dust, and your contract with him."

"If he's too much trouble for the hotel, I'll happily-"

"You're the one causing the trouble," Alastor cut him off.

Valentino sputtered, "me?!"

"You can feign innocence all you wish, Val, but I've heard that you've called my sister a bimbo, along with many other colorful names," (Y/N) slowly stood up, leaning over his desk as the lights started to go out - one by one.

"Charlie is nice. She's always been the kinder of us Morningstars, but apparently this makes you think that you can go and soil our name. My father could have strung every sinner on a hook for eternity, torturing you all second by second as your screams sung into our great halls," no one had been unfortunate enough to see the form of (Y/N) Morningstar, and Val was one of them.

Her height expanded to nine feet tall, her pretty black nails forming into claws and her eyes ablaze with scarlet serpent pupils.

And wings - oh great black wings that could make even Adam rethink his attack.

When he was still alive, of course.

"And you sully his gift by mocking us."

"Look, Vox did it first! Okay?! He said you'd never-!" Val tripped on a tentacle that came from her beloved Alastor, who dropped a TV by his feet.

But not just any TV.

"Oh God," Val gasped, "Vox. . .?"

"I took care of him earlier," Alastor grinned, still reminiscent on his screams.

"I couldn't have my dear (Y/N) sully her hands with his filth. But whatever the Princess wants, she gets."

Oh to see her come into her power was as chilling as death itself.

"You're so romantic, Alastor," (Y/N) smiled.

That's when Valentino spotted it. On the left hand of (Y/N) Morningstar was a ruby wedding ring, the band pure gold.

Alastor finally did it.

He climbed up the latter, but not through power.

Well yes, through power, but he certified that it would always be his.

By marrying Lucifers daughter.

"We're matching, isn't it adorable?" Alastor showed off his own wedding band, ruby's encrusted inside of it.

"Now, where were we?" She grinned, and as an engagement gift, the screams of Vox and Valentino were broadcasted throughout all of Hell.

And they say chivalry is dead.

_ ☆ _

"They're fucking crazy."

"They're made for each other."

On that, Angel Dust and Husker could agree.

The lovely couple had become the center of Hells attention after their engagement was announced, and even though Alastor thought it would be hilarious for Lucifer to find out through the papers, she told him first.

And he cried.

"Oh my baby is all grown up!" Lucifer sobbed loudly, clinging onto her legs, "look at you! You-you used to be this small!" Lucifer grabbed a duck, "and you were so tiny and so cute!"

"Am I invited?" Lucifer squeaked, staring up into her eyes.

"Yes, dad," She smiled, bringing him up to his feet, "but we want to wait a bit before we plan anything."

"You know she used to bite my finger?!" Lucifer grabbed the baby pictures of little (Y/N), "look at how small she was! Oh, and this one is my favorite!"

Alastor truly didn't mind how touchy Lucifer had become with him, but thankfully, Lucifer also knew when to stop.

"Wait, is that why you're getting married?! Did you impregnate my daughter?!" Lucifer gasped, shoving his hand on her stomach.

"Dad! Dad, no! I'm not pregnant!" She quickly cleared up.

"Unfortunately," Alastor muttered to himself. Oh to see her belly swell with his children - his own spawn, it made his cock twitch at the thought.

He was fond of children but his own? Oh he'd spoil his little prince or princess with all the blood sacrifices the world had to offer.

"Yeah but you know what marriage entails, kiddo!" He pointed at them both with finger guns, "first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby-oh my GOD I'll be a grandpa!"

He started crying again.

She sighed, "at least we know our hypothetical child will be taken care of."

Alastor nodded, "I could not have picked a better father-in-law."

At this point, Lucifer was ugly crying.

Alastor looked at his beloved with a soft gaze as she tried calming her father down. To be honest, Alastor never thought he would ever find solace in Hell. He anticipated every day being a fight for his life, always looking over his shoulder and always striving for more power. And as cheesy as it sounded, he saw (Y/N) as his shining light. She brought out his sad heart, and for the first time in his life, he wished his mother was with him.

To see just what a wonderful woman he managed to catch.

[mickandmusings]

sincerity & sonnets

-

pairing: anthony bridgerton x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: anthony bridgerton is blessed with many things-a warm, loving family, a well-funded lifestyle as a viscount, a beautiful wife. more notably, he is cursed with a short fuse and a sharp tongue, which might lead to his demise.

(based off of this request! to the anon who requested, I sort of wrote the argument as more of a sharp remark, but i hope it is still angsty enough for your liking! <3)

warnings: angsty->fluffy, no other warnings

-

As Anthony sat at his desk, scribbling away at his numerous piles of papers stacked in front of him, he noted the unusual quietness that had fallen on his study. He first thought that he had shut the door, but one quick look at the doorway contradicted his beliefs. Anthony's eyebrows furrowed in confusion-his home was never quiet.

Between his own family, and the families of his four sisters and three brothers, his home was full of life: laughter bounding off the walls, his wife and sisters' voices chatting over tea, the stampeding footfalls of his hoard of nieces and nephews assured his ears would never grow accustomed to utter silence. Even in the rare occurrence that the house was empty save for Anthony and his beloved wife, he'd often hear her humming to herself as she attended to her own business in their home, or she would join him in his study, writing her own correspondences at the smaller desk next to his own. Which is why, now, as he sat at his desk this afternoon, the silence stunned him. Anthony frowned, lifting his pocket watch to assure himself he was not entirely losing his mind. As the gold clock stared back at him, the small hand signaled it was midday.

He chuckled to himself, his wife must have chosen to sleep in entirely too long. Y/N was a chronic night owl, often keeping Anthony awake with her bedside chatter and comments on the appearance of the night sky through the window that faced their bed. Anthony would indulge her, but would still wake before the sun. His wife, however, would not budge for several more hours. He grinned and pocketed his watch, pushing himself up from his chair to wake his sleeping beauty of a wife.

Anthony bounded up the stairs two at a time, nodding curtly at any house staff before reaching their shared bedchambers. His dark eyes peer into the empty bedroom-his wife certainly was not here. He noted the dutifully made bed, the open curtains allowing the sunlight in, and, most importantly, his wife's absence. Anthony shook his head briefly before dashing back down the stairs, nearly stumbling into one of his wife's handmaidens.

"Pardon me," he addresses the woman with a sigh, a bit breathless from the unexpected goose chase his wife has taken him on. "Do you know the whereabouts of my wife?"

The younger maid looks at Anthony almost confused, but quickly takes on a professional tone:

"The Viscountess is reading in the garden, she's only just gotten back from tea with the Dowager Viscountess and the Duchess."

Anthony nodded in thanks, hastily departing for their expansive garden, his mind racing. Seeing his wife was an afternoon ritual-she would come bounding into his study after tea with his mother and respective sisters, spouting off all of the new ladies' gossip as he listened intently, all while pretending he was entirely disinterested. He enjoyed seeing her eyes grow wide with the shock of scandal, or her smile at a sweet interaction she witnessed at the park. If you were to ask Anthony Bridgerton, there was no sight more splendid than his wife in all of her extraordinary, everyday beauty. Not that he would admit that aloud, at least not to anyone but her.

Frankly, he was missing her presence today more than he cared to admit. He spotted Y/N almost instantly, her periwinkle gown shining in the sun. She sat in a chair politely under a shady tree, the book on her lap seemingly forgotten. Her expressive eyes locked onto the treeline in the distance, her face solemn. Anthony's heart seemed to fall in his chest, the sinking realization of why his home had been so soundless for the entirety of the day. His chest felt tight as he thought of his actions last night...

-

It had been a very, very long day for Anthony. With Francesca's upcoming debut to society, his mother had been harping on Anthony for nearly a fortnight about every minute detail. His patience for his mother was infinite, but sometimes she did manage to test its limits. Atop this hurdle was the never ending stacks of paperwork littering his desk, waiting to be looked over and signed off by his barely legible scrawl. He had neglected to write Colin back for weeks-his younger brother writing about his travels in Greece. The house staff had been in and out of his study all day, the incessant knocking severing his nerves. The heavy weight of life as a viscount was falling on Anthony, making him irritable and exhausted. His dear wife had settled his discomfort around lunch, bringing his nearly-cold meal into his study to make sure he ate. She had left him with a chaste kiss and a better mood, but Anthony had returned to her worse for wear.

Dinner in their large dining room had felt unnaturally dreary, only the sound of utensils clanking against china plates filling the air, only to be stifled by his wife's chatter. Normally, Anthony would've listened attentively, enjoying hearing about trips to the modiste or how Portia Featherington had driven his wife to near madness. Today, however, her voice had him pressing his nails into his palms to aid his irritation. He sipped his wine and shuffled his food on his plate to avoid making eye contact, he would not want her to see the frustration lingering in his eyes.

"Eloise was completely beside herself, I had never seen her so embarrassed! Madame Delacroix-"

"Must you talk so incessantly?!" Anthony's voice spat out in a low growl, dripping with fierce vexation.

Y/N's eyes grew wide, looking at her husband as if he had sprouted an extra arm and slapped her with it. She said nothing, only cowering in on herself, staring down at her lap as she fidgets with her hands. After several moments of Anthony's intense silence, she lifts a shaky hand and wipes the tears forming in her eyes as she hastily made her way out of the room, attempting to put as much distance between her and Anthony as possible.

Anthony followed suit moments later, feeling angry at himself as he slammed the door of his study shut, falling asleep at his desk hours later. Y/N had slept on her side of a bed far too large for one, her eyes tender and cheeks splotchy, her mind racing. Did she truly talk too much? Had he been annoyed by her daily talks for all these months? Her mind weaved small details into a full blown breakdown, and she quickly settled on being Anthony's perfect, quiet wife as she caved to her drowsiness.

-

The wind blew his wife's curls against her shoulder as Anthony approached her in the backyard, her back still facing him. He wasn't sure she had even heard him approach, her eyes still focused on the landscape sprawled before them. Anthony shuffles nervously, his hands behind him as he stands at her side, only the wind and birds chirping aiding the suffocating silence.

"Splendid weather we're having," Anthony's voice finally spoke, awkward and fumbling into casual conversation as he sank into the chair across from him. Y/N said nothing, only blinking in the same direction she had been staring at the entire time. Anthony nodded, mostly to himself, resigning himself to her silence, it was what he deserved at the moment.

After several moments of dead silence, Y/N turned her attention back to the book perched in her lap, and Anthony sat silently, wanting to spout out his apology in a hurried, bumbling manner, but he knew his wife, she would simply nod and continue reading, allowing herself to stew in prolonged silence.

He rose quietly, leaving with a small kiss landing atop her head-a touch that burned Y/N's skin. She watched Anthony leave out of the corner of her eye, sighing heavily as his presence was back inside their home. She was a myriad of feelings: angry at Anthony for being so blatantly cruel, his words had stung and left her reeling for hours. She was sad, as much as the words had fired her up, they had torn her heart, leaving her chest heavy with dejection. Y/N was nearly bursting at the seams to just apologize-even if it wasn't her who needed to apologize-just so the awkward encounters would come to an end. She wondered if Anthony even felt remorse at all.

