#hand painted wooden tea box

[florencemtrash]

He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.

Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.

Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.

It was starting to become a problem now. 

You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor. 

10:55am and Azriel was still asleep. 

The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it. 

Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object. 

The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke. 

“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence. 

One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down. 

The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes. 

You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful. 

You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home. 

You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you. 

“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter. 

The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.

“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out. 

“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.” 

“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—” 

Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—” 

You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant. 

She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow. 

“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.” 

“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud. 

“Long day?” 

You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.” 

“Did I stutter?”

You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.

“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.” 

“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.” 

Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop. 

He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?” 

You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers. 

You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”

His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.

“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”

“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.” 

Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.

“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.

“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.” 

Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands. 

“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.” 

“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.

You paused. “Yes?”

“He feels safe with you.” 

You blinked once. Twice. 

“Pardon?” 

Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.” 

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.” 

Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.” 

Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.

And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon. 

Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked. 

He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.

“It’s past three, brother.” 

Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey. 

“What?” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.” 

“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him. 

Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses. 

“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"

You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early. 

You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs. 

Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart. 

You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz. 

“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more. 

“Hmmm?” 

“Do you feel safe with me?” 

He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside. 

“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”

“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.” 

You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 1 (SeongjoongxReader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word Count: 7k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed

And thank you so much @daesukiii for beta reading this fic!! It's well appreciated!💕💕

NOTE: THIS STORY IS CURRENTLY ON HIATUS

Part 2 >

***

"YN!"

You heard her howl your name from down the hall. The sound of her voice made you quicken your pace, a streak of panic striking through you. 

"YN! YN, where are you?!”

Her voice sent ice cold water through your veins. You’d left her alone with the others for only a moment. What could possibly have happened in the span of five minutes? A slew of scenarios ranging in severity ran through your mind. Somebody brushed her hair too hard. Somebody smeared her lip paint. Somebody said the wrong thing or the right thing but in the wrong way. You preferred not thinking of what she’d done to that person. 

“YN!”

You walked through the wooden hallway, keeping your head down to not draw much attention to yourself. A habit, you supposed, that you’d learned since being her handmaiden. Finally reaching her room, you gave the guard outside a single glance and he slid the door open for you. 

“She’s in a mood today,” he told you gruffly. “You’d think after the night she had, she’d be more docile.”

“She’s never docile,” you replied. “I’ll handle her.”

“As always.” 

You didn’t find her in the front room of her apartments, where servants put out her morning tea and breakfast spread. Walking past the red and cream colored couches, with their low wooden tables, you moved past more servants cleaning the window frames and floors spotless. You opened the doors leading into her bedroom. Two maids in plain hanboks changed her bed sheets and fluffed her pillows. They gave you both a concerned look, which you replied to with a nod.

“YN!”

“Your Majesty, I am here. What is your command?”

Sookmyung stood on a platform in the middle of her dressing room. Four girls dressed in white hanboks kept their heads down and hands clasped together, a sign of their subservience to the woman. Queen Han Sookmyung only wore the emerald skirt of her hanbok, her long black hair unbraided and falling down her back, and you saw the issue immediately. The top layer of her gown laid on the floor at her feet, a bundle of more emerald cloth bordered with golden vines.

“My command is that I want these imbeciles out of my sight!” she screeched, stamping her foot on the platform. “I told this one to bring the blue and gold one. She brought the green and gold!”

“A simple mistake, Your Majesty, I am sure,” you said calmly, walking further into the room. “Aro,” you turned to one of the handmaidens nearest you, “Please bring Her Majesty the dark blue and gold dress. It’s in the fourth box on the second shelf.” She bowed to you, then briskly left for the closet in the other room.

“YN, send them away. I cannot stand looking at them any longer.”

“You are all dismissed for now.”

The remaining handmaidens bowed, then left the room without a word. You moved over to her and began untying the skirt from her torso. Discontent still read on Sookmyung’s thin, oval face. Once the young queen flew into one of her rages, it was difficult to bring her back down. It was why you instructed the handmaidens to do as she said down to the last word. It saved everyone lots of trouble. 

When you gingerly removed the skirt, leaving her in the underskirt and undergarments, you saw yourself in the long mirror. Your white dress nearly blended in with the brightly colored room around you.  Like all female monarchs, she surrounded herself with handmaidens. The distinction was Sookmyung demanded her female servants be virgins, who all wore white to make Sookmyung stand out against them. Being the eldest of her handmaidens, a companion since childhood, your uniform differed in the red ribbon keeping your top half closed. Yet, even then you mustn’t draw too much attention to yourself. How can The Queen shine if her servants looked more beautiful than her? 

“They’re such simpletons,” she grunted. “I do not know what is so difficult. How can one possibly confuse blue with green?”

“I am certain she misheard you, Your Majesty.” Deflect her displeasure. You glanced over to the vanity where someone laid out her jewelry. They’d chosen the dangling gold earrings and matching hair ornaments. “Look at this set, Your Majesty,” you gave a soft gasp, walking over to the jewelry, “These earrings are absolutely divine! Are they not?”

“They are fine enough,” she replied haughtily. “At least the fool chose something that matches.”

“Indeed,” you agreed. “I am surprised she had any fashion sense at all, to be honest.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she sneered, flipping a loose strand of hair from her shoulder. “Send the idiot away when she returns. You will dress me today.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

When the girl returned, you took the long, flat box and dismissed her quietly. Not a sound. Not a whisper or a mumble. That was how servants communicated: discreetly and hurriedly. With everyone gone, only you two remained. You began unwrapping the separate pieces of Sookmyung’s dress from the box. The blue skirt remained plain, while golden dragons interweaved around her shoulders and along the middle of the top. The gold paint shined whenever she moved her torso, and the voluminous skirt gave an illusion of gliding instead of walking.

“I am taking visitors today,” she mused as you began brushing her hair. You took care not to let the brush snag in her waist-length strands. The ring on her finger looked like it’d cut your cheek. “Merchants and common people.”

“Your people wish to speak with you, Your Majesty,” you replied, pulling back her hair to start braiding. “They seek your wisdom and guidance.”

“As they should,” she said, admiring the golden ring on her finger. “I am their queen. They need to heed my words and obey them.”

You would’ve told her that giving advice and giving commands are different things, but you knew better.

After many failed pregnancies, King Siwon and Queen Jisoo finally produced a child in their fourth year. Sookmyung became her father’s sole heir to the throne. Being the only heir, the king groomed his daughter for rule. You wanted to say that Sookmyung ignored her lessons and took no interest in them, but that is far from the truth. Sookmyung devoured her father’s wise council and listened attentively at his elbow. She followed the master at arms around the training yard, learning how to use a sword and bow. She spent time in the stables learning how to tame and ride horses. Everyone hoped her eagerness meant she’d be a good and capable queen, but you knew better. Unlike the king’s council, you knew why Sookmyung took to the idea of ruling the kingdom so quickly.

There’d be nobody to stop her. 

“I heard Kim Haneul wishes to propose to you,” you said, hoping the gossip keeps her occupied. You styled her hair up from her face to accentuate her facial features and long neck, sliding bejeweled pins to keep it in place. “He has had his eye on you for a long time.”

“Which one is he again?” she asked, stumped. “He isn’t the fat one, is he?”

“No, Your Majesty,” you faked an amused giggle. You grabbed her eoyeo meori, the circular wig with its golden adornments. Placing it as a halo around her head before pinning it in place, you continued. “That is Advisor Heechul’s son. Haneul is the son of the new Duke of Daegu. He’s that handsome one who won your archery contest at last year’s harvest festival. I heard from some of the maids that he favors you highly.”

“Of course he does,” she scoffed, double checking the work you’d done. “I’m a queen. He’s a common nobleman.”

“Yes, he is,” you nodded, “But he will approach you nevertheless, Your Majesty.”

“Who told you this nonsense?”

“One of the kitchen hands,” you told her, picking up a powder box from the vanity. “She said she overheard it from Haneul and one of his companions. I thought I’d tell you to prepare you for it should he ask today.” You then added, “I know how much you dislike surprises. I’d hate for him to spring it on you, and you be flustered in making a decision.”

“Yes, I do despise it.” She kept herself still as you began lightly applying powder to her face. “Haneul…Haneul…You say he’s the handsome archer from last year?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Hm, must not be remarkable if I did not collect him already,” she mused. A small smile crossed her face, “Have you seen my flowers today, YN?”

“I haven’t,” you answered honestly. “You know as well as I that no one is permitted in your garden.”

“Oh, my beautiful flowers,” she sighed softly. “They bring me such comfort.” 

You saw her eyes glaze over as they did when she spoke of Them. Those at court called them ‘The Golden Ones’, but Sookmyung called them her ‘flowers’. You pondered on the men while you finished painting her lips. Upon his death, king Siwon had twenty-five concubines living in the “private gardens” near the king’s quarters. Sookmyung dismissed them all the morning after his death, determined to fill it with concubines of her own. You and her advisors told her queens did not usually take male concubines, since she is meant to marry and produce children. Sookmyung ignored all of you. During her war campaign across the country, she searched for handsome men to bring into her harem. Yet, with all things, she was picky. Her concubines needed to be ethereal beauties; they needed to be trophies that would make her the envy of the court. She eventually found them, imprisoned them, and then put them in the gardens to do what she pleased. 

Sookmyung currently has eight concubines. No doubt should another war arise, she will steal more sons.

“Tell the guard to bring my flowers to the throne room today,” she said, admiring herself in the mirror when you finished. “I wish for them to be there. They do bring me relief on days like today.”

“At once, Your Majesty.” You picked up a purple perfume box, but Sookmyung shook her head. 

“No, not jasmine. Hongjoong detests jasmine scents.”

‘He does not. It’s you he detests.’ 

“Then will you prefer the lavender or the rose perfume?”

“Lavender. It has such a calming effect on him,” she said when you started dabbing the scent on her neck and wrists. “My fiery blossom. I know he will be furious if that fool Haneul comes forward. His jealousy is only outmatched by my own, I’m afraid.”

“Well, seeing other men fawn over you must make him believe your love for him will wane and disappear,” a male voice said from somewhere behind you. “We cannot fault him for his emotions.”

You turned your head to see an old man walk into the room. His salt-and-pepper hair cut short, he’d left his thin mustache and beard growing past throat to his chest. Wrinkled by age, Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik served the royal family since Sookmyung’s grandfather’s time. In the red robes of a first rank advisor, he walked further into the room. He smiled at Sookmyung, giving her a slight bow as their eyes met. 

“Senior Advisor,” Sookmyung said, looking back at herself, “What brings you here?”

“I came to see if you’d be joining us in the throne hall for petitions this morning,” he asked. “The other advisors and I believe it will show the people an image of concern if you are seen on your father’s throne-”

“-You mean my throne,” she cut him off. “I am the queen.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” he smiled, giving a nod of the head, “Old habits die hard.”

“Or easily,” you heard her mutter. “But, yes I will be there today. Tell the other officials to worry.”

“That is a relief to hear,” he grinned. “We look forward to seeing you there.”

“Mhm-hm.”

His attention turned to you, “Good day, YN.”

“Good day, Senior Advisor,” you gave a slight bow and a smile. 

It was the briefest of glances but you noticed it right away. Eyes lined with crows feet looked between you and Sookmyung, with a certain disappointment lingering in them. The expression did not sit right with you, but it was not your place to question. Advisor Choi left, and you and Sookmyung were alone again. He seemed to be filled with words he could not say out loud. Then again, many people did the same. It was Sookmyung’s chuckle that caught your attention.

“The old man likes you,” she cackled. “Out of all the men in the world, it’s the ancient one.”

“He was being polite,” you said to her, cheeks burning from her laughter. 

“He doesn’t have to be ‘polite’ to you,” she said. “He outranks you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted you as his concubine. It is disgusting to think about,” she shuddered, “Those knobbly hands on you and those lips. Don’t worry, YN. I won’t let him touch you.”

“That is kind of you, Your Majesty.”

“You must be envious of me, YN. I have my beautiful flowers and you have nobody,” she said thoughtfully, “I spend ages worshiping Seonghwa’s gorgeous body or listening to Jongho sing and you're here all alone. It must be sad."

“It can be, but I hope one day that will change,” you told her. You grabbed the blue overcoat from the box, letting her stand to put it on her. “I may find someone who is patient and clever. The kind of man who treats his lady well and is gracious and kind.” A man such as Seonghwa. But, that was a thought you immediately pushed out. 

“Men like that are needles in a haystack. Only I have been fortunate to find such lovely beauties like my flowers,” she said. “Like Hongjoong…”

You followed her out of the bedroom. Hongjoong’s face came to the forefront of your mind. The last of Sookmyung’s flowers, he’d quickly become her favorite. You saw how he fawned over her, and constantly whispered things in her ear that made her giggle. Secretly, you wished it was you he whispered to, but you knew that wouldn’t be. Hongjoong is placed far out of your reach, just like the rest of them. As you followed her out of her room, you bit your lip thinking about the last time she made you stay in their “garden”. Sookmyung took delight in seeing you flustered and squirming when she took one of them. Like all her handmaidens, you’d kept your virginity intact, which she enjoyed teasing you about. But, if you had your pick, you'd have him or Seonghwa. Possibly even both. 

Four men dressed in black and red leather armor met you outside her chambers. You whispered the summons to one of them, and he passed it along to one of the guards at the main doors. A wooden palanquin sat at the bottom steps of the residency building, a red awning keeping the sun from hitting Sookmyung as she climbed inside. You, however, stayed on the outside. You eyed the spot beside her, a seat wide enough for you both to fit, but you knew she’d never offer it to you. The queen rides in the palanquin. Her handmaiden walks. 

“But you wouldn’t understand anything about that,” Sookmyung giggled as the footmen lifted the litter and the group moved. You walked steadily at her side, making sure to keep yourself in step. Move too slow, and she’ll complain that you’re lagging behind. Move too quickly, and she’ll accuse you of trying to upstage her. “You are unmarried and are still a virgin.”

“That does not mean I cannot love, Your Majesty, or understand how it works,” you replied calmly. You sensed the taunt skirting around her words, and you braced yourself for more. “I see how Hongjoong and the others are when you’re in their presence. It is like seeing heaven on earth. They worship you. They adore you. I think we all can only hope for such love to come into our lives.”

“How sweet,” she pouted, “It must be nice to have such naive and fanciful dreams about love. I’m afraid it is not always so heavenly.” You noticed her face turn sour, “I see how those little harlots in court gawk at them whenever they pass. They see my flowers and sigh over them.” You saw her fold her hands over one another on her lap, “I remember that one idiot who tried seducing my Mingi. She had that pathetic, simpering smile and that obnoxious laugh. Ugh, it was a humiliating display," a wicked smirk came across her face, "But, I put a stop to that all together. You remember that, do you not, YN?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I do.” 

Lady Seulgi, a noblewoman draped in expensive adornments, had come to the palace during a birthday celebration. You recall how Sookmyung spotted her eyeing Mingi, one of the concubines, and the jealousy flaring in her eyes. You’d done all you could to convince Sookmyung that she saw nothing; Lady Seulgi happened to look in his direction, that was all. This lie worked for a time, before someone else spotted Lady Seulgi trying to corner Mingi in the palace garden. Sookmyung immediately had Lady Seulgi thrown into the dark, secluded jails in the back of the palace. Walking up the steps of a gate to reach the throne hall, you recall seeing Lady Seulgi removed of her finery and forced into a roughspun tunic. The beautiful, bold lady you’d seen that night became a filthy, frightened creature within days. You tried not remembering the stubs of her missing fingers, or the screams she made when Sookmyung pulled out her toenails one at a time. 

‘Make her ugly. Make her so ugly nobody will look at her.’ 

Nobody heard from Seulgi ever again. 

You spotted masses of people filling the wide throne courtyard. Nobles and commoners alike came to petition their problems to the queen, and it created a multi-colored sea of people in the square. Right when the palanquin passed through the gate, a group of soldiers dressed in red and white began playing on either side of the large doors. Two held horns, two banged on drums, one with cymbals, and another held a gong as they walked down the aisle. 

“The Queen is entering!” the leader called out in a booming voice, which caught everyone's attention. 

The daechwita played as they led the procession towards the throne hall. You kept your eyes to the ground now, making yourself as invisible as possible, and followed the palanquin the entire way. You chanced a glance at Sookmyung, whose eyes danced with pride. This is what she loved. This is why she scorched villages and killed kings. The power that emanated from the people bowing to her seemed to swell in her chest. You pitied anyone who upset her today.  They may end up the same way as Lady Seulgi if they’re not careful. 

The palanquin reached the throne hall’s platform, and footmen helped Sookmyung out of it. You briskly straightened out the back of her gown, and then stepped out of her way. The throne hall was wide with open windows, lattice walls, and a high decorative ceiling. Before his death, the king sat on the throne of his ancestors before him. A red throne painted with gold dragons, with a folded screen stood behind depicting the sun, moon, and mountains. It took someone three steps to reach the top of the platform, which only gave enough space for the king and two bodyguards to occupy. 

When Sookmyung came into power, she expanded on this inch by inch. She rebuilt the throne itself to have a taller back to rest on, and raised the platform a several more steps to open it up. This way, her concubines may sit on the steps in comfort, lounging peacefully on display for the whole court. Nobody said it out loud, but you knew why she wanted them with her. How can she flaunt her victories if the trophies are hidden behind garden walls? It made you sick. She not only desecrated the ancient throne, which for centuries stood as a symbol of dignity, but put her own proudful twist on it as well. You followed her up the steps, and walked right to your place in the shadows of the high dais. 

“All hail the Queen!” the singer called out. 

“All hail the Queen!” most of the crowd repeated back. 

Back in her father’s day, the king would speak to his subjects directly. He’d thank them for traveling to visit him, and begin accepting petitions and propositions. Sookmyung stayed silent, eyeing the crowd, while Senior Advisor Choi stepped in front of the throne. 

“Good people, good people,” he called, “It is our queen’s great delight and honor to host you here in her grand throne hall today. She is very interested to hear your thoughts and find solutions for your concerns. May the first of the petitioners step forward, please.”

The first to approach were two men. You took in their haggard appearance: clothes hanging from their skinny frames, worn out shoes on their feet, and their skin tanned from years in the sun. You could tell they must work outdoors, most likely in one of Sookmyung’s rice or spice fields. The taller man spoke up first, fire in his voice already.

“Your Majesty, I have been severely wronged in your great country,” he began. “This man,” he pointed to the person beside him, “Has been extending his land onto mine little by little for several months now!”

“Your Majesty, I have done no such thing! I was merely rebuilding my fences, and happened to accidentally-”

“-Accidentally? Ha, please! Do not try to fool us into believing you do not know where your land ends and mine begins,” his opponent retorted. “You have been rebuilding that fence of yours for quite some time. The stakes from the last rebuild are still in the ground, and they are several feet from where they’d been before.”

“My son has been helping me, Your Majesty,” the man said to Sookmyung. “He is not the brightest of boys, but he is strong and helpful to me in my old age. He must have marked the line wrong-”

“-How despicable! To blame your deception on your own flesh and blood-”

“-I am only providing a possible explanation! Besides, why do you care? It is not as if you tend to your fields regularly or properly. I have seen the grain you grow. It is subpar at best, and inedible at worst. I am the superior farmer, therefore I should have more land…”

“This is so boring,” Sookmyung mumbled loud enough for you to hear. “Who cares about a stupid farm?”

“Their farms are important to them, Your Majesty,” you replied. “It is the only way they can feed themselves and their families.”

“Psh, as if they are now. Look how skinny they are. It’s appalling.”

“Yes, it is.”

Your heart sank hearing the two men describe their feud to one another. You thought of your own solution: You would’ve told them to have an official come and inspect the property lines for them to have an unbiased opinion. You’d pay builders from the city to repair the fence damage and realign it to avoid any more confusion. They would have done that already if they could afford to pay for the help. Sookmyung’s high taxes and the wealthy’s low wages make it difficult for the common folk of the kingdom to live properly. The few times you’d gone into the city for her, you’d seen the way most of them live day-to-day. They’re starving, unable to properly care for themselves or their children, and barely afford to pay their land owners. In their desperation, many of them venture into the Queen’s forest to hunt for food, with hopes of not being caught by guards roaming the perimeters. Others resort to criminal activities, since the slum lords pay much better than their law abiding counterparts. Sookymung’s kingdom fell into poverty because of the grand lifestyle she wished to live and the wars she'd waged. While her people starved, the queen and her elite nobles dined and dressed well. It sickened you to your stomach. 

“...Which of them brings in more grain?” Sookmyung asked the senior advisor. 

Senior Choi looked to Advisor Park, the master of coin who took care of the kingdom’s finances. It took the middle-aged man a moment, but he eventually found their names and most recent tax payments. The accused paid more in his taxes and supplied more grain than his accuser.

“Then it is clear that he deserves more land than this one,” Sookmyung told Choi. “Why give land to a man who cannot contribute to the prosperity of his kingdom and his queen?”

Choi stared up at her, but he did not look as dumbfounded as his fellow advisors. For the briefest moment, you caught disdain in his dark eyes. Nevertheless, he turned away and addressed the men. 

“Then it is clear that…that he deserves more land than this one,” you heard him repeat stoically. “Why give land to a man who cannot contribute to the prosperity of his kingdom and his queen?”

“B-B-But, Your Majesty, my family has owned that farm for many years,” he said imploringly. “It is not right!”

“Perhaps his family should find a new venture and stop wasting my time", Sookmyung huffed. “The man will keep his fence where it is, and you will accept my decision.”

Choi repeated her words verbatim, and the man’s jaw dropped. “Your Majesty-”

“-Next,” she dismissed him through Choi.

Both men were forced to the side by guards. Right as the next person came up, drums and horns suddenly rang throughout the large hall. Sookmyung’s eyes lit up and she beamed at the people entering the room.

“Her Majesty’s concubines approach!” the leader said. “Make way for The Golden Ones! Make way!”

Surrounded by four guards dressed in all black armor walked a group of eight men.

As always, Sookmyung’s concubines wore their black and gold hanboks: Their overcoats of black silk covered most of their body, the wide sleeves ending far past their fingers. Glimmering stones weaved into the intricate floral patterns of their golden sashes, matching the hair pins and jewelry they wore. What separated them the most were their veils. Thin veils hanging from their ears hung to their chests, the sheer fabric dotted with gold pieces to hide their features. Only you and Sookmyung ever saw their faces unmasked. She said the less they revealed of themselves, the less likely anybody would desire them.

A complete and utter lie, in your opinion.

“My beautiful flowers,” she smiled, eyes full of fondness. “So wonderful to see you early in the morning,” she watched them walk up the steps to their assigned seats on the steps.

The farthest was Jongho, who sat on the third step from the bottom, lounging back with one elbow on the step above him. The youngest of her flowers, he kept his black hair in a braid that was woven with gold bands. Formerly an innkeeper’s son, Sookmyung stole him from his family during the end of her campaign. You never forgot how Sookmyung viciously beat the old woman who begged her not to take him; how Jongho did not stop crying the entire way back to the capital.

“Your braid looks lovely today, Jongho,” Sookmyung admired, looking over his round, soft features from afar.

“I am glad you think so, Mistress,” he said, “I added the jewels especially for you.”

“I’m wearing the hair band you gifted me, Mistress,” said a slender boy sitting just above him.

