#this thing took way too long because I couldn’t figure out colors for the life of me. every day I suffer.

[ozcarr]

“Where do you think you will sit in the history books? You are a footnote, hastily memorized by a child and forgotten the instant you are written down on a pop quiz.”

I sincerely believe that I’ve listened to Rude Tales of Magic: Come at the King more times than anyone on earth. I’m always coming back to it. A vastly underrated miniseries from a vastly underrated podcast. A show that will make you feel almost every emotion. A wild ride from start to finish.

EDIT: made a mistake but I fixed it look at this version of the post instead

[imaginepirates]

Everything I Need

Jack and the reader both have feelings for each other, but have yet to act on them. When the reader sees him kissing someone else, they think he's already in a relationship, and they begin pushing him away to save their own emotions.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @viper-official @hellspawn-brownies @groovy-lady @ghoulishbehaviour @kittenlittle24

~3100 words

~~~~~~~

The distinct slide of warm sand through your toes pulled a smile to your face. After six long months of roving, the Pearl had made port back at Tortuga, and your feet hit solid ground for the first time in half a year. As much as you loved sailing, a ship was only so large, and you could only walk the same fifty yards of deck so many times before it began to drive you batty. 

The scenery never changed on the open ocean, not truly. Oh, every day the water was a new shade, and the sky a new color, and the patterns of the waves and clouds never took the same shapes, but even when the sea changed from serene to angry, wind was still wind, and water still water. 

The little cove you’d tucked yourself into was a welcome change to all that. You relished the vibrant greens and yellows and reds of the plants, as well as the chirping of birds, and even the singing cicadas. Later, you would enjoy new company, too, and new stories alongside, but for the moment, you were content to sit only with the company of the land. 

Your seclusion, however, didn’t last long. A figure dropped down next to you, barefoot with their trousers rolled up to the knee. It hadn’t taken Jack long to find you; he knew you too well. It should have annoyed you more, that he always knew where you would be, but his company was never unwelcome. 

“Glad to be back ashore?” 

You accepted the bottle he held out to you, taking a swig before answering. “In all honesty, I am. But you’re already itching to be back out there, aren’t you?” You nudged him with a knee, and he smiled back at you, used to your teasing. 

“Can’t help myself, love. The ocean calls to me, and who am I to deny her? I have everything I need out there.”

“Except rum. You come back for that.”

“Except rum,” he agreed. 

It was easy, conversation between you. Jack had a way about him like a gentle morning tide, an ebb and flow to his words and thoughts, simple to wade through and enjoyably warm. A part of you wondered whether he shared this side of himself with everyone, and another, selfish part of you secretly hoped he didn’t. 

The truth you had come to accept was simple: after many long years of knowing him, somewhere along the line you’d fallen a little in love with your captain. That truth, of course, was a maddeningly frustrating one. There were many unspoken rules aboard a ship, the first and foremost being that no part of the crew was to have romantic, or god forbid sexual, relations with the captain. It was a grand violation of the fragile ecosystem that was ship life. Compounded with that fact was the deeper, more meaningful reason you couldn’t bring yourself to confess— Jack was a creature of freedom, and in desiring his affection, you would be denying him the full range of liberty he needed. It was a thing you simply couldn’t do. 

“What are the chances Anamaria has already gotten into a fight?” Jack was still staring out over the horizon, that characteristic gleam in his eye. 

“What are the chances she’s already won?” You knew Anamaria, and there was a high likelihood that by the time you got to whatever tavern she was in, someone would already owe her money. And have a broken jaw. 

Jack stood, helping you to your feet and corking his bottle. “I won’t let you be reclusive all night. I’ll need someone sympathetic there when Anamaria decides it’s my turn.”

“I’d pay good money to see that.”

Jack feigned offense. “How could you?”

“Because if there’s someone knocking you around, you likely deserve it.”

You walked into town like that, joking and placing meaningless bets on who had gotten up to what while you were both away. Tortuga was exactly like you remembered it, a city much like the sea, where things never really changed. Every building was still itself, if a little more tattered and worn. Not that you minded. That exact attribute was what made it perfectly suited for a group of pirates. The place had its charm, even amongst the heaps of mud and rusty door-joints. Old and battered, just like you all were.

Jack slipped past you into a crowded bar, and you promptly followed. You were overwhelmed all at once by the rowdy music, the sea of voices, the mix of smells, the different fabrics, and the heat created by so many bodies in so little space. You tried peeking around for a familiar face but had no such luck. Instead, you accepted the random fluke of drink Jack had plucked off a bar and set in your hands. 

It took careful navigation through multiple rooms before you saw anyone you knew. Sure enough, Anamaria had a stack of coins on the table in front of her, and half the room away a man was nursing a black eye and bloody nose. 

You settled down next to her, eyeing the considerable amount of money she’d won, grinning. You could swear she had some sort of gambling god sitting on her shoulder, whispering in her ear and telling her the right cards to play. Jack had wandered off somewhere else, presumably in search of something new to drink. You watched him go, letting your eyes linger on his form in the dim light, comfortable in the knowledge he couldn’t catch you, only to get an elbow in the ribs from Anamaria who sat just beside you. 

“You have got to stop staring at him like that.”

“Hey now, don’t be unfair.” You held up your hands, reluctantly tearing your eyes from Jack. “It’s not that bad. I really doubt many people have noticed.”

“Only half the crew. If excitement onboard doesn’t pick up, we’ll be betting on you two next.”

“That’s unfair. Pintel and Ragetti provide ample entertainment.”

Speaking of those two, you noticed them across the room, clearly bickering over some newfound subject. They always found ways to inspire philosophical discussion, even if the philosophy at hand was objectively ridiculous. 

Unfortunately, though, Anamaria was right. Your feelings for Jack were probably a bit obvious, despite trying to keep them to yourself. You were afraid Jack would find out, or worse — that he already knew. But you couldn’t keep yourself from noticing his smile, his laugh, any simple expressions of true joy that weren’t part of his facade. He put on an act, you knew, for most people. The perfectly suave pirate come to rob you of all earthly riches, leaving you dazed and a little enthralled. An alluring storybook character come to life. It was those real smiles, though, that you couldn’t shake from your brain, that kept you staring after him even as the moment faded and passed. 

Then there were the endearments, said out of habit if anything else, but they still had their charm. Every time he called you ‘love’, you got this warm sensation in your chest like the feeling of a good drink, spreading to your stomach and dancing across your limbs. Flirtation was in his nature, but that didn’t make it any less effective.

You sighed, taking a sip of the mystery drink Jack had handed you. It was some sort of cocktail, pleasantly fruity with a hint of grenadine*. Jack had disappeared, so your focus shifted toward watching other bar-goers. A tall blonde sawed a whipping fiddle, the tune drawing dancers to the center of the floor. The dancers, of course, were too drunk to keep their coordination, and the resulting chaos of limbs had you snickering. 

Tortuga really was the last bastion of revelry in the ever-shrinking world. You let yourself enjoy it; there was enough time for overthinking things later. For the time being, you relaxed back into your seat, cheering on Anamaria when another poor sod challenged her to cards, wheezing with laughter as Gibbs attempted a jig, blushing and breathless as the fiddler pulled you into the crowd for a dance of your own. 

By the time early morning rolled around, the bar was full of passed-out patrons, people napping wherever they could find room. You rose groggily to your feet, unaware of how long you’d been asleep, and staggered to the door. The outside air made a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat inside the bar, and the smell of brine helped clear your head. You rubbed your eyes and straightened up. 

You walked around the back of the bar in hopes of finding clean water with which to wash your face, only to see a handsome, redheaded young-man with their fingers buried in the front of Jack’s shirt. And their mouth firmly on his. 

You whipped around before either of them could notice you, stalking back the way you came. You didn’t hear the soft thud of the redhead’s body hitting the wall as Jack pushed them away, nor Jack’s voice, calm but firm, denying any further advances. Instead, you followed your feet until they hit sand, curling up in the cove you’d found the previous day. 

You should have known. You should have known Jack would already have someone, someone he was closer to than you. You couldn’t be the only person in love with him—if you’d noticed all the wonderful things about him, other people undoubtedly had, too. Jack had been a pirate for a long time, and had a whole past you knew nothing about. Of course there would be someone else. 

You curled and uncurled your fingers in the sand. The breeze off the ocean did nothing to cool the hot wave of jealousy that rolled over you. You let it sit there, broiling and festering and simmering within you, allowing yourself to stew over it. Warm tears fell over your cheeks, and you wiped them away angrily with the back of your hand.

Then it was gone. Like the recession of the morning tide, your jealousy left you in one fell swoop, and only exhaustion and emptiness remained as you hugged your knees. You had no right to feel jealous of Jack’s lover. You and Jack had never shared a romantic relationship, and you had no claim to him. All you had were the feelings you kept to yourself, and it was your own fault for never acting on them. If anything, you should be happy Jack had someone he cherished; it was so rare as a pirate to find time for partners. 

Still, a little nagging voice in the back of your head whispered its miseries in your ear. 

Back aboard the Pearl, the crew filed onto the ship, still dreary and in need of more sleep. But Jack seemed anxious to leave, and everyone was used to hangovers and quick departures. Gibbs grumbled something along the lines of ‘what trouble has Jack gotten into this time?’, but nobody argued about getting underway. 

For you, it was both a blessing and a curse. While you doubted anyone had noticed your absence that morning, you were less than thrilled with the prospect of seeing Jack every day and being reminded of the feelings you desperately needed to leave behind. Then again, leaving Tortuga meant you wouldn’t have to hide from the bars in fear of more…potent reminders. 