In his study, Anthony ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, attempting to focus on the business papers in front of him. His efforts were fruitless-all he could think of was the empty look on Y/N's face. He had never seen her this lifeless, like her glow had been snuffed out, and it was entirely his fault. Anthony's mind raced with a million different scenarios of how he would make this up to her, ranging from flowers to begging on hands and knees, but despite his blunders, he knew his lady well. His Viscountess had never been one for showy things or frivolous purchases, she would only want his sincerest apologies. He would do it tonight, over dinner, he decided. He only hoped when the time came, she would at least spare him a glance.

-

Hours later, at the dining room table, Anthony found himself sitting in his chair at the head of the table completely alone. The kitchen staff came and left with plates and glasses, but his wife had yet to make an appearance. Anthony's foot tapped against the floor in anxiety, his eyes shooting up to the closest staff member, nearly shouting:

"Where is the Viscountess taking her dinner?"

The head of the kitchen staff looked at Anthony wide-eyed at his outburst, replying politely:

"Viscountess Bridgerton took her dinner in the library tonight."

Anthony said nothing, rising from his seat and walking down the hallway, coming to the door of the library and knocking lightly.

"Come in."

Anthony nearly burst into a fit of tears, happy to hear her voice.

He pushed the door open, Y/N's eyes meeting his before they dropped back down to the open book in her hands. Anthony felt guilt press heavy on his chest. He settled into the plush chair opposite her, separated only by a small end table. Anthony looked over at her, his brown eyes all but practically begging her to say something to him.

"Y/N..." Anthony's voice is small and timid, trying to coax her into at least hearing him out. Y/N's voice came out a whisper, cutting him off.

"I am sorry."

Anthony furrowed his brow, that was certainly not what he was expecting to hear. He looked over at her, her gaze locked on the moonlight coming through the window, her eyes glassy with tears.

"I am sorry I have become a burden, Anthony. I did not realize I irritated you with my ramblings. I thought you wanted to hear of my daily activities. I know my day as a woman is not nearly as riveting as yours as a Viscount, but-"

"My dear, your apologies are not necessary," Anthony's voice dripped with sincerity, his eyes warm as he looked at her, ready to grovel for forgiveness. He stuck his hand out for her to take, which she did. He pulled her towards him softly, his gentle touches coaxing her into his lap. Y/N's eyes grow soft under his gaze, her limbs melting in his strong hold. "I am the one who has been a fool. I look forward to your ramblings, no matter if they hold what you consider to be valuable or not, they brighten my day. I wait most ardently for news of trips to the modiste, or my mother's ramblings over tea-" He pauses, tucking a stray curl back behind her ear, his thumb wiping away the stray tears on her cheeks.

"I don't want you to be silent. Your voice is more pleasant than any other sound," Anthony cuts himself off, sighing, before starting again. "I should not have spoken to you in such a manner. I should not have raised my voice at you. You have my word that it will never happen again, I cannot go another day surrounded by your silence, it is torture."

Y/N smiles slightly at her husband's words, his transgressions forgiven with his sincere words. His face is close enough to hers to brush her nose against his, their lips close enough to meet.

"Are you certain you were not a poet before we met, Lord Bridgerton?" Y/N's voice is a whisper, the moment feeling far too intimate for anything else.

Anthony chuckles as his hand grasps the side of her face lightly, bringing her closer, speaking before he kisses her deeply:

"Only for you, my beloved...you inspire sonnets."

-

[augustinewrites]

cw: suggestive content, fem!reader

“come for a stroll with me.”

“i can’t right now,” wriothesley tells you, glaring down at the mess of papers atop his desk.

it was not in your nature to be petulant, but the over dramatic sigh that falls from your lips has him believing otherwise. 

though he wanted nothing more than to abandon the day's duties and join you on the surface for an afternoon stroll, the lord of the fortress of meropide was a very busy man. he had a prison to run.

“fine,” you say, though your exasperated tone indicates that his refusal was anything but.

“you’re the head doctor,” he reminds you, gesturing to the stacks of paper on his desk. “you know how it is.” 

“actually i don’t, because i don’t do all my work at the last minute.” 

“you have sigewinne, who does more than half of it for you.” 

“sigewinne likes paperwork,” you argue, settling yourself atop the corner of his desk. “you could have a whole team of people to help you with these things, but you’re too picky to let them.”

“they don’t do it right,” he huffs, pen scratching a quick signature across the bottom of the topmost report before shuffling it aside. “i know this place better than any accountant whose only concern is balancing a book.”

“fair enough,” you shrug, picking up and thumbing through his reviewed missives with about as much interest as one watching paint dry. he looks down just as a sneaky smile appears on your lips. “i heard it’s quite nice outside.”

“too warm,” he mutters distractedly, too lost in the process of estate management to chit-chat about the weather. 

“perhaps i should shed a few layers before heading out,” you hum thoughtfully, fanning yourself lightly with his papers. 

wriothesley looks up, about to scold you, but the words dry up before they pass the tip of his tongue. 

you certainly hadn’t outfitted yourself as a future duchess might, forgoing a frilly, structured gown for one of his own loose white button downs that’s tucked into closely tailored trousers. 

it’s with great intrigue that he watched your free hand undo the top two buttons of your (his) shirt, revealing the delicate swatch of skin over your neck and teasing him with a peak at your cleavage. 

you catch him staring as you set his papers down, eyes flashing with delight. like a predator that’s successfully cornered its prey. wriothesley - in a last ditch escape attempt - quickly looks away, clearing his throat and staring hard at the report in front of him. 

he could not get distracted today. not with so much work to do. 

but you, oh you. you hop off his desk, walking around it to drape your arms around his shoulders, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “i suppose i’ll see you later then.”

he mumbles a reluctant goodbye but your lips linger, brushing dangerously close to that sweet spot behind his ear. 

do not give in, his brain instructs, even though it’s getting harder and harder to process the words in front of him with every slide of your hands. 

schooling his features into a calm mask, wriothesley draws a deep, steadying breath. it hardly manages to settle him because archons, you were going to be the death of him. he’s always considered himself a steadfast person with an immense focus that’d been built up from a young age. when he set his mind to a task, he was a difficult man to distract.

you and your wiles have always been proof of otherwise.

“just be back before our audience with neuvillette this afternoon.” he tells you, doing his best to ignore the heat rising to his face. 

finance reviews, surveillance reports, correspondence. finance reviews, surveillance reports, correspondence. finance reviews, surveillance reports, cor–

“stop it,” he demands when your fingertips glide across his chest, fiddling with the knot of his tie. 

“why?” you ask, voice cloyingly innocent. “am i distracting you, your grace?”

“no.”

you clearly do not believe him in the slightest. 

“care for a wager then? because i bet i can distract you by the end of the day.”

wriothesley knows that betting, wagering, or gambling against a former member of the house of the hearth is never a good idea. it’s a dangerous one.

he leans back, arms crossed over his chest as he attempts to salvage what’s left of his dignity. “what are the stakes?”

_____

you know your boyfriend. it isn’t hard for you to wind him up and get him right where you want. 

which was on top of you. 

or underneath you. it depends on the day.

there were no real intricacies in seducing the mighty and fearsome duke. it wasn’t even that hard to fluster him, because a simple brush of your fingers against his was enough to make his cheeks flush with colour.

you just needed to draw him out a little. you’re on the offense, and you know all the right moves required to force him to engage with you.

in an effort to avoid you and (attempt to) win the bet, wriothesley had locked himself in his office for most of the day. it worked out well for you, because you’d been able to sneak into his quarters holding a shopping bag from chioriya boutique.

your plan is put into motion when you hear the duke stomp up the stairs to get ready for the meeting with neuvillette. 

“get back behind that screen,” he instructs when you poke your head out from behind the divider. he’s even slapped a hand over his eyes, intent on staying focused on the task at hand.

wriothesley huffs when you laugh, turning his back to you as he rummages through the dresser. 

he’s murmuring the little rhyme he uses to knot his tie, so focused on the task that he doesn’t notice the crinkling of the tissue paper as you pull your new…outfit out of its bag.

“hey,” he asks. “are you almost ready?”

“i just need you to lace me up,” you call back, shrugging the shoulders of your gown down a touch before stepping out from behind the divider.

you turn to show him the undone laces of your gown, watching his reflection in the mirror. he’s regaled in the fineries of the duke, having swapped out his shirt for a clean black one and fastened a fine fur coat over his shoulders. you appreciate his appearance greatly, but even more so when he finds your little surprise.

“is this…new?” he asks quietly, gloved fingers brushing undone laces aside to get a better look at what hides underneath your dress. 

it was new. a custom set, in fact. your duke likes you in dark lace and sculpted pieces. 

he inhales sharply when you take his wrist, gently guiding his hand to one of the slits in the side of your skirt. 

wriothesley breathes your name softly when his hand drifts up your dress and settles on your hip, meeting nothing but skin. 

a smug, satisfied grin threatens to break out on your face when you feel his lips brush against your shoulder. you had him on the ropes now. he’s just so easy–

his sweet movements cease suddenly and he pushes you away gently. 

“you almost got me,” he laughs, quickly removing his hands from underneath your dress. he grips the laces, deft fingers making quick work doing it up and pulling it taut and tight to hide the tempting lace of your brassiere. 

“but–”

“go put your underwear back on,” he demands, delivering a firm smack to your rear. 

defeated but not the slightest bit deterred, you reluctantly reach for the abandoned garment as your boyfriend glares at the opposite wall. but losing the battle doesn’t mean losing the war. 

“should i put on the garter belt too?”

_____

downstairs, neuvillette sighs, cursing his better-than-average hearing. 

at least you’d had the sense to leave out some good tea.

[cevansbrat0007]

The Do-Over

Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance, including jerks like Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson. Takes place directly after the events in Hello, Duchess.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bucky Barnes, A Deep Love of Clark Bars, Light Groveling, Bickering, Discussions of Grief, Threats of Violence, Gentle Manhandling, Brief References to Negative Body Image, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

An annoyed Ari takes a pull from his cigarette as he listens to his friend and fellow combat vet give him shit all the way from his office back in New Mexico. As soon as this was over, he was going to ditch this empty parking lot to find himself an ice cold beer and a goddamned steak. 

He was officially ready to put this day behind him. But first he needed a decent dinner.

“So let me see if I’ve got this right.” His friend begins, now that he’d finally stopped cursing up a blue streak. “Do you really mean to tell me that you took our best lead, which just so happened to be the perp’s girlfriend, and fucked it all to hell?”  

Okay, but just because that’s what happened doesn't necessarily mean that it was actually his fault. He’d just been a little off his game.

“Hey Buck, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re beginning to sound as dramatic as Rogers.”

“Steve would never fuck-up something this big for us.” He could practically hear the man flipping him off.

“I’m telling you this girl would’ve cut off Golden Boy’s balls and fed them to him for breakfast, okay?” He takes another puff, flicking some of the excess ash out his driver-side window. “Trust me.”