Wooyoung. The son of the Duke of Pyongyang, the siege of his city took Sookmyung only a few days. She often boasted about how their forces retreated from her men like mice. As with the other kingdoms, she gifted the seat of House Jung to one of her allies, and took the duke’s son for herself. Wooyoung fled into the woods, being hunted by Sookmyung and her pack of dogs for several days before being found and dragged to camp. You preferred not thinking about what Sookmyung did to break him.

You noticed the young man winced when he moved to face her. From what you’d gathered, Sookmyung visited his chambers the previous night. Whatever she’d done left him sore and holding back whimpers of pain. The tenderness inside you wished to reach out for him. You wished to comfort and assure him that his pain will subside soon. His wounds will heal and he will be fine. But, how ‘fine’ is he when Sookmyung owns him?

“It looks lovely on you, darling,” Sookmyung said. Another peasant was brought before her, but she ignored him. “You were magnificent last night. You and San both.”

San, muscular and broad, sat across from Wooyoung. Thin eyes flickered with hate before changing to pure seduction. “As were you, Mistress.”

Choi San used to be a soldier in Sookymung’s army. His father, General Choi, was a general who commanded a large portion of her forces. One day, when his battalion was overpowered and forced to retreat, Sookmyung took this failure as a sign of weakness. It inflamed her burning rage, and Sookmyung sentenced the man to a brutal death: being beaten with clubs by his own lieutenants. San was forced to watch the entire thing. From what you’d heard, he still woke up screaming for his father to run.

“Mistress, I’m sleepy,” said the man sitting above San and Wooyoung. Long-limbed with sleek brown hair, he gave an audible yawn and stretched. “I sleep so lightly without you beside me.”

Another sweet lie to fill her head with dreams. Sookmyung’s war took her all over the country, and this meant bypassing several inns and small villages. When attacking Haeju, Sookmyung camped outside a small fishing village right on the west coast. There, she found plenty of provisions and ship builders to repair the damaged fleet. With them came a tall, lean young man with brown hair and a precious smile. Song Mingi. You’d originally thought Sookmyung took Mingi for a fleeting fancy, but when she told him that he’d be joining the other men she’d dragged with her, he naturally refused. It wasn’t until Sookmyung threatened to kill his entire family that he went with her.

Sookmyung burnt down his whole village, ultimately murdering his family anyways.

“Perhaps I may remedy that tonight, lovely,” she replied, smirking at the suggestion. “I wouldn’t want my Mingi to collapse from lack of proper rest.”

“Then what of me, Mistress?” a wide-eyed young man said on the other side. “You said you’d be with me.”

Dainty and petite, Kang Yeosang was also nobility. While not high in rank, his family did supply the opposition with food and resources throughout the war. Sookmyung created the strategy to hit them at their source, which included raiding baggage supply trains moving through the country. Yeosang led one such train, and while his men fought valiantly, they were defeated. Yeosang, having an angelic look to him with doe-like eyes, became another addition to her growing harem. She promised he’d go home if his family surrendered their land and resources to her, so Yeosang agreed. But, Yeosang never went home. It took him a short time to realize that Sookmyung never planned on ransoming him. When he heard her forces invaded his home, slaughtered his family, and claimed it in her name, he knew he’d never see home again.

“You can join us then, Yeosangie,” she cooed.

A peasant woman holding a baby in a blanket came forward, tearful and pleading for her child’s life. Sookmyung hardly listened to her as she addressed the man next to Yeosang: Yunho. Equally as tall as Mingi, he kept his black in a top knot with a black band around his forehead. A servant placed a bowl of grapes in front of him, but he did not eat them. He could never eat with Sookmyung around. She disgusted him to the point of losing his appetite. 

“Yunho, are you not hungry?”

“I had a large breakfast, Mistress.”

He turned his head to answer her, then back to the woman standing before him. She sobbed about how a group of men ransacked her home, taking everything she owned and leaving her with nothing but her life. You saw the pity in his puppy-dog eyes. He dug into the pocket of his overcoat and withdrew a velvet coin purse. You knew that Yunho sometimes secretly slipped silver or gold coins to the servants when possible. 

“Here,” Yunho walked down the steps to her, “For your and your child.”

“S-Sir…” she wept, looking at the large sum in her hand, “I…I cannot…” she glanced at Sookmyung, who glared. “I cannot accept this-”

“-I insist,” Yunho said, not reaching or touching her. It’d put a mark on her back for certain. “You need it more than me.”

“Thank you,” she cried, “Thank you, sir.” 

“Isn’t my Yunho generous?” Sookmyung said, though her grin did not reach her ears. “He is always thinking of others.”

“It is why you noticed me, Mistress, is it not?”

He came back to his seat and your eyes briefly met his. Yunho, not of noble birth, lived in a farming village before outlaws came and raided them. By the time Sookmyung arrived, several villagers either died or were grievously injured. Being the son of the town physician, Yunho tended to several of the children, frightened and wounded from the bandits. Sookmyung not only found it endearing, but saw Yunho’s apparent handsomeness. She promised he’d be her personal physician’s apprentice, learning at the elbow of the finest in the kingdom. He only needed to travel with her for a few days. But, when she placed him in the harem tent with the others, he realized what his role would truly be. It is only fortunate that Yunho is able to tend to whatever wounds the concubines suffer at Sookmyung’s hands.

“It is,” she nodded. “You’re just as sweet as my Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa sat on a cushion a step right beneath Sookmyung. The eldest of the Golden Ones, his sharp jawline and full lips enchanted Sookmyung right away. Son of an advisor to another king, he’d attempted to trade his life for his younger brother, whom she’d gifted to a group of loyalists during her victory celebration. Unfortunately, this did not work. His younger brother was carried off by the men while Seonghwa was dragged to her new chambers. From what you know, Seonghwa hasn’t seen his brother since then. 

His father having been a notable advisor, Senior Advisor Choi has often sought him out for counsel and opinion. You supposed this intelligence is why he’d managed to last so long. He gave her a dashing smile, and spoke in his deep voice.

“But nobody is as sweet as you, Mistress,” he licked his lips, “Nobody certainly tastes as sweet either.”

“Seonghwa,” she flipped open her fan and gave it to you to fan her, “You always know what to say.”

Her eyes then landed on the concubine sitting on her left, elbow on the arm of the throne and appearing bored. Black hair tied back in a ponytail, Sookmyung gifted him with a red headband to wear around his head. Embroidered flowers in the center, this symbol of Sookmyung’s favoritism set him apart from the others. You’re sure that the reason she favored him so highly is not only his handsomeness, but the fact that he’d been a true prince. Hongjoong, Crowned Prince of Wonju. 

Wonju was a peaceful, plentiful kingdom that remained its own nation after the Han clan took over the country. Somewhere far off in the east, you remember the mountain ranges that surrounded the area, high and steep so that very few enemies could pass. It’d been ruled over by the Kim clan, with King Hyungshik at the head. A king in his own right, it was peace terms with the Hans that prevented open warfare. You’d always understood both nations to live side-by-side in harmony. Then Sookmyung became queen, and she could not have another monarch in her country. 

But, Wonju did not fall to Sookmyung as easily. Several bloody and fierce battles were found on land and sea, ripping the two nations apart in the process. Several kingdoms sided with Wonju, but they’d been overpowered by the queen’s men. Sookmyung’s triumph over Wonju became a lasting highlight of her conquest. She’d taken Hongjoong as a further stab to those who’d rebel and oppose her. To her, he is her biggest trophy. 

“Mistress, please let us be done with this riff-raff,” Hongjoong drawled, “And entertain ourselves elsewhere. This business bores me to tears.”

Yet, even after the death of their royal family, the people of Wonju oppose Sookmyung and the man she put in charge of them. Many resistance fighters her armies capture are from Wonju. You wondered at what point did they stop trying to rescue Hongjoong and focus their efforts on usurping Sookmyung. You knew he hated Sookmyung, regardless of what he said to the contrary. You’d hate her too if you were him. But, Hongjoong had secrets of his own.

You’d never tell anyone about the woman you’d seen him meeting at night.

“It is part of my duty as queen, blossom,” she told him, lifting his chin to make him look at her. “Advisor Choi insists I perform my responsibilities as ruler, but the only thing I ever wish to do is be in your arms and in your bed.”

“Then leave these filthy peasants, love,” he took the hand on his chin and held it gently, “And let me admire my queen as a loyal subject should.”

“Hongjoongie…” she breathed,

“Please, Mistress,” he put a yearning into his seductive tone, “It has been so long since you have visited my chambers. You’re always with the others and never with me,” he put a hand on her knee and knelt. You heard him whisper something obscene in her ear, which made her giggle. “…It grows harder in every thought. Do not leave me wanting, Mistress, please. It aches for you…”

This is what Sookmyung wanted: a concubine who professes nothing but undying desire for her. Sookmyung could never truly love anyone, regardless of what she said. Hongjoong knew this, and you admired his tact. It is better to make her believe he needed her than to show his true feelings. You wondered if he thought of the other woman when he said these words. You knew he'd never think of you. 

You saw them after a celebration for Sookmyung’s five-year-reign as queen. You finished helping her into bed and took the shortcut back to the servant’s quarters to rest your tired feet. Cutting through the concubine gardens, you’d heard hushed voices through a hedge. You thought nothing of it at the time, since you thought it must’ve been the wind or an animal nearby. Yet, you then heard the high voice of Kim Hongjoong, followed by another voice. A woman’s voice. Curiosity and shock got the better of you, and you peeked through the high hedge to see their figures in the shadows of the trees. You couldn’t tell what they’d done, since they hid themselves behind dense thickets of shrubbery, but it did not take much to wonder. You never saw the woman, so you guessed she’d gone over the garden wall, but you did see Hongjoong. It did not take a genius to figure out what he’d done. You swore yourself to secrecy; you told yourself that revealing this secret of his to anyone meant death.

“Alright,” she pouted, “I can never say no to this beautiful face of yours…”

“Or my tongue,” he added softly, putting his face inches from hers but never kissing. The veil acted as a barrier that drove her nuts. “Seonghwa will join us, if you wish. He enjoys you just as much as I do. Isn’t that so, Brother?”

“It is,” Seonghwa nodded, but did not approach her.

Your eyes met Hongjoong’s. You wished you could thank him. With Sookmyung occupied with him and his “brothers”, you could see your mother, whom you haven’t seen for two nights. You may even see Queen Jisoo, Sookmyung’s mother. 

“We’re done for today,” Sookmyung told Choi, who nodded stiffly. “Come, flowers.”

One by one they followed her down the steps, and you trailed behind them. Everyone bowed their heads as she walked by, but you couldn’t help seeing their glaring faces. They must’ve waited hours to see her, and she only listened to two or three people. She conquered every kingdom in the country, turning them into wards under her rule, and did nothing to help them. Like the men who trailed behind her, they are spoils of war. Sookmyung squandered their collective wealth, expecting her subjects to accept it without complaint. You wished you knew a way to help, but you’re as powerless as them. You watched Hongjoong climb into Sookmyung’s litter, the pair instantly turning to one another, and expected to walk alongside them.

“No, no, YN,” Sookmyung stopped you as you approached. “You’re dismissed for the day. Come to the garden around supper. If anyone comes calling for me, tell them I am indisposed.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you bowed, standing aside as the footmen lifted up the five litters.

She turned away from you to kiss Hongjoong, who tilted his head to deepen it. Once more, you locked eyes with one another. You gave him an appreciative smile, which he replied with a blink. You waited until Sookmyung was far away before walking towards the opposite gate back to the residency area. Passing by Sookmyung’s personal apartments, you walked further down the hall to a set of double doors guarded by a leggy man in leather armor. 

“Good morning, Junhan,” you grinned at them, the older man grinning back. “Is Her Majesty accepting visitors?”

“She will if it’s you,” he replied, “How was the witch this morning?”

“Junhan,” you hissed, holding back your laugh and looking down the hall, “You know better.”

“Ah, as if anyone is going to hear me here,” he rolled his eyes. He slid open the door for you, and said, “She’ll be glad to see you. Your mother says Her Majesty has been anxious these past few days.”

“Then I should see her quickly,” you said, giving him a nod before walking into the main room. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” you smiled as you entered a nearby sitting room. 

The Queen Mother Jisoo was once held in the admiration of everyone in the kingdom. She’d helped the kingdom in many ways during her reign alongside her husband: giving smaller villages access to clean water, funding orphanages and reconstructing damaged parts of the city. She helped pass laws that protected women in arranged marriages or dangerous situations, and gave protection to children. It was because of her that many people, especially the women and children, felt safe in the kingdom. But, when her daughter became queen, the Queen Mother stepped back and focused on her passions instead. However, age came for Jisoo, and her mobility became limited and her health declined slightly.

“Ah, YN, good morning,” Jisoo smiled. She sat in her wheeled chair today, a blanket over her lap and a cup of tea in her hand. “How is my daughter?”

“She is well. She is in the throne hall,” you fibbed. “She asked me to come check on you for her.”

“YN,” she smiled softly, shaking her head, “You’d lie to an old woman to spare her feelings. Please, come and sit. I’m sure Sookmyung did not make the morning easy for you. A servant told me she sent away her handmaidens this morning.”

“She did.” You took the seat across from her and prepared yourself a cup of tea. You offered to refill her cup, but she refused. “Your Majesty, you must eat,” you noticed the amount of food left over, “If you don’t, it will get cold.”

“I don’t have much of an appetite today,” she admitted. “But, I’m sure you’re famished, so please, eat.”

“She hardly had time to eat her breakfast this morning, Your Majesty.”

A woman in a gray and blue hanbok walked into the room, carrying a stack of folded sheets. Her hair tied up in a bun, she wore the blue and gray hanbok of Queen Jisoo’s maids. Like your red ribbon, she wore a white one. You grinned at the sight of your mother. She’d been Queen Jisoo’s handmaiden in her youth, being at her side for every event of her life. When you grew up, you became Sookmyung’s maid. Except, you’re certain your mother had a much better time serving Jisoo than you did Sookmyung.

“And why was that?” Jisoo asked curiously. “Breakfast is important, and you’re still a growing woman.”

“The queen needed me to assist her in her garden,” you admitted over a cup of tea before sipping. You saw the disapproval on your mother’s face, but it was Jisoo who spoke up.

“And what horrid thing did she make you witness?”

“Nothing. She’d sent the concubines away before I arrived.”

“Hmph, in my day, queens did not have ‘concubines’,” your mother huffed, shaking her head. “The physician tells me he brews her tansy tea to avoid scandalous mishaps, but that is not healthy for a young woman. She’ll do severe damage to her womb, and not be able to produce children at all at this rate.”

“Chaewon,” the queen shushed her sharply. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she apologized. She noticed you not eating, and spread a bit of honey on bread for you. You knew better than to refuse her, so you ate it in small bites.

“My Sookmyung has always had a certain fiery passion,” Jisoo said. “Her father was similar. It was why he had so many concubines. He had an appetite I could not handle on my own,” she giggled.

“But, Your Majesty, the things I’ve heard The Queen does are-”

“-I know they are,” she cut in. “My daughter is a young woman, a new monarch. I will not rob her of enjoying her youth before settling down and marrying someone.”

Did that enjoyment of youth involve locking people in dungeons to torment and torture for pleasure? Did it include kidnapping young men from their families and forcing them to fulfill her every whim? Jisoo might make excuses for Sookmyung, but you would not. You finished the bit of bread given to you, and took up a bowl of kimchi instead. Not fully tasting the vegetable side, you pitied the concubines. Only the gods know what act she is forcing Hongjoong and Seonghwa to perform for her. 

You wished you could help them. You wished you could help a lot of people.

***

A/N: I freaking love historical aus, don't you?? I know this probably isn't a 100% accurate, but I tried to get as close as possible while still mixing in a fictional realm. I really hope you enjoyed this first chapter <3 feel free to like and reblog, it keeps posts alive!!

[spriteofmushrooms]

As Nie Huaisang poured their tea, Jiang Cheng rubbed his thumb against the carved wooden box in his lap and tried not to fret over what the other man was thinking. He knew what he looked like: the white streak at his temple announced it all. Jiang Cheng's cultivation was failing, and with the discussion conference tomorrow, it would be impossible to hide. Not even the reputation of Sandu Shengshou could shield him from being known now.

"Jiang-xiong, if you brought me a present, you have to give it to me," Nie Huaisang said behind his fan. His eyes seemed amused, at least, maybe.

"I know that," Jiang Cheng said, flustered and annoyed for being so. He placed it on the table between them.

Nie Huaisang tapped his hand with the closed fan where he hadn't yet pulled it away, and Jiang Cheng snatched it back to his lap. "It's a beautiful box, Jiang-xiong, but you can't keep it, either!"

"We're supposed to drink tea first," Jiang Cheng groused as Nie Huaisang's dainty fingers opened the lid.

"No, I distinctly recall the Gusu edict that states gifts are more important than anything," Nie Huaisang said. "If it's on their wall, you know it's orthodoxy itself. Oh, what are these?"

In his hands, the brilliant pressed ink cakes were even more beautiful. He was holding the azure bird, and his skin glowed against it. "One of the painters in Lotus Cove has... eccentric ideas. She's been experimenting with pigment and ash combinations. These are her more stable creations, but even then, they're not as permanent as standard ink. But, well." Jiang Cheng pulled a small book out of his sleeve and handed it over. "Here."

Nie Huaisang pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, darted a glance at Jiang Cheng's face, and then set the ink cake back into the box. "I don't have enough hands," he whined, but he took the book graciously. Page by page, his expression grew sharper; a slight flush brightened his cheeks. "A generous gift, Jiang-xiong."

Jiang Cheng swallowed. "She said the pink is especially fleeting, so you shouldn't hang anything with it in direct sunlight," he said gruffly. "Some of them have inclusions that make them act unpredictably in water. It's... You'll have to work with them a lot. To know how they'll perform."

"This kingfisher shimmers with true to life colors," Nie Huaisang murmured. After a moment of silence, he said, "I haven't painted in a long time."

"I know," Jiang Cheng said miserably. At the other's look, he added, "The fans from the last few years weren't your style."

Instantly, Nie Huaisang's fan was between them again. Jiang Cheng looked away, neck hot.

After a tense silence, Nie Huaisang said, "Jiang-xiong, would you tell me if something was wrong?"

"You know something is."

"Can something be done?" Nie Huaisang paused. "Gusu healers, perhaps?"

Jiang Cheng scoffed. "What Lan would help me? Hanguang-jun has never hidden his disdain for me, and Zewu-jun seems determined to live on darkness and silence forever. The Lans who would graciously ignore the feelings of one can't forgive me for being associated with Jin Guangyao and Guanyin Temple, for not noticing a-Ling's xiao-shushu was a treacherous minx who had beguiled the First Jade and would hurt his precious feelings later. As if I've ever picked up on anything like that before."

"How is Jin-zongzhu?" It was hard to read Nie Huaisang's tone, but that wasn't new.

Jiang Cheng fiddled with Zidian, tugging the chain. "He has his friends, his duties, and his shibo."

"Not his jiujiu?"

"You know how Wei Wuxian is," Jiang Cheng said.

Another pause. "I suppose I do." Nie Huaisang picked up and repositioned ink cakes for a moment before asking, "Does he know?"

"Unless the Jin spies defected, yes."

Nie Huaisang rapped his knuckles with the fan, and Jiang Cheng looked up at him. "He should have heard it from you."

"You don't get to tell me how to die," Jiang Cheng snapped.

Nie Huaisang looked bored. "Oh? Then why are you here?"

"This is why tea is supposed to be drunk first," Jiang Cheng said peevishly. "The entire pot is cold now."

Nie Huaisang draped himself over the couch and fanned himself. "You're a thorough person, Jiang-xiong. You must have an heir to announce tomorrow; likely, one of your usual retinue to these things. Not your head disciple, for as dear as that boy is, he doesn't have the head for politics, and politics and reputation have kept YunmengJiang safe. Chen Helin?" At Jiang Cheng's sharp look, he added, "I pay attention to you, too, Jiang-xiong."

"If you know everything, why ask?"

"No one can know everything," Nie Huaisang said gently. "I very often know nothing and must hope for the best. QingheNie hasn't fallen yet, which suggests even caged birds in pavilions aren't always prey." He looked at the box. "You want me to paint again. Why now?"

"After," Jiang Cheng started. He wasn't used to seeing Nie Huaisang's entire face. He wasn't used to seeing Nie Huaisang in soft, unembroidered robes. He wasn't used to seeing Nie Huaisang's hair down from its braids. "After," he repeated, "I didn't ask about your leg."

Nie Huaisang waited, but then murmured, "It healed."

Jiang Cheng swallowed. "I was selfish. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think about Chifeng-zun's body or what seeing it in pieces would do to you, because I can't—things are better when you don't think about them. But you stopped painting when he died, Nie-xiong, and all I did back then was scold you for not knowing how to triage your sect in its grief. In your grief." Here, the traitor that used to be his body swelled, and the foreign wave of mourning filled him once again. "You should paint," Jiang Cheng said through tears.

"Oh." Nie Huaisang opened his mouth, and then he closed it, simply looking at Jiang Cheng. "Come here," he said, patting the couch.

Obediently, Jiang Cheng moved to sit next to him.

"Good, good. Put your face here, please."

Jiang Cheng hesitated, but was it wrong to seek comfort when invited? He hadn't asked for it. Nie Huaisang probably didn't know how much he needed it, so it wasn't like he pressured him into it. He fell forward and pressed his face into Nie Huaisang's neck. Engulfed by the complex herbal and spice blend preferred in Qinghe incense and Nie Huaisang's sweet, peppery chrysanthemum, he simply breathed.

"You helped me a lot back then, Jiang-xiong." Nie Huaisang was a little cooler than him, since their cultivation levels were so different, but it was refreshing on his heated cheeks. "Maybe you were stringent, but someone fussing at me to take care of my duties was comforting." His hand moved to the back of Jiang Cheng's head. "I'm sorry I didn't go to Lotus Pier and make a complete nuisance of myself when you needed one."

"I didn't expect you to."

"Why?"

"They said I killed your friend."

Nie Huaisang's hand tightened in his hair. "Weren't you my friend?"

Jiang Cheng didn't want to say that he didn't know, so he said nothing.

[elyssialumengard]

Alastor x Reader : Fragile Link ( Part 2 )

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Link to the first part for those who haven't read it :

https://www.tumblr.com/elyssialumengard/741783404758073344/alastor-x-reader-fragile-link-part-1?source=share

Summary : In this chapter, Charlie presents his redemption hotel project to (y/n), an powerful overlord. Alastor, with his own motives, tries to persuade (y/n) to become involved in their confrontation against Adam.

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Taku knocked a second time, but the silence remained implacable.

Tangible anxiety flashed across his face as he prepared to strike a third time, softly saying :

- My Lady, may I come in ?

Getting no response, he made a face that the two people behind him did not see. Charlie frowned at Alastor, wondering what was going on. The radio demon tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, wondering why (y/n) was slow to respond, when usually, she was so responsive. He could sense her presence, so it wasn't due to a mistake in location.

The demon, under the overlord's orders, did not hesitate to not ask permission, instead deciding to carefully push open the door. He entered, Charlie and Alastor on his heels, where the blonde was amazed by the clean layout of the place.