You spent your time avoiding Jack as much as possible. Somehow, there was always a task for you to do down below when he was on deck, or rigging to climb until he was a speck far beneath you. The crow’s nest was quickly becoming your favorite spot. You could climb there and brood for a while under the pretense of watching out for the Navy—any of them—and you didn’t have to deal with concern from the crew over uncharacteristic frowning. 

But he noticed. And you noticed he noticed because his gaze wavered whenever it landed on you, and that never used to happen before. He’d stopped speaking with you, though you felt how much he wanted to. You told yourself it was for the best, but it felt wrong at the same time.

In truth, it hurt. You missed your old conversations, the easy familiarity you used to share. Your life on the Pearl just wasn’t the same without it. It was your fault, too, which stung even more, and you hated thinking that you were putting Jack through any sort of torment of his own. Your intention was never to hurt him, but you feared that was part of the result you were getting. 

As it turned out, Jack wasn’t the only one who noticed. “Why are you avoiding him so much lately?” Anamaria sidled up to you, helping you secure belaying pins. Jack wasn’t on deck, so you were more free to talk without fear of anything getting back to him.

Leave it to her to sniff things out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried playing the comment off, but knew you failed miserably. 

“Did something happen between the two of you in Tortuga?” 

“No.”

She put a hand over yours, halting your work and forcing you to meet her gaze. “Something’s wrong, of that I’m sure. Care to enlighten me?” Seeing your hesitation, she reassured you. “I’m your friend. I’m not going to tell anyone, and I’m not going to judge you. Too much.” 

You knew from her smirk that she was joking, and it was the first time you’d had any humor around in weeks. It felt good to have that dynamic back, and you warmed to the idea of opening up, though you were a bit mortified to do so. 

“It’s just…” you began, “you know I have feelings for Jack. And I was finally coming to terms with them, but the morning we left, I realized there’s no place for them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I saw Jack kissing someone else.” You stopped mid-action, the rope in your hands suffering an unfinished knot.

You didn’t need to look at her to know Anamaria was shocked. You pushed on, the silence too much for you to bear at the moment. “It makes sense: I mean, he’s been a pirate for a long time, and he’s had all these adventures and travels, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he met someone on one of them. I have no right to feel jealous; we were never together.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Anamaria’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, her thumb rubbing gently over your shirt. 

You sighed. She was right, as usual. “No, it really doesn’t.”

“I’d say let’s spit in his drink, but you’ve already acknowledged it’s not that sort of situation.”

You smiled a little in spite of yourself. You continued working in silence, taking as much comfort from her company as you could. Maybe with her around, and being friends with the rest of the crew, you could dull some of your pain with their companionship. No matter how much it stung that Jack couldn’t love you, you could never be truly lonely with the rest of them by your side. 

Evening fell with a cloudless sunset, nothing to obscure the reds and yellows and pinks of the darkening sky. You stayed on deck instead of retreating somewhere else, unwilling to let your negative thoughts get the better of you. You were still alone, standing at the rail by yourself, but you weren’t lonely with the rest of the crew milling about, wisps of conversation drifting over to you. 

A presence at your side made you turn. It was Jack, staring out over the horizon, looking a little anxious. You couldn’t blame him. You knew you were the source of his discomfort, and you wanted to make up for it as best as you could, though the prospect of confessing the reasons behind your behavior scared you. He would think less of you for this, you were sure. He was too easygoing to understand why you would be so caught up on jealousy.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but you started. “I know I’ve been distant, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for what had to come next. “I saw you in Tortuga the morning we left, you know, with that boy. He’s a handsome sort, and I’m glad for you, but I had no idea you were in any sort of relationship, and I had kind of been hoping…” you trailed off. This was hard, but you had to grit through it, because not talking to Jack again would be harder. “I had feelings for you. Have feelings. And watching you with him has kind of been eating me up alive.”

You risked a look over to Jack after a moment, waiting on a response. To your surprise, he looked shocked, and beneath that, you saw a tinge of sadness. 

“I’m sorry to overwhelm you,” you began, but Jack cut you off with a shake of his head. 

“I’m the sorry one, love. You shouldn’t have had to see that, and it gave you the completely wrong idea.”

Now it was your turn for shock, and not a little panic. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I didn’t want him to kiss me.” The sentence hung in the air before Jack continued. “It’s not that he isn’t good looking, or that I don’t know him—I do, but I don’t feel that way about him. I don’t…” Jack frowned, looking for the right word. “I don’t love him.”

“Oh.” It came out so small you weren’t sure you’d even said anything, but Jack finally managed to look you in the eye. 

“I don’t know if I deserve your affection. My flirting gets me in trouble; you got to see it first hand. And that got me in trouble with you. I’m not sure I’m worthy of commitment.”

“Oh Jack.” You raised a hand to cup the side of his face. “I don’t think you have a choice. I’ve already loved you for so long, I’m not sure I can stop.”

“Even though I deserve one of Anamaria’s beatings?”

“Even though that.”

Jack’s fingers laced themselves through yours, keeping your hand in place on his cheek. “I don’t need land to find my lover. You said it yourself: I could stay at sea forever. Because I have everything I need right here.”

*I’m aware grenadine wasn’t invented until 1872, but I needed to put something there, and idk my alcohol. 

[thefallennightmare]

Mercy-one

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Fallen Angel!OC

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, smut, mythological talk, violence.

Summary: "Blinded by a fear of feeling, these are the kings we chose. Lost and looking for the meaning, I've been searching high and low" It came crashing down on him. This is the story of the highest banished angel from where she came only to find home in the arms of a mortal man. This mortal realizing he'd face Lucifer himself to keep her.

Lethia: Archangelus Oneironaut also known as Archangel of Dream Walking. Across worlds and dimensions, she walks within. Uncovering dangerous secrets, leaving her cast out, isolated- that is until she begins to learn what it means to feel.

Authors Notes: Here we go! Now this is an AU but I will keep things true to life with Bad Omens and Noah as possible! Also, this is NOT a reader insert fic. I decided to create a character for this.

Tags[OPEN]: @thescarlettvvitch

LETHIA

The wind whipped widely through my hair, smacking me in the face, as my limbs thrashed around with such force I cringed in pain. I could see the clouds out of the corner of my eyes as I fell through them, with no sense of comfort protecting me. I choked on a sob when I noticed parts of my long, golden, hair was being singed from the rate of the fall. I held my hands in front of my face to watch in horror as the once short nails grew in length and darkness. 

“Wh-what?” 

How did it get like this? All because I chose to follow someone else instead of the almighty King? How was that fair? I’d been loyal since creation, one of his most loyal servants, but the second I thought of something different than the divine plan, He cast me away. 

“Leth, follow me to the ends of the darkness. For we can create our own Kingdom and rule.” 

My eyes screwed shut at the familiar voice as my throat burned with the thought of him. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was close by, surely he had to be. I was thrown from the Kingdom first, Lucifer not far behind. 

The air around me began to thicken, grasping around my throat with such force, that I clawed there with my newly fresh nails. Blood dripped from the wounds but none of that mattered to me; I simply stared up towards the sky where my former home disappeared through the clouds. I could try and climb my way back, as far as my wings would allow. But I knew, like Icarus, if I climbed too high to the sun, I’d fall into the unknown jungle below. 

Icarus was a fool. 

My ears rang loudly from the sudden change in altitude and I looked towards the left, almost crying out when I took in the most recent alter to my appearance. Bright wings that mirrored the colors of the clouds surrounding me were no longer pure. No, they were dark with the tellings of my betrayal. 

“My King, forgive me!” I cried out seconds before my body fell to the hard soil below; darkness overtaking my vision.

NOAH

Slamming the car door shut with a long sigh,  I walked from the street, up to my house. I took in the variety of cars, realizing that one of the guys must have invited a few people over tonight. Usually, I never minded when we had small get-togethers, but tonight I did mind. It wasn’t anything anyone in particular did, my mind was just filled with the same dream I’d had the last seven nights in a row. 

Black feathers. Even darker hair. Cream-colored skin. And vibrant red eyes. 

At first, I chalked it up to being a random dream but as the nights progressed, the dream continued with the same figure. 

One night they were sitting on the edge of my bed. The following night, they were perched on top of the roof of my house, watching the street below. Last night, the figure was in bed with me as my lips trailed over the curvaceous lumps of her breasts. 

I ran a hand over my face as I neared the front door, taking a deep and steady breath. I thought about asking my therapist about these dreams but now that they were getting more intimate, I decided against it.

“It's just a dream, Noah,” I told myself while my hand reached for the door. 

A groan halted my movements and I turned swiftly on my heels back towards the driveway. But all I heard was silence; besides the loud music coming from inside the house. 

Shrugging, I took one final step towards the threshold until a groan sounded again, only this time louder. It sounded as if a large bird fell from the tree hanging overhead, feathers fluttering in the air.  I dropped my bag on the front porch before taking the steps back down two at a time towards where I heard the groans of pain; in between Jesse’s and Orie’s cars parked in the driveway. 

“Fuck,” I cursed seeing the crumbled body. 

Head snapped to the side, dark tendrils of hair covering her face, and an arm draped over her midsection. I winced as I saw the contortment of it, knowing that it had to be broken. 

Where the hell did she come from? 