“Hold on.” An exasperated Bucky sighs into the receiver before placing the phone on his desk to speak to whoever had just walked into his office. He hoped whoever it was had better news than he did, otherwise he feared his old war buddy might have an aneurysm.

Sometimes he got the impression that Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes was wound a little too tight.    

The silence drags on as Ari contemplates getting out of his car to stretch his legs. It’s another several minutes before Bucky is back on the line, and this time he sounds positively exhausted.

“We can’t afford to lose this one, man. Westbrook might be a piece of shit, but he’s an expensive piece of shit. So while I don’t care how you feel about the girl, you need to make things right. She could have some valuable intel.”

“Yeah, I know.” His mood darkens as he flicks the cigarette onto the pavement. As he watches it hit the ground, he finds himself wondering if it was finally time to quit the cancer sticks altogether. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it before.

“Besides, what do you care if she was Westbrook’s fuck buddy?” Ari’s treated to the sound of his friend unwrapping something that sounded suspiciously like a candy bar. There was only one person who was known to keep that stuff at the office.

Which meant that shit had better not come from his personal stash, otherwise Bucky Barnes was a fucking dead man.

“I don’t.” Ari growls, sucking on his teeth. “And that had better not be a Clark Bar you’re eatin'.”

“Hate to break it to ya, pal. But based on what you told me earlier, it kinda sounds like you might.” There’s an unmistakable sound of a grin in his voice, which irks the bounty hunter to no end. 

“And I think it’s finally time you got your hearing checked, old man.” He growls back, although his words lack any real fire. 

“As for your precious Clark Bars,” he continues. “See, normally I’d pass on ‘em. But Pixie’s been on a health kick lately and she threw out all the junk food. So, I’m desperate.” Bucky gives an exaggerated groan. “Plus, she has no idea about your stash.” 

“Jesus.” Ari grumbles, firing up his engine with the intent to head back to the house he was currently renting. “I really wish you two would just suck face already and get it over with.”

“Mind your fucking business, Levinson.”

“Then keep your filthy hands off my fuckin’ Clark Bars, Barnes.” There’s a heavy sigh on the other line, prompting Ari to roll his eyes. All he wanted was for this conversation to fucking end.

“Look.” Bucky grunts. “You bring down this Westbrook fucker and I’ll buy you a goddamned case of those stupid bars. Alright?”

“You got yourself a deal.” Turning on his truck, Ari slowly heads for the exit as his stomach begins to rumble. Maybe he’d track down some shrimp to go with that steak.

“And fix whatever it is you fucked up with that bookstore broad while you’re at it.” 

“I’ll do my best.” He grimaces as his mind treats him to images of you threatening him with your taser. “But if that little spitfire puts me in the hospital you’re footin’ the bill.” And with that, Ari hangs up the phone.

As of now, he was officially done for the night.

A Few Days Later…

You’re sitting on the floor of your stockroom when you hear the tinkling of bells signaling the arrival of a customer. Groaning as you rise to your feet, you wipe your palms on the fabric of your pants and head to the front of the store. 

Business had been unusually slow today, so hopefully this patron - whoever they were - would be in the mood to buy something. As you were driving in this morning, you’d briefly considered holding another sale. Maybe it was time for another book fair. That seemed to be pretty popular the last time you’d done it. 

You’re in the middle of making a mental note to reach out to the local librarian when your eyes land on the absolute last person you wanted to see standing in your lobby: Ari Levinson. 

Not this guy again. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He says, offering up an unapologetic shrug as he takes in the sight of you in your form-fitting yoga pants. 

Apparently you’d spoken out loud. Perhaps if you kept doing it, the man would eventually get offended enough to leave. Wishful thinking at its finest.

When the intruder realizes you don’t plan on speaking again, he decides to take advantage of the silence by doing something completely unexpected. 

“I just dropped by to, uh…” He takes a deep breath, rocking back on his heels. “Apologize for how our last meeting went. While it wasn’t my intention to insult you, I know that I did.” One big hand comes up to massage the back of his neck. “Just wanted to offer that, for whatever it’s worth.”

“Oh. Wow.” You reply dumbly, crossing your arms over your chest. For whatever reason, you got the distinct impression that he didn’t make apologies often. 

“You’re right, sweetheart. I don’t.” His lips turn up in an awkward grin as he takes a step toward you. “But a real man knows how to own up to his shit, which is exactly what I’m doin right now.”

“Okay.” 

Mouth suddenly dry, you go to take a step back, only to find that your legs no longer work. Next thing you know, Ari is in your space, his boot clad feet are now mere centimeters from your well-loved sneakers as he towers over you. 

He holds out his hand as a gesture of goodwill, silently imploring you to take it. Your eyes lock with his as yours moves on its own accord – almost as if you’d been entranced. 

Your hand feels so small and delicate in his grasp. And for a second, you wonder what it might be like to lace your fingers together. How it would feel to hold onto him so intimately for just a few seconds longer. You sneak a glance up at Ari, only to watch as his pupils dilate, his nostrils flaring just slightly. It’s enough to let you know that you’re not the only one affected.

“You think we might be able to try this again?” His deep baritone washes over you like a balm. “You have my word I’ll do a much better job of, uh, keeping myself in check.” 

Yanking your hand away, all you can do is nod. Part of you almost wished the man would go back to acting like an asshole. At least then you would know how to handle him. This so-called charming and apologetic Ari was a different beast entirely.

“I–” You swallow thickly. “Yes, that’s fine.”

“Thank you for your kindness.” His easy smile has the nerve to do funny things to the butterflies in your belly. “And while I would hate to do anything that might spoil this good will, I would like to ask you a couple of questions right now.”  

Instantly suspicious, you open your mouth to deliver a curt “no”. However, having already anticipated this, Ari is quick to amend his request by promising not to be too invasive. He also insists that he’ll follow your lead. 

“If at any moment you want to stop, we’ll stop. You have my word on that too, darlin’.” He surveys the room, absentmindedly scratching at his jaw. “You good with me ensuring we have a little privacy?” Again you nod, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

Because at this point, it just didn’t make sense to kick the man out. Especially not when he seemed to be taking great pains to be respectful. You could only hope that he’d appreciate your cooperation enough to go bother someone else when you were through. 

Maybe it might be worth leading him back towards someone who’d actually appreciate his attention. Someone like your would-be frenemy, Charline Marshall. 

Seemingly encouraged by your response, the invasive bounty hunter hustles towards the door so that he could flip your sign from open to closed. And, unbeknownst to him, it also gives you a chance to begrudgingly appreciate just how good his ass looks in his Levi’s. 

Alright. So maybe you’d hold off on feeding Ari Levinson to Charline and her disciples – at least for right now.

“You know.” You cough, needing to give yourself a moment to recalibrate before you said or did something dumb. “I actually just remembered that I needed to fix a couple of things around the shop during my lunch break.”

An unruffled Ari simply smiles and winks back at you. “Thought you said you believed in your ability to multitask?”

You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at the smug bastard. Because he was right. You absolutely had said that. And then he’d had the gall to fucking listen. 

“Fine.” Shooting him a glare, you head over to the counter and toe-off your shoes. 

“Appreciate it, darlin’.” 

Just like last time, out comes his pen and tiny notebook. He flips it open to a new page before giving you his full attention. Meanwhile, you’re now hellbent on acting like he doesn’t exist. 

“How long have you owned your shop, Baubles & Quills?” 

If you were to look in his eyes at that moment, you would’ve seen them shining with genuine inquisitiveness. Almost as if he actually wanted to get to know you. 

“A few years.” You reply, bracing your hands on the flat surface of the desk. “I spent a large part of my childhood here, buried amongst books. My uncle left it to me when he passed. But I’m sure you already knew that.” 

Taking a deep breath, you send up a silent prayer to the Lord asking him not to let you fall before hefting yourself onto the counter with all the grace you can muster.  

“Maybe.” Ari concedes while jotting something down on his notepad. “But it’s different coming from – just what the hell are you doin’ woman?!”

“Checking out this light fixture.” You huff as you work to steady yourself.

“Any reason you couldn’t do that from the ground?” The bounty hunter surprises you by sounding more than a little stressed.

Confused by his response, you manage to spare a quick glance in his direction. Although your unlikely companion looks less than happy, you fail to fully grasp the nature of the problem. 

“Because I couldn’t quite tell if this whole panel was out, or just the one little section.” 

“Alright, well…” He drags an agitated hand through his already messy brown locks. “Now that you’ve seen it, how about you come on down from there?”

“Oh my goodness, Levinson.” An exasperated chuckle bubbles its way from your throat. “It’s just the counter. Save the freakout for when you find me on the flippin’ roof or something.” 

“You’re standin’ on the damned thing wearin’ nothing but socks. It’s like you’re askin’ to fall.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

“How the hell is my expressin’ concern about your safety bein’ dramatic?” 

“Next question, buddy.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the affronted look on the bounty hunter’s gorgeous face.

Ari forces himself to take a breath before attempting to return back to the task at hand. “I have it here that your Uncle is the late Lenny Barstowe. He was, by all accounts, an upstanding pillar of this community.”

“He was.” You agree, bending down to grab the duster resting near your feet. 

“You say he was your uncle, and yet you two don’t share the same last name.” He frowns when he notices your slight wobble. 

And for the tenth time in almost as many minutes he finds himself wondering why the fuck you didn’t hire someone to take care of shit like this for you? Hell, give him a ladder and a free afternoon and he’d handle things himself.      

“Wow. Nothing gets past you.” You sniff, trying to fight back a sneeze as dust goes flying. “They teach you those observation skills in private detective school?”

“Sure did.” Ari snorts without missing a beat, tucking the pen behind his ear. “First thing on the syllabus, in fact.”    

“Thought so.” 

“So glad we cleared that up.”

You can’t stop the small thrill that courses through you when you notice the newfound tick in his jaw. If you weren’t careful, you could find yourself growing addicted to that little zing in your blood. To that tiny spike in your pulse you felt every time you two sparred.  

“But if we could go back to your uncle, I’m sure losing him had to be hard – what with him being your only family.” He takes a turn fanning himself with his notebook. ”Was your friend, Martin, there for you during that difficult time?” 

That particular question actually makes you pause and reflect. You’d been so lost in grief back then, which is part of the reason it had taken you so long to claw your way out of that dark hole. And, if memory served, you’d done that majority of that clawing on your own.

“I’m sure he was around, Mr. Levinson.” Your answer sounds cagey, even to your own ears. “But I pretty much wore my grief like a sweater back then. And if I’m being honest, those first few months after losing him were nothing but a miserable haze.”    

“I know the feeling.” He murmurs as he scribbles on the page. 

“Look.” You blow out a breath as you attempt to gauge the distance between the desk and the ground. As of this moment, you officially regretted not grabbing your step stool. “I don’t know where Martin is or who he’s running from. All I know is that he was scared, but he refused to tell me anything more, okay?”

“Did he ask you for money?”

“Yes.” 