The room was bathed in soft, calming light that filtered through the thin curtains, letting in the golden rays of the artificial sun. The walls were painted in light tones, accentuating the brightness of the room and creating a warm atmosphere. Delicately framed paintings adorned the walls, bringing an artistic touch to the whole.

At the back of the room, a solid wooden desk was placed, on which were placed a kettle, a selection of fine teas in pretty metal boxes, delicately decorated porcelain cups, as well as small biscuits arranged on a plate.

Two plush sofas were placed opposite each other in the center, separated by a glass coffee table on which were a few magazines and a vase filled with fresh flowers. The elegantly patterned cushions added a touch of color and comfort to the seating.

Shelves full of books stretched along one of the walls, offering a varied selection of reading material for all tastes. Potted plants were scattered here and there, bringing greenery and freshness to the room.

In this welcoming and peaceful environment, (y/n) stood near a window, her back, silently contemplating the landscape through the glass, absorbed in her thoughts.

Approaching with growing concern, Taku called out to him again. Hearing this time, (y/n) gracefully pivoted towards them, revealing her strangely angelic appearance, which always disconcerted those who saw her for the first time.

Her hair, as white as fresh snow, flowed in silky cascades around her face, framing delicate, celestial features. His gaze, both gentle and penetrating, could have probed the deepest souls. Slight wrinkles framed her eyes, testifying to the countless trials she had endured. Fine deer antlers stood on the top of his head, rather large, extending back, adorned with light beads that had been made for her decades ago.

She was wrapped in a long taupe gray t-shirt, loose and flowing, the long sleeves of which fell almost delicately over her slender hands. The hem of the garment caressed the bottom of her buttocks while she had taken care to slip the front into her straight black fabric pants, thus defining her silhouette. A navy blue belt, carefully adjusted, captured the whole in subtle harmony. On her feet, sandals matching the color of the belt, with black wedge heels, seemed to extend the slender line of her legs.

Despite the apparent casualness of her outfit, she emanated an aura of dignity and serenity, giving her presence a natural nobility and captivating maturity.

Yet, despite the brilliance of her beauty and the imposing aura that surrounded her, an enigmatic fragility seemed to emanate from her, as if the burden of the entire world rested on her proud shoulders. Silent tears beading from her white eyelashes, sliding slowly down her cheeks, leaving in their wake sparkling traces on the porcelain of her skin.

Faced with this heartbreaking vision, Charlie's heart ached with empathy. She could almost feel the pain and suffering emanating from (y/n), even though she didn't know her.

Ignoring Charlie and Alastor, (y/n) walked towards Taku who was walking towards her. Their gestures betrayed a deep and ancient familiarity. She held out a trembling hand, which Taku took tenderly, placing his other hand on her hip for support.

Tears continued to fall down (y/n)’s cheeks as she begged for comfort.

- Taku... I am gripped by doubt and torment... Did I make the right decision ? Was I right to act this way ? She whispered in a broken voice. My heart breaks thinking that another member of my family will suffer loneliness and fear because of the consequences of my actions.

Taku looked at her affectionately, his hand gently stroking hers to comfort her.

- You acted according to your duty. He replied in a soothing voice. Lynn broke established laws. It has threatened the balance that you have so ardently preserved. You had no choice but to punish him.

An encouraging smile appeared on Taku's lips, trying to ease his mistress' pain.

- Your wisdom and prudence have protected our family and our territory. Don't let the burden of your decisions torment you. We are all at your side, aware of the rules, ready to support your choices, however difficult they may be.

(y/n) closed her eyes, feeling the tears continue to fall down her cheeks despite her efforts to hold them back.

- I know, Taku... I realize that none of you hated me for that, that I did what had to be done, but... But that doesn't lessen the pain. She whispered, letting out a sigh of sorrow.

Taku, still close to her, dried her tears delicately, his fingers tenderly caressing her skin. He moved even closer, trying to offer her whatever comfort he could in this moment of torment and vulnerability, no longer caring at all about the guests.

Observing this touching scene, Charlie was overcome by an emotion mixed with surprise and fascination. She didn't expect such intimacy between Taku and (y/n), but she couldn't help but find it magnificent, given the evidence of the deep attachment between them.

While as far as Alastor was concerned, he felt a surge of rage wash over him, his fingers tightening around the top of his cane with increasing intensity. His sinister smile widened, tinged with a dark glow as he observed this lesser demon, acting as if he was entitled to such closeness.

A shadow passed through his eyes, mixing jealousy and desire for possession.

- Remember this, my Lady. Your wisdom has always brought us serenity and protection. Your decisions were dictated by necessity and prudence. He continued in a soothing voice, trying to ease her pain.

(y/n) listened carefully to her advisor's comforting words, her expression relaxing slightly under his influence. However, when she heard the crackles of the radio growing louder in the room, her eyes suddenly widened, recognizing the sound with a disturbing certainty.

- Alastor, I advise you to control your emotions. Taku intervened, diverting his attention to the demon. I did not grant you an audience here, with my Lady, for you to cause trouble.

Alastor bit back a growl, his stag horns growing slightly in response to his growing frustration.

- I'm not the one who starts the trouble, my dear Taku. He replied, his gaze burning with a dark glow. But no matter, I wouldn't want to spoil your little intimate moment with your precious overlord. He added acerbically, his pupils narrowing, leaving more room for the black of his eyes.

Before Taku could respond, a bitter cold suddenly filled the room, dropping the temperature several degrees and obscuring the surrounding light. (y/n)'s silver eyes glowed menacingly as she stared at Alastor with an icy intensity, filled with hatred and menace.

Detaching itself slightly from Taku, (y/n)'s aura transformed into a terrifying presence, imbuing the room with a heavy and sinister atmosphere. His antlers grew larger as did his shadow which expanded, morphing into a tight grip around Alastor's body, immobilizing him. All this happened in barely the blink of an eye. Alastor's mischievous smile froze, becoming more awkward as he tried to keep his composure.

Charlie, panicked, let out a little cry of fear when she saw Alastor in danger. (y/n) walked towards him with determined steps, her piercing gaze staring at him intensely. Once in front of him, the same size, she addressed him in a cold voice :

-What are you here for, radio demon ?

Aware of the palpable threat in the air, Alastor responded with feigned confidence :

- Just to chat, my dear overlord. I come as a friend, as always.

- As friends ? She replied, an icy glint in her eyes. You have no friends here. You only have enemies waiting for the right moment to destroy you.

A shiver ran down Alastor's spine, but he kept his composure, his sinister smile stretching slightly across his face.

- Oh, but my dear, it's a shame. I'm sure we could get along if you gave me a chance.

(y/n) stared at him with contempt.

- You don't belong here, Alastor. And if you even think for a moment about sowing chaos in my territory, know that I will make you regret every second of your existence.

When Alastor should have fought back or tried to defend himself, a subtle observation revealed to him an unsuspected truth, escaped everyone's attention. The shadow's hold on him, although similar to that of his memories, was not as stifling or threatening as he had thought. He felt within himself the possibility of freeing himself from it, if he really wanted to. Staring intently at the face of the woman he had come to meet, he noticed that the tears had stopped flowing, giving way to an expression valiantly fighting against fatigue.

Smiling even more, he decided to lighten the atmosphere with his usual sarcastic humor.

- Let's see, my dear, you take me for a more belligerent demon than I really am. He said, giving a mocking smile. I'm here on a much more interesting matter than causing chaos. Actually, I'm here to introduce you to someone !

(y/n) arched an eyebrow, her expression hardening even further.

-And who is this person you are talking about ? She asked in a biting voice.

Alastor let out a small laugh, turning to Charlie with a theatrical nod.

- Allow me to introduce you to Princess Charlie Morningstar, heir to the throne of Hell and the founder of the Hazbin Hotel !

Charlie, feeling a little uncomfortable under (y/n)'s unforgiving gaze, gave her a shy smile and bowed slightly.

- Hey… Nice to meet you, Lady (y/n). She said in a calm but respectful voice.

( y/n ) looked away from Alastor to stare at Charlie, his expression softening slightly. She observed the young princess with a mixture of curiosity and evaluation, taking the time to look her over from head to toe, making her slightly uncomfortable, feeling as if the one who was taller than her she probed the depths of his soul.

- Charlie Morningstar… She whispered, repeating the name as if to engrave it in her memory.

As (y/n) scrutinized Charlie with growing interest, a resolve seemed to arise within her. With a graceful gesture of her hand, she dispelled the shadow that still enveloped Alastor, thus freeing the demon from his yoke. The temperature of the room and its brightness returned to their natural balance, while (y/n)'s deer antlers returned to their initial size.

(y/n), now more relaxed, conformed to the rules of etiquette, respecting them. A gracious smile graced her lips as she gave Charlie a salutation of gracious solemnity, bowing her head slightly in respect.

- The pleasure is shared, Princess Charlie. She replied in a soft but confident voice, getting up. It is an honor to welcome you to my modest home. Please forgive me for the vulnerable and aggressive version of myself that you may have encountered. Under no circumstances should she be present in the presence of royalty such as yours.

Charlie was pleasantly surprised by the sudden change in (y/n)'s attitude, feeling more comfortable in her presence. She bowed respectfully in gratitude, acknowledging the courtesy of the Overlord of Hell, not being used to being shown so much respect.

(y/n) then turned towards the couches, inviting Charlie to sit down.

- Please sit down, Princess Charlie, you must be tired from all this walking. She declared in a friendly voice, gesturing elegantly to the sofa.

Charlie nodded politely and sat down, his gaze following Alastor who stood behind the back of the sofa, his teasing smile still hanging on his lips. Meanwhile, (y/n) sent a command to Taku.

- Taku, please prepare some tea for our guest. She ordered in a calm but authoritative voice, as she sat down her turn, opposite Charlie who was standing straight, playing with his fingers.

Taku nodded silently, bowing slightly before walking over to where the teapot and cups were set out. He prepared the tea with silent skill, discreetly observing his enemy out of the corner of his eye.

As for Alastor, he remained unfazed by the presence of the one he would like to see dead, his expression still teasing, his gaze sparkling with undisguised malice as he observed the scene with palpable amusement.

Once the tea was ready, Taku approached Charlie and handed him a cup with a respectful gesture.

- Your tea, Princess Charlie. He announced in a neutral voice, placing it in front of her on the table, before serving (y/n), who thanked him with a warm but moderate smile.

Charlie thanked him with a grateful smile and took the cup carefully, feeling the comforting warmth of the liquid against his fingers. She took a small sip, savoring the soothing taste of the tea. (y/n) observed him with a slight smile, then suddenly declared, breaking the silence that had fallen :

- If I may say so, you look exactly like your father, Lucifer.

Charlie, astonished, looked at her in surprise.

- Do you know my father ? She asked with a hint of disbelief, unsure of what to think.

(y/n) nodded slightly.

- We met on a few rare occasions. She replied in a calm voice, full of reflection. But I must admit that I don't particularly hold it in my heart. Although I understand that he is overwhelmed by the illness of depression, especially since the departure of Lilith, your mother, I firmly believe that a king, even if he did not choose this destiny, must above all think to his subjects and be ready to sacrifice himself for them. Unfortunately, your father doesn't always seem to understand this, letting innocent people perish every year and condemning all sinners indiscriminately.

A nervous laugh escaped Charlie's lips at this unexpected revelation, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, trying to hide his growing confusion. Another heavy silence settled in the room, (y/n) doing everything to ignore the presence of Alastor, who reveled in his reaction.

After taking a sip, the hostess asked in a friendly but curious voice :

-And if not, can you inform me of your coming here, princess ? I must admit that I never imagined such a thing happening.

Charlie felt a surge of intense excitement course through her body as she jumped to her feet, the surge in her voice ready to burst into song to introduce her hotel of redemption. Her eyes glowed with palpable determination as she prepared to share her vision with those in the room.

- Oh uh yes ! Let me introduce you to my hotel that rehabilitates fishermen ! She began in a vibrant, almost musical voice. A place where the most lost souls can find redemption and inner peace.

His momentum was abruptly interrupted by the authoritarian voice of (y/n), which ended his tirade :

- There is no room for songs here, princess. Please forgive me for interrupting you, but I believe that there is a time for everything, including songs. If this is serious, you can present things differently.

Charlie, disappointed by the abrupt interruption of her creative momentum, sat up slowly, stammering an excuse. Alastor raised an eyebrow and said in a voice tinged with sarcasm :

- Are you sure about that, (y/n) ?

Ignoring Alastor's remarks and the hostile glances exchanged between him and Taku, (y/n) focused on Charlie, noticing his growing state of stress. Telling herself that his condition was because of her, with natural grace, she offered him a soothing smile and said softly :

- There's no reason to stress, princess, I didn't want to upset you. However, I can't stand the music anymore.

Hearing this, Alastor's smile became colder and more sarcastic. Charlie, looking at the woman in front of her, sighed, her shoulders slumping. She still had a hard time realizing that she was here, sharing tea with the person she considered an example to follow. As a result, she could not hold back from sharing her adoration for the overlord.

- You know, I've always heard about you. Rumors say that you are almost as powerful as my father, but that you have chosen a different path. A path of compassion and helping others.You have made pacts with sinners, protecting them and guiding them through the troubled waters of life. It's incredible. Everyone talks about you, but we never see you. You might almost think you're a legend. And yet here I am, facing you, realizing that you are very real. I admire you so much. It's like meeting my idol. Your strength, your generosity... It's inspiring. I mean, who else could boast of having (y/n) as an ally ? That's... That would just be amazing.

As Charlie's excitement began to skyrocket again, (y/n) gave him a kind look and said gently, touched by his words :

- Calm down, princess. Thank you for your admiration. Breathe, I am fully listening to you.

Charlie, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, outlined his plan with frankness tinged with nervousness. She honestly admitted that it was her fault that the purge had been brought forward six months, explaining that in a month Adam and the exterminators would come to see them first. Unable to hide her anxiety, she admitted that she did not know what to do in the face of this critical situation.

-And so… Alastor brought me here to get your help, apparently. She added, casting an uncertain look at Alastor.

( y/n ), staring skeptically at Alastor for the first since this exchange, raised an eyebrow, expressing doubt about the demon's intentions. In a calm but direct voice, she asked him :

- Do you really think you'll help Charlie with his hotel ? Do you believe in this idea of redemption ?

Alastor replied with a hint of amusement in his voice :

- Ah, my dear (y/n), believe in redemption ? It’s like believing in Santa Claus ! However, I see Charlie's little project as an entertainment opportunity. And maybe, who knows, a few souls to collect for eternity. But don't get me wrong, I'm here to save his project, it shouldn't be broken too quickly. I was even the one who chose the name of the brand, the “Hazbin Hotel”!

Faced with Alastor's response, Charlie felt disappointed and blasé, her face betraying her displeasure. She had hoped to find a sincere ally in him, but his words had reminded her of the dark and detached nature of the one who accompanied her today.

(y/n), turning to Taku with a serious look, asked him if the information provided by Alastor was true. Taku nodded soberly, confirming that according to his informants, the stated facts were accurate. (y/n) bowed his head slightly in recognition towards Taku before turning back to Charlie.

- I see… And what do you want from me, princess ?

Alastor spoke up to propose a solution to the situation.

- You know, (y/n), with your power and your army of fishermen, you could put an end to all this. You could even come to the aid of other potential members of what you insist on calling your “family”. He said in a convinced tone, looking at his nails, keeping a straight posture, not wanting to slump against the backrest even if he wanted to, wanting to keep a good face in front of her.

In a gesture of controlled serenity, (y/n) gently raised her hand to interrupt him, before falling gracefully on his knee. Closing her eyes briefly, she gathered her thoughts before responding in a calm but resolute voice :

- I understand your point of view, but I refuse to put the members of my family in danger for a matter that does not directly concern them. Here we are safe.

(y/n)'s reply, although delivered with apparent confidence, does not quite succeed in convincing Alastor, accustomed to detecting chinks in the armor of his interlocutors. He had subtly noticed the change in expression on the overlord's face. A smirk tugged at his thin lips, his eyes sparkling with biting amusement as he prepared to further explore the cracks in (y/n)'s confidence.

- You sure about that ? He asked, his voice softly tinged with a veiled threat. Think about it my dear. Things change, alliances break, and even your fishermen could find themselves caught in the tumult of this impending war.

He remained silent for a moment, letting his words permeate the atmosphere, then he continued in a calm but incisive tone :

- Imagine for a moment that Adam's forces are getting closer. Do you really think they will stop indefinitely at the gates of your pocket dimension ? That your precious fishermen will be spared from their fury ? No, my dear (y/n), your security is only an illusion in this constantly moving world. And if you refuse to act now, you may bitterly regret it when the flames of war lick the walls of your refuge.

He paused, letting his words resonate in (y/n)'s mind, before concluding with a sardonic smile :

- Of course, I do not underestimate your ability to protect your domain. But it's always good to consider all possibilities, even the darkest ones. After all, prudence is the mother of safety, right ?

Alastor knew how to tug on the heartstrings of high-ranking demons like (y/n). He used his charisma and sharp rhetoric to sow doubt in the overlord's mind, giving her a different perspective on the situation and pushing her to consider more aggressive actions to protect her rule and honor.

Before Charlie could intervene with his own arguments, Taku, faithful servant, spoke in a respectful but determined tone.

- My Lady. He began in a voice full of devotion. I understand the arguments made by this nuisance, but I implore you, do not let fear and uncertainty dictate your actions. You are the force that unites us, the light that guides our steps in the darkness. Your prudence is our shield against the chaos that always threatens to engulf us. Yes, times are uncertain and threats are many, but it is precisely in these times that your leadership is most crucial. Acting in haste, under the influence of fear, would only hasten our downfall. Let us remain faithful to our strategy, to our vision of the future. With your wisdom and wise judgment, we will overcome whatever challenges come our way. Because if you choose to engage in this confrontation, you risk losing more than you could gain. Your place is here, alongside yours, to protect our home and guide our destiny. Don't let the words of a manipulative demon sow doubt in your mind. We trust you, my Lady. And as long as you stay strong, so will we.

His hand, resting confidently on (y/n)'s shoulder, testified to his unwavering support, while he awaited his suzerain's decision with respectful patience, trusting in her wisdom and in her ability to make the best decisions for them.

(y/n) turned her gaze towards Taku, letting her face rest on her hand which was placed next to her on the backrest, fighting against the wave of sadness which invaded her at the thought of Lynn, that she had punished for a recent transgression. Alastor, carefully scanning the scene, felt a pang of annoyance as he noticed the proximity between them, a proximity that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

However, her attention was diverted by something that seemed to escape the others, when she raised her arm slightly, to take Taku's hand which was on her shoulder. Another curious and interesting detail, which added to the confirmation of his suspicions. (y/n) raised his face towards Charlie, letting go of his advisor's hand, placing his arm back at his side. In a gentle voice, she expressed her regrets.

- I'm sorry, princess, but I can't help you in this matter. She declared with compassion. I can't afford to put any member of my family in danger, let alone drag them into this.

However, she offered Charlie a glimmer of hope by adding :

- However, if your hotel survives, I will be happy to support you by visiting your establishment. I could then assess whether it truly constitutes a safe haven for those who seek redemption under your protection.

This compromise seemed to assuage Charlie's disappointment, giving him an encouraging outlook for the future of his project. She couldn't hold back her joy and literally jumped with contentment, her eyes shining with excitement.

- You are serious ? Really ? She exclaimed, both surprised and delighted by the powerful overlord's proposal.

(y/n) nodded gently, a kind smile stretching her lips.

- Yes I am. If your hotel manages to offer a path to redemption, then some members of my family may feel drawn to that possibility. And as a worthy leader, it is my duty to help them as best I can. She declared with dignity, thus expressing her noble vision of responsibilities.

Charlie's eyes lit up even more, splashed with a mixture of admiration and gratitude.

- It's incredible ! Thank you so much, (y/n) ! You won't regret it, I promise ! She exclaimed, letting her gratitude and determination to make her project a success shine through.

Sensing Charlie's imminent departure, (y/n) smiled slightly, appreciating his enthusiasm and determination.

- I wish you good luck, princess. Do your best to save your hotel. She told him sincerely, recognizing the passion that animated the young woman.

Charlie, moved by these words, bowed respectfully to (y/n) like a fan to an idol.

- Thank you, thank you very much ! I will not disappoint you ! I will do everything to find a solution to save him, you will see ! She promised passionately before heading towards the exit, carrying with her a mixture of excitement and newfound enthusiasm, not caring if Alastor followed her or not.

Alastor remained still, staring at (y/n) with a mixture of interest and challenge in his glowing gaze. Taku, seeing that the conversation was coming to an end, turned to Alastor with a cold and bitter expression, suggesting in a scathing tone :

- It's time for you to go, demon. Your presence is no longer required.

But Alastor didn't seem to react to Taku's words, keeping his attention entirely focused on (y/n). He let out a little sarcastic laugh, before announcing in a quiet voice but full of innuendo :

- In fact, I intend to talk a little more with (y/n).

She turned her attention to him, with a neutral air, while he announced :

-And one-on-one this time.

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Author's note : Well, I guess there will be a part 3, right ? I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it, and that (y/n)'s character captivated you. Stay tuned for the next part !

[percynorthwest]

jegulus microfic - fool

June 21st - @jegulus-microfic - words: ~650

suuuper fluffyyy

Regulus awakes with the smell of food in the kitchen, soft music playing, and a glimpse of sun in his face. He can't help but let out a soft smile as he lets his eyes adjust to the light. He stretches his arms above his head and lets out a soft yawn. He doesn't quite feel like getting up yet, he want to soak in the emotions that this day brought. When he moved, the black cat laying by his feet stands up, arches its back, and starts walking up to Regulus' face, sniffing his hair before laying down by his chest.

"Hi, Luci," he mumbles while stroking her soft fur.

The cat immediately starts purring, and Regulus can't help his giddy excitement about it all. He's so pathetically happy. He buries his face in Luci's fur, smiling so big that he felt like his face was splitting in two.

"Wisee~ meeen saaay..." James' baritone voice can be heard from the kitchen, which only makes the warm feeling of happiness in Regulus' stomach grow. "Only fools rush in."

Regulus throws his legs off the bed, and lifts the cat into his arms as he joins James in the kitchen, the pathetic smile still oh so big on his face. If Regulus from a mere three years ago could see him now...

"But I caaaan't help," James continues, turning towards regulus as he sees him exiting their bedroom. "Falling in love with you..." he's singing into a wooden spatula which he holds in one hand, and he puts his other on the side of Regulus' face.

Regulus leans in and meets him in a welcomed kiss.

"Good morning love," James says, voice still a bit grainy from sleep -which only makes regulus want to drag him back to bed- but that's besides the point.

James is smiling softly and warmly at him, and Regulus feels so much that he has too look away from those brown eyes for a bit, before meeting them again.

"I've made breakfast," james says, nodding towards the kitchen table already set with plates, pancakes, juice, bread, fruits, and everything else in their fridge probably.

"I see," Regulus answers, still with a big grin. "Is this to be expected every morning?" he teases. "this is really... wow."

"It's quite nice, right? and i'll see what i can do, -no promises- but of course our first morning as roommates had to be extra perfect." He says with a smile.

"Any morning with you is extra perfect." Regulus can't help but say as he leans in again to kiss him.