There was a sudden surge that spread from my heart to every vein inside of me; flowing through in shocking waves. I couldn’t place it but seeing this figure in front of me, there was something so familiar about it; her. A painful groan fell from her lips and I breathed in relief, almost forgetting to check if she was alive. I’d been so entranced in her familiarity. 

Gently scooping the body up into my arms, the dark hairs fell away from her face and I sucked in a breath when I noticed there were fresh cut marks along her cheek, and blood dripping from her ears. I rushed her inside, gaining stares from my roommates, who immediately stopped the music. 

“What the fuck?” Orie’s voice was raised. 

I shook my head while setting her on the couch in our living room. “I don’t know, man.”

Our house was packed with random faces; some I recognized, others I didn’t. I knew there was a party tonight but suddenly, I wanted everyone that didn’t live here out. 

Folio, who noticed my expression, waved a finger in the air. “Alright, I think it’s time to end this party. Thanks for coming, everyone!” 

Pretty quickly, everyone who didn’t live there or weren’t part of Bad Omens left the house. 

“Where did you find her?” Nick asked.

I hesitated. “That’s the thing. I found her lying broken in the driveway.”

“The driveway?” Jolly gasped. “How long had she been out there?” 

I shrugged while brushing away the stray hairs from her face, hearing a soft but painful breath falling from her dry, cracked lips. My eyes grazed down the line of her neck down to the swell of her breasts that were barely covered by the tattered black shirt; it looked as if it was burned off. I tossed a blanket over her to help cover her modesty. 

Something glinted in my vision and I looked back at her neck to see a golden chain hanging loosely between the valley of her breasts. My heart dropped to my stomach as the reality slammed into me. 

I’ve seen this chain before; in my dreams. My lips tasted that chain in my dreams. 

My hands shook at my side as a shaky breath escaped from my throat and Jolly called my name. 

“Hm, what?” I turned to look at him. 

He ran a hand through his hair. “Should we call the police? She looks like she’s been attacked.” 

“No,” I said a little too suddenly. “She just needs a place to rest. We don’t know what happened. I’ll ask when she wakes up.” 

I slowly sunk into the chair across from the couch, resting my elbows on my knees, watching the rise and fall of her chest to make sure she was still breathing. 

Jesse stared down at her from behind the couch and let out a low whistle. “It’s a miracle that she’s even breathing right now. We should probably wrap her arm. It could be broken.” 

Just then, Michael returned with our first aid kit and handed it to me. I took it with a small smile and started rummaging through it to look for the hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls. The least I could do while she slept was clean the wounds on her face. 

The softness of her face twisted as the sting of peroxide sunk deep within her wounds and when a whimper fell from her lips, my cock twitched in my jeans. Images of her lying spread wide in my bed for me flashed in my mind and I did my best to push them to the back of my brain. 

“How did she end up in the driveway? Looking like this?” Orie asked as he finished wrapping up her arm. 

“I don’t know,” I sighed while sitting back in my chair, eyes still trained on her. “With how I found her, it looks like she fell from somewhere.”

Jolly shook his head as he sat on the armrest of the couch, also watching the stranger. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

All seven of us stood around the body laying on the couch, wondering and watching to see if she would wake. 

“Maybe she’s an angel,” Jesse snorted, trying to ease the sudden tension. 

“Angels don’t exist,” my eyes snapped up towards him. 

Jesse held his hands up. “It’s a joke, Noah. But you have to admit it’s a little weird.” 

I ran a hand over my jaw and nodded. “I know. I couldn’t leave her out there, though. Once she wakes up, I’ll take her wherever she wants.”

“Luce,” the woman croaked out, head turning towards the side. 

Her voice rang out in song, echoing throughout the house, and my heart rose in my throat hearing how eternal it sounded. I barely knew anything about her but I couldn’t ignore the way my soul felt connected to her. Maybe it was because of seeing this form in my dreams or fate that I found her in my driveway, almost as if I was destined to help her. 

“What did she say?” Nick questioned. 

 Folio shrugged while leaning over her. “Luce? Maybe that’s her name?” 

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open and with one swift movement, the woman had her legs wrapped around Folio’s midsection and him pinned to the ground. Her good forearm was pressed deep into his neck while he lay frozen underneath her.  All of us were on our feet but none made a move to stop her, not knowing if it would ultimately help or make things worse. 

“Who are you?” 

The venom in her voice was cold as ice. 

“Ni-Nick,” Folio choked out. 

The woman tilted her head towards him. “Where am I?” 

Taking a tentative step towards her, I placed a soft hand on her shoulder. “I found you outside.” 

It was as if my touch meant nothing to her, eyes still burning deep into Folio. It wasn’t until I spoke again that she finally noticed I was touching her. 

“You’re hurt. I brought you inside to help you.” 

Before I could register what happened, I felt myself being pinned up against the front door, fiery red eyes staring deep into my soul. With all the doubt that plagued my mind the last hour as I watched her sleep on the couch, I tried to tell myself that I didn’t know who she was. It was all a coincidence that parts of her reminded me of the figure I dreamed of.

But the moment I saw those bright red eyes, I knew that all the doubt was wrong. This was the same woman I dreamed of the last seven nights. 

LETHIA

With my nails digging into the fresh skin of the man in front of me, I assessed every inch of his face. The brown eyes widened in slight horror when my nails dug deeper and I took in the way his lips parted, breaths coming out broken. His long hair was held back by a clip but strands still fell into his face and I cocked my head to the side when I realized something drastic. 

Well, a few things. 

First, I couldn’t feel my hand around this man's throat. I squeezed harder, my face twitching in anger, when I still couldn’t feel his skin underneath my grasp. I expected to feel the erratic thrum of his pulse or his Adam's apple dip low as he swallowed. 

Instead, I felt nothing. 

No. It couldn’t be. 

I’ve heard tales of this happening to the Fallens but I never believed it to be true.  An old folks tale the other Archangels discussed over a cup of wine. 

My eyes blinked as I slowly removed my hand from the man’s throat, fingers shaking with the realization. The dark nails mocked me for my failure, scolding me for taking the darkness over the light. 

The second thing I realized? I’ve seen this face before. Moments before I fell, it flashed in my mind like a photograph, every fucking detail. The long brown hair, bright brown eyes to match, the freckles that littered over his nose and cheeks, the tattoo that wrapped around his throat where my fingers were moments before; a snake, apples, and hands. 

How metaphorical. 

“What’s going on with me?” I muttered bringing my hand to my chest, noticing it was wrapped in some kind of material. 

“You hurt your arm, we wrapped it for you,” a different voice spoke. 

My head snapped to the left, seeing another man slowly approach me. His voice sounded different than the others and I narrowed my eyes at him. 

“You’re not from around here,” I noted. 

A snort sounded from behind me causing me to whirl my body towards it, seeing yet another strange man staring at me. 

“Not from around here? Who talks like that?” 

Someone smacked him in the chest. “Michael, don’t be an asshole.” 

“I’m just saying, Nick. She wakes up in our home and attacks two of our friends. Are we supposed to allow that? We don’t even know her fucking name.” 

My tongue clicked against my teeth. “Lethia.” 

Various sets of eyes stared at me until the man who had an attitude spoke.; Michael. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“My name-,” I spoke slowly. “-Is Lethia.”

Michael snorted. “Well, Lethia, where the hell did you come from?” 

Giving him a wave of my hand, I decided it wasn’t worth answering that question only because none of these men deserve to know.

“Who’s Luce?” 

I snapped my eyes towards the man I had pinned against the door, heart stuttering in my chest. “Excuse me?” 

He rubbed at the fresh red marks on his neck. “You said it in your sleep.” 

Lucifer. 

I licked my lips, widely shaking my head. “I need to leave.” 

A soft voice called to me. “We can take you back home.”

This man had a buzzed head and a beard. “Although, you should get those injuries checked out.” 

“I’ll heal,” I answered honestly.

Lethia, come to me.

I gazed around the room to see if that voice belonged to any of the seven of them although I knew it didn’t. I knew exactly who uttered those words. 

“I have to go.” 

The man from my vision stood tall against the door, not allowing me to leave. My jaw ticked with anger and I motioned behind him. 

“Move.” 

His brow raised. “That’s a funny way of saying thank you for saving your life.” 

“Thank you?” I chuckled darkly. “You simply did nothing for me except keep me prisoner in this home.” 

“Prisoner?” It was his turn to chuckle. “I fucking found you in my driveway, broken and bruised. The least you can do is tell us what the hell happened!”

They’ll never understand. Mere mortals never did. 

I might not understand where I was but I knew mortals when I saw one. Their smell was different than angels; some were stronger than others. Except for the man blocking my way out. It was different, his aura, and I didn’t want to admit it but it drew me into him. There had to be a reason why I saw him mere seconds before I fell from the Kingdom. 

The two of us were unmoving, not wanting to break first, and one of the men must have felt the tension because one gently stepped between us; the one that sounded different from the rest.

“Noah, let her go.” 

Something fluttered in my stomach and I nearly shook with the unknown feeling. Never in my life had I felt something like this, even during my time with Lucifer. But with this mortal, Noah, it was entirely something new and it scared me to the depths of hell. 

Noah scrunched his face with anger but eventually stepped to the side, allowing me to leave. 

“Thank you,” I mocked with a slight curl to my lip; more like a snarl. 

After two steps toward the door, I froze when something caught my attention out of the corner of my eyes. Titling my head towards the glass, my reflection stared back at me and I gasped at what I saw. 