He’d also called you too. And while you choose to keep that little detail to yourself, you figure there was no harm in telling him about the money. At the time you’d had no idea you were potentially aiding and abetting a criminal. Or maybe you just hadn’t wanted to believe it.

“And did you give it to him?” The intense look in his beautiful blue eyes has you suddenly feeling foolish.  

“Yes.” 

It’s that one word, spoken barely above a whisper, that leaves Ari shaking his head. His gaze drops to the ground as he works to rein-in his temper. You have no idea what a struggle it is for him to do so – because he’s not upset with you. 

If anything, you’d just given him one more reason to run that slippery motherfucker into the goddamned ground. 

“How much did he get you for?” Even though Ari has calmed himself considerably, his tone still comes off harsher than he intends. 

“Almost $500.” You tell him, your face hot with embarrassment. “I suppose I should’ve asked more questions. You probably think I’m an idiot for –”

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He swiftly interjects, not wanting you to get upset. “You’re doin’ so great bein’ honest with me right now.” Unsure of what else to do, he tosses his notebook aside in favor of reaching for your hand. “I know this shit ain’t easy.”  

“I think I’m done for now.” You tell him, doing your best to avoid looking at your now joined hands. God, he really needed to stop doing that. “Please.”

“Okay.” He readily agrees as his thumb strokes along the ridge of your knuckles. “Then we’re done.” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Are you gonna let me help you down off the counter before you kick me out?”

“It’s okay. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You mumble as you busy yourself with trying to figure out the easiest way to sit and scootch your way out of your current situation.

The last thing you needed was this man accidentally throwing out his back over some misplaced chivalry. 

To his credit, Ari decides to ignore your feeble protests. “C’mon and let me help you.” He repeats, gesturing for you to step towards the edge of the counter so that he can grab you by the waist. “And then I’ll be on my way.”

“Really, I’m fine.” You attempt to swat at his hands, which doesn’t actually work.

“C’mon, darlin’.” He assures you gently. “Just trust me.” The next thing you know, you’re suddenly being lifted into the air. “I got you.”

“Ack – I’m too heavy!” You squeal, immediately caught off guard by the way your legs briefly dangle in the air. Try as you might, you honestly could not remember the last time a man had picked you up. 

Your heart speeds up as he effortlessly sets you down on your feet, allowing your body to slide down the solid wall of his chest. Instinctively, your hands fly to his biceps in an effort to steady yourself. 

“Thank you.” You’re suddenly having a hard time breathing around this man. “But you really shouldn’t have done that. You could’ve hurt –”

“Sweetheart, you ain’t nothin’ but a feather.” Ari rumbles, his hands still resting firmly on your hips. 

“Somehow I doubt that.” You whisper, knowing that you should demand that he let you go. Except your body is too busy buzzing to actually cooperate. 

“Happy to prove you wrong any time.” While you suspect that he hadn’t really meant to say that, his smile is full of promise. “But right now, I’m afraid I’ve gotta head out.” Although it still takes another second for him to release you. 

Not that you’re complaining any. Which deep down you know could spell trouble for you. 

Before he leaves, however, Ari reaches into the front pocket of his jeans to hand you what looks a lot like a business card. “What’s this?” You mentally smack yourself in the forehead the moment the question leaves your mouth. 

“My card.” He responds as he now heads toward the door. “That’s my cell, just in case you need it.”

“Oh.”

“Call any time, day or night.” Ari’s gruff, no-nonsense tone goes straight to your core. “You remember somethin’ about Martin? Call me. You lookin’ for someone to stand guard while you lock up at night? Call me. You need to hear a friendly voice in the dark? Fucking call me.” 

His offer takes you by surprise. So much so, that you’re temporarily rendered speechless as you clutch the stiff piece of paper in your palm. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever take him up on his offer, you could certainly appreciate his generosity. 

“Thank you.” You rasp, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip.

“Any time, Duchess.” His head dips politely as he exits through the front door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

And just like that he was gone, which meant you could finally breathe normally again. Strange butterflies once again fill your belly as you take your time examining the card your bounty hunter had left behind. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever call him, you decide it’s worth tucking into a zippered pocket in your purse before getting on with the rest of your day. 

Little did you know that you would come to need that tiny piece of paper sooner rather than later…  

END

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[theghostkingisdead]

dpxdc - Neglected Child AU

As one of his first acts as Ghost King, Danny basically created ghost CPS. Mostly they help new spirits come to terms with the fact that they're dead, but situations like Danny's are a lot more common than the Observants had lead him to believe. People who come back from the dead or are exposed to large quantities of unstable ectoplasm often lead sad, short second lives. Either because they are unable to obtain the nutrients their new forms require, or because their communities turn against them in fear. This is a story about Jason Todd.

There was a lot Jazz loved about her job. She loved helping young ghosts find acceptance. She loved matching cases with foster Fraids. She loved meeting new people. She loved the rare excuse to travel dimensions. But some days, Jazz was intimately reminded of why this program was formed in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Jazz looked up from her laptop. “Come in!”

Apple – the ghost of a dryad whose tree was chopped down two summers ago – poked her head in.

“Uh, Lady- I mean, Ms. Phan-, no,” Apple took a shuddering breath. Jazz smiled encouragingly. The girl had only been working here for a season, and already she was making excellent progress. “Ms. Jasmine, there’s a city spirit here to see you, uh, on behalf of a uh, potential client.”

“Thank you, Apple, you can send them in.” Jazz said.

Apple flushed green, closing the door with a sigh. Jazz guessed she had about two minutes before the impromptu meeting began. She used the time to sweep some papers off her desk and into a drawer. It had been some time since she’d had a walk-in like this. Jazz had a strict open doors policy when it came to her office, despite the technical fact that her door was often closed; it was just easier to focus that way! She had no idea why most ghosts preferred to submit claims by mail, really it was much better for them to speak with an officer in person.

Thirty years ago, Jazz would’ve had trouble describing the spirit that walked through the doors. Fifty years ago, even looking at it would’ve been painful. But Jasmine Duchess Phantom had been living in the Infinite Realms for almost eighty years now, and liminal senses reached out subconsciously, cataloging scents and colors that her mortal mind would have balked at.

The shape of a steel-colored skeleton peered out at her from a billowing cloud of grey smoke, which curled around its feet and seeped across the floor. Jazz tasted gunmetal and sugar, smelled stale urine and burned bread, felt desperation-fear-hunger-love crash violently against her. Like a cliff to a wave, Jazz stood her ground, letting herself be tested. This spirit was old and afraid; when it spoke, it spoke in a million overlapping voices.

“My apologies for barging in unannounced, Your Grace. I come before you with an issue of great import. One I have reason to believe our King may have a personal interest in.”

Jazz nodded, “My doors are always open, City Spirit. I’m always happy to help. But before I hear your petition, may I know who I am addressing?”

The skeleton did not move that she could see, but Jazz heard windchimes like chittering laughter.

“I am Gotham, Your Grace. My apologies for my rudeness. I have little reason to travel these days and am unaccustomed to necessary introductions.”

Jazz nodded, committing the name and its taste to memory. “No need to apologize, Gotham. Your situation is not unique amongst your kind. Have a seat,” Jazz gestured at the plush couch across from her desk. “What troubles you so, to bring you so far from home?”

There was more windchime tittering, and Jazz wondered if the spirit was laughing or just readjusting itself on a plane she could not see. A nervous tick, perhaps? Maybe she could send Apple for something to make Gotham feel more at ease. Bullet casings or chocolate chip cookies would be equally soothing to this entity, Jazz guessed.

Gotham folded into itself, form blurring slightly before reforming on the couch, leaned forward with elbows on knees. “Many years ago, a mortal man pledged himself to my service. I accepted him as a City Guard, my mortal Champion. This man has many children who have likewise pledged themselves to my protection.”

Jazz smothered the urge to interrupt. She loathed the idea of child Guards; the fact that this City Spirit was here now asking for help meant that this instance had gone just as well as it usually did.

Unaware of her internal judgement, Gotham continued. “The second child died and revived some seven years ago, I…” This time, the rattling sound emanating from Gotham shook the room with the force of a thunderclap. “You have to understand, I don’t claim kids as champions, so technically he was never even under my protection. And when he came back, he ran! I don’t have power outside the city, you know, so even if, well, it’s not like there was anything I could have done differently,”

Jazz was aware that she was frowning. She could only guess what her aura felt like to Gotham, whose smoky aura was rapidly thickening. A bird puffing itself up to look bigger. A cheap trick. If Jazz were in a more compassionate mood, she might have felt embarrassed at such a juvenile display from a spirit decades older than herself.

“You neglected a child, or-” she cut off Gotham before it could protest, “allowed a child to be neglected. For seven years. What changed? Why petition him now and not then?”

Gotham chittered, “Well, you see, he came back to me just over a year ago, retook his pledge and everything. And, well, things were rough, I thought the fraid was just readjusting itself, but, er-”

“Tell me.”

“Well, the problem is I don’t exactly know what the boy is anymore, but he’s more ghostly than not, and his fraid’s fully human. If this infighting between my Guards goes on for any longer, it’ll tear me apart. I figured The King might want to step in, considering this boy might be a halfa, maybe he could help him and the fraid get back to normal.”

Jazz grinned. “Rest assured, Gotham, The Crown will indeed be taking special interest in your case.” Words dripped from her lips, caustic even to her own ears. “Now, why don’t you go outside and give Apple the rest of the details. I have some visits to make.”

[boundinparchment]

In Trenodia

Long-distance marriages are difficult. But you and Wriothesley always manage to make time for one another. Female Reader/Wriothesley. Second scene is implied to occur after Act 4 of the Fontaine Archon Quest. Song for title inspiration - 'In Trenodia' by VV. CW: smut, breeding kink if you squint, oral, cunnilingus MINORS DNI. RATED EXPLICIT. On AO3 here.

After routine confirmations of invoices and goods, along with small talk from the surface, you were escorted to your husband’s office.  As you were every visit.  No one, not even the Duchess, was exempt from protocol.

By now you knew every guard’s name and face and remembered their troubles from the last time you visited.  It wasn’t easy to live in the depths, let alone work in them.  You knew the other side, what it was to be without, and you easily understood the toll separation took.  Words from you might not soothe, not entirely, but expectation danced on every face and you saw it as your duty to bring what reassurance and reprieve you could.

The guards sent word ahead of your arrival, naturally, so you did not expect to surprise Wriothesley nor be interrupted while you were there. 

Years ago, the large imposing doors frightened you. You had not expected the Duke himself to want to speak to you.  In hindsight, it made sense: you were a small vendor directly supplying him.  He had been so impressed that your honey did not taint his tea beyond recognition.  Wriothesley was instead immediately interested in how your methods varied from those used by the companies that mechanically processed the liquid as well as other beekeepers.

Moments like those left you lighter than air.  But they also managed to claw at the wound that never truly closed.  One you were used to nursing in the later hours of the night.  Distance made the heart grow fonder, of course; it also served as a chasm that would never be truly crossed.

Now was not the time for such melancholy, you reminded yourself.