Ugh, its so cheesy it's making (a part of) him want to throw up. He used to roll his eyes whenever couples would act like that, whether it be on a film or in real life. but now? he gets it. He really fucking gets it. Sure, him and james hasn't been together for long, well a year is quite long, so maybe they were just in some kind of eternal honeymoon-stage. But regulus loves it nonetheless.

"And roomates? have i been demoted from boyfriend?" he jokes as James hands him a cup of warm tea.

Regulus sets Luci down to get his hands on the cup.

"Hmm, maybe friends with benefits?" James smiles and grabs Regulus' hips, kissing the top of his head as Regulus takes a sip of the warm tea.

"mmm, sure."

They each take a seat at their kitchen table. the music is still playing softly in the background. outside it's shining. their (though she was Regulus' first) cat sips water from her bowl. Maybe they had to paint a few of the walls, unpack (a lot of) boxes, and maybe the apartment was tiny and far away from everything, but it was theirs, and it was the place where they shared the first of the many 'more than perfect' mornings.

[belovedstill]

svsss 10th anniversary snippets [ 1/7 ] ▶

The first time Luo Binghe had ever bowed to Shen Qingqiu, tea was spilled over his head.

That memory is hazy now. He doesn't think back to those early days much now that fate has finally, finally opened its cold eyes to his past suffering. Everything important has changed, yet remained the same.

Cang Qiong Sect used to be a place he called home, with a shizun, a childhood friend, and the remaining people who made it a point to show he wasn't wanted there. Now, it's still a home whenever Shizun stays there, the childhood friend still greets him with kindness, even if a little more distant, and the rest of the sect still want him anywhere but there. Nobody dares raise a hand this time.

The past needs no ruminating on. It existed. It passed. It's dead and not mourned anymore.

He bows among the bamboo stalks, eyes on the blue of the sky, the green of the leaves, the tranquillity of the nature. Red robes similar to his own whisper with movement by his side.

Where he is now—when he is now—makes his heart beat faster. Now is good. Now is better than he's ever imagined it would be.

He bows to the wooden box, painted by Shizun himself, filled with precious cargo: his very first jade pendant; an old note with Su Xiyan's and Tianlang-Jun's scribbled handwriting; a wooden tablet with elegant strokes of two given names to the family name of Shen, both unfamiliar to him, offered in fragile silence. In the corner of his eye, Shizun moves in time with him.

Two cups filled with tea rest on a tray between them. The first time he'd ever bowed to Shen Qingqiu, tea was spilled over his head.

This time, when Luo Binghe bows to Shen Qingqiu, Shen Qingqiu bows along with him.

Red-clothed arms linked together, one teacup held in his trembling hand and another resting in Shen Qingqiu's steady one, they drink at the same time.

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly - Chapter 7. The Black Wolf

Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: cursing, angst, reference to former SA - Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. F!OC was recommended to me since there's a lot of description of her but I'm writing her as You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: You try to move on with your new life in Jackson and Ellie and you bond. 1.2K

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the book line divider. :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7. The Black Wolf

It took you a couple of days to unpack the two small boxes of items you brought with you to your new place. It was too painful to face the fact that you really were here on your own, away from Ellie. Away from Joel. After work, you walk yourself home and decide enough is enough, you need to get this over with and start trying to live in this space of yours. You begin going through your boxes and fine, Carrie, the book you brought home from the library on your first day. You wonder if Joel ever read the book you brought him. Ellie had already talked your ear off about the graphic novel you found for her. But Joel never said anything, and you never saw the book anywhere in the shared area of the house. You imagine it, forgotten on the dresser in his room, ignored. That’s how you felt. Like Joel just forgot you, left you aside.

You found a blanket that you’d grown fond of stuffed in the box, you don’t remember putting it there. Maybe Ellie did. As you pull it out, you hear something else in the box. It’s the wooden carving of a wolf, the one you saw the first time you entered Joel’s living room. The one you commented on the night you both couldn’t sleep. Except now it wasn’t the light, almost ivory color it once was, it was painted black. Your heart squeezed in your chest. Had he done this? Did he do this for you? At the same time, you felt warmth and comfort, you felt so sad. Because even this, still felt like a goodbye.

You held onto it tight, closing your eyes and setting it on your bedside table before falling into your mattress and crying yourself to sleep for another night in a row. The nightmares came back that night, more real than ever before. Hands pulling your legs apart, metal chains cuffed to your arms, cutting into your wrists as you struggled. A faceless vile man pinning you to the floor. But this time you wake up alone, screaming, no one lived near enough to you for you to disturb them, only empty storefronts. You take a cold shower to try and soothe your skin that felt like it was burning from your memories. You couldn’t fall back asleep, so you sit up in bed trying to read but your eyes keep wandering to your wolf.

That weekend, you finally have a visitor. Ellie comes by and you both enjoy tea and fresh baked bread and jam from the bakery downstairs. Ellie tells you about the drama in her friend group. How Jesse and Dina keep fighting, breaking up and then making out the next day and breaking up again. “It’s really fucking stupid if you ask me.” Ellie says, irritated. “Yeah, teenagers are like that sometimes, fucking stupid. But really… so are adults,” you respond and Ellie nods knowingly. You have learned that Dina is the pretty brunette you saw with Ellie on the first movie night. You wonder if there might be more to this for Ellie than she’s letting on. You don’t want to pry but you also know what it’s like to be confused or worried about your sexuality at that age. It was Before when you realized you were bisexual, and back then, in the south, it wasn’t easy to come to terms with that or explain it to your friends. Everyone assumed it meant you were lesbian just not ready to say it yet, but you didn’t feel that way. And having people tell you who you are rather than accepting you for you, made a big fucking impact and if you can help Ellie through a time like this, you will.

“So, Dina,” you start cautiously, “she’s your best friend?” Ellie looks at you and nods, taking a sip of her tea, so you continue. “Must be tough, watching her go on this roller coaster. It’s probably not easy for you, is it?” Ellie, looking at you skeptically, whispers “What do you mean?” You look at her, a soft smile on your face, “When you care about someone, it can be hard to be there for them when every day they seem to be going back and forth about their feelings.” Ellie starts to visibly relax, “Yeah, it is! Like one day she wants to spend all her time with me and says Jesse doesn’t matter. The next day, when we have plans or something, she’ll just run off with him.” You answer, “Yeah, Ellie, that sucks. Especially when it maybe plays with your feelings a little, do you know what I mean?” Ellie takes a deep breath, “Yeah, Dina will be only interested in me, and then run back to Jesse and it just makes me question if she even likes me at all.” “You like her, don’t you?” you say, quietly. Ellie looks at you for a while, like she’s deciding if she’s going to open up or not. And you wait patiently, this is her truth to tell you, not anything else.

“I do, and as more than a friend. And she kissed me last night, but I don’t know what that means.” She breathes deeply after her confession. You smile warmly at her, “It’s okay, Ellie. It’s so nice to like someone, even when it’s complicated. And if I were you, I would talk to her about it, tell her how you’re feeling and ask her what she’s feeling.” Ellie responds almost sarcastically, “Really, is that what you would do?” Ouch. That stings, this kid already knows you so well. You sigh, “No, it’s not what I would do, but it’s what I wish I would do. So, it’s my advice to you.” Ellie looks at you with her eyes filled with sadness, like she knows how hurt you are.

“He doesn’t know yet,” Ellie says, “that I like girls. Not sure what he’ll think.” Your eyes cast down to your hands that feel heavy in your lap. “Ellie, I know it’s hard, you don’t know how people will react. I never had the chance to come out to my family as bisexual. I was too scared and then everything happened.” Ellie’s eyes light up like she had a feeling you might have actually understood, and she knows now that she’s right. “But I can tell you right now, that man loves you more than he loves anything in this world. And he wouldn’t let who you love change that one bit. I can promise you that.” She smiles and then does something that startles you, she hugs you tight. “Thank you, Ash. You’re really fucking cool. And Joel is a piece of shit if he doesn’t fix things with you.” You smile, “Don’t call your dad a piece of shit.” “Fine,” she says with a deep sigh that reminds you of him, “he’s just being fucking stupid.” And with that, Ellie takes off looking for Dina and you feel a little bit better, like you might be able to stay here and make a difference. A little at a time.

Taglist: @somedayheaven @elegantduckturtle @indiegirlunited @guelyury @cheekychaos28 @ghostofzion @harriedandharassed

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Would Blanche like it if darling wants to celebrate his birthday? If he would ever allow them to find out that is

Unlike Yves, Blanche seems to overshare. You knew his birthday in the first meeting, it's on the 22nd October.

He would be giddy during the week of his birthday, already planning a nice little party between him and his (only) dear friend, you. Blanche has been yapping about how wonderful and fun his birthday will be, he wants you to stay the night before, so he can receive his midnight birthday kisses and cuddles.

Later in the morning, he would already start baking his cake using metal trays and including only his freshest eggs from the coop. Preparing the frosting, cream, and toppings for you and him to decorate the sweet treat with. Of course, he will have some savory dishes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the two of you.

The actual celebration will only happen late in the afternoon when the cake is all assembled and his kitchen is a mess. It wouldn't be this chaotic nor would it take this long if you weren't there, he is actually a neat and almost clinical baker, but you brought out the jolly side of him. He doesn't mind cleaning up a lot more after, because he had fun and it's with you.

Oddly enough, he doesn't remember how old he is. But upon seeing his government-issued identity card, you count that he was celebrating his 52nd birthday. You're surprised because he looks fifteen years younger than he actually is, save for the greying hair.

You were the one who told him that you don't think it's a good idea to fit 52 candles on a cake. It is by no means small, but that is just a ridiculous amount of melted wax on something edible and beautiful. That is why you bought him candles that are shaped into the numbers '5' and '2'. He found it funny to swap it, so it says '25' on the cake instead, Blanche would be giggling and clapping his hands at his joke.

You and Blanche would have his birthday cake with a cup of his herbal tea, chatting away about your day and his while a gentle and soothing, old-fashioned birthday song plays softly in the background. The box of Jolly and Joy would be brought out, allowing you and him to enjoy the day away with such jollity. Blanche would be tenderly bobbing his head towards the music that's playing out of his gramophone while he knits, crochets, paints, or completes a puzzle with you. Even if it's his special day, you get to choose what to do from his wooden box. You need not worry, as it almost seems like it contains an unlimited variety of items and games. However, you must slow dance with him at least once, to the song of his choosing. It's always pleasant to listen to and easy to follow.

In the end, you will be completely tuckered out, resting your head on his lap as he hums a birthday tune to himself. Blanche would be raking his fingernails through your hair and scalp, allowing you to fully relax on him. Eventually, you will fall into a deep, deep slumber with all the coziness and snuggliness of it all.

Usually, he would let you rest on his lap while he knits or crochets something for you to bring home. But he's a bit worried. So he would retrieve his notebook and pencil from somewhere and read through his notes all over again.

Yes. He's 52 this year on (legal) paper. However, Blanche is wracking his brain trying to figure out how old he actually is. Could it be, that his memory is failing him due to aging? He was sure to drink his ginkgo and do some sort of mental exercise every day.

He would release a quiet sigh. Blanche needs to refer to his past notebooks which are stashed in his "Suitcase of Secrets". Or simply, receptacle #3467 for Blanche's personal cataloguing.

But as of now, he is just going to enjoy the remainder of his birthday in peace. Blanche would put his notebook away and pick up a pair of knitting needles. He pressed one last kiss on your forehead, making you stir a bit before sitting up straight to work on his birthday gift for you.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi loved a court of hope and second chances , wondered if you could possibly write where eris meets her ( I feel like he wpuld love his little sister)

I just had this urge to revisit this... Could be read as a standalone piece of Eris meeting his sister. ✌🏼😭

Hope

One thing was certain. Eris didn't expect to get a letter from Lucien. Things in autumn had been uneasy and he was so busy, so deep in all the shit that he had even forgotten about anything else. That there was indeed a world beyond these suffocating walls. That there were people who cared about him. Who could even miss him. Feel the absence of him.

Just the minute that letter landed in the fireling's hands, Eris had dismissed everyone. Ushering them away coldly. Rushing to his upper-level rooms. Before harshly slamming the door. Staring at it. Almost burning holes in the paper. It wasn't like him to hesitate but he just couldn't help it. Something told him that this was important. Had it finally happened? Had something bad happened?

"Missed you at the arrival party. It's a girl, healthy and strong. Y/N sends wishes. Come visit us soon. Lucien", it read. Eris just gripped the letter harder. Reading over and over and over. A girl. Weirdly enough it felt like his stomach had done a flip. Or was there something flustering there? He did feel guilty for missing the grand party, which Eris was sure Helion threw. Yet he hoped you weren't too upset with him. He constantly sent you flowers and apple tarts that you craved often. A smile paints Eris's lips. A smile he doesn't even catch. That escapes him and is only seen by the night around him.

The days leading to the tea party that now was arranged had Eris in crumbles because what do you gift a child? A baby... A girl... He was so used to crafting wooden swords and bouts. Surely, a girl would have no use with that. Not that he was being sexist here. He had seen some seriously dangerous females. And there was a handful he respected more than any man. But it still felt wrong. Too rough for something so delicate and fragile.

Yet nothing compared to how much of a mess he was going to be the day he was stood by the outside gate. Hands full of stuff. He had wanted to turn away and go back at least a dozen times. He even winnowed further from the castle so no one would see him stalling and fidgeting. He was this big bad guy. Someone who everyone hated so what business did he have here? And to let him see the baby? Maybe no one would even let him... Maybe he was only imagining that...

But it all in a way melted away when Eris saw you rushing down the stairs. Hands open as you moved to embrace him. "Shouldn't you be in bed still and not run down the stairs like...", he muttered as you nuzzled into his chest. Eris let out a content sigh. A wave of calmness rushed through him. "I'm quite well. Plus, I'm too excited to see you. It's been so long", you cupped his face gently and Eris leaned into it without a second thought. Only now realizing just how much he missed your presence.

"I smell a pie", you whispered and Eris couldn't help but let out a laugh, "I think I brought half of the bakery with me", he handed you one of the boxes, "Do leave a bite of that strawberry tart for me. Hadn't stopped thinking about it", you only hummed in response already pulling at the lavender ribbon.

But Lucien appeared up the stairs. A bundle of light mossy green in his arms. Eris's heart stopped for a second. He couldn't move. Couldn't say anything. He just looked. Lucien was so happy. That itself could have brought Eris to tears. Gone was the broken gaze, the coldness of trauma that bound him. He was shining brightly just as Eris knew he was always meant to be.

Then, when Lucien was close enough, Eris's eyes landed on the sweetest golden eyes he had ever seen. Eyes that were staring right at him now too. Eyes that were so Vanserra-like. Eyes like Licien's. Eyes like Eris's. The strawberry blonde hair in some way held a light sheen of ginger too. Eris opened his mouth but nothing came out. Not a single word. Not a single sound. He felt your palm softly squeezing his shoulder and he quickly nodded. Not sure at what or why.

"I... I..", he muttered, turning to the bag that was to his left, "I brought her this", Eris pulled out a tiny plush fox with a golden cape, "I made this and you don't have to", "Oh Eris, dear, it so beautiful. She will love it", you said softly, eyes suddenly starting to burn from the way both of them cared for her. For how much she meant without even realizing it. How many hearts was she healing with just being here? Breathing. Growing.

Eris brushed a tear with the back of his hand quickly. "Would you like to hold her?", you asked softly, "Look at how she's looking at you", Lucien laughed softly at how the tiny babe had practically stopped blinking at the share mesmerizing daze of Eris. But the fireling quickly shook his head, "I shouldn't and it's not like...", he backed away slightly. But you could tell. Could see where the root of this decline lay. The horrible Eris Vaserra. Cunning bastard. Bloodthirsty monster. He was afraid to tarnish her. Harm her in some way.

But you weren't gonna let it happen. You gently took the babe from Lucien's arms. Bouncing her a couple of times before turning to Eris, "Hold your hands out just like Lucien just had", "Y/N, I don't think that this is the best idea", Eris muttered but you quickly frowned at him, giving him one of your looks that he by now knew meant no good. So rarely did he obey but he did.

A breath hitched in Eris's throat as the weight of the babe settled in his arms. He didn't even realize he had his eyes closed until the tangle of tiny hands reaching all around brushed his chest and Eris's eyes shot open. No, truly, he was convinced that he had never seen such beauty. Such a pure and radiant soul. The babe babbled at him. And the moment their eyes properly met the most happy gummy smile was flashed his way. Eris let out a breathy giggle. Unable to hold himself back. "Hello, little light", the fireling said softly, brushing his finger over her brow line, making the little girl squeeze her eyes at the tickly sensation.

"I said to Father that she's a little white fox - mix of our fire and day court sun", Lucien leaned closer to make a face earning a happy squeal and Eris couldn't help the swell in his chest. The way his heart seemed to grow and grow. "She is, Lu, she's just that", Eris said in agreement, not sure if he wanted to look at the babe or the way his brother had the joy of becoming an older sibling.

You let your gaze fall onto the three siblings, soaking in the beauty that true love brought them. Knowing how loved and protected the little girl was. No doubt those two alone would tear kingdoms and courts apart just for her. A shared laugh filled the room as she reached up grasping Eris's nose, grumbling happily. "A name?", the oldest Vanserra asked after letting the never stilling hand wrap around his finger, running his finger subconsciously over her tiny fist. Your eyes sparkled some more as you nodded your head, "Little Hope".

............

A court of Hope and Second Chances masterlist

[immabethehero]

How Well Do You Know Alma Madrigal?!

A/N: A lil Mother's Day fluff, Encanto style!!!

Mother’s Day has been nothing but loving bliss in La Casa Madrigal. That in itself is making Alma nervous. Bruno, her youngest child and biggest mama’s boy ever, has not given her a gift yet. It’s nearing the end of dinner and not once has he given her a brand new book, or flowers or even new jewelry that she’ll never wear (she might this year though).

Not that she’s expecting much from him, considering that only a year ago he was hiding in the walls of his own house. Still, he’s always gone out of his way to give his mamá a nice gift to show her how much he loved her… and also to one-up his sisters. When the triplets were children, they used to make a game out of Mother’s Day. Every gift was especially bought or made in order to impress her, and to win the award of best Mother’s Day gift that year.

The intensity and the competition lessened as they got older, and as Alma and Bruno’s relationship became more strained. However, even with the tension between the two, Bruno always ensured his mother had a lovely Mother’s Day gift. So how is this year any different?

Come to think of it, Mirabel hasn’t given Alma a gift either, or rather, any gift relating to a series of very specific questions she had asked Alma the other day. Her favorite colour, what holiday did she and Pedro meet, when she puts her slippers on, how she takes her tea, etc. Alma had no idea what that was about, but she answered all of Mirabel’s questions willingly, even one that was supposed to be “a secret”.

As dinner comes to an end, Bruno stands up and taps his glass, catching the family’s attention. Alma gulps.

Bruno clears his throat. “As you know, today is Mother’s Day, and you know what that means. Presents for our glorious mamás.” He gestures to his sisters and Alma. Alma raises an eyebrow.

“So to celebrate my own wonderful mamá, I have created a wonderful new game show! Everyone come to the living room, please!” Bruno dashes out of the room, Mirabel hot on his trails. The rest of the family exclaim in excitement and confusion. Mirabel suddenly runs back in, wearing a comically large pink bow tie around her neck and a top hat the same colour of Alma’s dress. She walks over to her grandmother and holds out a hand.

“¿Nosatras iremos?” she asks. Alma laughs and takes her hand, allowing the girl to guide her to the living room, where a huge painting has been set up, bearing the words “¿Qué Tan Bien Conoces a Alma Madrigal?” Bruno holds his arms out, beaming.

Alma bursts out laughing. Bruno had mentioned once before how in the future, people will partake in “game shows”, where questions are asked and the right answers are rewarded. This explains Mirabel’s questions.

Bruno glows with excitement as he guides Julieta and Pepa to three coloured wooden podiums, each painted in their signature colour, before taking his place at his own green box.

Mirabel guides Alma into her comfy armchair while the rest of the family gets settled in their own seats. Once the family is settled in, Isabela sprouts a large flower shaped like a sphere.

Mirabel takes it and asks, “Who’s ready to play our favourite game?”

She and the family yell out, “‘¿Qué Tan Bien Conoces a Alma Madrigal?’!”

“Welcome one and all! I’m your host, Mirabel Madrigal!” Mirabel continues. “In this game, three contestants will answer questions regarding their mother, and the winner who knows her best will be crowned this year’s favourite child!

“I’ll ask a series of questions related to Abuela, and if you know the answer, tap your toucan and say it loud and clear! Right answers will get you 10 points each, and wrong answers will subtract 10. If any question stumps you, you may ask one audience participant to help you. Good luck!”

Bruno, Pepa and Julieta raise their hands, ready to tap their toucans at the first question. All three wear the same look of determination, the kind that Alma used to see when they were kids. Dios mio, she’s missed watching them play like this.

A rat pushes a box of cards towards Mirabel. She picks one up and says, “OK, first question: What holiday did Abuela and Abuelo meet at?”

Julieta taps her toucan, who squawks. Mirabel turns to her. “Julieta?”

“¡Día De Las Velitas!” Julieta says.

“That is correct!” Mirabel says. In the audience, Agustín and his daughters cheer loudly.

“Next question: what time does Alma put on her purple slippers?”

Bruno’s toucan squawks. “4:30 pm!”

Mirabel winces. “That is incorrect, sorry, Tío. Anyone else want to try?” Bruno’s confident smile fades.

Pepa’s toucan squawks. “4:35 pm!”

“Tía Pepa is right! Ten points for Pepa!” Pepa’s family cheers.

“Ha! I told you so, Bruno! You didn’t believe me!” Pepa teases. Bruno playfully sticks his tongue out at her.

“Give me a break, I was in the walls for ten years! Things might have changed!”

“That specific schedule never changed, Bruno. Are you going to keep using that excuse for every question you get wrong?”

“If it makes you mad, then yes.”

“NEXT QUESTION!” Mirabel yells. “How does Alma take her tea?”

The next hour is pure joy for Alma. She laughs at her children’s antics as they answer each question, quips between triplets and shouts from the audience making it all the more fascinating.

“I told you she likes the blue ones more, Pepa! Who’s the dumb one now?!”

“Mamá, what do you mean you didn’t like the soup I gave you when you were sick?! I thought you loved that flavour!”

“Tío Bruno, it was the butterfly earrings that Manolo the Fourth rescued from the sink! Manolo the Fourteenth just told me!”

“I WAS RIGHT?! I was just guessing!”

30 questions later, the triplets are tied. The family sits at the edge of their seats as Mirabel takes the last question out of the envelope.

“This final question will determine the true winner and favourite child,” Mirabel warns. “This last question is worth 1000 points. Contestants, are you ready?”

A chorus of “yes” rings through. Mirabel takes a card out of her dress pocket. The triplets lean forward, hoping to ring in first.

“What is Alma’s favourite hair clip?”

Ah yes, the trick question. Alma had come up with it herself, given that she never wore hair clips any more. But surely one of the kids remembers the pretty bird-and-branch beaded hair clip she used to wear during church and fiestas. Then again, they were eight when she last wore it.

“Is it shaped like a candle?” Bruno guesses, half-jokingly. Mirabel shakes her head.

“Does it have a butterfly on it?” Julieta asks.

“Surprisingly, no,” Mirabel says.