Short black hair, black ink covering almost every inch of skin across my shoulders and arms, my shirt barely hanging one by a thread, and what shocked me the most were my eyes; crimson red, not the vibrant violet. 

“No, it can’t be,” I brought my shaking hand to my mouth. 

Suddenly,  an ear-piercing ringing dug deep in my ears and I brought my hands to them, screwing my eyes shut. My head throbbed in pain as if someone was scratching their claws there. With one eye open, I noticed Michael held some kind of device in his hand. 

“Wh-what is that dreaded noise?” I stuttered. 

“A phone? Fuck, how hard did you hit your head?” 

A what? 

When the ringing stopped, I stood taller and for the first time, took in my surroundings. Everything in this home looked different than how we lived in the Kingdom. While we had advantaged technology, we simply didn’t have things of this nature. 

“None of this makes sense,” I whispered to myself before my eyes landed on a small device on a table. 

October 12, 2021. 

I nearly stumbled on my feet when everything began to click into place. Someone during my fall, I landed in a time that hadn’t existed yet. 

Noah could tell something was off because he turned towards me, a frown pulling at his lips. “Are you alright?” 

Without saying another word, I left in such haste, I hadn’t realized what I left behind in my wake. 

NOAH

My eyes stared at the space in front of me, the door wide open as it let in the cool night air. Those red eyes haunted me in Lethai’s wake and my skin crawled when an old dream crept back into my consciousness. 

I lay in my bed, bare for her to see, Lethia’s tongue traced down my chest and then stomach to brush across my navel. I gripped her dark hair, wrapping it around my fingers to guide her head farther down. My cock throbbed with such an ache, I was sure it wouldn’t last. Beads of precum slipped from the slit and Lethia’s tongue danced around it, tasting me. 

“Fuck,” I cursed as my eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy. 

“Look at me, Noah.”��

My eyes snapped open at Lethia’s firm tone and felt my heart stop dead in my chest; her eyes were glowing red. 

“Noah!” 

Breaking free from my trance, I gazed over to Orie. “Did you say something?” 

“We did all we could, man. There’s no use dwelling on it.” 

He patted my shoulder before they all dispersed into their sections of the house. But not me, I remained frozen in my spot, still staring at the vast darkness past the threshold. There was something just outside the realm of that darkness that caught my eye, it fluttered in the wind until it fell to the concrete just outside the door. 

With furrowed brows, I bent low to pick it up, analyzing it with curious eyes. It was a black feather, at least twelve inches in length, and the softness of it was something I’d never felt before. 

“Who are you, Lethia?” I murmured to myself, holding the feather close to my chest.

[separatist-apologist]

Long Live

Summary: All archeologist Elain Archeron wants is answers about the past.

Fate is determined to give them to her

MASSIVE thank you @abbadinfluence for having the idea AND allowing me to write - I've had the time of my life, this has been so fun.

And @octobers-veryown for being my personal Rome/Italy consultant- thank you for your knowledge, your time, and most importantly, catching when I used a particularly offensive and/or wrong swear word

For @elucienweekofficial | Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

They weren’t invited to the celebration held that night, which disappointed Elain. She knew from the journals she’d read that Lucien spent the majority of his evening thinking about the would-be Empress, who was housed somewhere on the estate. After the walk around the garden, she’d been a little panicked that she’d ruined everything. She was here, though—and Elain merely had to hang back and let the Emperor do his thing.

Arina was back to pacing again, cradling her hand against her chest as though she’d injured it. While Elain felt some measure of calm, Arina seemed more panicked than before. “You’re not taking this seriously,” she complained, unwinding her hair from the pins Elain had used earlier that day. 

“I am,” Elain protested with a nagging feeling of fear. “What do you want me to do? Rob the Emperor?”

“Yes,” Arina hissed, rounding on Elain so quickly Elain nearly toppled to the bed. She, too, was undressing for the evening, preparing to sleep. “Bat your eyes at him and beg him for coins and a horse.”

Elain scowled. “We’ll mess up the future if I start flirting with him.”

“Who cares about the future?” Arina demanded, back to pacing. “I’ll rip off a thousand butterfly wings if it convinces you to do anything besides trail after—”

“Stop it,” Elain whispered, wrapping her arms around her body. “I’m not racing out of here without a plan. If you want to, no one is stopping you. Go bat your eyes at the Emperor for a horse and some coins. Or better yet—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Arina hissed, cheeks burning with color. “I don’t want to get trapped here.”

Assuming they weren’t already. Just because they’d somehow come through didn’t mean they’d easily make their way back. That scared Elain enough into not wanting to try at all—at least she couldn’t be disappointed. Giving voice to her own secret fears, she whispered, “Do you think Gray is worried?”

Arina nodded solemnly. “People are probably looking for us.”

“Let’s bide our time—let them think we’re no threat. They’ll forget us soon enough. You know what’s coming…right?”

“We don’t study history the same way,” Arina reminded Elain, plopping beside her on the mattress. 

“A fire,” she reminded Arina, glancing toward the window. “And an attempted coup. They’ll be so focused on keeping their lives and the city safe that they’ll forget us. We can slip away in the ensuing chaos.”

Arina took a breath. “Okay. As long as we have a plan.”

“We can ask the Emperor for money tomorrow. Tell him we need clothes and hope he’ll put it directly in our hands.”

“And when we don’t buy clothes?” Arina questioned. Elain wasn’t sure about that. Shaking her head with a sigh, she only shrugged. Elain didn’t know. 

“We’ll figure it out.”

There was time—about a month of it, assuming she had the date right. Elain was terrified to ask Lucien where they were in the Julian calendar and betray herself as any stranger than she already was. 

“And the stables. And…how to ride a horse,” Arina murmured, ticking off an invisible checklist in her mind. 

“I’m sure one of the gentleman here would oblige—”

“Don’t give them ideas,” Arina ordered, rounding on Elain again. “It must have occurred to them that we don't have a father or brother to supervise us. How long before…”

“Lucien won’t allow it.”

“No, because he’s too busy trying to figure out how to get you into his bed.”

Disavow him. 

Elain shook the thought from her mind. “He’s with his wife tonight,” she reminded Arina, who had no clue how the Emperor spent their time. This was Elain’s passion—bordering on obsession. Helena was here and if Lucien could be trusted, he’d seek her out once the wine wore off before going back to bed to document the moment he knew he had to marry her. In the morning, Elain would be nothing more than a troublesome ward Lucien wanted to be rid of.

“Sure,” Arina replied, making her way toward the door. “Keep this locked.”

And that was that. Arina sauntered across the hall, the lock to her own bedchamber clicking loudly once the bronze was latched in place. Elain took Arina’s advice, well aware that there was little protection afforded to her here, and she lacked even the most fundamental rights she’d grown accustomed to back home. 

Pajamas were simply the night tunic she’d worn beneath her clothes—a simple white shift, truly, that would have been see-through in the sunlight. Here, in the near dark, though, Elain’s modesty was protected. As if that were an issue, truly. She’d been sleeping with Graysen for years, her chastity was a distance dream left back in the states. It had been such a trivial thing to her, a construct easily shed when the right man came along.

And still, she didn’t want to advertise that fact and make people think she was available to anyone with a passing fancy. 

Elain crawled into bed, oil lamps still burning, and realized she was bored. She was so used to scrolling her phone at night, staring aimlessly into the void that now she didn’t know what to do with herself. How did people fall asleep without something to look at? Elain turned on her side, wondering how the party was going. Would they stay up all night? She’d wanted to be invited and had been, at the same time, relieved she hadn’t been. Elain didn’t think she could fool a room full of people who’d been born and raised in this time period.

She couldn’t sleep, though. She was too warm, too awake, too anxious. Kicking the blanket off her body, Elain made her way to the balcony overlooking the gardens. Fate, too, stood beside her, watching as she braced her elbows against the marble. Lucien made his way outdoors, sighing softly as he ran a broad hand over his long hair. In every marble bust she’d ever seen of him, his hair was shorn short—she rather liked his non-conformist ways. Elain couldn’t help but watch, mind racing. She remembered this moment from his journals, had read it a million times throughout undergrad. It had become an obsession, wishing she could feel even an iota of what he described in that moment.

Lucien would turn, locking eyes with his future wife and as they looked at one another from across the garden, he wrote that all doubt melted away, leaving him with a feeling of pure certainty. It could only be her—no one else. At least she’d get to see it in real time. Lucien paused just outside the marble pillars, head tilted toward the starry sky overhead. Somewhere just behind him, she heard a man’s voice call his name.

Lucien began to turn, halting when his gaze snagged on her. He was too far for her to truly read his facial expression which was half relief. Elain’s heart picked up in her chest, beating frantically as she stood there, watching her just as surely as she watched him. 

The insistent voice called for him again, drawing his attention back toward the cheerful flame of the interior of the palace. Only when Lucien’s back faced her did she exhale the breath she’d been holding. With Lucien gone, Elain could stay as she was, leaned against the marble.

The world felt different to her. Newer, somehow. Like a planet she’d never visited, a foreign world with foreign customs and people who looked like her but shared almost nothing in common with her. 

Elain knew she ought to go to bed rather than stand there and reflect. Turning, Elain might have gone, too, had she not heard a grunt of air followed by fingers gripping the railing and then an all-too familiar face.

“This is hardly dignified,” she said dryly and Lucien hoisted himself up onto the balcony, clearly pleased with himself.