As you entered Wriothesley’s office and the guard closed the doors behind you, you could make out the faintest familiar notes from the phonograph.  With a large jar of liquid gold tucked under your arm, you climbed the stairs and crested just as Wriothesley looked up from his paperwork. 

The weariness under his eyes and in the thin line of his mouth faded, barely visible as he laid eyes on you.

“You have impeccable timing, my love,” he said as you approached, lips quirking into a soft smile.  “Just when I was about to take a break.”

You rested the jar on the desk, the contents almost glowing from the way the light passed through the contents, and leaned over to meet him for a kiss.  Your heart jolted, as it always did, at the sensation of his soft lips on yours and at the scent of his shaving cream. 

Wriothesley stood and stretched for a moment, rolling his shoulder as he rounded the desk.  He picked up the jar with a single hand to examine it and held it up to the light. 

“Darker this year.  How was the yield?  Did you have any trouble harvesting?”

You shook your head. 

“Monsieur Lockwood’s Rainbow Roses were quite the feast for the hives.  The taste is mild enough but I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

He cocked an eyebrow, intrigued.  You carefully took the jar from his grasp, opened it, and dipped your finger into the honey, extracting just enough to sample.  Wriothesley’s hand, large and warm, encircles your wrist and guided your finger to his mouth.  He licked methodically, savoring every drop as his eyes closed for a moment in thought.

When he opened them again, you caught the faintest hint of hunger mingled with astonishment.

“Floral without being over-powering.  Refreshing, even.  My compliments to the hive.”

“I’ll be sure to give them your praises,” you laughed as you closed the jar and set it aside.

Wriothesley’s hands found your face, the rough pads of his fingers ghosting over your skin.  He lowered his head to brush his nose against yours, a playful smirk on his face.

“I can think of only one gift sweeter than any honey you bring me,” he whispered.

“And what would that be, Your Grace?”

“You.”

This time, the kiss you shared was deep, eager, and full of longing.  Your arms wrapped around his neck as you tasted the last remnants of honey when his tongue brushed yours and elicited a low moan from deep in his chest.  Wriothesley maneuvered you against the desk and then reached for your legs, lifting you to the surface with ease and hiking up your skirt to settle between your legs. 

Hours later, when duty could no longer be pushed aside, Wriothesley would escort you back to the passageway to the surface.

You would leave with flushed cheeks and sticky thighs, with only memories of his laugh and loving gaze to ease the ache in your heart until your next visit.

You hadn’t anticipated the possibility of another outcome. 

After all, you were married to a man sentenced to live in exile, to work in the shadows and support those sentenced to a different life than one provided on the surface.  When he told you of the circumstances, how he came to be prisoner and then warden, he wiped away your tears before they could spill and you understood that he held a love far larger than himself.

He was not a man of sentimentality, your Wriothesley; he was a man of loyalty, of action.

So, one morning when you spotted the figure walking up the path to your humble home (modest by most standards of Fontaine’s highest rankings of nobility), your heart immediately leapt into your throat and stayed there, like a stone.

Were you hallucinating?

Surely not.

You would know that hair and gait even through the beekeeping veil currently clenched in your hands.  The report of recent events arrived with your morning post and you were keen to set to work.  If you worked, you could not worry about the murmurs of Fatui presence, the recent trial with a Harbinger, nor your cook’s mumbling about the prophecy you grew up hearing.

Wriothesley was working on a solution, one that only solidified his sense of duty to the nation that gave him a second chance. 

His gray eyes skimmed over you from heel to head as he drew closer in the cresting morning light, golden rays catching the fastenings of his overcoat.  You couldn’t even get a word out of your mouth before he cupped your face and kissed you, ardently, thumbs brushing just under your eyes. 

“Wriothesley—” you gasped, his name nothing more than a rush of air when the kiss broke and you were wrapped in his arms, his presence sturdy, warm.

When you pulled away, you could see the fine lines from lack of sleep, the way worry had settled into the corners of his mouth and the hardness of his eyes.  He hid them well but he always lowered his metaphorical mask around you, just enough for the truth to peer out.

“I had to deliver a report to the Chief Justice in-person.  It didn’t make sense to come all this way only to not see you,” he said softly.  “They’ll just have to forgive me for breaking protocol to see my wife at least one more time.”

His expression softened and his gaze traced over you the way an artist’s brush touched canvas.  Wriothesley pried one hand from your hat and bringing it to your lips.  “Your Grace.”

Your face grew hot as you held his gaze and you couldn’t help but match his smile.  How long had it been since he’d been up here, on the surface, at your too-empty home?

“I was going to check on the hives and fields before breakfast.  Care to join me?”

“Nothing I’d love more.”

At this hour, the hives were quiet, as were the fields.  The sky was finally beginning to turn from inky blue to orange, gold, and pink beyond the lines of trees surrounding the property.  A new morning, full of potential, even if the colors were slightly different for him.

You weren’t sure who turned first, who initiated the slow kiss that only seemed to deepen with every passing second.  Time itself seemed to stop when you tugged slightly on Wriothesley’s tie to bring him down into the tall grass.  He complied, arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him as the soft blades beneath you gave way.

“Adventurous this morning, aren’t you, my Duchess?” Wriothesley teased above you, his knee nestled in the perfect spot between your legs.

“Mmm, more like taking advantage of the opportunity while we have it,” you replied, smiling as you reached up to kiss him.

Your body reacted to him like metal in a thunderstorm every time, instantly aware of your own needs, overwhelmed by the love that flooded your heart.  Distance was difficult for ordinary couples and the decision to continue, to marry, hadn’t been easy.

But this sensation, moments where you were the only two in the entire world.  It made all the struggles worth it. 

“Sunlight comes with you everywhere, makes you almost glow…” he whispered.

You reached for him, pushed his coat from his shoulders and made quick work of his shirt buttons, exposing his scarred chest.  In return, the stays of your dress were pulled apart, the fabric pooling at your waist and revealing your breasts, nipples hardening in the slight morning chill.

“I can’t remember the last time I smelled grass.  Smelled flowers, wild flowers not yet cut.  Nothing smells the same down there, where the sun can never reach…always smells like burnt metal.”

His mouth was hot on your skin, hungry but tempered as his teeth grazed the column of your neck and his lips found your breasts.  A jolt ran through you from heart to core as he flicked his tongue over your nipple and then sucked, just enough to elicit a gasp from you.  His free hand traced the curve of your other breast before he switched, tongue swirling gently.

Your hands found purchase in his black and gray hair, mussing it further as he worked downwards and pushed your skirts up to your waist.  He gazed up at you through his lashes as he pushed aside your panties, fingers dancing along your folds and finding you slick and swollen.

“Beautiful,” he breathed against your thighs, the words tickling your sensitive flesh.  His tongue brushed your lips and he moaned softly.  “Tastes as exquisite as it looks.”

His hand parted your folds a little further and his tongue returned to stroke you.  You arched your back as he swirled circles against your clit, a familiar sensation sitting low in your belly to stoke the throbbing ache deep inside you.  Your fingers in Wriothesley’s hair tightened as you pulled slightly in your eagerness, unsure if you wanted him to stop or push you over the edge.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace, I wouldn’t finish you so quickly,” Wriothesley teased.  “But I do want to savior you.”

True to his word, you never peaked.  But he did keep you on the precipice, eternally aware of the white-hot heat searing through your veins and your ever-growing need to be even closer to him.

Wriothesley only pulled away after pressing one finger into your wet heat and kissing your clit with a flick of his tongue.  You looked towards him, craning your neck to find your essence across his jaw and chin, glistening in the morning light.  His gaze was lost for a moment, memorizing you. 

After all, you never knew when the next time to see each other would come.  You might be able to predict and show up with a jar of honey and steal hours of his time.  Or, as you were this morning, you might be informed of events beyond almost anyone’s control.

You watched as Wriothesley freed himself from the confines of his trousers and positioned himself above you again.  He brushed himself against your wet folds, back and forth, and he groaned.

“I love that sound.  So wet for me…”

Your eyes never left his as he pressed into you, slow and steady, and buried himself to the hilt.  Deep inside, your walls were already squeezing.  Both of you let out a sound that begged the other to hold on a little longer.

You craned your neck up as Wriothesley bent down, foreheads pressed together and eyes fluttering shut as he withdrew entirely before starting with slow, deep strokes.

“Need this to last,” he whispered against your lips.  “To feel every inch of you around me.”

His composure slowly slipped away as you tilted your head and kissed him, sweet and full.  You wrapped your arms around him, hands finding his shoulder muscles.  One of your feet, devoid of its shoe, rested at the top of his thigh; just before he could pull out entirely again, you pushed him deeper inside of you. 

“I want to feel you even when you’re gone,” you murmured.  “So I have something to tell me this wasn’t just a dream.”

More words sprung to your mind but they were washed away by the fire building within you.  Wriostheley grunted as your walls squeezed slightly, begging him for more.  You caught a mischievous glint in your husband’s eyes when he pulled back slightly and reached for your foot.  He gently folded your leg and pressed it against you, giving him a better angle.

“I have a better idea.”  He wriggled slightly and you gasped as he twitched deep inside you at the perfect spot.  “I’ll come right here…fill you up over and over…”

He sped up his pace, your breathing ragged as your scents mingled with the grass and wildflowers.  The coil deep in your belly tightened and you felt everything else fall away as your toes curled and white-hot heat threatened your entire existence.

“Wriothesley—"

Light exploded across your vision as you shuddered and convulsed around him, underneath him.  It was too much and not enough all at once, your hips bucking as Wriothesley helped you ride out the aftershocks.  He twitched again, burying his face in your neck as he released inside you.

He pulled away only enough to push your hair out of your face and grin down at you, eyes bright.  His face was flushed and his hair absolutely ruined but backlit by the morning sun, he looked almost otherworldly. 

“I’d like that,” he said softly.  “To see you carry my child.  Our child.”

You wriggled your hips again, your bodies still coupled.  Wriothesley hissed and shifted his weight slightly to keep you from moving.  He was just as sensitive as you were and you couldn’t help but grin up at him.

“If you keep that up, we’ll be here all morning, Your Grace.”

“Good.”

[sky-kiss]

Dad!Phael: Dog Days

A/N: I'm committing a dark and terrible sin. But I had a mighty need. Kids name is Orin because...my Durge has issues. I dunno. Have some horrible trash.

___________________

Raphael: When You Create a Mini You, But You Kinda Suck

___________________

The little terror will not stop hounding him.

Raphael massages his temple, his right hand still folded over his belly. His daughter stands before his desk, hands folded neatly at the small of her back. In a rare twist of fate, she is the very picture of courtly etiquette. The shouts echoing down the halls have made it clear that this is no happenstance occurrence: the princess, unflappable and secure in the deference afforded her position, had harassed her mother's maidservants until they'd relented. Her dark hair is neatly braided, tied with strands of precious metal. Her dress is polite and clean. She is perfectly still. 

A lie. A very convincing lie, but Raphael is not in the habit of indulging naughty children. The cambion leans back in his seat. "You've brought me a proposal, I see?" 