“Was it a gift from Papá?” Pepa questions.

“Actually, my sister gave it to me,” Alma says. “It was a birthday present.”

Silence follows. Alma purses her lips in frustration. How do none of the kids remember?!

Mirabel nervously turns to the audience. “What about you guys? Do any of you know?”

Agustín and Félix both look confused. They’ve never seen Alma with anything in her hair other than the ribbon used to hold her bun.

“Is this a trick question? I mean, I’ve never seen you wear anything other than your usual bun and a sunhat,” Félix finally says.

Alma can’t believe it. Surely Isabela, who she has told many stories of her youth to, would remember? Has Alma passed it down to her already? Alms turns to her.

Isabela wears the same stumped expression as her mother.

“Have I not told any of you about my favourite clip?” Alma asks. “I still have it upstairs! I can bring it down and show you.”

Mirabel raises her hand. “I know about it. I can get it-”

“Yes, I told you for this game, but-”

“You were showing me some of the stuff in your room while I helped you clean it out,” Mirabel continues. “I was around four at the time? I still remember it being in the first drawer of your bedside table.”

Now that Alma does not remember. Still, she thanks Mirabel and lets her run upstairs to grab it.

Soon enough, Mirabel returns with the bird-and-branch hair clip, still as pretty and as new as the day Alma received it.

“That’s your favourite hair clip?!” Bruno exclaims. “Huh. I don’t remember ever seeing that.”

Murmurs of agreement ring through the crowd. Alma shrinks in her seat. How much of her life had she hidden away from the family?

Sensing his mother’s embarrassment, Bruno clears his throat. “Um, well, in that case! Mirabel Madrigal, as the winner of this year’s Mother’s Day game, you win the privilege of presenting Mamá with my real Mother’s Day gift!”

Mirabel’s jaw drops. “Wait, what?! Tío Bruno, are you sure you want-”

“To do this? Yeah!” Bruno says. He whistles, and Casita rolls in a large box with the biggest green bow known to Alma sitting on top.

“Or Casita can do that,” Bruno says. He nudges it towards Alma, bouncing on his toes. “Go on, open it up!”

Alma laughs at his excitement as Mirabel unties the ribbon and opens the box. She and Bruno lift the present out…

“Oh my!”

Bruno has painted a beautiful picture of the family at a beach, sitting under trees as they enjoy a lovely picnic. Alma is seated in the center, a lovely smile on her face.

“Earlier in the month I had a vision of all of us finding a beach outside of the Encanto,” Bruno explains. “I decided to turn the tablet into a painting! It was a beautiful vision, the best I’ve had in a while.”

“I asked the animals the best route to get to the beach! They can lead us!” Antonio adds.

“So what do you say? Tomorrow we have our first ever beach day?” Bruno asks, eyes sparkling. Behind him, Julieta and Pepa glance at each other in mock disappointment, knowing they’ve lost this year’s Mother’s Day competition.

Alma laughs. “Of course. Gracias, Brunito.”

[pennylanewrites]

sur le fil [levi ackerman x f!reader]

chapter 1: la vie en rose

moving to paris, you get to meet a set of interesting neighbours; one talkative, bubbly, exciting and kind. one reserved, serious and tortured. the first will be your guide through life in paris; the latter, you soon find out is your colleague.

a/n: reader, hange, moblit and petra are 24-25 years old. erwin and levi are both 28 in this fic. erwin gets introduced soon so dw heheh

masterpost | next

packing up your whole life and moving to paris was sort of on a whim. you really only realized it when you were on the plane, and you could spot the eiffel tower, the arc de triomphe, the notre dame. oh, you were going to have so much fun.

it wasn't hard to find your new home -after taking a taxi and two buses from the airport. you had booked a room from an old lady living in a haussmannian building. three rooms were already occupied, and a kitchen, common room, library and terrace were included in the low price of 250€ per month. you assumed that the old lady simply wanted company; it wasn't easy to find something that cheap, right in the heart of paris.

"madame dubois, so nice to meet you!" you greeted the lady rushing out of the building with a handshake, but she opted for a hug and a kiss on each cheek instead. how european.

"call me paulette, darling, please." paulette was pushing 70, tall, slim and stylish. she held a slim cigarette between fingers decorated with gold rings; she wore a long linen shirt over matching pants and ballerina shoes. very french, you thought, as you followed her inside.

as you stepped inside, you were greeted by high ceilings, ornate moldings, and large windows that allow an abundance of natural light to fill the rooms. the kitchen, located at the heart of the house, had marble countertops, state-of-the-art appliances, and custom-made sage-coloured cabinets. you could tell you would have a lot of fun in this kitchen. as you left the room, you noticed a wide selection of teas, a whole countertop in fact, dedicated to them. adjacent to the kitchen was the common room, knick-knacks and books filling every surface and empty corner. The baby-blue coloured room was adorned with plush beige and off-white furniture, intricate chandeliers, and a majestic fireplace, creating a cozy and sophisticated atmosphere. the library, opposite to the living room, housed an extensive collection of books, with floor-to-ceiling shelves that exuded an air of intellectual refinement. a cozy reading nook by the window invited you to spend many afternoons with a cup of coffee and your nose in a book.

"your room is on the first floor, along with two more. then there’s mine and one more on the third, and of course the terrace, that you’re free to use whenever.” you were admiring the paintings on the walls as paulette guided you to the first floor and to the second door on the left. you wondered who the other two rooms were occupied from, but you guessed you would find out soon.

paulette unlocked the white door and handed you the key. you entered into a mainly beige and lavender-coloured room, small but efficient; the boxes you had packed were sitting in front of the bed, arriving just before you. a double bed with two nightstands stood in the middle, a large wooden dresser on the side, with intricate golden details. two wicker sitting chairs by the window and an empty desk and small bookcase. paulette was showing you the bathroom, but you were too busy admiring the notre dame from your dusty window. despite it being half-burnt, it remained beautiful.

“my room is on the top floor to the right. anything you want, i’m just a knock away.”

“thank you. you said something about other people leaving here?”

“oh, yes! moblit lives on the third floor, he’s a nice and quiet guy. zoe lives right across from you, she’s a little feisty, i guess.”

“and next door?”

you swore paulette’s face dropped when you asked.

“oh, that would be levi, my nephew. he’s a bit…reserved.” was all paulette said about your mysterious neighbour before leaving you to unpack.

you fell on the bouncy mattress and let out a content sigh. the ceiling above you had a cracked lavender and lilac tapestry with golden swirls. the walls matched it perfectly, and the curtains, though faded, were a beige to match the wood of the furniture.

why unpack now? the sun was setting and a deep purple hue played on your stretched legs. you grabbed your purse and headed for the terrace, but your journey was cut short by a loud screech.

“levi, give me my key!”

“i don’t have your key, you lost it, you idiot.” the manly voice came from next door, you noticed. you decided to step out carefully.

a tall woman turned to look at you through round glasses.

“bonsoir! we didn’t know you were coming tonight!”

“hi! zoe, right? i’m y/n.” you took a few steps back when the brunette attacked you with a warm, tight hug.

“pleasure! are you heading for the terrace? that’s the first thing i did when i came here too.”

“seems like a cozy place for a cigarette.”

“you read my mind.” she turned to your other neighbour’s door again. “levi, sors de ta chambre!” come out of your room, your high school french classes came to your rescue.

as you waited for the mysterious neighbour, you inspected zoe. her rich, chocolate-brown hair cascading down her shoulders, framed her face and round golden glasses. she wore a flowing, forest green and brown maxi dress with intricate patterns that catch the eye. completing her ensemble, she adorned herself with eclectic accessories. a collection of beaded bracelets adorned her wrists, each one telling a story of its own. around her neck hung two pendants, a round blue evil eye, and a wooden symbol of piece. her ears were filled with gold studs and the picture ended with pink delicate feather-shaped earrings, whispering a hint of whimsy.

“hange, i just came home. what could you possibly-”

“we have a new neighbour, levi. remember?” zoe motioned at you with her head and a smile, obviously not caring that she was interrupting the man’s personal time.

“okay?”

wow. rude.

“so, you should come to the terrace for a smoke. maintenant.” now.

you expected the man to slam the door in her face, but he stepped back in to grab his jacket, and came back out.

levi stood at average height, with sleek black hair reaching his nape, a fresh undercut showing underneath and a few strands shaping his face and accentuating his piercing gray eyes. he was wearing a fitted maroon t-shirt and dark gray jeans, the look finishing with all black vans and the black leather jacket in his hand. you noticed a tattoo hiding under the sleeve of his shirt. interesting.

“hi, i’m y/n. it's so nice to-”

“levi. pleasure.”

“for fuck’s sake.”

“what? i said pleasure.”

"okay,sure. go make us some tea. y/n, how do you drink yours?" you looked between the pair. why did it feel like they were about to judge whatever you said next?

"oh, i don't really like..." you trailed off because levi had only rolled his eyes at you before storming down the stairs, mumbling in french. you followed zoe to the top floor. a pair of white french doors opened to a spacious terrace, with a set of wicker couches, cozy floor pillows and a tarp-covered bar. all kinds of flowers filled the corners and a vegetable garden took up most of the space on the left.

"you'll have to forgive levi. he's a bit..."

"uptight?" zoe snorted at your comment, and you had a feeling she agreed.

"passionate about tea. he's going to bring you a cup anyway. levi has a recipe for every kind of person, and he's certain he can make everyone like it."

you took out a pack of marlboro golds and offered one to zoe. she politely declined, opening a leather pocket of tobacco to roll her own cigarette.

"so, what brings you to paris?"

i had to run away from everything and everyone in my life.

"oh, it was just time for a change. i had enough money saved up, so i thought why not?" zoe lied down on the couch opposite you and nodded in acknowledgement. "what about you? have you lived here long?"

"levi and i were born and raised in lyon. we moved here around seven years ago, for college."

"what did you study?"

architecture.

"the plan was liberal arts, but i changed to architecture my second year."

bingo.

"i never finished college. i was a history and archaeology major, but it never really...spoke to me, you know?" you put the cigarette out on the clay ashtray on the table, "so, i attended a few barista and bartending seminars, and i actually fell in love with it."

"you don't say...have you got a job yet? i'm pretty sure the café down the street is looking for someone." you could faintly see the shop zoe was talking about in the distance.

"oh, i already found something nearby. i'm starting tomorrow."

"thats brilliant, i'll have to-oh, levi, you're here!" levi stepped out to the terrace, skillfully holding up a tray with three cups. he placed an intricate one in front of you; it was a midnight purple, square mug with engraved golden stars and constellations all over. you held the steaming mug and smiled gratefully at levi. you could smell raspberry, apple and-

"tell her what it is!" zoe jumped up and down excitedly, spilling some of the hot liquid on her dress and phone. "putain." she exclaimed and wiped her phone screen on the couch pillow.

"it's black tea with raspberry syrup, apple, lemon and rhubarb."

"excellent choice of a cup too." zoe poked his side with her elbow. "what's mine, shortie?"

"it's piss." you snorted into your cup, blowing some of the liquid on your lap. you hissed and wiped it away quickly, looking up at the bickering pair.

you brought the cup to your lips, tasting it carefully. you almost winced; it was the sourest tea imaginable, and if not for the syrup, it would be bitter too. you had to admit, you got used to it after a couple of sips, and you liked it enough to keep drinking.

"did levi magically change your opinion on tea?"

"this is really nice," you looked up at levi. his gray eyes didn't leave yours as he took a sip of his own tea, "but i'm a coffee person. sorry." you smiled softly.

"if you like bean water, sure." he scoffed.

"as opposed to leaf water?" you retorted.

why the fuck is he holding the cup like that? show-off.

zoe looked between the two of you, grinning. the comfortable silence was cut short by two message notifications. you and levi took your phones out at the same time.

-you have been added to Le Café Belle Époque’s group chat

-unknown number has been added to Le Café Belle Époque’s group chat

you and levi slowly looked up at each other.

“you’re the new barista?” he scoffed.

“you…work there too?” you looked at the members of the group chat. indeed, a picture of levi sat by an unsaved number on your phone. zoe peeked over levi’s shoulder to look at his texts.

"aha! this is very exciting, n'est-ce pas?"

you had seven different words in mind to describe this, and exciting was not one of them.

waking up in your new bed, in your little room in the heart of paris, felt like waking up in a disney movie. birds were chirping outside of your window, and a few stray sunrays hit the wooden floor. with a stretch of your arms and a yawn, you looked around at the sea of boxes and suitcases. you really needed to unpack.

after searching for your summer clothes, you finally opted for a pair of white jean shorts, a flowy muted-olive shirt with thin straps and your favorite brown sandals, that strapped around your feet and ankles. you brushed your teeth and hair, and placed mascara on your eyelashes carefully. a warm-toned lipstick finished your look, and you started your voyage to the kitchen with a box in your hands.

damn you paris, with your steep staircases, you tried looking over the box to watch your step, but it was impossible.

"woah, let me help with that." you were met with a pair of dark brown eyes behind rectange glasses.

"thanks." you accepted the offer and walked behind the strange man.

"where are we heading?"

"kitchen."

the man finally set the box down on the round kitchen table, slapping the top of it.

"moblit berner. it's nice to meet you, y/n."

"how did you...?" you shook his hand with furrowed brows. moblit was wearing a well-pressed, tailored navy blue suit, a light blue dress shirt underneath and leather oxfords.

"zoe told me all about you last night. i apologize for the late introduction, but i came home after midnight." he watched as you took a polished red, vintage looking espresso machine out, placing it on the counter right by the outlet. "retro. does, uh, does levi know about the new addition to the kitchen?" moblit laughed awkwardly. you unrolled the cups you had wrapped in paper in your box and gave them a quick rinse, before setting them on top of the machine.

"i couldn't care less. paulette told me i can keep this here." you shrugged and filled the water tank. "want some coffee?"

"yes, please. the only drinks in this house all these years have been tea and alcohol." you pressed ground-up espresso in the group, and waited for the machine to warm up.

"what kind of coffee?"

"surprise me. i like it sweet, with a lot of milk. there's some almond milk in the fridge, so please use that." moblit sat down and lit a cigarette. you inspected levi's selection of syrups, powders and leaves.

"you don't think he'll mind, do you?" you held up a bottle of lavender syrup.

"it will be our little secret. better safe than sorry." you nodded and poured the syrup in the milk, frothing it while the espresso poured into a cup.

"so, where do you work, moblit?"

"i'm a reporter for libération, a news-"

"left-leaning newspaper, i know. i loved that piece on macron, the one comparing the marches to the french revolution?" you placed the cup in front of moblit, who accepted with a grateful smile.

"i wrote that one."

"of course! i thought your name sounded familiar." you chuckled and turned to make your own iced coffee.

"will we be seeing you at the café tonight?"

“i don’t know if i’m working a full shift yet. i’m only going to meet the managers and get an idea of the bar.”

“well, you’ve met one of them already.”

“levi’s a manager?” you rolled your eyes and sipped on your coffee.

“assistant. but he basically runs the place, he’s in charge of the menu, prices, schedule…” moblit grinned. “except for the new hires.”

“guess that’s why he was so surprised yesterday.”

“surprised is an understatement.”

“huh? wait, what did he say?” your eyebrow perked up. moblit just shook his head and got up to leave.

“thanks for the coffee, y/n. see you tonight!” defeated, you sat back on your chair. you slid it closer to the window and opened it wide. a warm breeze hit your face, and you smiled contently.

the rest of your day was spent unpacking, finding a space for every one of your knick-knacks and clutter. you managed to fit all of your books on the three shelves, finishing the image with some fairy lights hanging over them. most of your clothes fit in the dresser, but the rest were left in the suitcase. you really needed to buy some storage boxes soon.

it was now 2:30 in the afternoon, and after taking a warm shower, you desperately needed to eat. you sat on your bed, a towel wrapped around your hair, and pulled your phone out to search for a place to eat.

knock knock.

“come in.” you yelled out and looked behind your phone. zoe came in, looking around your room. she looked different; a tight bun sat at the bottom of her head and a classy white pantsuit hugged her body, before flaring down her calves.

“wow, nicely done. it took me two years to unpack when i got here…hey, what time do you leave for work?”

“i have to be there at six.”

“great! want to grab a bite with me? i’ll even throw in a little tour of our neighbourhood if you make me some coffee later.”

“deal.”

zoe brought you to a small, family owned restaurant cornering a main street. you watched as people walked, playing a guessing game of who was coming back from work, who was late for lunch, who had just had a fight with their partner. people-watching was a favourite of yours. it made you remember you weren’t alone in the world, that other people too had issues and feelings.

“do you eat meat, y/n? they make killer steaks here.”

“oh, i love a good steak.”

“excellent! how about i order for you?”

“yes, please.”

the waiter came to the table soon after, leaving a complimentary basket of warm bread and a butter spread.

“we’ll have two of your bavette à l’échalote, a portion of fries for the table and…two glasses of malbec please.” zoe handed the menu to the waiter and quickly attacked the bread.

“this is my favourite restaurant. it has been in the renard family for almost a century, and their recipes are practically unchanged. now, if you kindly look up, you will see my office on the top floor. i have a kicking view of the notre dame, which is…five minutes from here.” she pointed down the main road. you listened as she explained the secrets of the neighbourhood, the quirky owner of the office building, the drama between the two restaurants opposite each other.

you were so hungry when the dishes finally arrived in front of you, but you let hange do a demonstration of the dish.

“so, skirt steak. they cut it up in pieces so you can pour the sauce between them,” she spooned the golden, buttery sauce over your steak, “and i like to add it to the roasted vegetables too.” she poured the rest of it over the vegetables on the side. “and the rest you use to dip your fries!” she said excitedly, leaving the dip bowl next to the warm salted fries.

“bon appétit.” you raised the glass of red wine, clinking it with zoe’s.

after the delightful lunch, you leaned back on your chair, full and ready to go. you and zoe smoked two cigarettes each over one more glass of wine, before leaving for the café.

“are you nervous?”

“not really, i’ve done this too many times.”

“i would be. levi hates training new people.”

“good thing i don’t need training then.” you giggled and entered the café. a warm smell of cinnamon hit you, and the jazz music created a warm atmosphere around vintage furniture, a sleek dark blue bar with a marble top and the alcohol selection of your dreams.

“you’re late.” levi appeared behind the counter, startling you. you checked the clock on your phone.

“i’m 15 minutes early.”

“that’s still 5 minutes late.” he crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at you. “are you coming in here or what?”

you sighed and walked around the counter. the first thing you did was wash your hands thoroughly. levi appreciated that, but only gave a nod of approval as he walked you through the bar.

“you will be on evening shift for the time being, so here’s the old drinks menu. you’re free to change everything, except for the classic cocktails.”

“great! the last bar i was working, i experimented with tea-based cocktails, so i would like to add that. am i okay to stay after closing and use the bar for practice?”

“tea-based!” zoe exclaimed. you had almost forgotten she was there.

“tea-based.” levi repeated and you had a feeling he would explode then and there.

“ha! his eye is twitching! good one, y/n.”

“anyway, i’m adding that. i also want to make some additions to the coffee menu.” you looked over to the tea corner. “can i use the powders and syrups?”

“you’re going to add flowers and fruit in coffee?”

“is there a problem?” you didn’t even turn around to look at levi. instead, you took a pen and paper and noted down changes for the coffee menu.

“anyway. you can check the prices here, since it’s still the start. the waitresses will help you with anything else, so…”

“so?”

“show me what you got, rookie.” levi leaned back on the counter, with a challenging grin. rookie my ass, who does this guy think he is?

“ooh, ooh! make me an iced coffee, and use like, all the syrups you can.” zoe slammed her hand on the counter.

“you got it.” you prepared two shots of espresso. while that was pouring, you took a shaker, pouring coconut milk, a tablespoon of elderflower syrup and one of vanilla syrup over ice. you shook it around masterfully, making a show for zoe and levi. when the espresso was done, you mixed in a teaspoon of sugar. taking a tall glass, you filled it to the middle with ice and added the milk mixture. you poured the espresso over it, mixing it with a tall spoon carefully.

“whipped cream?” you asked and levi pointed at the fridge under the sink. you spotted a bowl of edible flowers and grabbed it as well. you placed a coaster in front of hange and the glass, spooning some of the handmade cream on top. you took the pinching tool and added three small flowers over the cream.

“et voilà!”

zoe clapped excitedly, accepting the long straw you handed her. she took a big sip, closing her eyes in delight.

“y/n, this is the best thing that has ever been in my mouth.” she wiggled around on the stool.

“i feel offended.” moblit appeared out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around zoe and leaving a kiss on her temple.

huh, i guess they’re dating, you thought.

the café wasn’t really busy, so you spent the next hour making different coffees and teas, for levi to ensure you know what you’re doing. zoe had insisted to drink all of them, so you wouldn’t have to throw them away.

“hange, you’ll spend a week in the toilet if you drink all of those.” levi tried taking the cups away, but zoe guarded them in front of her.

“the toilet happens to be my happy place. maybe i want to stay there for a week.” she made sure to drink a sip from all of them, just to spite levi.

“if you cleaned once in a while, it would be a safe place too.” you chuckled at levi’s remark.

a wave of customers rushed in, and the waiters sent order after order. it was a hectic hour and a half, but by nine o’clock, you had time to clean up the machine and your counter.

“okay, welcome to the team, i guess.” levi shoved a golden name tag and a black half-apron in your arms.

“wow, warm welcome.”

“watch it.” levi grabbed his stuff and walked around the bar. he turned to zoe. “i have to pick petra up from work, do you guys want to do something later?”

“just come back here! we can all try the new cocktail menu.” hange pushed him to the door before he could decline and came back to the bar.

“can i take these away now?” you pointed at the sea of cups and glasses in front of her.

“please do. i feel like i’m going to explode.”

“you really like to get on his nerves, don’t you?” you laughed as she nodded furiously.

“zoe has to make levi have a nervous breakdown at least once a week.” moblit commented. after everything was cleaned, you could finally calm down and work on the cocktail menu. you spotted a small blackboard sitting behind the fridge. you grabbed it and the packet of chalks and handed it to moblit.

“you look like you have nice handwriting. please write these names down for me.”

“what’s in it for me?”

“pick one and i’ll make it for you. on the house.” you grinned as moblit wrote the menu down. zoe made sure to include a few doodles of flowers and a smiley face before setting it on top of the bar, where everyone could spot it.

it was midnight when you had to cut zoe off alcohol and levi walked in, hand in hand with a petite brunette. the girl had a sleek bob with short bangs, and wore a silk pink dress that hugged her waist and thighs. an oversized brown leather jacket, a pink leather crossbody bag and brown combat boots finished the look. her makeup was the perfect mix of edgy and sweet, with a smoky eye, red cheeks and a nude lipstick. the girl greeted zoe with a hug, wincing when the strong smell of gin hit her.

“control your woman, moblit.” she joked and kissed both his cheeks before sitting down. levi took her jacket along with his and handed them to you to place behind the counter. “so, you’re y/n. a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. i’m petra.”

“pleasure.” you smiled as you served two drinks on the sidebar.

“see, she looks just fine.” levi rolled his eyes at the girl. “levi was under the impression that you would crack under the pressure and run off.”

“levi should know that i have been doing this for four years. i’m not that easy to crack.” you placed two coasters and two glasses of water in front of them.

“what are you having?”

“i want…to try one of those famous cocktails.” she pointed at the blackboard.