“I have no dignity to speak of when I stand in your presence,” he said through a huff of labored air. 

“You smell like wine,” she complained as he righted himself, absurdly handsome in the moonlight. “Are you inebriated?”

He offered her an easy grin. “A little.”

“Go to bed.”

“Is that an invitation?” he questioned, stepping around her with more grace than a drunk man ought to have. Elain trailed behind, hands bunched at her sides as Lucien’s gaze swept over her room. They landed, predictably, on her mussed bed. “Can’t sleep?”

“Don’t you dare say whatever it is you’re thinking,” she warned, hating the creeping flush making its way up the back of her neck. 

Lucien glanced over at her. “I wouldn’t dare.”

She was certain he would, though, if he thought he could get away with it. Instead, Lucien plopped onto the bed she’d recently vacated, stretching his long, muscular body across the sheets. Elain remained on her feet, more nervous than she’d ever been in her life. Even when Graysen had pressed her for sex, agreeing to turn off the lights and that she could keep her shirt on, if she wanted. Unlike Graysen, Lucien was the sort of man lost to history. He exuded something far beyond confidence—some word Elain didn’t know in any language, couldn’t describe but could certainly feel. Pinned beneath his gaze, she thought if he told her to strip herself naked so he could merely look, she’d have done it.

“The man you were bound to. How did that come about?” Lucien asked, plucking at some invisible piece of dust from the bed. 

“Are you asking me about courtship?” she asked, genuinely confused.

 Lucien’s eyes brightened. “Courtship,” he repeated, the word strange in his voice. “Yes. Explain it to me.”

“It’s not much different from what you have here,” she lied, because dating seemed impossible to explain. “We met and he…brought me gifts? Took me places?”

“And your father? He arranged the match?”

God, no. Elain tried to imagine her father arranging husbands for her, Nesta, and Elain. “He’s dead, remember?”

Lucien’s face blanched. “My apologies. Who arranged it?”

“I did.”

There was another long pause. “You?”

There was no missing her indignation. Lucien threw up his palms as she crossed her arms over her chest, frustrated that she couldn’t just explain the customs and culture of her own time period. He didn’t understand, had grown up in a vastly different world where women were little more than cattle. He might value her—might care about her opinion—but he’d never fully grasp the idea that Elain made every decision for herself, male relative be damned. 

“Yes, me,” she hissed. 

“Of course,” Lucien agreed, clearly deciding this was not a fight he wanted to pick. Illuminated in the golden glow of the dying lamps, he pressed on. “This courtship…how long did it take?”

“Eight years,” Elain said with a relish, delighting in Lucien’s confusion. He was clearly trying to do some math in his mind to figure out her age, as well as his own internal misunderstanding. 

“So you don’t love him.”

“I—”

 Elain stopped, the words caught in her throat. A triumphant smile slid over Lucien’s features as he sat up fully again so he could cross the room to see her. She knew what she’d been about to say.

I don’t.

It was the second thought, pushed right behind instinct, that screamed yes you do! You do love him! She didn’t have to lie, here. Elain didn’t have to pretend, here in the ancient world, that she wanted the future Graysen was offering. Maybe she had, once—but not anymore.

It was strangely freeing to admit it to herself. As Lucien approached, Elain only barely paid him any attention, her own internal triumph far more interesting. Whispering, she said, “I don’t love him,” to herself. As if it would matter in this place where love was a nice thing to find, but unnecessary to marriage itself. 

Elain’s gaze snapped upward as Lucien reached for a strand of her hair. Lifting it to his nose, the Emperor himself inhaled the scent, eyes burning. Oh, she thought, heart racing again. Oh no. 

“Alis propriis volat,” he murmured, unaware of how her stomach flipped violently at the words. “Is that what you want, Helena? Jewels? Lovely things?”

“I—” Elain couldn’t move, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. What did he say? “What did you call me?”

Lucien dropped the strand of her hair, adjusted the shoulder of his toga, and turned for the door. “Helena,” he repeated without a look backward. “The people will demand a Roman, and so I’ve made you one.”

“You…”

“Rest,” he ordered, unlocking her door. “We’ll see more of each other in the morning. Let me show you how a Roman does courtship.”

And then he was gone, leaving Elain in the encroaching dark with only one word echoing through her mind.

Helena.

Fuck.

—-

I saw her eyes, bright as stars—the only bright thing amid the dark and I knew. 

Lucien was in a good mood. He’d seen Elain in a nightdress, which had been enough to fuel several lurid fantasies he’d tell her about once she was in his bed. Afterward, once he was spent and his skin cleaned of sweat and smoke, he slept better than he had in years. Certainly since he’d been named Emperor. It felt like at least one thing might work out for him amid the chaos that was the rest of his life. 

She wanted a courtship before she decided? Lucien wasn’t opposed, though it wasn’t common among [upper class what are they called??]. She’d betrayed herself in that moment as a plebian and Lucien simply did not care. He’d invent an entire lineage for her so he could make her his wife and he’d do it with a smile on his face. 

A nervous servant came stumbling into his office holding a wooden box of the item Lucien had ordered. Hairpins, encrusted with pearls, lay in the purple cushioned interior. He could picture them nestled among the wild, dark curls, shimmering iridescent in the bright sunlight. There were other pieces he was dreaming up, but those would take longer and he wanted to give her something that morning.

It wasn’t Elain who joined him for breakfast, but his older brother. Eris came in looking immaculate and yet exhausted at the same time. “Up late, brother?” Lucien asked as he rose from the chaise he’d been lounging on. 

“What is your plan for the barbarians?” Eris demanded. “I have compiled a list of every man in Britania who has not taken a wife. It was my thought—”

“They’ll remain in Rome,” Lucien interrupted, hackles raised. “I have thought about the blonde…Agrippina?”

“Arina,” Eris practically snarled. “What about her?”

“Sulla…what is he calling himself? Hibernicus imperator?”

Eris snorted. “He’s a friend to no one but the banks, let alone Hibernia.”

“He mentioned last evening he was looking for a wife…and like so many, finds himself entranced by the shade of her hair.”

Lucien was watching his brother carefully while pretending none of this was terribly interesting to him at all. Eris had nearly been married once—the woman in question had run off with another man before the ink could ever be placed to parchment and Eris had seemed relieved by the entire thing. Lucien was resolved to stay out of his brother's affairs…but something was going on.

Maybe he, too, was fascinated by Arina’s shade of blonde hair. 

There was a violence to Eris’s expression that Lucien found fascinating, though he remained as he was. “Are we agreed?” Lucien asked, drumming his fingers against his desk. He knew they weren’t—knew that Eris was going to wreck this somehow, someway. It interested him to watch, given how controlled Eris typically was. 

“Fine,” Eris said dismissively, just as Lucien hoped he might. Nothing would entertain him more than watching what Eris might do next. Lucien had no intention of extending a sincere offer to Hybern, who was supposed to be courting a different bride, besides. 

“Tell me about the provinces,” he said as more of his advisors began trickling in, holding rolled pieces of parchment that held the figures of the empire. As Lucien ticked slots on his own sheet of parchment, he let out a small sigh of relief. Things could  be worse.

They could be better, of course—they always could be—but he had money to pay his soldiers, to repair crucial infrastructure and most importantly, to host his games without worrying it would empty his coffers. Lucien intended to ensure everyone was able to eat something, which would engender the good will of all his people. To a Roman like Lucien, ensuring his military was happy came above all else, but right beneath and nearly as important was the love of his people. If they turned on him, no amount of military control would save him.

One only had to look at how thoroughly Nero had been buried to know that. Too many vanity projects had been the downfall of Nero—Lucien would need to be more careful and ensure his legacy was more than just gold plated halls and fucking his way through the patricians. 

Which, of course, turned his thoughts back to Elain. There was something about her—something that felt more akin to magic, that seemed strange and exciting all at once. It was more than just her ethereal beauty, though Lucien wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t drawn to her for that, either. When she looked at him, he swore she saw through him, those brown eyes cutting through flesh to find the bone. 

What did she know about him, he wondered? What had she discerned since she’d arrived? Lucien wanted to rise from his chair and find her, but business needed to come before women. If his father had learned that lesson, perhaps he would have been Emperor rather than Beron. 

There was talk of the provinces and letters read from the presiding governors who both swore their allegiance to Lucien while offering slimy congratulations and informed him of the politics happening within their borders.

There had been little raiding, which was always a blessing from the gods. Lucien didn’t want to find his first month plagued by barbarians looking for weakness or ship off his soldiers before they got to participate in his circus. 

Clapping his hands together as the sun rose higher in the sky, Lucien offered everyone sweating in that overheated room a smile. “Enough talk,” he said, rising from his chair to stretch out his aching, stiff legs. “At least of business. Tell me about my games.” Smiles split the faces of the once severe politicians, patricians, and generals. Everyone liked a good celebration—or any excuse to get a little too drunk. 

“Emperor,” Hybern stood, dark eyes gleaming with what Lucien wanted to believe was mischief, but was likely something dark, “I had the most inspiring idea.”

Lucien wasn’t unwilling. “Tell me.”

Tracking Elain down was harder than Lucien anticipated. It was a particularly hot day, leaving sweat to slide down his spine. He knew he ought to cut his hair, if only to get it off the nape of his neck. Make himself a proper Roman. The idea, typically revolting, suddenly had merit as he stepped into the steaming heat. All he wanted to do was see her and talk to her. 