"Yes." Little Orin holds her head high, delicate and lovely, well-spoken, as any of his spawn ought to be. She is nearly five, and while he is delighted to be free of her nonsensical chattering, eloquence has brought a new slew of problems. Namely, understanding. He can understand her. And she is never silent. 

He hums, flicking his attention to the neatly stacked sheets of paper on his deck. "These here?" 

"Yes, father." His heir shifts. She wants to rock back on her heels so badly. The stillness drives her mad. "For you to…" Orin frowns, brow furrowing as she searches for the word. The devil will not help her. She scowls, grasping for something near enough to express her meaning, "Look."

Another hum. The archdevil plucks the topmost piece of her manuscript from the pile. Raphael thumbs the entirety of her little manifesto across the desk. The crux of each remains unchanged—artwork (childish and borderline unrecognizable) accompanied by a stretch of mangled penmanship. 

He didn't need to look at it. The little beast has made her desire entirely plain. 

The debtors do not interest her. She is too young to frequent the dungeons. 

She desires a pet to accompany her through the House. More precisely, she wants a hound. Raphael purses his lips, eyeing her artwork again. It resembles a hound in the loosest sense.

"My dear…"

Her face screws up in irritation. Orin opens her mouth to speak, only to snap it shut. He watches her wrestle herself under control. She inhales through her nose, stiffening. "But…" she nods towards the papers. "Wrote it. Mother said…"

"Ah, yes. Your mother." Raphael stands, moving around the desk and crossing to his heir. A lovely little thing, eyes bright and wide and hopeful. He remains the center of her world, the fixed point where she hangs all her dreams. He holds the proposal out to her. "Do it again. More effort this time." He hears the duchess's voice in his head: five. She's five, Raphael. He shunts her advice to the back of his awareness, kneeling in front of the girl. "Convince me, dear one. Now, begone with you." 

She snatches the papers back. To her credit, she maintains her composure until she's past the boudoir's threshold. After that, Raphael hears her grumbling (loudly) to herself. Good girl.

_________

He rejects the second proposal. 

And the third. 

The fourth is passable, but the girl looks so positively self-righteous, so purely livid, that he sends her away on principle. On the fifth attempt, Orin sends her mother. 

He's delighted by the underhandedness and the cunning. He is less enthused by his consort's sudden appearance and temper. 

On the seventh attempt, he accepts his daughter's petition. 

___________

He summons the kennel master the following day, intent on selecting a pup from the litter—a dignified creature suited to her more delicate frame. The Archduke of Avernus weaves through the little creatures and watches them tumble and scrap among themselves. 

Some have the makings of great hunters. The hound master has brought one bitch from Mephistopheles' stock, already twice the size of the average pup. He suspects (though he cannot confirm) that one of the unlittered pups has Nessian stock somewhere in its bloodline, darker than the average hound. The two hounds bully their way through their smaller kin, not a hint of grace in their forms, brutish and lacking refinement. 

They do not interest him. Raphael's attention flicks to a little bitch near the edge of the commotion. She remains seated throughout it all, fur midnight dark, head held high. She holds his gaze, unflinching—an elegant creature of immaculate breeding. She will be Leonine. His huntress! Well-suited for the little princess! 

Orin inhales sharply. She is here at her mother's behest, sworn to act on her most courtly manners. The she-devil nearly vibrates out of her skin. Her attention is fixed on the massive brutes. Orin looks up at him with desperate eyes. "Father…"

And the kennel master must know because he clucks his tongue and applauds the 'little lady.' Raphael feels a dawning horror settle over him like a shroud as the fiend scoops the largest pup from the group. He deposits him at the princess' feet. 

No, he will not have one of Mephistopheles' experiments roaming his halls. He will not.

"No." The archdevil holds his head high, setting a hand on his prodigy's shoulder. Muscles flex beneath his touch. Orin doesn't move towards the pup, but she does curl her fingers in an invitation, grinning when it presses its head into her palm. Her expression drips with savage vindication. Raphael blames her mother. "The little one. The female, there. She is more suited." 

"She's so small," Orin grumbles. 

"As are you, pet."

"I want this one." She indicates the brute. It stares up at him in dumb wonderment. 

"And the little lady does have impeccable taste, Master. If I could…" Raphael fixes the fiend with a look so full of hate that it recoils, hands held up for peace. "Aye, you know your business." 

Raphael makes the mistake of kneeling. The hounds turn as one, hungry for the attention of one they instinctively recognize as Master. Orin is delighted. "Your presence here was conditional, princess. You recall this?" She nods, attention flicking between him and the hounds. "And whose word is law?" 

"Yours." 

"Yes, mine. Clever girl" 

He sees the gears in her head turning, looking for a way out. It delights and rankles. This little creature can only toddle after and adore him, but here she is already looking for a foothold in the great game. Orin purses her lips, and he sees so much of himself in the expression. Strange. She speaks slowly, positioning the massive pup between them. 

"I love him." 

"Irrelevant. Do try again." 

She rolls her eyes. And that is the duchess, irreverent, insufferable creature. "You," she indicates her sire, "Love her?" 

"I have selected her." 

"And the House is big? So why not…" she shrugs, looking down. "Both? One for Father. One of Orin. And then they won't be alone. They shouldn't be alone, papa."

Raphael frowns. The thrice damned kennel master says, "The Lil lady ain't wrong, ser. They're pack creatures." 

"I will send you to the pits if you do not keep silent, servant." He looks between the girl and the hound (now cradled in her arms). Raphael feels himself being manipulated. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Very well." 

"What about mother?" 

He scowls, eyes narrowing. "What of her?" 

"If we both have a hound," she stares at him with her hopeful eyes, her adoration, and her damned obvious self-satisfaction. "Won't she be hurt? Left out?"

And, oh, he has created a wretched creature. His spawn smiles. 

She gets her damned hound. And the rest of the litter for good measure, damn her. 

[thepixelelf]

female ceo reader x tailor mingyu 1.1k words.

note: female reader (because the plot is based on how some men think women can't be taken seriously in higher up positions). this premise/idea is from The Duchess Deal by Tessa Dare. like pretty much all my fics, this is not a full story and more just a fun idea

[coincidence? I think yes] Letting out a guttural, defeated groan, you slump your head down on your keyboard. The keys press down, adding to the already incomprehensible email you were drafting to send to your personal assistant.

Seungkwan,

I need a husband.b,mfnhh7gy6untjjn 7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7nn7n7n

The first four words were stupid enough. Why should you need a husband? Just because your grandpa is a misogynistic prick?

7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7nn7n7n7n7n

And why should you need to get married of all things just so that he doesn't hand over "his" company -- that you practically resurrected from bankruptcy, by the way -- to your insipid cousin?

7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n77n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7

It's not like your cousin Yeongmin is married. He just happens to be the family's oldest male in your generation.

n7n7n7n7n7nn7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7

"Um--"

Seungkwan's voice makes you pop up, and you straighten your back to attempt to look put together even though it's arguable that Seungkwan is the only person who's ever seen you at your most bedraggled. He's probably the only person you'll ever let see you as anything beneath totally put together badass CEO who built themself up from almost nothing.

You smooth out your sleeves. "Yes?"

"There's a man at my desk," Seungkwan says, slightly confused. You're not sure why.

"Okay...?"

"Asking for you."

"Yes, Seungkwan." You nod, brows furrowing. "That's why people normally go to your desk."

His fingers toy with the end of his other arm's sleeve. "Yeah, but..."

"But?"

"He's wearing a wedding dress."

"Oh." You glance down at your computer screen, and the last words you typed-- well, on purpose.

I need a husband.

Weird.

"Do you, uh..." Seungkwan jerks his thumb towards the door he's only stepped halfway through. "...want me to send him away?"

"No, no." If a guy is coming to you in a wedding dress, he must want something. Badly. You've never heard of such a stunt, but you might as well hear him out. "Let him in."

Husband...man in a wedding dress... There's not that big of a difference, right?

Maybe you can offer him what he wants so badly. In exchange for something you want.

Seungkwan nods, still hesitant. "Alright, but you might want to put on some sunglasses."

You don't have time to ask him what the heck he means by that before he disappears out the door, and only seconds later, a blazing white fire barges in.

With all the floor-to-ceiling windows in your corner office, the afternoon sunlight is often a blessing. Right now, however, it bounces off approximately one million sequins, pearls, and crystals, and reflects so harshly into your poor eyeballs that you have to simultaneously raise your hand to cover your eyes and turn away.

"Oh my god." You may have just received snow blindness comparable to years of albedo exposure. "What the--"

"Miss CEO. Ma'am," Mr Say Yes to the Dress starts from behind the curtain of your fingers, voice loud, if a bit unsteady. "My name is Kim Mingyu, and I'm here to collect."

Lowering your hand just slightly, you allow yourself to see him from the shoulders up, which is lucky, since the dress seems to have a sleeveless sweetheart neckline.

Not bad. Broad, sculpted shoulders, a symmetrical face topped with fluffy black hair, something meek in his eyes -- despite having the gall to walk right into your office wearing the world's brightest hodgepodge of fabric and demand payment for... something.

"Collect?" you echo.

"Yes." He nods, and you see him shift to gesture towards the crinoline-filled skirt of the gown. "For the dress."

Instinctively, you look where he gestures, and you wince at the sparkles that stab your retinas. It's not that it's ugly. In fact, the handiwork must be incredible, if you know anything about anything. It's just so...much. Lace and pearls and sequins and rhinestones and floral embroidery.

"You must be mistaken. I never ordered--" You wave at the embodiment of Narnia's never ending winter. "--that."

"No, but Choi Yeori did."

Ah, now things are starting to make sense. You're closer to your cousin Yeori than you are her older brother Yeongmin, if only because you used to play murder mystery make-believe with her when you were nine and she was six. It's been a long time since those days, though. The only updates you get about Yeori's life now come from her public social media, and gossip columns. But there's one thing you know from both the past playtimes and the current Instagram stories.

Choi Yeori is a romantic. Always has been, always will be, you suspect.

From acting the femme fatale (as deadly as a six-year-old can be, which is surprisingly very) to the three engagement announcements she's since deleted from all her accounts, she likes to believe in stuff like love.

All the power to her, you say. Living in her beautiful world must be nice.

Well, except for when it's not so beautiful.

"Let me guess." You tilt your head at the boy-in-a-wonder. "The wedding's off."

Now that your hand is down, and your full attention is on him, Mingyu seems to shift uncomfortably under your gaze. His hands reach to pull the top of the dress higher over his pecs, since it's tailored to Yeori's exact size, not his.

He nods. "I spent countless hours on this dress--"

"I can see that." Otherwise he probably wouldn't be here.

"Everything is sewn by me, like she requested--"

"Of course." No machine could make something so ice queen from Sharkboy and Lavagirl-esque.

"And her payment was retroactively rescinded," he finished. "I can't get a hold of her, or any of her contacts, and I couldn't--"

"Find a single other person who would buy this amalgamation of sparkles, luxury, and fanfare?"