“famous?” you furrowed your brows.

“oh, levi talked my ear off for hours about them. you’ll have to forgive him. his old age won’t let him accept change and evolution.” she kissed his cheek after the comment, but he only sighed. “anyway, i’ll have the earl grey martini. amour?” she turned to levi, who barely looked at her.

“whiskey sour.”

“one chamomile whiskey sour coming up!”

“i said, whiskey sour.” zoe, moblit and petra were stuck looking between the two of you. you guessed levi wasn’t known for his temper. but, oh, you wanted to crack him so bad. it was so satisfying seeing his neck and ears turn red with annoyance.

“i heard you.” you hummed as you made the brunette’s cocktail in a dainty martini glass.

“so, make that.”

“but i already steeped the chamomile. it would be a waste of perfect tea.” you pouted as you poured the tea over ice. you flipped a short glass over and placed it on the bartop. a strainer on top, you poured the contents in, sliding it to the ravenette.

“just try it, cheri.”

levi brought the glass to his lips in the same stupid way he held onto that cup of tea yesterday. his gray piercing eyes never left yours, and you grinned when his expression fell. he liked it. the fucker liked it, because he took another, full sip, before sliding the glass back to you.

"i asked for a whiskey sour.” this was revenge because you didn’t like his stupid tea. you mumbled something he couldn’t hear over the music, as you made a new cocktail for him.

despite levi's eyes burning holes in you for what felt like hours, the night was going well. you got to know petra and moblit better, work was flowing nicely and a full jar of tips sat on the counter. guess people liked the new, not grumpy, bartender.

taglist: @belovedackerman @bibemiiu @thisisketchy @ch-4-s-3 @kingfleury

[wonderlanddreamer]

[1929] The Iron Forge, Birmingham.

Bonnie Gold should not have been boxing in an illegal, underground fight club, and Lydia Shelby certainly should not have been there watching.

[Part of The Lydia Saga]

The late afternoon sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue that enveloped the sprawling estate of Arrow House in a soft, glowing embrace. The light filtered through the grand windows, painting the room with a gentle amber wash that danced across the polished wooden walls. Inside, the air was thick with the familiar scents of smoke and whiskey, mingling with the faint, comforting aroma of freshly brewed tea that wafted from the expansive kitchen.

Lydia Shelby stood in her elegantly appointed room, a sanctuary that offered a respite from the grandeur of their surroundings. She faced a large, ornate mirror, its edges gilded and reflecting an old-world charm befitting the opulence of Arrow House. With careful precision, she pinned a stray lock of her long, dark hair back into place. Her blue eyes, striking and intense, reflected back at her, revealing a spark of excitement as she prepared for an evening out with her friends. She wore a simple yet elegant dress that flowed around her with a grace that belied its simplicity, its deep emerald hue enhancing the brilliance of her eyes. As she fastened a silver locket around her neck, the door creaked open, its sound a familiar intrusion in the quiet.

Tommy Shelby, her older brother, stepped into the doorway, his presence as commanding as ever. He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, his posture a mix of authority and familial care. “Going out, are we?” he asked, his voice a deep, steady rumble that filled the room.

Lydia turned to face him, a gentle smile tugging at her lips, a blend of affection and amusement. “Yes, I'm going to the pictures with Annie and Stanley,” she replied, her voice carrying a youthful lilt.

Tommy studied her for a moment, his gaze a mixture of protectiveness and respect for her independence. “Be back by nine, Lydia. You know how things can get after dark,” he advised, his tone firm yet caring.

She met his gaze, her eyes a blend of affection and a hint of defiance, a testament to her Shelby spirit. “I can handle myself, Tommy,” she assured him, her voice steady and confident.

A smirk played on his lips, a spark of pride lighting his eyes. “I’ve no doubt about that,” he remarked, a hint of teasing in his tone. There was a brief pause, and Tommy walked over to her, placing a tender kiss to the top of her head. “But still, be careful.”

Lydia placed a reassuring hand on his arm, a gesture of both affection and promise. “I will. And I promise I’ll be back by nine,” she vowed, her voice carrying the weight of sincerity.

With a slight nod, Tommy stepped aside, granting her passage with a simple yet profound gesture. “Have fun,” he said. 

The lively streets of Birmingham thrummed with life, a vibrant tapestry of sounds and sights that enveloped Lydia as she made her way toward the meeting spot. The chatter of passersby mingled with the occasional clang of industry, creating a symphony that was uniquely Birmingham. The air was crisp, carrying with it the subtle promise of a cool evening, and the bustling energy of the city seemed to breathe life into Lydia's steps, quickening her pace with an unspoken anticipation.

As she turned onto a quieter street, the noise of the city softened, and she spotted her friends gathered beneath the flickering glow of a gas lamp outside the local confectionery shop. The lamp cast a warm, welcoming circle of light on the pavement, highlighting her friends' familiar figures against the encroaching dusk.

Anna was the first to notice Lydia's approach. Her face lit up with a bright smile that seemed to mirror the lamp's glow. Petite and lively, Anna's curly auburn hair bounced with each enthusiastic nod, her eyes twinkling with their usual mischief. Beside her stood Stanley, a lanky boy with a mop of sandy hair, whose easygoing nature was evident in his relaxed posture. His hands were casually stuffed into the pockets of his tweed jacket as he leaned against the lamppost, exuding a laid-back charm.

“There you are, Lydia!” Anna called out, her voice bubbling with excitement as she hurried over to greet her friend with a quick, warm embrace. “We were beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”

“Not at all,” Lydia laughed, returning the hug with equal warmth. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

Stanley chimed in with a nod, his grin broadening at the sight of their reunited trio. “It’s not often we’re all actually free to meet up,” he remarked, his tone light and cheerful. “But, speaking of plans, Anna’s got a new idea.”

Anna's eyes sparkled with an infectious excitement as she gestured for Lydia and Stanley to huddle closer. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, adding an edge of intrigue to her words. “I heard there’s a big boxing match at a new place that just opened in Digbeth tonight,” she revealed, her enthusiasm almost palpable. “They say it’s something you don’t want to miss.”

Lydia hesitated, her gaze shifting between her friends as she weighed the proposal. “A boxing match? I don’t know, Anna. You know my brothers wouldn’t be too thrilled about me going anywhere like that alone,” she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Oh, come on, Lydia,” Anna coaxed, her tone playful and persuasive. “It’s just for a little while. We can still catch the late showing at the pictures afterward. Besides, you're not alone. Stanley and I will be there too.”

Sensing Lydia’s reluctance, Stanley joined in, his voice gentle yet encouraging. “It could be fun, Lydia. Something different, you know? We’ll stick together, and if it feels off, we’ll leave straight away.”

Lydia bit her lip, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She was all too familiar with Tommy’s protective nature, and the idea of defying his wishes caused a ripple of unease. Yet, the allure of adventure and the eager, hopeful faces of her friends tugged insistently at her curiosity. The Shelby spark within her stirred, whispering that sometimes, rules were meant to be bent, if not broken.

“Alright,” Lydia finally agreed, a trace of exhilaration creeping into her voice. “But just for a little while. And if anything feels wrong, we leave, agreed?”

Anna clapped her hands together in delight, her face a portrait of triumph, while Stanley gave a decisive nod. “Agreed!” they both echoed.

The trio navigated the intricate streets of Birmingham, their destination a nondescript building sandwiched between a butcher’s shop and an old cobbler’s. Above the entrance, a faded sign read ‘The Iron Forge,’ its letters barely discernible in the dim glow of the early evening. At the threshold, Lydia paused, her instincts tingling with caution, but Anna and Stanley moved ahead, driven by palpable excitement.

Inside, a narrow corridor greeted them, leading to a steep staircase spiralling down into the building's depths. The walls, clad in peeling wallpaper, seemed to close in as they descended, and the air grew denser, more oppressive. Muffled voices and distant cheers reverberated through the walls, growing clearer with each step downward.

At the bottom, they entered a vast basement, the atmosphere alive with an electric mix of anticipation and rebellion. The room was bathed in dim light, flickering lanterns casting eery shadows, while cigarette embers punctuated the darkness. The mingling scents of sweat, smoke, and alcohol formed an intoxicating haze that clung to the air.

The space teemed with a diverse crowd—men and women clustered around rough wooden tables, deep in animated conversations or engrossed in games of chance. In one corner, a group exchanged money, whispering amongst themselves, their eyes darting nervously across the room.

Dominating the centre was a makeshift boxing ring, outlined by a simple rope, where two fighters squared off, their fists wrapped and ready. The crowd pressed close, eager faces illuminated by the dim glow, their shouts and cheers bouncing off the low ceiling.

Lydia’s unease intensified as she absorbed the scene. It was immediately evident that The Iron Forge was no ordinary venue; it was an illegal fight club, operating in secret beyond the reach of the law. The air thrummed with a dangerous energy, and despite no overt attention, Lydia felt the weight of invisible eyes upon her. What she knew for certain was that The Iron Forge lay outside the radar of the Peaky Blinders, offering her and her friends no protection.

“I don’t like this,” Lydia murmured, leaning into Anna and Stanley. Her instincts screamed to retreat, to climb the stairs back into the safety of the streets above.

Anna, undeterred, scanned the room for a vantage point. “Look, there’s a spot over there,” she said, pointing to a small clearing near the ring's edge. “We’ll have a great view.”

Stanley nodded, slipping his arm around Lydia's shoulder to reassure her. “Come on, Lydia. It’ll be fine. We’ll watch one match, and then we can go.”

Lydia hesitated, her heart a drumbeat in her chest. Yet, the thrill in her friends' eyes was infectious, and she found herself, against her better judgement, trailing behind them as they weaved through the horde of spectators.

Settling into their chosen spot, Lydia tried to quell her unease, directing her attention to the rhythmic chants of the crowd and the raw energy radiating from the fighters preparing to clash. Despite her better judgement, a part of her was captivated by the spectacle, the thrill of the forbidden mingling with her nerves. She recalled the matches Tommy had taken her to over the years—events of glamour and prestige, yet the visceral excitement they stirred was undeniably present here too.

The noise within The Iron Forge reached a crescendo as the announcer took centre stage, a rotund man whose booming voice sliced through the noise. His waistcoat strained against his ample frame, and his presence demanded the immediate attention of the restless crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he bellowed, his voice reverberating off the walls. “Welcome to tonight’s main event at The Iron Forge! We have a treat for you this evening—a clash of titans, a battle of skill and strength!”

The crowd responded with a raucous cheer, their anticipation electric. Lydia leaned forward, her initial apprehension momentarily overshadowed by curiosity. The atmosphere was infectious, and her heart raced as the announcer continued.

“Our first contender, hailing from the mean streets of Liverpool, is the reigning champion of the docks, known for his ferocity and unmatched power—give it up for ‘Iron’ Jack Callahan!”

The crowd erupted in applause and whistles as a burly man entered the ring, his physique imposing and his expression one of grim determination. Jack acknowledged the crowd with raised fists, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he soaked in their adulation.

“And his challenger,” the announcer went on, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, “a young upstart from the Romani camps, known for his speed and resilience, but considered the underdog tonight—let’s hear it for Bonnie Gold!”

Lydia’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening in recognition. Bonnie Gold, son of Aberama Gold, was a familiar face, renowned for his prowess in the ring and the close ties his family had with the Shelbys. Her mind raced with worry; if Aberama was there, word could easily reach Tommy that she had ventured here. But as her gaze swept the room, she saw no sign of Aberama. Bonnie appeared to be alone, his focus solely on the impending fight.

The crowd’s reaction was mixed—some jeered, while others cheered, the odds clearly stacked against the young fighter. Yet Bonnie, undeterred, stepped into the ring with quiet confidence, his eyes briefly scanning the audience before locking onto his opponent.

The bell rang, slicing through the uproar of the crowd, and the match was underway. Jack lunged forward with a powerful jab, his movements heavy but precise, each swing a testament to his brute strength. Bonnie, in stark contrast, danced away, his footwork light and agile, narrowly avoiding the oncoming barrage. The juxtaposition between the fighters was striking—Jack’s raw power clashing against Bonnie’s speed and dexterity.

Lydia leaned in, her earlier anxiety dissipating as the fight unfolded with mesmerising intensity. Bonnie ducked and weaved, his movements fluid and calculated, each dodge and parry executed with precision. When he found an opening, his fists struck with unexpected power. Jack, growing frustrated, pressed harder, his swings becoming more aggressive, his intention clear as he attempted to corner the nimble challenger.

The crowd roared with each exchange, their shouts and cheers forming a chaotic symphony that reverberated through the room. Lydia found herself swept up in the spectacle, her reservations fading as she witnessed Bonnie’s skill and tenacity. The fight was an intricate dance, each movement a calculated risk, each blow proof of the fighters' endurance and strategic ability.

As the rounds progressed, it became clear that Bonnie was no mere underdog. His endurance and strategic capability began to unravel Jack’s defences, his strikes landing with increasing frequency and precision. The crowd’s mood shifted, a growing tide of support building for the young fighter’s unexpected display of strength and resilience. Whispers of admiration and surprise passed through the throng, their initial scepticism giving way to genuine excitement.

In the final round, both fighters were visibly exhausted, their bodies glistening with sweat under the dim lights. Yet, Bonnie seized his moment with the tenacity of a seasoned fighter. With a swift combination of punches, he broke through Jack’s guard, each strike landing with a force that echoed through the room. The decisive blow sent Jack stumbling back against the ropes, a look of disbelief etched on his face as he struggled to regain his footing.

The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and applause as Jack slumped to the ground, unable to rise before the referee’s count reached ten. Bonnie stood victorious in the ring, his chest heaving with exertion but his face alight with triumph. Lydia joined in the applause, a smile breaking across her face despite herself, the thrill of the fight leaving her breathless and exhilarated.

The elation of Bonnie Gold’s unexpected victory had scarcely settled when the atmosphere in The Iron Forge took a sudden and dangerous turn. The air, charged with excitement moments before, thickened with tension as a group of men, their faces flushed with alcohol and anger, pushed their way through the crowd. Their voices rose in a drunken chorus of outrage, their movements erratic and volatile.

“It’s a fix!” one of them shouted, his words slurred yet his intent unmistakable. “We’ve been swindled!”

The men, clearly having wagered heavily on ‘Hammer’ Harris and now facing significant losses, quickly became aggressive. Their fury escalated into violence, fists flying indiscriminately as they accused anyone within reach of being part of the imagined conspiracy. What had been a celebratory atmosphere turned chaotic as the crowd erupted in panic, people scrambling to avoid the brewing brawl.

Lydia, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift, felt herself jostled by the frantic movement around her. Her heart raced as she searched for Anna and Stanley, but in the crush of bodies, they were swept away in opposite directions. Panic flared in her chest, her mind reeling with the fear of being isolated in the chaos.

Suddenly, a sharp blow struck the side of her head, sending the world tilting dangerously. She stumbled and fell to the ground, the cacophony of the brawl overwhelming her senses. Her vision swam as she struggled to regain her bearings, desperately trying to avoid the trampling feet of the panicked crowd.

Fear surged through her, a moment of helplessness threatening to consume her as she lay vulnerable amidst the turmoil. Just as despair began to take hold, a strong arm reached down, pulling her up with surprising strength and urgency.

“Got you, Miss Shelby,” a familiar voice said, calm and steady despite the chaos. Lydia blinked, her disorientation fading as she realised it was Bonnie Gold who had come to her rescue. His eyes, sharp and focused, provided a beacon of stability amidst the chaos.

Without hesitation, Bonnie positioned himself defensively at her side, his fists ready to fend off any threats as he guided her through the scrap. His movements were fluid and precise and he deflected blows and cleared a path with swift, decisive motions. His presence was commanding and reassuring. Lydia clung to his arm, her fear tempered by the knowledge that she was in capable hands. Bonnie didn’t allow a single person to lay a finger on her, his rough hands shoving back anyone who dared approach, whether intentional or not.

The noise and confusion seemed to fade into the background as they moved, Bonnie’s focus unwavering as he shielded Lydia from harm. His reputation as a skilled fighter was evident in every movement, and Lydia felt a surge of gratitude for his timely intervention.

When they reached the edge of the crowd, emerging into a quieter corner of the basement where the chaos had not yet reached, Bonnie paused to ensure that Lydia was steady on her feet. His gaze was assessing, scanning her for any signs of injury.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of genuine concern.

Lydia nodded, still catching her breath, the adrenaline of the moment making her heart race. “Thank you, Bonnie,” she managed to say, her voice filled with relief. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Bonnie gave a faint smile, a hint of amusement in his eyes despite the seriousness of the situation. “Couldn’t leave a lady behind in a mess like that,” he replied simply, his demeanour as calm as ever, “Much less a Shelby.”

As Lydia steadied herself, the distant echoes of the brawl continued to reverberate through the basement, a harsh reminder of the chaos they had narrowly escaped. Her eyes scanned the crowd anxiously, searching for any sign of Anna and Stanley, hoping they had managed to avoid the worst of the turmoil. Just then, familiar voices pierced through the clamour, offering a glimmer of relief.

“Lydia!” Anna called, her voice tinged with urgency as she and Stanley pushed their way toward them. The worry etched into their expressions was palpable as they reached her side, their relief evident.

Bonnie, ever vigilant, instinctively shifted his stance, positioning himself protectively between Lydia and the approaching figures. His eyes narrowed slightly, assessing the newcomers with the readiness of a seasoned fighter prepared to defend if necessary.

“It’s okay, Bonnie,” Lydia said quickly, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “They’re my friends.”

Bonnie relaxed, stepping aside but maintaining a watchful eye on the surroundings. Anna and Stanley looked at Lydia, their expressions a mixture of concern and relief.

“Are you alright?” Stanley asked, his eyes scanning her for any signs of injury, his voice laced with worry.

“I’m okay,” Lydia replied, though she could still feel the lingering dizziness from the blow to her head. “Bonnie helped me out of the chaos.”

Anna nodded gratefully at Bonnie, her gratitude evident in her voice. “Thank you for helping her,” she said sincerely.

Bonnie nodded in acknowledgment, his manner calm and composed. “It’s no trouble. Really.”

As the adrenaline of the moment began to wane, Lydia felt her legs sway slightly, the room spinning ever so subtly. Anna noticed immediately, concern creasing her brow. “Lydia, you don’t look so good. Maybe we should get you home.”

Lydia nodded, but her legs felt unsteady beneath her, the ground seeming to shift. “I just need a minute,” she admitted, leaning back against the wall for support, her breath coming in slow, measured intervals.

Bonnie, observing her condition with quiet attentiveness, stepped forward. “If you’re not ready to leave just yet, I can stay with you until you feel better,” he offered, his voice steady and reassuring. He turned to Lydia’s friends, adding, “I’ll make sure she gets home alright.”

Anna and Stanley exchanged a glance, relief evident in their eyes at the offer. “That might be best,” Stanley said, his tone grateful. “If you’re sure?”

Lydia nodded, appreciating their concern. “Yes, I’ll be alright. Thank you,” she said to her friends, then turned to Bonnie. “I really appreciate this.”

“It’s no problem,” Bonnie replied with a reassuring smile, his warmth cutting through the lingering tension. “Your family has saved me from a few rough spots before. It’s the least I can do.”

As Anna and Stanley headed cautiously towards the exit, casting worried glances back at Lydia, Bonnie stayed close to her, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the lingering tension. Lydia leaned against the wall, taking slow, deep breaths as she waited for the dizziness to pass. The chaos of the brawl began to subside, the noise in The Iron Forge shifting to something quieter, though a few rowdy patrons still lingered, their tempers not yet cooled. Bonnie kept a vigilant eye on the remaining troublemakers, wrapping a strong arm around Lydia's shoulders as he led her away from the main room. He guided her toward a small changing room at the back, a space offering a semblance of peace, and closed the door behind them.

The room was small and dimly lit, with walls that seemed to press inward, enclosing the space with a sense of intimacy. Metal lockers lined one side, their paint chipped and worn, while wooden benches stretched beneath them, offering a place for weary fighters to rest. The air was tinged with the scent of sweat and adrenaline.

Bonnie guided Lydia to one of the benches, his touch gentle but firm. As she settled, he crouched before her, his eyes scanning her face with genuine concern. "You alright now?" he asked, his voice low and soothing.

Lydia managed a small smile, the dizziness slowly ebbing away as she felt the warmth of his presence. "Getting there," she replied, her eyes meeting his with a hint of gratitude. She unconsciously leaned into his touch as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, the gesture both tender and grounding.

A playful light danced in Bonnie's eyes as he kept his hand steady for her, maintaining the contact. "You know, you shouldn’t have been here tonight, Miss Shelby," he teased, a teasing lilt in his voice. "I doubt your family would be pleased to see you in a place like this."

Lydia raised an eyebrow, quick to return his banter. "With all due respect, Mr Gold, neither should you. I’m sure your father wouldn’t be thrilled about his son getting into such dangerous bouts."

Bonnie chuckled, the sound rich and genuine, filling the small room with warmth. "True enough," he conceded with a shrug. "But I’ve got my reasons."

Her curiosity piqued, Lydia straightened slightly. "And what might those reasons be?"

With a mischievous grin, Bonnie shifted to sit beside her, their shoulders brushing. "I like the fight. The rush of it. Plus, it pays well, and a bit of extra cash never hurt anyone."

As if on cue, the owner of The Iron Forge appeared in the doorway, a stack of winnings clutched in his hands. "Bonnie," he greeted with a nod, handing over the pile of cash. "Nice work tonight."

"Cheers," Bonnie replied, accepting the money with a nod of thanks. As the owner retreated, Bonnie turned back to Lydia, his expression softening. "See? Not a bad night’s work."

Lydia laughed softly, shaking her head in amused disbelief. "You’re incorrigible, you know that?"

"Maybe," Bonnie admitted, his grin widening. "But it keeps things interesting."

“As interesting as two people in a place they both shouldn’t be,” Lydia remarked with a playful glint in her eyes.

Bonnie gave Lydia a gentle nudge with his shoulder, his signature cocky smirk on his face. “Aye, but I reckon secrets are best kept between us, Miss Shelby. Mum’s the word, if you play along,” he replied with a wink

Lydia nodded, winking back up at him. “Our little secret.”

In the quiet of the changing room, Bonnie's gaze turned serious as he looked at Lydia, concern woven into his features. "Let’s see if you can stand, yeah?" he suggested, offering a steadying hand.

Lydia hesitated briefly before accepting his help. As she rose, Bonnie remained close, his presence a reassuring anchor. "How’s the head?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine care.

"A bit better," Lydia admitted, though a trace of dizziness lingered. She leaned slightly into Bonnie's supportive touch, grateful for his steadiness.

They stood together, a charged silence enveloping them, a blend of relief and an unspoken connection forged amidst the evening's chaos. Bonnie's eyes held hers, his usual easygoing demeanour softened by the moment. "I’m sorry this happened to you," he said softly.

Lydia's smile was small but sincere, touched by his concern. "It’s not your fault," she replied, appreciating his sincerity. "Besides, I’ve got you to thank for not getting trampled."

Bonnie chuckled softly, his eyes warm with camaraderie. "Guess we make a good team, then."

The intimacy of their proximity contrasted sharply with the earlier chaos, offering a sense of calm. Bonnie kept a gentle hold on Lydia's arm, ready to steady her if needed. "You’re tougher than you look, you know," he remarked, a playful glint returning to his eyes.