And of course she was nowhere in the palace. Lucien accosted several servants before he learned she and Arina had been asking about the stables before they’d been pointed toward the city. If he told his brother, Lucien knew Eris would immediately assume the worst. In truth, he was a little uneasy about the queries. 

Where did they want to go? Stalking through the city, Lucien’s mind turned over the possibility that Eris was right—that they had nefarious goals and he’d been blinded by Elain’s beauty to truly notice. He knew some barbarian societies utilized women as warriors and leaders…did they also utilize them as spies?

Surely.

Lucien was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he was practically on top of Elain until he half tripped into her. She stood in front of a stall, arms crossed over her chest as her friend, Arina, argued in loud Latin with the vendor. 

“Two denarii is absolute theft. You can take—”

The vendor, catching sight of Lucien standing behind them, immediately averted his gaze and bowed his head, which caused Elain to turn first. Her cheeks, warmed by the hot Roman sun, seemed to pale when she saw him. Arina, however, merely arched her brow before turning on him.

“We’re being cheated by a vendor.”

“I’ll pay,” he said, well aware it was his coins jingling in their pockets anyway. Some of Arina’s fire seemed to extinguish, though Lucien knew she didn’t like that he’d swooped in the way he had. They were dressed like respectable women and oozed money—of course the vendor wasn’t going to negotiate with them. It lended weight to his belief that wherever they truly came from, women held much more power and sway than they did in Rome.

He was curious about all of it. Not suspicious enough, either, which he knew could hurt him. Women had toppled regimes in Rome just as they did everywhere else. It was just…looking at Elain, even as he handed over the denarii, Lucien didn’t believe she’d come here to harm him. Those eyes were too soft, the same color brown as a fawn's coat, her face shaped like a heart, her skin unblemished like polished marble save for the freckles that speckled along the bridge of her nose.

If she was a spy, her people had chosen well. Lucien simply did not want to believe she would betray him. 

The merchant handed over a pale yellow scarf to Arina, who immediately handed it to Elain. Biting her lower lip, Elain told him, “It’s for my hair.”

“Beautiful,” he murmured without meaning to. Then, remembering he’d come to question her, Lucien cleared his throat. “I’ve come to escort you back to the palace.”

“They send emperors for that, now?” Arina asked with a roll of her green eyes. He did believe she was a spy—she could have been a general if she’d been a man. “Lasciaci in pace, porca puttana.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

Elain sighed. “It’s nothing—she’s complaining about the heat.”

Lucien didn’t understand the harsh tones coming from Arina, but he knew an insult when he heard it. It was tempting to demand she tell him the truth and there was no way for Lucien to know for certain. Not without finding a translator, which was notoriously difficult. Most of the people he knew who spoke the local barbarian dialects lived within the provinces they governed rather than the capitol. He’d send an inquiry, he decided. Lucien had a knack for languages.

He led them through the noise and bustle of the city, watching from the corner of his eye as Elain replaced one scarf for another, expertly wrapping it around her hair and neck the way a Roman lady would. 

Once back inside the shade of the courtyard, Arina split off muttering in that language beneath her breath while Elain tried to keep from laughing.

“She’s insulting me, isn’t she?” Lucien asked, rounding on Elain so quickly she nearly stumbled into a fountain of Venus. The image was striking—the goddess of love in her red painted dress, head and hands tipped toward the sky and Elain, who might have been the real-life incarnation of her, sitting on the marble lip with wide eyes. 

“Of course,” Elain replied, wincing as she rose back to her feet. Lucien had offered her a hand which she politely declined, wiping non-existent dirt from her backside. “She doesn’t like men.”

“Oh,” he said. Eris would be devastated, but he supposed it made sense, if not…a little strange to consider. “I—”

“Not—not like that,” Elain said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She likes men, she just finds them to be very stupid.”

Lucien found her attraction to other women easier to understand. “But…men aren’t stupid.”

Elain blinked up at him, lips pressed in a thin line. “Of course not.”

“All of the greatest minds in the world are men,” he continued, certain she did not believe the words she said. 

“Because they’re allowed to have minds,” Elain snapped, stepping around him with burning cheeks. “While women maintain their homes and raise their children and ensure their every need is met so all they have to do is think and write.”

Lucien trailed after her, heart thudding in his chest. “It is what women enjoy doing.”

It was her turn to round on him, spinning so quickly a couple wild curls escaped the pins beneath her pallas. “Is that what they’ve told you? Or simply your belief?”

“Women cannot handle excitement,” Lucien snapped, frustrated with her. “It’s bad for their constitutions—”

Elain laughed, face tipped upward toward the skies and right then, Lucien truly believed he was in the presence of divinity. She was Venus, fiery and furious as she faced off with him. Who else but a goddess would dare to laugh in the face of an emperor? Lucien’s knees trembled for a moment, palms sweaty, as he wondered how best to show contrition. 

It felt sacreligious to touch her and still he did, grazing his fingertips over her jaw. “Why were you sent to me?”

Her angry laughter faded, eyes widening with fear. “I…” He watched as she swallowed, teeth worrying against her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

A better man would have promised to help send her back, but Lucien was not a better man. He wasn’t even a good man, because when Elain crept closer, placing her palm against his chest as she asked, “Will you help me get home?”

Lucien nodded his head. “I will.”

And he knew, when he left her in the palace, safe within his walls, what he intended to do. She had no father, no patron—no one to object to the document he drew up. He only required his signature, which he inked to parchment easily.

Lucien intended to keep her on mortal soil.

As his wife.

Arina:

“Congratulations on your impending nuptials.” Arina spun, stola tangling around her legs at the sound of Eris’s voice. She’d heard his words before she registered the angry glint in his eyes. 

“What marriage?” she demanded, fingers skimming over her ribs for a knife that wasn’t there. She’d tied it to her ankle, for all the good it did her at the moment—Eris stalked forward, dragging long shadows in the flickering candle light. Night was nearly upon them and she didn’t want to be seen alone with him. Didn’t want to be seen anywhere. She and Elain were in danger and

Arina knew it—the Emperor looked at Elain as though she were responsible for the very sun in the sky. Arina knew what that meant, knew that unlike back in modern Rome where men looked at Elain that way, too, that Elain had no say if Lucien decided to put her in his bed.

And she had no say if he sold her into a different marriage that separated them. 

“To Hybern,” Eris practically growled, reaching for her. Arina reared back, slapping at his fingers before he could touch her. Eris exhaled, clearly irritated. 

“No one told me about this.”

“Why would they? You are, after all, a simple woman—”

“Vaffanculo!” she hissed, slapping him so hard it made her palm sting. Arina hated Eris so much right then, more when he grabbed both her wrists and, with more force than was probably necessary, shoved her up against the marble wall, hands pinned over her head.

“I’m warning you,” Eris hissed, his breath wine-sweet against her face. “Hybern is a miserable bastard I wouldn’t wish on even a malefica like you.”

Arina struggled against his hold desperately but it was no use. He was battle hardened and strong, the calluses of his fingers scraping over the delicate skin of her wrist. “Why would you help me?”

His eyes glittered and oh, she shouldn’t have asked. He was jealous. He wished he’d been the one who’d been told to marry her, but couldn’t oppose the emperor. Unaware of what she knew—that he did marry and he was happier for it the way so many stupid men were. 

“You’re an ill omen,” he breathed, lowering his face closer, until there was merely a breath between her mouth and his. “You’ll destroy me if you stay.”

That wasn’t true, though there was no point in arguing with him, either. “What makes you think so?”

“I had a dream from the gods before you came,” Eris told her, amber eyes searching her own for some proof he was right. No matter that he’d probably been lost in his cups at the time and half hallucinating. “They warned me about a beautiful woman, they…”

“Help me, then,” Arina urged. “We just want to go home. Give us a horse and we’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”

Eris looked pained at the thought, his better sense warring with whatever he thought was going to happen between them. Nothing, she wanted to scream. She wasn’t staying in this shithole draped in ivory and gold to play second class to a man when she could do that back home surrounded by antibiotics and air conditioning. 

“Please,” she whispered, snapping Eris back to reality. He seemed to have realized what was happening and the position they were in.

“I’ll leave you two horses,” he murmured. “But if you get caught and brought back, do not look to me for help.”

“I wouldn’t look to you for anything, don’t worry,” she snapped, shoving him back. His words bothered her, for some reason, though Arina didn’t care to contemplate why. Eris’s face twisted with anger and quick as a viper, he reached for her hair to pull her face close to him again, neck inclined so she was looking directly at him.

“I want to hate you,” he said and she knew before their lips touched that he was going to kiss her. Men were painfully predictable, even in ancient history. They never quite graduated beyond pulling pigtails on the playground, unable to just admit they had feelings that made them uncomfortable. 

Just before they touched, Arina had been prepared to knee him roughly between the legs, well aware he wasn’t wearing anything beneath his long, purple embroidered tunic. But then…then. Oh. Arina had expected something gross but Eris’s mouth was soft even when the rough stubble of his cheek scraped against her chin. He smelled nice, like a warm day in Autumn. Even his fingers softened in her hair so his fingers could gently rub at her scalp.

It had been a while since she’d kissed a man, and longer still since that kiss had been interesting. Good. And tragically, for all his talk and stalking around, Eris was a good kisser. He tasted sweet like wine and his skin was sunwarmed despite the late hour.