Frowning, Mingyu crosses his arms. "I couldn't think of who else to go to. I'm a one-man company. The cost of material on its own has almost put me in debt."

"Right, sorry." You roll your chair further under your desk and lean your elbows on the dark, lacquered surface. Your eyes glance once again over the dress. "But this could've been an email, you know."

He shrugs. "I got your attention, didn't I?"

You can't help but laugh. Yes, he's got you there.

Reaching into one of your drawers, you pull out your chequebook. "Right, well." You grab a pen and put it to paper. "What does my dear cousin owe you, Kim Mingyu?"

He rattles off the number, and you try not to sigh at it. Oh, Yeori... This time might really be too much.

You sign on the dotted line, and stand from your chair to round your desk. Walking up to him, you tear the single cheque from the book and hold it out.

"Here."

He's even more handsome up close, you note.

Just before his fingers can grip the expensive piece of paper, you jerk your hand back with a sharp bending of your elbow.

"Or," you say. "I could offer you even more than this."

Cautiously, Mingyu raises a brow. "Even more...?"

"You could take this money now--"

A moment happens where you curse in your head. You're acting cool and collected, but the idea bubbling in your mind is one of the most outlandish you've ever come up with. Are you really going to do this?

Mingyu eyes the cheque hungrily. That seals it. He needs money, and that's really the best thing you have to offer anyone, so why not someone with a pretty face?

You smile. "--or you could marry me."

[callsign-rogueone]

this is me trying - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader when life gets to be too much, there will always be one person you can turn to. [request] 🎧: “Maybe I don’t quite know what to say, but I’m here in your doorway, I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying,” — this is me trying, Taylor Swift words: 584 🏷: no Iron Flame spoilers, just Bren taking care of his girl when she’s sad. slice of life. I left it kinda vague, so you can decide if it’s Duchess or not (reader is part of the revolution, but that’s it). this may be the fastest I’ve ever completed a request. life has also been a lot for me lately, and I gotta take care of my bbs when they’re sad!! plus, it’s Brennan, so 🥰

You knock on the doorframe gently, hesitant. 

Brennan sighs, looking up from the parchment, clearly exhausted. “Hi, love.”

“Hi,” you manage, immediately regretting the decision to come up here and interrupt his work; the unfinished incident reports strewn across his desk, the foot-tall stack of books unread, multiple letters from your allies across the continent that need to be replied to… 

He recognizes the look on your face, the crack in your voice as you try to hold it together; he knows you’re going to cry. “Whoa, hey,” he soothes, softening instantly. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head no, feeling silly — you aren’t hurt, just overwhelmed and tired. He has so much on his plate already, without you and your emotions distracting him from his duties. You should have sorted this out yourself, or found someone else to confide in. “It’s nothing, really. I should go, I’m sorry..."

He sees straight through your excuse, using that gentle but firm tone he takes with you when you get like this, the one that tells you he won’t take no for an answer. “It’s clearly something. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what it is. Life’s just been a lot lately,” you sniff, still trying to hold in your tears. You squeeze your hands together in an attempt to comfort yourself from where you still stand in the doorway of the office.

He feels a wash of guilt — he’s hardly seen you this week, too preoccupied with his responsibilities as an army Major to think of his responsibilities as a partner.

“C’mere,” he coaxes, setting down the paper and opening his arms.

You move to stand in front of his chair, letting him settle you across his lap, your knees draped over one of the armrests.

You’re so glad that you’d convinced him to replace that rickety wooden thing with something much more comfortable; a tall upholstered armchair that can support the weight of two people like this. You already feel better as you rest against the warm muscle of his chest, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close.

“M’sorry,” you whisper, “I know you were busy…”

He shushes you softly. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I’ll never be too busy to hold my girl.”

A tear finally falls as you realize that you were wrong, that it wasn’t stupid to feel this way, that you’re not bothering him. He brushes it away with a gentle sweep of his thumb.

“You can always come to me when you feel like this, no matter what I’m doing. I love you so much, my beautiful girl,” he soothes, rubbing your back. “My brilliant, compassionate, sharp, kind, strong girl.”

“Half of those words mean the same thing,” you mumble into his shoulder, though you really do appreciate the affirmations, the reassurance that he’s here for you.

He laughs softly. “There she is. Now, why don’t we find ourselves some dinner?”

He feels your grip on his shirt tighten ever so slightly, your head nuzzling into his neck.

“Can we just stay like this for a while?” you ask quietly, not wanting to leave his arms.

“Of course, my love.”

He finally relaxes into the plush upholstery, sighing deeply. He’d needed this more than he realized, needed your softness and the gentle pressure of you leaning into him to drain the stress away.

The paperwork can wait until tomorrow — the revolution will survive another day without it being completed, and he has more important things to do right now.

[kiwiana-writes]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks @getmehighonmagic @whimsymanaged @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @junebugclaremontdiaz @onthewaytosomewhere for the tags. Y'all are getting more than I intended of the Anastasia AU tonight because I couldn't figure out a good place to cut it... at this rate idk what will be left to publish that hasn't been on tumblr but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Nora.” Alex swallows. “I know this guy.” “You know Prince Henry?” She reaches out, patting him on the cheek. “I think finals have fried your brain. He’s been missing for a decade. That’s kind of the point. Unless you’re telling me he’s a ghost wandering around the White House—that’d be kinda cool.” “He’s not a—wait, you believe in ghosts?” Nora just shrugs, eyebrows raised, and stares at him until he keeps speaking. “Obviously I don’t know Prince Henry, Jesus. If I did I’d be ten million pounds richer, for a start.” Twice a year like clockwork, ex-Queen Mary, now the Duchess of Washington and holed up in one of her cousin’s royal properties along with her daughter and two remaining grandchildren, pops up on social media to remind the American population of the reward on offer for her younger grandson’s safe return. There have been literally dozens of fake Henrys over the years, all hoping to get their hands on the cash, all soon finding themselves on the wrong side of treason charges. He looks at Nora’s computer screen again, fingers drumming restlessly on the desk. “I’m telling you, though, I know that guy. We were in Intro to Psych together freshman year. I would’ve put actual money on that being a picture of him, not some randomly AI-generated image of what a missing prince would look like now. God, can you imagine if the answer to this big mystery was just, like, that asshole from one of my gen eds? What would the chances of that be?” It’s rhetorical, but Nora’s never met a statistic she doesn’t try to calculate. “Infinitesimal. Unless”—she grins, all teasing sarcasm—“your Intro to Psych buddy refuses to tell you anything about his life from before he was twelve. That might get us into a high enough fraction of a percent that Excel won’t display it weird, at least.”

Tagging @affectionatelyrs @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @blairwaldcrf @celaestis1 @celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @matherines @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @three-drink-amy @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland and, as always, anyone who wants to play.

[shufeise]

i know from wrio's character introduction that people don't really recognize him as the duke of meropide/the fortress' administrator but i think it'd be really funny if someone spotted him buying flowers, chocolate, premium imported purified water and rumors start to circulate that he's courting someone. will we be expecting a duchess soon. get the kameras. and they get so caught up in that that no one notices the very same things on neuvillette's desk.

[calderasletski]

Duke and Duchess of Meropide

It was just like any other day at Fortress Meropide, particularly for the inmates. They would get up in the morning, head to the production zone, maybe place a bet in the pankration ring, then gather in the cafeteria to witness the Duke and Duchess acting all lovey-dovey.

Yes, you heard that right. If you looked around during lunchtime, you might catch a glimpse of the Duke and Duchess enjoying their meal together. This sight shocked several inmates on their first day here. The Duke, Wriothesley of the Fortress of Meropide, smiling and appearing affectionate towards his wife? It was a stark contrast to his usual serious and cold demeanor, though the old-timers had grown accustomed to it.

The people of Fontaine couldn’t believe their ears when they first heard that the Duke had gotten married. They imagined his wife to be an extraordinary woman to have captured the Duke's heart. In reality, it was the Duke who had pursued her, but that detail was better left out of the gossip. Their small private wedding announcement had turned Fontaine upside down, more so than any trial at the opera house ever could. Despite attempts by the steambird to interview the Duke and the Duchess, they remained elusive. No one outside knew how the Duke and Duchess truly acted around each other.

Wriothesley sat in his office, signing papers, when he heard the doors on the floor below burst open. Only one person would dare to do that.

“Wriothesleyyyy! I’m backkk!” shouted Y/n as she ascended the stairs.

Wriothesley opened his arms, and as she walked towards him, he pulled her in to straddle his lap. “Welcome back,” he whispered against her shoulder before placing a kiss on it. “How was your interview?”

“Tiring. It felt more like a personal interview than a book interview. I had to skillfully dodge questions about us.”

Duchess Y/n of the Fortress of Meropide was an author. She wrote under a pen name, but it was only a matter of time before people figured out her true identity, causing Fontaine to be turned upside down once again.

“Do you not want people to know how much your beloved husband loves you?” he teased, playing with a strand of her hair.

“I’d rather moments like these stay between me and my beloved,” she replied.

Wriothesley let out a deep chuckle. Y/n loved it when he laughed like that. She savored every moment of it.

“Well, it seems to me that you enjoy feeling taller than your beloved,” he said, indicating her sitting on his lap, though he wasn't complaining.

Y/n brushed his hair from his forehead and gently cupped his cheeks, saying, “It’s just that in this way, I can kiss your face better.” Then she placed a kiss on his forehead.

Wriothesley’s hold around her stiffened at this.

“Wrio?”

“You know, darling… you shouldn’t pull moves like this out of nowhere,” Wriothesley said, placing Y/n on the desk.

“Why? Can your poor heart not take it?” she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“My heart can take more. A lot more than this,” he said as he closed the gap between them.

…

“Shouldn’t the Duke and Duchess be here by now?” an inmate asked, scanning around the cafeteria at lunch.

“You're right. It does feel weird not to see the Duke and Duchess here at this time. They’re probably busy,” another inmate replied.

"Dammit, after I've worked so hard to become a prisoner here," he muttered under his breath.

"Sorry?"

“Oh… nothing.”

[inzsanewrites]

A Duke’s Request

Raphael Kedrey X Reader

“My Duchess, the Duke requests your presence.”

You could help but shift uncomfortably and close the book you had at hand.

“I understand, you may leave.”

The maid bowed at the waist and left the room, most likely to do another errand. Maybe you should have gone with her. Sighing, you made your way to Raphael’s office and stared at the door. You were his wife and by all means shouldn’t feel this uncomfortable being in the same room as him, your relationship just wasn’t like that.

When you had first gotten married, you two didn’t necessarily dislike each other. Raphael had been quick to inform you about his ‘condition’ and you genuinely weren’t even interested in having any sort of romantic relationship, so it was a win-win situation. You two were more of friendly acquaintances than spouses, and that worked just perfectly for you.

Or at least it was until Raphael had been speaking to Princess Cayena.

If he had shown attraction to the Princess or even asked for a divorce, you would’ve been fine with it but now he was a little too close for your liking. He was like a fly now, absolutely everywhere. You could even go to the gardens with out him appearing out of nowhere to accompany you.