Lydia laughed, the sound a gentle echo in the small space. "I’ve had to be," she replied, meeting his gaze with a mixture of amusement and honesty. "Especially when I keep finding myself in places I probably shouldn’t be."

Bonnie nodded, his expression teasing yet earnest. "Well, next time you decide to drop into a fight, give me a heads-up. I’ll save you a better seat."

Lydia nudged him lightly with her shoulder, their shared laughter a balm after the evening's tension.

"You really are alright?" he asked again, his voice softening, laced with lingering worry.

Lydia nodded, a warmth spreading through her at his care. "I am now," she said, her voice carrying a truth that resonated between them.

As their conversation began to wind down, Bonnie glanced toward the door, the noise from the main room now a distant hum, muted by the walls of the changing room. "Think you’re ready to head out?" he asked, his hand still resting lightly on Lydia's arm, offering support and reassurance.

Lydia nodded, feeling more grounded with each passing moment. "Yeah, I think I am," she replied, a grateful smile touching her lips.

Bonnie stood up and offered his arm, a gentlemanly gesture that made her smile widen. "Come on then, let’s get you home."

Together, they navigated their way out of the changing room, moving through what remained of the crowd that lingered in the hallways of The Iron Forge. Bonnie kept a protective eye on their surroundings, his senses attuned to any potential threats or disturbances. As they stepped into the cool evening air, Lydia took a deep breath, the fresh breeze a welcome change from the stuffy atmosphere of the club.

The walk was calm, the earlier tension dissipating as their laughter lingered in the air between them. Bonnie matched his pace to hers, their footsteps falling into an easy rhythm on the cobblestone path. "You know, this wasn’t quite how I imagined spending my evening," he remarked with a playful grin.

Lydia smiled softly, glancing up at him with a teasing look. "And how did you imagine it?"

"Winning the fight, maybe a drink or two after," Bonnie confessed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Didn’t expect to be playing the hero."

"Well, I’m glad you did," Lydia admitted, her voice soft but sincere. "I’d have been in a lot more trouble without you."

Bonnie shrugged modestly, though a pleased smile played on his lips. "Anytime, Miss Shelby. Anytime."

As they approached the entrance to the grounds of Arrow House, a comfortable silence settled between them, the evening’s events having forged an unexpected but welcome bond. Bonnie paused at the gate, offering a reassuring smile. "Well, here we are. You sure you’ll be alright from here?"

Lydia nodded, appreciating his genuine concern. "Yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you for everything tonight, Bonnie."

He gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth lifting in a relaxed grin. "Anytime. Just try to stay out of trouble, alright?"

With a shared laugh, Lydia started up the long driveway and turned back to Bonnie, a streetlamp casting a warm glow over them. "I’ll do my best," she promised, her eyes meeting his with sincerity. "Goodnight, Bonnie."

"Goodnight, Lydia," he replied, his voice gentle. He turned and walked down the road, his figure gradually fading into the shadows.

Lydia watched him for a moment longer, feeling an unexpected warmth in her chest. Despite the chaos of the night, she felt a sense of peace knowing she had found a reliable ally in Bonnie Gold.

Tags - @novashelby @peakyswritings @lau219 @futurefamousdeadmusician

[a-killer-obsession]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 45 - Welcome to Wano

Land ahoy.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Sailing with the Straw Hats was relatively easy, even if they only currently had half their crew and practically half a ship. What remained of the Thousand Sunny was quite beautiful, from the lawn deck, to the tangerine grove, to the aquarium, which Dawn particularly loved. The Straw Hats had set up a bed for you on the aquarium floor, with a makeshift cot for Dawn made from a wooden box that usually held vegetables. The word ‘potato’ spray painted in stencilled letters on the side of the crate made for a funny image as Dawn slept in it. With the help of the small crew you were able to catch up on your sleep and replenish your energy with good food, and you were glad to have taken the risk to leave the island. Knowing you were on your way to finding your crew was a great help as well that reignited your hopes. Just a little longer and you'd see your family again.

You'd been with the Straw Hats for eight days now, and in that time you'd become quite comfortable with them. It was nice as well to be able to have a bath without holding a baby at the same time, and not having to spend all day foraging for your own food while caring for a baby at the same time was also a nice change. Sanji's cooking was incredible, but it made you miss Killer's cooking even more. You missed your crew so badly, at this point you would have done anything just to hear Kid yell at you. The eccentric stories the Straw Hats told you of their adventures helped soothe your heart though by distracting you. You were surprised to learn that the reason only half the crew was here was because they'd been on a rescue mission to retrieve Sanji, who was apparently a prince, and in the process they'd gone up against the emperor Big Mom herself, destroying her castle. You couldn't fathom how this scrawny kid they called a captain had somehow defeated Big Mom's top commander.

Being on board the Sunny had been quite useful for your powers as well. Nami, their navigator, had spent several years with a group of what sounded like wizards, studying weather. Her weapon used air pressure manipulation to create weather events such as rain, wind and lightning to use to her advantage. After learning how your devil fruit worked, Nami had been helping you learn to manipulate the air pressure yourself, and with her guidance you'd been able to recreate her weapon's abilities, as well as get a better sense of the changes in the air around you. You finally understood how you'd summoned lightning after Victor's tragic birth - it had just been air pressure manipulation.

Today you sat with Nami and Brook, drinking tea under clear skies while Dawn rolled around on a blanket in front of you, amusing the three of you as she attempted to eat her own foot. Luffy sat on the lion figurehead of the ship, his favourite spot you had quickly learned, with onigiri in his hand and a den-den at his side. The crew had been waiting for communication from the rest of their friends to hear that they made it safely to Wano, but thus far had heard nothing. Somewhere in the background was a small hammering as Chopper attempted to repair a railing, interrupted by the cawing of a news coo as it passed over and dropped the newest paper. Nami caught it easily, opening it and quickly finding an interesting article.

“Luffy! It says the Reverie has begun!” Nami called to her captain excitedly, “Kings and queens from all over the world are attending the conference at Mariejois! This time, all eyes are on the Ryugu Kingdom, since they're joining for the first time in two centuries! Neptune-san and the brothers are there, and it says there was a great applause for Shirahoshi at the Red Port!”

“So she came up to the surface!” Luffy laughed, “She became much stronger, that Yowahoshi!”

“Seems like your grandpa was the escort,” Nami noted, “they took a big step towards their dream to relocate the Fish-men to the surface!”

You had been leaning towards Nami to peek at the paper, admiring the photos of the many princesses on the pages, when Sanji suddenly shoved himself in front of you and Nami. “Vivi-chan!” He cooed at one of the royals pictured, “You became an even more beautiful princess! Who could it be for? Me?! Hey, is it for me?!”

Nami was quick to smack him over the head, dropping him to the floor immediately. “How annoying!” Nami scolded. You picked up Dawn before the fighting could catch her in the fallout as Nami continued to beat on Sanji. The others continued to talk about the many people attending the conference that they knew from their adventures, it surprised you just how wide their reach was. It seemed like they made friends everywhere. You noted a large shape out in the water as the others bickered about the paper and Sanji and Chopper began to cut photos out of it, so you swapped your mask setting to get a better look, surprised to see what seemed like a giant koi. You were thankful that it at least didn't appear to be a seaking, and didn't seem to have any interest in the ship other than riding the wake, so you let it be and returned your attention to the group. Nami had finally reclaimed the paper, but was frowning as she inspected the many holes in it.

“Hey! I haven't even read the back side yet!” She shouted at the boys, “It's full of holes! Oh? Is this an article about Kaido? Big Mom… What? It's unreadable! Sanji-kun! Chopper! Give these back to me!” Your attention was caught by the mention of Kaido, snatching the paper a little rudely and trying to decipher the lost information as well, hoping for some mention of your crew. You were about to yell at the boys as well when suddenly the wind picked up, forcing you to hold Dawn a little closer as the cool air whipped around you. Nami took notice too, exchanging a look with you as her hair ran wild in the wind, knowing you could feel the oncoming storm. The others hadn't noticed yet, all too excited about continuing their journey so they could go back and see their friends all the sooner.

“All right! Take the helm, Brook!” Luffy exclaimed to the other excited crewmates.

”Wait, Luffy,” Nami interrupted their excitement. They were all familiar with the concerned look on Nami's face, she was in serious navigator mode. You abandoned the newspaper as you felt the strong shifts in air pressure around you, a sure sign of a storm.

“What's wrong?” Luffy asked the ginger.

“The wind…” Nami replied as dark clouds began to roll in. As was normal on the Grandline, the weather had changed rapidly, the waves now growing large and crashing violently against the side of the ship. “This cold wind… And these waves that I've never seen before… I have nothing but bad feelings about this.”

In the distance tall, rocky pillars came into view, decorated by the occasional twisted trees. Whirlpools were forming in the waves surrounding the ship, adding to the violent nature the ship was being thrown around. The air grew brisk and the wind harsh, catching the sails and threatening to tear them as Nami ordered for them to be furled. It was no longer safe for Dawn to be out here, so you called to the others that you were retreating and took her into the relative safety of the galley. It was much quieter inside, but you could still hear the creaking of wood and the howling winds as the room rocked back and forth.

Watching out the window you could see more of those giant koi as they appeared beside the ship, one of them jumping out of the water and catching your eye through the porthole as it flew through the air before diving back into the ocean. You saw Luffy's long stretchy arms reach out and grab one of the thrashing fish, throwing him around through the waves. What was that idiot thinking? The waves began to get bigger, almost tidal in size, and you gasped as suddenly a giant waterfall came into view, the ship heading directly towards it. The school of giant koi began to swim directly up the waterfall, and you heard shouting outside as Luffy wrapped his body around the figurehead of the ship before grabbing several fish.

You slid yourself under the dining table, which was bolted to the floor to keep it steady during storms, holding the leg of the table tight with one arm as you held Dawn with the other. The room began to tilt, until it was entirely vertical, your back falling against the base of the dining booth seating as the ship was pulled up the waterfall. There was a moment of weightlessness as the ship hit the top, tilting back to its correct orientation as you slid back under the table, before it suddenly crashed down again, hitting the water hard and making the hull creak under the strain.

The calm only lasted for a moment before everyone was shouting in panic. You climbed out from under the table and took the opportunity to grab your harness fabric you'd left in the kitchen earlier and strap Dawn to your chest, before scurrying out to the deck to see what was happening. It only took a moment outside to spot the giant whirlpool that the Straw Hats were struggling to navigate away from, but there was at least land in sight. You ran upstairs to the aquarium, grabbing your duffle bag and weapons, haphazardly shoving in anything that was loose before running back out to the deck.

“I'm getting Dawn out of here!” You called to the others. Nami and Carrot were already clinging to Sanji as he prepared to do the same, Chopper and Brook quickly adding to the dogpile. “Chopper, come over here!” You offered. You weren't strong enough to carry a full sized human, but you were sure you could manage Dawn and Chopper and at least take that small strain away from Sanji. Chopper scurried over and jumped up to sit on your duffle bag, his little hooves holding your waist tightly. Sanji gave you an appreciative nod before you took off, moon stepping towards the closest land you could see, the small pops of air behind you signalling that Sanji was doing the same.

Both of you hovered in place for a moment to watch behind you. Luffy had said he would make it to land on his own, but you all watched in horror as some sort of octopus grabbed him and pulled him down, dragging him down along with the Sunny as the ship was consumed by the centre of the giant whirlpool. Sanji made like he was going to aid Luffy, but Nami shouted at him, her voice raised to be heard over the roaring water below, reminding him that he was already carrying three lives (well, two, when you accounted for the fact that Brook was already dead, yohohoho) and there was nothing the blonde could do right now to help Luffy. With a defeated sigh, Sanji began making his way back to land, and you swiftly followed him.

The two of you landed with a puff, practically collapsing to the ground under the strain of both carrying extra weight while you moonstepped. Dawn began to cry, adding to the forlorn atmosphere as the Straw Hats lamented their drowning captain, and you held her to your shoulder to calm her. You were thankful at least that Dawn was a usually easy to calm baby, but you missed Heat dearly whenever she cried; he was always the best at calming her quickly. Nami pulled something from between her breasts, a small piece of paper - a vivre card.

“It's not burning,” she noted, “whatever happened to him, he must be fine.”

“Maybe the octopus took him somewhere?” Chopper mused, “he seemed friendly.”

“Let's hope so,” Sanji sighed, “maybe he and Sunny popped up somewhere else.”

“It's a likely theory,” Nami replied, “a whirlpool that size, in the middle of what seems like a lake. It's probably not caused by currents, more likely it's draining somewhere, like a giant bathtub.”

“Let's hope so,” Brook added, “I'm sure Luffy-san will be okay!”

“We need to figure ourselves out now,” you insisted, “we can't sit here forever, we need to-”

You and Sanji both sensed it at once, him with his haki, and you with your fruit, your sentence fading to nothing as you concentrated on the movement in the forest behind you. Dawn sniffed in your ear as she calmed, her lip still wobbling a little. You exchanged a look of concern with Sanji before slowly pulling your katana from its sheath, Brook reading the room and doing the same with his cane that hid his sword. Nami held her staff-like weapon in a fighting pose, and Carrot raised her fists, her glove weapon sparking with electricity. Chopper changed to his Heavy Point form, making him much larger, and he carefully took Dawn from you so your arms would be free to fight. He stood behind everyone else, holding Dawn protectively. Her lip still wobbled as she threatened to cry again, but she seemed enamoured with the soft fur that covered Chopper, running her tiny fingers through it and making him wince as she pulled it.

The bushes rustled, and you heated your blade, the metal turning red hot in preparation. It was an efficient use of your devil fruit, making your weapon more dangerous while using minimal stamina, saving as much energy as possible for the potential threat, since you had no idea how strong the enemy was. Your group all tensed, when suddenly a man jumped through the bushes, and you rushed to put your weapon through them.

“Yin! Stop!” Nami shouted. Like the obedient weapon you were, you halted, the tip of your blade millimetres from the man's throat, the heat from your weapon making his skin red and wet with sweat. The man was breathing heavy, his hands in the air in submission. “He's not an enemy, lower your weapon!”

Your sword returned to its normal state as you let the metal cool, lowering your blade and taking a few steps back as the group relaxed. You took in the man's appearance now; brown hair sticking out from behind a white mask, a face painted on in black, and a kimono, embroidered over the chest with a jolly roger. You realised it was the jolly roger of the Heart Pirates, the crew the Straw Hats had told you they had made an alliance with. Your hand twitched around the handle of your blade as the bushes rustled again, this time a man with a matching kimono and strange, sticky-uppy beanie emerging from the foliage.

“You good, Hakugan?” The new man asked.

“Yeah,” Hakugan breathed a sigh of relief, “just a misunderstanding.” He turned back to the others, addressing them now. “We've been scouting for you on captain's orders. Normal den-den don't work here, so we've been checking the borders to wait for your arrival.”

“Ah, that explains why we never got a call,” Nami replied, “everyone else made it okay then?”

“Yeah, they're already spread out over the Flower Capital undercover to get intel,” the second man replied, “captain wants you to all meet at the old castle ruins, it's at the top of the hill if you head East through the forest from here.”

“Well, thanks for the ride, but this is where we split off,” you told the others as you resheathed your sword and took Dawn back from Chopper. You had no intention of joining up with the Heart Pirates, you had to find your own crew. “Thanks for all your help, I'm sure once I find my crew we'll figure out some sort of payment.”

“Ey? You're not a Straw Hat?” Hakugan asked. His voice prompted Dawn to look at him, and she squealed and reached for him. Ah, right, her dad wore a mask, she probably saw the similarities. She wiggled in your arms, trying to reach for him, making the mask man cock his head in confusion.

“Sorry, her dad wears a mask too,” you sighed sadly, trying to wrangle the wriggly baby, “I think she might think you're him. And no, I'm not a Straw Hat. I was just hitching a ride. I have to go, I need to find my crew.”

“Maybe we can help?” The other man offered.

“I'll be fine, thanks,” you replied stubbornly, upsetting Dawn as you put her in the carrier instead of handing her to Hakugan like she wanted, making your way into the forest quickly before the others could see how tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You needed to find your family, it couldn't wait any longer.

Sticks and dirt crunched underfoot as you made your way through the forest. In hindsight, not accepting help was an awful choice, because now you had to navigate this foreign land on your own without any clue of where you were going, and with a baby in tow. You sniffed as tears rolled down your cheeks, what a fucking idiot. Maybe you could go back and find the group again, ask them for help. Or pretend you got lost and just happened to bump into them.

Feeling defeated and overwhelmed, you slumped down to sit on a fallen log. Dawn was squirming in the carrier, no doubt hungry, so this seemed like as good of a time as any to feed her while you tried to figure out what the fuck you were going to do. Dawn made small squeaks as she fed, interrupted by what sounded like an explosion in the distance. She was too milk drunk to care, half asleep on your breast, while you were on high alert, trying to hear if whatever was happening was getting closer. The sky darkened for a moment as something large flew overhead, before everything seemed to settle again.

Dawn finished feeding and promptly fell asleep, and by then you'd made your choice. You knew where the Straw Hats and Heart Pirates were meeting, you'd just go to that spot and ask for help, easy. Well, not easy, you'd have to put your pride aside, but you'd cross that bridge when you came to it. With Dawn tucked safely back into your carrier you got on your way, heading east in the hopes of finding the castle ruins Hakugan was talking about. Unfortunately, east also seemed to be in the direction of the explosion, so you hoped whatever caused it was over with now.

The forest actually made for quite a pleasant walk. If you hadn't been in such an awful situation, it would have been a nice, calming walk. There was a distinct lack of wildlife though, you thought you would have seen some sort of squirrel or something by now, given how dense the forest was. You could hear the occasional bird, but there was nowhere near as much birdsong as there should have been. It made you uncomfortable, what was so wrong with this place that the ecosystem seemed nonexistent?

You were distracted by your thoughts by the sound of heavy, strained breathing. You followed the sound, your sword drawn and ready. You let out a small surprised gasp as you found the source of the breathing, sitting against the stump of a tree, blood pouring from his arm.

“Trafalgar?”

[NEXT CHAPTER]

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[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

September 24th - Roses / Cherry Blossoms

WARNING: This chapter has a brief touch of homophobia/homophobic comments/bullying, viewer discretion is advice

The spring air feels nice and gentle as the Queendom of Roses goes into full bloom, busy bees hum and fly about in the gardens of the warm air in the flowers. The season was perfect for various outings and even indoor activities as the sun shines and birds chirp, a perfect day for a father and daughter to go on a little grocery shopping.

“I’ll pick up the apple and berry cheesecake for the anniversary party while we’re out. I saw in the paper the bakery is also selling some cherry donuts if you want me to buy you some.” Said Riddle as he talks on the phone in one hand while his other hand holds the hand of a little red haired girl who jumps along the cracks of the pavements. Ace, Riddle’s husband, chuckles and speaks back, “That sounds great! I’m sure it’ll taste good with some of that tea we got from Trey and Cater.” “I agree.” Riddle giggles when he watches Rose start singing a little ditty as she skips beside him, her red pigtails bouncing and swaying in happy joy. “I’ll let you get back to work dear, make sure to text me if you want us to get anything else.” Ace chuckled, you can very clearly feel the warm smile and heart eyes from the speaker, “Will do, love you rosebud.” Riddle tucks his phone back in his bag before walking into the bakery with his little princess. The store’s walls were a beautiful cream color with the hard wooden red oak flooring to match like a white cream above a red velvet cake, large window displays filled with treats lay out in the shop’s back, the sound of coffee machines stirring in life can be heard behind the farthest counter filling the bakery with the sweet scent of coffee grounds that blends perfectly with the aroma of freshly baked sweets. The man walks to the glass counter, the little Rose running behind him giggling past her adorable gap tooth grin.

“Good morning, what can I do for you two?” Asked the shopkeeper, a sweet, gentle older man with a sweet set of chocolate eyes and a hot chocolate warm smile with a marshmallow mustache of curly white. Riddle smiles, "Good morning sir, can I get the apple and berry cheesecake a box of a dozen cheery donuts." Blue-grey eyes look to the girl staring wide eyed at the beautiful lollies on display. "And a few of the strawberry suckers please."

Ace poked his head into the living room, his red eyes shining in worry as his freckles hands hold the cup of hot chocolate.

Rose, his ever so sweet and growing girl, just arrived back from her middle school sports club in tears and shut herself in her room and hasn't come out yet in the last 15 minutes. Taking a deep breath, the man journeyed down the hall to the sunset red painted door with fairy lights decorating the edges in soft yellow glows of blinks and glimmers.

He knocks. Nothing. "Hey cherry bomb, I made you some cocoa. Extra whipped cream with chocolate sauce drizzle, just like how you like it." No answer.

The police officer signs, leaning his aging body against the wall closest to the door, his voice somber as his thumb rubs the warm edge of the mug in hand, "Look, I know you're upset and you don't have to tell me what's wrong if you really don't want to...but we're worried about you..."

". . .Jennifer said I was gross..." "Huh? Jennifer? The Champbell girl?" After some years of little Rose's growing, she starting playing basketball just as well as her dear daddy, to the point she joint her school team earlier this year, and she always looked up to this one girl named Jennifer. Weird she said something so harsh suddenly...

The door knob jiggled. The door clicked softly. Soon, the red disappeared as the door creaked open to show the tear swollen red face of the crying tween who sniffs, still dressed in the orange basketball uniform from her club and her scrunchie has long since been abandoned and leaving her ginger licks a mess.

Ace's heart broke looking at her. "Oh...sweet heart..." He accepted the rush she had to his arms, allowing the snot and tears to stain his button up shirt as she buries her face into his chest and sniffled. "S-She said... people who don't have moms can't possibly be in touch with their emotions... that I was a freak cause I don't see the issue..." Ace's veins felt like their were on fire hearing it. He can handle some homophobic shit, he knows his husband's biological family and has dealt with some stuff back when he was a student, but he can't stand someone being so cruel to his daughter over something like if two men were in love!

Yeah, Riddle deserves to handle this with the school board once he gets home He thought, but for now he rubs his daughter's shaking back as she cries.

This is another piece for the @ridoaceweek challenge, I was gonna write more stuff related to a lot of moments of Rose's childhood but decided last second to just do two stories and save some of those ideas for the later works.

[bbeboppp]

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 | 𝘗𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯 𝘕𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘬 | 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗢 ; Philosophy

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

❝I'm stronger than all my men; except for you..❞ quote from "Pretty When You Cry" by Lana del Rey.

✧

THIRD PERSON'S POV:

December 5th, 1971. 07:56 AM

The dim light from early morning hours shone in through lacey white curtains in Bobby's room, illuminating the cold flat. The humble droning of cars below rumbled softly. Bobby had never, ever been a morning person, especially in the winter months.

God, he remembered just why he didn't take opening-shift jobs now; the mornings of New York were miserable to be welcomed from sleep to. He groggily sat up, reaching to the foot of his bed, where his suitcase lay. Inside were just a few of his belongings, such as clean spare clothes, forty bucks, a half-empty deodorant stick, a pack of stale beef jerky, and a belt. As he looped the belt through the belt loops, Bobby remembered the feel of it's soft leather wrapped around the skin just above his elbow. As if the room wasn't already silent, another dreadful silence slipped in.