She should have shoved him backward. Hit him across the face for good measure. Even when he released her wrists, Arina simply brought them to his neck, one hand circling the soft skin while the other moved up the nape of his neck to card through the short, auburn strands. Arina sighed against his mouth, giving him access just behind her teeth. Eris was many things, but he wasn’t a coward. Seizing the opportunity, Eris pushed her harder against the wall so he could press himself against her, letting her feel proof of his tainted want.

The gods had warned him about her. What did that mean? 

She forgot when his tongue swept against her own, eliciting a soft moan from her throat. Eris, too, groaned in pleasure at whatever it was he felt. Did lust streak through his body, too, settling between his legs like an unwelcome and unwanted guest? Arina would have let him drag her to bed—she’d slept with worse men, after all. If Eris had hauled her up into his arms, she would have let him, giving him one good night and a story she could hold on to long after she was back home. 

But Eris pulled back, eyes wild and hair mussed. He must have known they were in dangerous territory. A few seconds more and maybe he would have. “I don’t want to ever see you again,” he said before turning, his words a threat. Arina knew what would happen to her if she failed.

He’d marry her.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Ah hello! I'd seen your post that you were accepting requests and I was wondering if perhaps you could do a request with Azul or the twins having a mermaid friend they'd known since childhood come visit them one day and they realize that they're in love with them?

I really hope this isn't too much and that it follows your rules, if not then please feel free to ignore! I hope you have a wonderful day my dear and keep up the amazing work!!!

Azul Ashengrotto:

Being an eel merperson, you had quite the effect on Azul when you first met him. He was already being pestered by two other eels which left him in denial about the little crush he had on you. It was something that was quickly squashed as Azul thought it really was just admiration for how you boldly took what you wanted and took up as much space as you felt like without a care in the world. It did help that you didn’t tease him the same way the tweels did, separating you from them in his mind so he could start to view you in a more romantic life. You had a kindness within you that they didn’t, a quality Azul himself didn’t have which he valued in you to an extent. When you come to visit it truly does feel like things had never changed, the comfort you had around each other remaining and the banter freely flowing. Azul had gambled with becoming your friend and won, but was he really willing to risk it all because of this inherent need to keep you by his side? He wasn’t sure if that was a deal he could sign off on.  

Floyd Leech:

Being an octopus merperson, you had been a little shier when you were younger, perfectly brought out by a particular twin who couldn’t quite leave you alone. You had been scared that Floyd would tease you but there was a lack of animosity in his teasing remarks, something that had you feeling like you were on equal ground; you had no problem firing back when you had to. You had always swatted at him when he made comments about Azul which had worried the others at first, but the amused smile on Floyd’s face made him seem oddly happy about you striking back. The friendship was a little unexpected but it had proven to be long-lasting as you kept in contact with him even when he went away to NRC. He had whined often that he missed you and to just save up for the potion so you could visit him. Floyd doesn’t really question his newfound feelings for you as he never was one to disrupt his own flow, simply riding the wave and seeing where it would take him.

Jade Leech:

Being a shark merperson, you cut a rather intimidating figure and there weren’t many who willingly chose to befriend you. A life of solitude hadn’t mattered much to you until two insistent twins started bothering you, the less (outwardly) chaotic of the two proving as stubborn as a barnacle. You had begrudgingly accepted friendship at first but found the ocean was full of color when you viewed it alongside Jade. Jade, who was self-aware enough to know that the longing he felt wasn’t something he felt to just anyone, would be able ot properly prepare himself if he knew you were coming for a visit. But if you showed up suddenly as a surprise, in a human form he’d never seen before, there’s an unexpected typhoon of emotion that has him a little lost at sea. Neither Azul nor Floyd were used to seeing Jade go adrift like that, the twin ever prepared for most ‘surprises’ but it seemed you were one that his heart couldn’t account for.

[aquanova99]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕞

Azriel x OC

Part 3

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➽───────────────❥

Well, that was a dumb idea. Why? Why did she feel the need to do that? Callista’s brows furrowed as her body curled into itself. She hadn’t even asked the young woman if she could use her magic on her. She couldn’t stop looking at her eyes. Sad at the suggestion of flight, but no tears at the long since acceptance of her position, her fate. Callista had to remind herself that she didn’t know these people, she had to remember Azriel’s warnings. If they somehow found her home, would they try and exploit everyone’s gifts? Fight these wars everyone seems on edge about? Part of her was worried it was a dream, and when she woke up she would be back in Luminia, part of her was hopeful she didn’t put everyone at risk by leaving. The light shining through one of the windows caused her eyes to reflectively squeeze even tighter. She forced herself to breathe before trying to open them.

The second he heard her move Azriel was the side of the bed. His wings blocked out the light and her eyes fluttered open. “How long?”

“Why would you do that?” Azriel was suddenly unable to keep the composure he’d been holding in for the past day and a half. “How could you do that? I had no idea what was happening. Your wings—”

“Are fine now.” She sat up and extended them to show the colors back and vibrant as usual, “Now, how long was I out?”

Azriels lips formed a tight line, he forced himself to speak as calmly as he could through clenched teeth, “….About 36 hours.”

“Objectively… that isn’t too bad. I’ve had worse.” She stretched and yawned, still coming to terms about her location, “How’s Emerie?”

“How are you?? How did you do that? Why did you—”

“Fall?” Azriel nodded, “I can heal almost anything but depending on the severity of something it takes a bit of energy out of me. A broken bone…those are usually easily, because every bone is supposed to set in a certain way. But something like a wing, I had to connect the tendon that was snipped. It’s still there just severely damaged. Almost recreating it, then it requires more of me. I had to figure out a lot of things when that fire broke out… but I don’t know everything so a lot of healing depends on magic and what I want to achieve.”

She shrugged as if putting her life in danger was no big deal to her. “It sounds like it could kill you.”

“I guess it could. I just haven’t had to use it in awhile.” Azriels eyes seemed to shine with a fury, she couldn’t quite understand. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Can you heal yourself?” At this point everything was now an interrogation. He would not risk her risking her life again. A protectiveness he had never felt before took over his entire being. He had been crouched next to the bed staring slightly up at Callista as she sat up and answered every question. For a brief moment, he wondered if was pushing her, possibly hindering any healing she was supposed to undergo. His worry won over any possible hesitation. Callista placed her hand on his face ever so gently. Her scars like the roots of an old tree spread down her arms

“I’m fine. Truly.” She looks at the scars trailing down her arm and grimaces at the sight of them. She tries to pull her hand back but fails. Azriel’s hand holds hers in place, she’s been trying to avoid it, but she cant ignore the fury in his eyes.

“You will not do that again.”

…

“I’m serious Callista. That kind of ability could put you in serious danger. Promise me you wont do it again.”

So he wasn’t angry at her. He did have a point. She was being careless. She didn’t know these people, if one of them were put in a difficult situation its hard to say what information they would divulge. Worse, what if they didn’t break? How far would these people go? Would they put their lives on the line to protect a secret that had no need to be shared? Stupid. Her eyes stung as she thought about the danger she put everyone in. She could only nod at Azriel’s request. Shame coursed through her veins.

Azriel softened, he gently brought her hand down to her lap and clasped his other hand around it, “I’m sorry.”

“Why would you be sorry? It was wrong of me to do something like that without even asking. You’re right. I was being selfish. My people, you all…if something happened to you—”

“Me?” Azriel was shocked. He’d been certain he had frightened her by yelling. He had been worried but it was no excuse. Not after what she had done for Emerie. After what she may have risked just coming back with him. He sat next to her, still worried about possibly pushing her away. He wondered if he would ever get over that, still he was intrigued. Why would she be worried about him?

“Couldn’t you get into trouble? For hiding what I can do?”

“I suppose. Being able to avoid detection helps.”

“And your friends?” This got his attention, was she worried they would break? “if they got into trouble I would never forgive myself. And I doubt you would either…”

“You think I would blame you if something happen—”

“I think you would try not to. But emotions are not logical. I don’t suppose your high lord could erase memories.” She laughs regardless of how much she wishes it were so easy.

“He can actually. But none of us would accept that.” Azriel shrugs

“It could keep you safe.”

“…No.”

“No?”

“My dear, our court is hardly in anyone’s good graces. Your abilities wouldn’t be the first thing they would think to torture out of us.” He could immediately see the effect his words had on him. All he was doing was confirming her worst fears. “We’ll be fine, Callista.”

She turned to face him, trying to read his usual unreadable face, hopeful she would be able to tell if he was telling the truth. When she had first met him his face, his body both mentally and physically seemed pained. She now knew what had been on his mind when he pushed his body past exhaustion, but since that first day he’s seemed wary to give any emotion away on his face. Up until now, she had assumed he could care less one way or another about helping her out. Maybe coming back only to prove to himself he could do it, to do something no one had done before. But he seemed genuinely concerned, worried about her own safety over his own.

She could only nod, “How is she?”

“Emerie? She’s terrified. Thinks it’s a spell that will wear off, so she been waiting for you to get better. Make sure she doesn’t get her hopes up. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Everyone was waiting for them in the sitting room. Waiting to ask questions. “Please, sit.” Nesta gestured to a spot next to her, “How are you feeling?”

“Still regaining my energy, it seems. But fine. What would you like to know? Or should I start?”

“Please, go ahead. Better we don’t bombard you with endless questions.” Nesta continued

“I’ve been dealing with this kind of magic for a while. It’s permanent. It always takes some amount of energy but the bigger the issue the more it takes. I cannot heal something from nothing, so if you were to get your wings cut off I wouldn’t be able to make them grow back. Did I miss anything?” She ignores Emerie taking a deep breath

Cassian glances at Azriel who just shrugs. Emerie’s eyes begin to water. Gwyn rubs her back, “We told you.”