Wondering what it was this time, you turned the doorknob and mentally prepared yourself for any sort of surprise gift he may have at hand.

“Lord Raphael, I have arrived.”

Raphael was alone you noted as he looked up from his desk and walked over to you in quick strides.

“My Lady, I have something to ask you. It is of dire importance.”

You nodded but couldn’t help but feel a bit antsy due to his recent behavior.

“Please touch me.”

That had you scrambling for the door as he attempted to clarify his words.

“I mean, please touch my hand,” his hand outstretched towards you. “I am curious.”

You couldn’t help but look at him like he was crazy and expected for him to tell you it was a bad joke he had heard, however he just kept his hand towards you and watching you closely.

“Alright then.” The faster you did it, the faster you could leave.

You quickly poked the center of his palm and swiftly retreated to gauge his reaction.

Raphael stared at his hand, a complicated look set in his eyes before he looked at you again.

With a faint smile on his face, he presented his hand again.

“Perhaps a little longer, My Duchess?”

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 25

I make two promises about the end of this chapter. It's not what it looks likes, and that it WILL be fixed in the next chapter.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24

****

Steve was keeping busy. He was! Running a shop full time and his apprentices were only half way through their training, he didn’t have time to moon over Eddie.

But as much as he wanted to lie to himself he knew that there were too many times that he spent checking his phone for text messages, voicemails, and IG DMs. It was lame. And worse?

He had to watch this.

Vickie walked up to Robin. “Hey, babe. Can you show me how to do the multiple scheduling again? The time I tried, I accidentally scheduled all the way out to the year 3025. Which really, really shouldn’t be possible.”

Robin giggled. “I think they had to put in an end date and went as obscene as possible thinking that they wouldn’t have to update it in their life time.”

Vickie blushed and ran her hand up and down Robin’s arm. “Thanks for showing me again.”

Robin nearly fell out of the chair. Vickie quickly grabbed her and barely managed to prevent her from taking a nosedive.

“Right,” Robin said, ducking her head to hide her flush of embarrassment, she showed Vickie how to do the scheduling again.

He turned to Chrissy. “Please save me from this disaster, Duchess. It’s killing me.”

“You wish is my command, my liege,” she purred and stalked toward the reception desk.

Her outfit was barely this side of professional, but considering what other artist wore in their shops, he couldn’t call her out on it. It was pretty much the preppy pastel version of those other shops. Tight, light blue, skinny jeans with a baby blue tank top and white suede jacket, draped artfully on her elbows to show off her tattoos.

She leaned over the desk giving Robin and Vickie an eyeful of her perky breasts. She reached over and curled one of Robin’s loose strands of hair around her finger. Robin turned absolutely red.

‘You coming to Club Rainbow tonight?” Chrissy simpered, using the easier to say nickname for the Rainbow High Club.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she said, glancing over at Steve and then back to her. “With E–with it being so quiet lately, I figured we weren’t going.”

Chrissy smiled. “I’m always down for bright lights, pumping music, free flowing booze, and...” she leaned closer, “pretty girls.”

If Robin had been red before she positively scarlet now.

Chrissy twisted so she was leaning back on the desk. She flicked a long nailed finger under Vickie’s chin. “How about you, green-eyed girl? You coming, too?”

Everyone’s jaws dropped.

But it worked.

Suddenly Robin was tripping over her feet to say that of course she was going clubbing tonight, that of course she was. And that she was clearly out of her head to even think to stay home.

“Good,” she said, tilting her head back to look at Robin upside down. “Now convince your boy over there to join us.”

Steve gasped. “Traitor!”

Chrissy laughed. “Come on, Steve, you need to get out and feel the earth move under your feet for a night!”

His phone rang and suddenly his was on his feet in an instant.

“Hey, Eds...”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed into the phone. “You sound tired, you okay?”

“No, I’m good.”

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly. “You doing anything fun this weekend?”

“We were thinking of going to the club tonight,” he murmured. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“Go, have fun, babe,” Eddie said. “You deserve it.”

“I guess.”

“Hey, while I’m thinking about it,” Eddie said nervously. “Did you find someone to fill my tattoo slot?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t,” Steve replied, pained. “I wouldn’t just have someone come in and fill your spot, Eds. That’s your three hour block of time, because you’re coming back, right?”

“Of course, I am, Stevie,” Eddie said gently. “I just worry about you losing money you could be making.”

“I know it’s twelve hours I could be making more money, I know that. It’s just–”

“Hey, babe,” Eddie said. “I’m being rushed out the door. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“No, of course. Miss you lots.”

“Miss you more.”

He hung up feeling worse than before he got the call. It had only been three days, but he felt his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

He walked back to the reception area, rubbing the end of his nose. He cleared his throat. “You guys go on ahead without me tonight. I don’t feel so good.”

The three girls shared glances but nodded.

Argyle took a deep breath. “Why don’t Jonathan and I come over with pizza while the girls go to the club?”

Erica came out her room with a grin. “Did someone say club?”

Chrissy cheered. “Hell yeah, girlie. We are going to have so much fun.”

Steve thought about the offer while the girls made plans, then nodded. It was better than being alone and he was really starting to like Jonathan now that he had broken it off with Nancy.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

The entire shop breathed a sigh of relief.

The club would have been better with its loud music, lots of people, and free flowing beer, but pizza night with the guys was good, too.

“Wait!” Steve said, his brain catching up through his fog of misery. “Erica is only eighteen!”

“Buzzkill.”

*

Sunday was awful. Dustin and Suzy kept gushing about how cool it was that they knew someone who was playing with Metallica.

He was thankful when his phone rang. He walked out to the front porch to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kid,” came the warm voice on the other end of the line.

“Wayne?” Steve looked at the time on his phone. It was a little after seven.

“I figured since we were both missing our boy, I’d give you a call.”

“I didn’t really think about it,” Steve murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but yeah I guess he can’t call you if he’s on stage.”

“This is alright, yeah?”

“No, course it’s okay, I appreciate you thinking about me.”

“How have you been holding up?”

“It’s only been four fucking days and it’s liking I’m missing a limb. I can’t imagine what you felt when he moved to Indy.”

“That’s different,” Wayne murmured, “I knew it was coming. This was sprung on ya, it was bound to feel like shit. What’s eating ya?”

“God, I don’t even know. It’s just when we were finding our feet, the rug got pulled out from under us and I feel like I’m the only one that fell on my ass. And I know that’s not fair to Eddie. I get to live my dream, but he’s not allowed to live his? What kind of shit boyfriend would I be?”

“A hurt one,” Wayne muttered. “I always tell Ed when he gets like this he has two choices with me. You do all the talking and I listen. Or I do all the talking and you let my voice wash over you like a warm, comforting blanket.”

Tears slipped down his cheeks and he hurried to scrub them away.

“You talk, I just need a kind voice on the end of the line.”

Steve listened to him talk about the book club and a used car he bought recently when his truck finally gave up the ghost. He let the warm slow Southern drawl just wash over him and soothe his soul.

Finally Wayne ran out of things to talk about, but by then Steve was feeling better and they said their goodbyes.

And somewhere in Hawkins Wayne stood his kitchen with tears of his own streaming down his face, missing both of his boys.

*

Steve’s heart leapt every time he got a call, a text, a voicemail. He tried not to sound disappointed when it wasn’t Eddie. He made doubly sure he didn’t sound like that when Wayne called. They were both missing Eddie and he wasn’t about to take it out on him.

Robin was getting more and more concerned. She knew that he wasn’t sleeping, that he was barely eating enough to function and was pretty much living off Monsters and coffees too large to be sane.

She really got concerned when he ordered a six shot espresso and downed it in one gulp.

“Steve...” she said warningly.

“I took it slow like everyone wanted,” he spat out bitterly. “I respected his space and his pace. I rescued him from his evil ex. I dotted all the Is and crossed all the Ts and I’m stuck here wondering if he’s going to find someone better than me. Someone who likes metal, not just go to his concert because he’s the playing. That he’ll find another tattoo artist. A better one. One that will really let him fly. That he’ll pack up and move to LA and I’ll be here with a broken heart and shop I will learn to resent.”

“Oh.” Because what else could she even say to that. Because sure, he could do what Max did and just follow Eddie to LA, but he couldn’t do it immediately. He still had at least four months mentoring Chrissy and Argyle. Eight months on the outside. And by then what would be the point of moving out there.

If Steve was like this after a week, six months would kill him.

“You don’t know what’s going to happen,” Robin said. “You just have to trust him to talk to you and do what’s best for both you. How has he sounded when he calls?”

Steve frowned for a moment. “I guess like me, happy to hear my voice, sad that we’re apart. But there is this tiredness underneath and a hint of anger.”

“At you?” she asked, putting her arm around him.

He shrugged. “I don’t think so, but he won’t talk to me about it.”

“He probably doesn’t know how to say it,” she said wisely. “Just give him time.”

Steve nodded.

*

Steve made the first impulsive decision he’d made since deciding to be Hop’s apprentice.

He was going to get a tattoo. He made the appointment with Hop and calmly explained what he wanted and where.

Hop leveled him with a glare. “You sure you want this? You’re an artist yourself, Steve. You know how hard it is cover up a mistake. If I do this there is no going back.”

Steve nodded. “I want it because even if it doesn’t work out, even if we go our separate ways, I want something to remember him by.”

Hop took a deep breath and started his work. It didn’t take long. It was a small tattoo, simple enough in its design. He would have done it himself if Robin hadn’t stopped him.

Soon it was done and Hop scooted back on his chair. He cleaned Steve up, bandaged it, and wrapped it in plastic wrap.

“There you go, kid,” Hop said. “I hope it’s what you wanted.”

Steve nodded. “It is. I promise I won’t regret getting it.”

Hop sighed and got to his feet. “You’re smart man, Steve. A good tattoo artist, too. You’ve been through so much in such a short time. I think you need to take a break and just think. About the shop, your apprentices, your employees, friends, Eddie. Decide what you want and then go for it okay?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It’s just I’m the only full artist at my shop, I can’t take time off without closing it.”

Hop nodded back. “I’ve been there. I just worry about you.”

Steve sighed. “I worry about me too.”

*

Steve was vibrating out of his skin. The band was coming home today. He was going to see Eddie today.

But when the bus pulled up to the depot and they all filed out, there were only three of them.

Miranda and Jeff were hugging and kissing, Brian and Cecil were hugging. Even Gareth was getting swamped with hugs from his twin and mom.

But–

“Where’s Eddie?” Robin asked first. And Steve was grateful that she was there.

The other three members of the band looked at the ground, around them, anywhere but at Steve.

“He made us stop in Hawkins,” Jeff murmured and even Miranda was starting to look concerned.

“He wanted to spend a couple days with his Uncle Wayne,” Gareth said.

Steve heart plummeted to his stomach. “He’s not coming home?”

“It’s just for a couple of days,” Brian hurried to explain. “The tour just gave him a lot of things to think about.”

“Oh.”

Steve turned on his heel and ran out of the depot, shouts of his name following him out.

****

Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

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