Rejecting the memory, Bobby finished looping his belt quickly, kicking his heels into his shoes as he shoved his bomber jacket over his shoulders, zipping up half-way. A box of matches and a packet of silk cuts branded themselves against his skin as he felt them in his pockets.

✧ THREE MINUTES LATER ✧

A five-minute walk with only a minute to spare, Bobby accepted the fact that he'd be late to work. He wasn't planning on punctuality, the mindset of working any job but one assigned to him already kicking in, I guess some things never change. Besides, the dark-haired man already had something else in mind.

Bobby sat on the steps of the apartment, a cigarette tucked between his lips. He rested his hands in the pockets of his jacket, keeping them from the nipping frosty air of New York. Across the street, the little café had opened. The tan-brown bricks, the tea-green awning, the name of the café written in white paint. He watched two waiters, already in uniform, walk in through the door along with a tall, grey-haired man with hollowed cheeks. He was likely the manager, as his ridiculous outfit suggested. The lights turned on inside, the outside seating brought outside once again & the awning extended out into the street. Lastly, the little sign saying Closed was flipped, now reading Open.

Bobby stood up, throwing his cigarette butt on the ground, stamping out the burn end with the tip of his boots as he crossed the street, entering the café.

✧ INSIDE THE SHOP; Y/N'S POV: ✧

Y/N's uniform consisted of a white t-shirt, green apron that wrapped around her mid-section & pants of her choice, which in today's case would be a pair of brown flared trousers. It was a fuck ugly uniform, but it hard to slay when you have to worry about the uniform policy.

The first customer of the day was an old man who sat in the darkest corner in the café, reading the menu slowly. He typically came in every few days and never tipped. Y/N's work partner, Loretta, usually took his order. Loretta was one of Y/N's only friends, but a great one at that. She had shoulder-length curls, bleached not quite blonde but rather an off-ginger shade. The second customer was a woman in all-black attire, probably attending some important meeting that day. She wore heels that sounded loudly on the old wooden floor as she walked towards the counter, ordering a black coffee to-go.

The third customer was a man y/n hadn't seen before, and definitely not one who looked like he drank coffee from a local café. Maybe he drank coffee, but still, his grungy apparel brought a feeling similar to a premonition, but an enticing one at that.

His face was stubbled; he needed a shave. His hair was kept out of his face with a band around his forehead and a tall nose standing in the middle of his face like some sort of landmark. The thick, dark hair around his face framed it; his dark eyes held a witty spark within them; he seemed upbeat for some reason.

"What would you like to order?" Y/N spoke, hands on the counter as she waited for an order to fix a drink of some sort.

No response. Bobby had heard her, and acknowledged it, probably, but he was busy reading the menu fixed on a sign above Y/N's head.

"Mmm, I don't know. What do you suggest?" Bobby spoke after maybe fifteen seconds of silence, glancing from the sign to her. Already, a line began to trickle in behind Bobby, all lining up quietly & neatly.

"Black coffee." Y/N spoke, unfeeling and unknowing to the chemistry Bobby was trying to search for. Her answer was short and simple. She had recommended the easiest drink on the menu.

"I don't like black coffee." He scoffed, looking back at the menu, reading it slowly and carefully as if he had all the time in the world.

Y/N frowned a little. She glanced nervously at the line, hoping the man would make up his mind. Thankfully Loretta had finished taking orders of seated customers & handed them to the manager who was working behind the counter and now opened a second register, a second line forming.

"Espresso then." Y/N suggested, another easy drink to make.

"What's in an espresso?" He tilted his head a little, knotting his brows together as if to imitate confusion.

"Americano." Y/N bluntly spoke. She didn't have the patience to explain simple coffee recipes.

"No no, I don't want an Americano, they're too sour." Bobby protested, shaking his head as if in disappointment.

"Americano's are sweet."

"No, they're sour."

A long silence came from Y/N. She stared at Bobby, not reciprocating his silliness.

"Americano's are not sour."

"The ones I've had are."

"..So.. do you want an Americano?"

"No I want an Espresso."

Y/N hesitated, waiting to see if he'd pull another trick. He stared intently now, his lips not moving to speak another remark.

Four minutes later, Bobby was handed his Espresso. He didn't typically indulge in buying over-priced coffee, but the charisma of the little café was something Bobby decided if he incorporated into his life, would steer him away from spending his time elsewhere. A distraction.

✧ 08:12; BOBBY'S POV: ✧

By the time Bobby had arrived at work, the store had been open for just over ten minutes. Inside was quiet, apart from a few teenagers on their way to school buying gum or the elderly doing their weekly shopping.

Matilda was at the front desk, the sweat on her forehead making her fringe begin to curl.

"You're late!" She hissed at Bobby entering through the door, strutting towards the backroom to get his uniform.

"No I'm not." Bobby replied before shutting the door to the backroom. He scribbled his name down on a name-tag, sticking it to the store-uniform fleece. The fleece was a dark navy colour with two thin lines running horizontally below the chest, one yellow and one red.

"You're LATE." She repeated, glaring at him, but still somehow keeping the pace she held scanning customer items.

"Maybe your watch is just fast." Bobby remarked, taking zero offense to the huff Matilda was working up over his timing. He walked into another register, opening it up.

The day went by with no significant events. Thankfully, Matilda didn't snitch to the manager about Bobby's punctuality, but there's a good chance she will if he runs late again.

✧ 03:21; ✧

First day back, Bobby had accidentally charged four customers twice the price of their items, dropped multiple & worked about three times slower than Matilda. Raul dropped by once, much less cheerful than he was the previous day. Bobby had a feeling that would happen; no grocery-store manager is typically that enthusiastic. He took a spoking break in the back alley, meeting Matilda doing the same. Their uniforms would smell of tobacco afterwards, but since Raul smoked in the backroom it was easy to blame the smell on the backroom, as Matilda had informed Bobby.

Raul offered Bobby $2.10 per hour if he stayed til half seven, as the person who was supposed to come in after Bobby had spontaneously moved to Florida. Bobby agreed, liking the sound of a seventy-cent temporary pay-rise.

✧ 07:26; ✧

With the end of Bobby's shift approaching, the final mile was really kicking in. His entire demeanour was tired, and he was working impossibly slow with a grumbly attitude.

Deciding to go out for a "smoke break" and never return, Bobby left the register & stood outside the shop, as Raul was shouting on the phone in the back-alley. As he held a cigarette between his tobacco-stained fingers, a familiar face exited the shop. Y/N, not wearing her horrid work uniform & in a thick fake-fur coat. She was holding two brown paper bags of groceries, balancing one on each hip.

Bobby stood up from where he slouched against the wall, now walking in step with her. A man of the moment, if Bobby tried this today he'd probably get tazed.

"Want some help carrying those?" He offered, the cigarette hanging lazily from his lips.

Taken slightly aback, Y/N frowned, almost discouraging him altogether.

Before Bobby could speak another bluntly friendly offer, Y/N handed him a bag. She continued walking, readjusting the other bag a little, not acknowledging the puppy she had at her heels.

"Your welcome." He sassily added.

The two walked a length together, Bobby sparking up conversation about anything, anything he could think of. "How's the weather?" He asked, spitting the cigarette he had into a bin, not wanting to look bummy in front of a lady. "Same as always. Cold." Y/N shrugged, crossing the street. Bobby followed in tow.

"Do you like your job?" He asked. "No, who does." Y/N answered. "Awh, don't be such a pessilist." Bobby cooed "The word is pessimist." She corrected him, fighting the oncoming smile at his idiocy. There was something.. slightly charming about the way he answered so quickly yet so foolishly, large doe eyes glancing to his side at her every chance he got.

"Oh, well, I'm not too smart. You seem smart, you go to college?" Bobby followed up. Y/N scoffed sadly, "No, I wish. I got rejected from four." "What were you gonna study?" "Philosophy." Y/N mumbled, perhaps slightly embarrassed about it. Not that she found anything wrong with studying philosophy, but her parents seemed to highly discourage it, since it's deemed typically useless.

"Oh, I know a few philosophers." Bobby spoke brightly. "Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle.. Uhm.. Para-something." Bobby began listing all the philosphers that came to mind at that moment. Y/N giggled when he said para-something.

"What? I told you I'm not too smart." He retorted, mocking a hurt-tone in his voice. "Parmenides. Philosophy is much more complex than studying the Greek Philosophers though. I mean, the courses can cover a range of umbrella-genres.." As Y/N began rambling about all she knew of philosophy college courses, Bobby listened with a great interest. Of course, he didn't understand half of what she was saying, but at least he nodded along with great enthusiasm and asked a few questions along the way. Unbeknownst to Bobby, Y/N was taking the long way home, just to draw out the conversation a little longer.

✧ SIXTEEN MINUTES LATER; ✧

At the steps of a grey apartment, Y/N stopped. Bobby stopped beside her. He looked up at the building, trying to count the storeys in it but gave up at fifteen.

"What floor do you live on?" He asked. "Twenty." Y/N sighed, taking the bag from Bobby.

"Oh, and thank you." Y/N smile was warm, bizarrely different from when they first met. "Anything to help out the next Aristotle." Bobby replied, looking down with a grin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, giggling quietly. Bobby skipped up the steps ahead of her, just to get the door and hold it open.

"Why thank you." She smiled again, tilted her head against her shoulder as Bobby stood there, stupidly smiling.

"Are you working tomorrow?" Bobby asked, leaning on the side of the door now.

"No, I only work on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays." Y/N shook her head. Tomorrow was Wednesday.

"You have the day off?" Bobby asked, brows raising.

"No," Y/N sighed, huffing a laugh, "I'm going to Coney Island this Wednesday, visiting my sister."

"Well, have a good time so." He pursed his lips into a subtle smile, watching as Y/N made her way inside, towards the elevator. Bobby walked down the steps, towards his own flat. He didn't know this area of New York too well, but wouldn't get lost by any means.

He took a seven minute detour, deliberately avoiding Needle Park. A burning curiosity itched his insides. He wanted to have a look, to check up on his friends. To see if Kitty was there. But he couldn't do that, he couldn't go back. People don't go to Needle Park to find jobs or prosperity, they go there to die.

When Bobby got home, he patted down his pockets, looking for his keys. He found him in his back pocket & unlocked the door. A cold room & mumbled arguments from neighbours greeted him.

END OF CHAPTER ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Word Count: 2.2k

IMPORTANT: If I call Bobby Paolo at some stage PLEASE tell me omg it's so embarrassing I don't know why I do it </3

[thewitcheswitch89]

The Witches Image

Papa Emeritus IV - Part 2

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Min Heyoka (@TheWitcheswitch89) - Wattpad

"Hi, I'm Madison!" She held out her hand to me with a grin and pushed a strand of her straw-blonde hair behind her ear with her other hand. Her bright blue eyes scrutinized me curiously.  "You're really pretty!".

"Ehmm... thanks?" I grinned back and shook her hand. "I'm Lia! And it looks like I'm your new roommate!". Madison laughed.

"Yes, I've been living here on my own for a while. So please don't be surprised... I've made myself quite at home here in that time. If I'd known earlier that I was getting a new roommate, I would have cleaned up!" She put her hands in her pockets and nodded at me.

"Yes... I was taken by surprise too! It was more of a spontaneous transfer!" I let my gaze wander around the room. In the middle was a small couch with lots of colorful cushions. In front of it was a small table and a simple flat-screen TV hung on the wall. There was a console underneath.

"Wow... you have time to play games here?" I asked.

"Yes!" Madison laughed. "We sometimes have a lot of free time. Especially when we have another tour coming up...we often get to work on our own!".

I'd almost forgotten about the Ghost Project. From what I had heard, they had only recently returned from their last tour. I loved their music, but hadn't had the chance to really follow them recently. My day had been too full for that and I was too tired in the evening.

The kitchen was small, but had everything you needed to prepare a small snack. A small fridge, microwave, tea cupboard, kettle and, most importantly, a coffee machine. A small stove with a mini worktop was squeezed under the window next to the sink.

"It's not much!" sighed Madison next to me. "But we usually go to the canteen for lunch. The food is ok...We're also lucky here with the showers. We have one of the few rooms that has its own bathroom. The lower rooms have to share one! This is my room...and this is yours...it's even a bit bigger!". Madison winked at me and opened the door on the opposite side of the room.

"The sister who lived here before really liked the color black...I hope you like it. It's not so easy to get paint here."

I was amazed when I saw the dark walls. The dark wooden floor creaked with every step. A large metal bed stood in the middle of the room, on an old Persian rug, comforter, pillow and cover neatly folded on a gray wing chair in the corner of the large window. Next to it was a desk and a dark two-door closet.

"Amazing!" I marveled and dropped my bag next to my suitcases. "This room is as big as the room I shared with one of my sisters in the old convent!"

"Well... that's luxury for you then!" Madison leaned against the doorframe and watched me with a grin. "You'll have more privacy here."

"Privacy?" I laughed. "What's that? Sounds like music to my ears!".

"Speaking of music...I still have the old stereo from your previous tenant...would you like to have it?" she asked and disappeared into the living room without waiting for an answer, shortly afterwards she came around the corner with a box. "There are CDs here too! From Ghost, of course!".

I took the box from her and was amazed when I examined the system.

"Why would you leave something like that behind?" I asked myself.

"She moved out overnight! I don't know what really happened! But she must have been kicked out!" Madison sighed and knelt down next to you to look at the CDs. "Above all, I would have taken these with me...they're all signed!". I took the CDs from her hand in disbelief, wondering at the same time what you had to do to get kicked out of a convention. The realization hit me in the face shortly afterwards. Wasn't it almost the same for me?

"I'll let you unpack first," she said and stood up with a sigh. "When you're done, I can show you around later...I have to go to the library now...catch up on stuff. I'll be back around 6pm. Then we'll go to dinner...see you then!". She waved to me and reached for her bag on the sofa. Before she went out the door, she turned around again: "Nice to see you here Lia!". I nodded to her with a grin. The door closed behind her and I was alone.

The first thing I did was connect the system and insert one of the CDs. "Prequelle." The music filled the still empty room and I closed my eyes for a moment. How long had it been since I had had time to listen to the music I wanted to hear. Without having to pay attention to anyone. Copia's voice was beautiful and dark. It was only one song later that I was able to tear myself away from the trance state the music had put me in and start unpacking my suitcase. I put my clothes neatly in the wardrobe. I stowed my books and the stereo in one of the three dark shelves, which I dusted off first. The only decorative items I had were a wooden crucifix, which I placed above my bed. A wall cloth with a tarot card motif of the moon, candles and a string of lights that I draped over the headboard of the bed. I decided to visit the city in the next few days. Perhaps Madison would accompany me.

After making my bed, I took my laptop out of my bag and sat down at my desk. A quick glance at my alarm clock told me that I still had half an hour before Madison would come back. Enough time to surf the internet a bit.

The encounter with Copia had stayed with me the whole time. My thoughts were constantly revolving around him, if only because I was listening to the album for the second time now and just couldn't get enough. His voice was like a drug, I couldn't get enough of his singing and the words he was saying. 

First I typed Ghost into the search engine and was rewarded with lots of pictures. He in his various stage outfits, which looked more than just good on him. I scrolled and scrolled and lost myself deeper and deeper in this rabbit hole. Before I knew it, I found myself saving one of the photos to my laptop.  A picture, black and white, obviously taken during one of his performances. His stage make-up matched his outfit perfectly. His gaze was directed at the audience and his white eyes stood out under the dark make-up. He looked very different in this picture. Different from the man I had met in Sister Imperator's office. So confident and attentive. His broad shoulders under his military jacket looked muscular and strong. His hands in the black leather gloves. The tight pants that...

Stop... I closed the laptop and stared out of the window. What was I doing here? Just a few hours ago, I would have loved to get back on the plane and fly home. And now I was sitting here... all my thoughts focused on just one person. Sighing, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. Faith was playing in the background. And I had to laugh at the irony of the lyrics. He was in my thoughts. He had crept in and taken up residence. From one second to the next. Just one look was enough. Ignoring the uneasy feeling in my stomach, I decided to freshen up for dinner.

"The food today was really exceptional...good!" laughed Madison. We had just eaten dinner. It hadn't been bad, but I was still glad that I hadn't had too much of an appetite.

"We could make Ramen later!", she suggested as we left the canteen behind the others.

"I'd love to!" I replied. And wanted to go the way we had come earlier, but Madison stopped me.

"Wait, we still have to do our Tour!" she grinned.

"But it's to late..." I said, frowning when Madison looked at me like I was crazy.

"Lia...you're here now...things are a bit more relaxed here!" she assured me with a raised eyebrow. I just nodded uncertainly and followed her. "Besides, it's much nicer at noon!".

Madison hadn't promised too much. The first thing she showed me was the chapel. Large candlesticks lined the aisle leading up to the altar. A figure of Lucifer raised one hand to swear and held a bare-breasted woman clasped around the waist with his other arm. Her face contorted in desire. His horns, large and pointed, reached up to the three large arches of stained glass windows behind him. I was sure that the woman in his arms represented Lillith. The first witch, the first wife of Adam, the mother of all demons and the wife of Lucifer. The candles bathed the scene in a beautiful light. The unholy writing was emblazoned on the altar. Surrounded by dark red roses and black candles.

"Didn't I tell you that it's much nicer !" Madison whispered, but her voice still echoed off the walls. The last rays of sunlight refracted in the window and made Lucifer's features seem almost real.

It was hard to tear myself away from this sight, but Madison wanted to continue her tour.

She showed me the Classrooms and Needlework rooms, as well as the Workshop, which smelled of resin. On the way to the library, we stopped at a large iron door, which was only lit by a single dim lamp in the dark.

"Where does it lead to?" I asked, taking a step towards the door.

"Wait!" said Madison. "Don't go in there...the door leads to the Ghoul's common areas...they don't like it so much when you enter their area...territory and all...". Without elaborating, Madison continued on her way in the opposite direction. With one last glance, I followed her towards the library. And if the chapel hadn't taken my breath away, this had. Huge shelves lined the walls and formed rows all the way to the back. Shelves filled from top to bottom with books and scrolls. Large arched windows lined both sides of the room. Tables with chairs or armchairs stood in small alcoves, just beckoning you to snuggle up and read.

"Impressive, isn't it? Come on, I'll show you my favorite place!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me behind her. One of the most beautiful chandeliers I'd seen in a long time hung magnificently from the ceiling with flickering candles.

"This is where I always sit and study...". You stumbled against Madison's shoulder as she stopped abruptly. I looked at her, startled, wondering what had startled her so much. Until I followed her gaze and looked into the eyes that I hadn't been able to get out of my head all day.

Copia was sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the crackling fireplace, holding a book in his hand and staring at us as perplexed as we were at him. The light from the fire cast a warm shadow on his face and made his white eye glow almost orange. His gaze traveled to Madison and then to me.

"Ohh...ehh...good evening!" he closed the book and a smile played around the corners of his mouth. His eyes lingered on mine for a moment too long and I avoided his gaze.

"Papa!" Madison had found her voice again. And gave Copia a look, which he returned. "We're sorry! We didn't mean to disturb you...I...I'm just showing Sister Lia around."

"Ah...buono!" he laughed and nodded at me. "Stick to Sister Madison...she's one of my best students!". Unable to speak, I just nodded at him, which only made him grin even wider.

"Let's get going then! Good night, Papa!" Madison curtseyed briefly and pulled me after her. We ran out of the library, taking one last look at Copia.

Back in your little apartment, I wished Madison a good night and got ready for bed. I slipped under the lavender-scented comforter and stared at the ceiling. I could feel the tiredness slowly pulling me into a deep sleep. When I closed my eyes, I saw Copia's face. His eyes, each a different color, but the white one stood out. Glowing white under the black make-up. This day had done me in. Mentally and physically.

I was glad it was over and wondered what else was in store for me.

"Lia!". A hand gently stroked my arm. Sighing, I turned onto my side and pulled the blanket up to my chin.

"No!" I mumbled.

"Lia!" laughed Madison. "Come on, you have to get up. It's almost noon. You've been asleep so long. Sister Emperor has sent a ghoul. She wants to see you in her office in half an hour!".

I shook my head and turned on my back to look at her out of tired eyes.

"Get up sleepyhead!" she laughed, "You go shower and I'll make you some coffee!". As she walked away, she grabbed my blanket and pulled it to my feet.

"Hey!" I called after her. Which she only replied with a laugh.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and slowly got out of bed. For having slept so long, I felt like I had pulled an all-nighter.

The shower woke my tired bones and the coffee did the rest. 30minutes later I was standing in front of Sister Imperator's office and hesitated for a moment. I needed a bit more time to prepare myself mentally. Just as I sighed and raised my fist to knock, I was distracted by a throat clearing behind me. I winced and turned around.

"Ohh...Mi dispiace, sorella!". Copia was standing behind me, his eyes wide and his hand on his chest, "I didn't mean to scare you!".

For a moment, I lost control of my speech. He was standing so close to me, I could smell his aftershave and I swallowed hard.

He furrowed his eyebrows worriedly and took a step towards me to put his hand on my upper arm.

"Are you all right?" he asked. I shook my head almost imperceptibly, almost as if I was trying to get my brain to work.

"Ehh...yes. Yes!" I stuttered. "I was just so lost in thought! I'm sorry!".

"No need to apologize!" He shook his head and stroked my upper arm. A warm shiver ran down my spine. I looked at his hand and then back at him. The warmth crept into my cheeks as our eyes met. My brain paused for a moment.

"That feels good!" my lips moved as if of their own accord. His eyebrows lifted. And his gaze seemed to glaze over, the pupil of his green eye widened.

 For a brief moment, there seemed to be this tension between us. His fingers gripped my upper arm tighter. His eyes wandered to my lips, lingered there. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something. His fingers slid naturally from my upper arm to my shoulder and rested on the back of my neck. His thumb stroked my chin. Where he touched me, he left a burning sensation on my skin. I shivered under his gaze, which flitted back to my eyes. Deep inside me, I felt the desire to overcome the few centimetres that separated us. Without realizing it, my back pressed against the door leading to Sister Imperator's office. Copia took a step towards me and I felt my heart pounding against my chest. Unable to move, I just stood there, wishing for his lips on mine....

With a jolt, I was snapped back to reality.

The door I had been leaning against opened with a jerk, and the next moment I saw myself lying on the floor in front of Sister Imperator.

"What the...", startled, she looked first at me and then at Copia, who was staring at me with wide eyes. I sat up and rubbed the back of my head.

"What's going on here?". Her eyes wandered questioningly back and forth between me and Copia. Copia was the first to regain his voice.

"Oh... I'm sorry, Sorella!" He bent down to me and held out his hand to help me up. Which I gratefully accepted. "I'm afraid I startled Sister Lia when she was about to knock...Mi dispiace davvero per la mia goffaggine...!".

"It's all right! I'm fine!" I replied. Sister Imperator let out an annoyed sigh.

"Come on, my dear. Sit down!" She gently placed her hand on my back and gently pushed me into her office. "And you... I'm sure you're busy! I'll talk to you later!". I gave Copia a look over my shoulder, which he returned with a nod. Before he turned to Sister Imperator and said: "Of course. Sister! I'll talk to you later!". He put on a smile and disappeared down the corridor with one last fleeting glance at me.

Translation

Mi dispiace davvero per la mia goffaggine - I'm really sorry how clumsy of me