“Thank you…” She says through broken sobs.

“Actually, I apologize. I shouldn’t have made an assumption, even then I could have warned you. But I am glad it worked o—” Emery tackled her in a hug and kissed her cheek. Azriel stiffened and forced himself to remember Emerie was not a threat.

“Thank you.” She runs back to grab Nesta and Gwyn. They embrace her and Nesta squeezes Callistas shoulder before running off with her two sisters. All overjoyed to see Emery regain something they all knew had broken something deep inside her long ago. As far as Nesta was concerned, she was indebted to the newcomer.

“Take care of her Az!” Nesta waves as the girls run out the door. Azriel still stunned and conflicted at Emerie’s affection. Cassian tried to stifle the laugh building in his chest.

“Where are you planning on starting?” He asked his friend

“Maybe Dawn, or Summer Court?” Azriel offered

“I want to see where you’re from.” Callista hurried to explain herself as both men froze, “This training camp—it would be interesting to learn a new skill.”

“No.” Azriel couldn’t even begin to fathom her stepping foot there. Too dangerous. He was sure his kind would immediately flock to her. Try and get away with doing some of the worst things imaginable.

“Did you not say my people were unprepared for a fight? I should learn some techniques to take back.”

“Cassian could train you here. Emerie or Nesta could train you here. That camp is the worst part of Prythian.” The things they would do to you…he thought to himself. Callista shrugged in acceptance.

“End with Dawn.” Cassian interjected, “Get spring and fall out of the way. Don’t stick around too long.”

“You both worry too much. But I do want to thank you again for offering up your home.”

“We’ve heard you did the same.” Cassian smiled at Callista then turned serious, “You’re going to need to speak to Rhys soon enough. He is going to want to know how far your gift extends.”

A warning, Callista decided. She could feel Azriels eyes burning a hole in the back of her head. She decides to leave before starting another fracture between his friends, regardless of her opinion of them, they were still all Azriel knew. She nodded at Cassian, fluttering her wings just enough to reach his height and deliver a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you. I’m sure we will return by the days end.”

She ran back the second her feet touched the ground. Grabbing Azriels hand and squeezing it to let him know she was good to go. It only seemed to break his train of thought but he couldn’t help but smile as she beamed at him, he slightly nodded, “Ready?”

➽───────────────❥

She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand again. Her skin grew cold as the shadows enveloped her again. She wished she could see how it worked, but she trusted Azriel and didn’t dare break any trust in her. Before she could open her eyes again, she was overwhelmed with the floral perfumes surrounding her. She opened her eyes before Azriel needed to alert her that it was safe. Azriel had chosen a place most likely to be safe but they would not be able to stay here for long, relations with Tamlin and even the spring court were as tense as ever. He didn’t need to give Rhys another reason to worry further.

“What do you think?”

“Its beautiful…If I had your gift I would never stop looking for somewhere new to explore. Is that how you found this place?” She looked back at him, ready to inquire about this clearly secluded area. Flowers she could only imagine and dream of surrounded her, climbing up the trees. Whatever small lake the had arrived at seem clear and bottomless as it glimmered with some kind of magic. Any questions she had would have to wait, she looked at Azriel’s all too serious face. His posture was too similar to the way he seemed at dinner the first day she’d arrived. “Azriel?”

“What? Nothing. Everythings fine.”

“Well that’s good, but it isn’t what I asked.”

“I’m sorry. I must have been distracted. What?”

“I take it we cant stay here long?”

“Unfortunately, not. We aren’t exactly amicable with the spring court.”

“Why not?”

Azriel hesitates. Its not really his story to tell, besides it could get her in trouble if she meets the wrong people. Before he can say anything everything goes silent and his head snaps towards the direction he knows his friend will winnow from. He gets in front of Callista throwing her behind him. Rhys walks out unconcerned.

“Really?”

“What are you doing here?” Azriel spat out

“Besides the fact you shouldn’t risk being in here, I came to speak to your…friend.” He faces her with an expression made of stone, “I found what you came here for.”

Before Azriel could decode what he was talking about Callista stepped out from behind him, “You really must want me gone. Very well. Show me.”

“I assume I’ll see you back in the Night court then? Unless of course, you’d rather come with me?” He smirked, Azriel had never been so ready to fight someone he’d once considered one of his only friends. He felt his arm lift as Callista linked her arms with his.

“No. I’ll pass, thank you.”

Rhysand nods and disappears. Azriel tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. Why hadn’t he helped him before, those were months wasted when he could have been with…or rather could have helped Callista. He knew it was selfish, but he wasn’t ready for her to go. Since his time under the mountain Azriel knew the things Rhysand went through and was forced to comply with were unimaginable. So much so that any shift in his plans drove him crazy. Even more so now that Nyx was around. Everything had to go according to plan, if it didn’t it brought out a side he wasn’t sure he liked. No matter how much he empathized.

“You shouldn’t hold so much resentment for him. As poor as his judgement towards me may be, its clear he cares about you. He is trying to keep those he holds dear close.”

“So its alright he treats you this way?” Azriel shakes his head, “No. He should trust my judgement. I’ve never failed him, theres no reason—” Azriel is silenced by the feeling of her lips, ever light as a feather, graze his cheeks.

“I suppose you’ll have to show me around some other time. Come. We shouldn’t keep your brother waiting,”

Azriel blinks as he tries to regain his train of thought. He ends up only nodding and squeezing her hand tight and she smiles before closing her eyes.

➽───────────────❥

Azriel tries to not be instantly agitated at the sight of Rhysand sitting with his arms behind his head. As if there was nothing amiss. As if he couldn’t have given you this information months ago. He gestures to a book that looked as if it would crumble if it wasn’t handled properly. Callista warily approaches the ancient script. Azriel finally seems to notice that his hand was still intertwined with hers when she finally lets go to more carefully examine what Rhysand has offered her. He hates that he’s so bothered by the ease of which she let go. Has he always been so possessive over his friends? No, never like this. Never like her. She had ingrained herself into him, became a part of him he was terrified would disappear. That was the problem. It was difeerent this time. He could accept that he wasn’t enough for the other, hell he certainly would never be enough for her, but he couldn’t let her go. Not now. A small rational part of his brain told him to go slow. Be wary. He had only known her for a matter of days. Was that all it took to get him to not look back? Had he only latched onto her because he was desperate to have someone? Had he simply fallen for someone no one had any agency over? Was he willing to leave the people he had known his entire life for her? What if she rejected him as well? What would he do then?

Azriel cant make sense of the markings on the page but Callista studies every one intently. As he begins to worry  she turns to face him, feeling a kind of shift with shadows that encircle him. The two make eye contact only for a second before Azriel looks away, pain etched deep withing his eyes. Rhysand shifts in his seat and Azriel straightens up, he tells himself to get himself together. Whats one more rejection anyway?

“Find what you’re looking for?” Rhysand asks

“I—I don’t know.”

“Only one way to find out.” He shrugs

“I suppose you’re right… Azriel?” He can only dread whats coming, “You’ll have to forgive me. You’ll have to show me around another time.”

“Whenever you wish.” He smiles and bows his head, “Shall we head back?”

“I will be taking her Az. You’ve done enough traveling?”

“Really?” Callista interjects before Azriel can protest, “I’m surprised you’d be willing to leave your family for so long. And unprotected as well. I’m honored. Do you know where you’re going? Wouldn’t want you to be unable to make it back if the spell doesn’t work.”

“I—”

“Don’t be ridiculous Callista, Azriel can take you. Cant he Rhys?” Feyre steps in and sits on the high lord’s lap who can only take a deep breath and relent. He waves Azriel off, and he nods his head for Callista to follow. He wanted to talk to her before they left. She followed him all the way back to the house of wind.

“So…those markings…they’ll help?”

“Ancient runes, I’ve studied some from the books back home.”

“You remember everything?”

She pulls out her left hand, markings decorating her arm in gold. “If I can figure out how to pronounce everything correctly, I should be able to make it work. Hopefully, Tommin and the rest of the elders aren’t too mad to where they wont help.”

“I think with enough support they’ll whether they want things to change or not.”

“hm. Are you alright?”

“Why would I not be?” Azriel asked

“Well, you didn’t exactly need to bring me all the way here to have that conversation. What is it?”

“I—”

“Azriel?” She places her hand on his shoulder and every worry threatens to spill out

“What happens if this works?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will you explore what you can, with them? Or would you…”

“Come back?”

Azriel finally looks at her eyes, “Could you?”

“Would you want me to?” She smiles, Azriel shakes his head chuckling. What was happening? He had never had any issues with anyone. Not at Rita’s, not anywhere, even with Mor as painful as it was he had no difficulty flirting back. But here he was, tongue tied for seemingly the millionth time.

“I—” Azriel looks up and runs his hand through his hair sighing at how complicated this was all getting, “Of course I would.”

“Hmm. And would you want to come back here?” Because frankly you seem miserable, she though to herself. “Are you happy here?”

“I have a duty here.”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question…” She tilts her head as she considers his words for a moment more, “Well, I suppose it does actually.”

His name on her lips unsettled him. No one called him by his full name around here. And she said with so much…kindness. Wait, he froze, what exactly did she he was letting her down. Did she mean when she said she understood, he himself didn’t understand what he wanted yet. What he wanted…

“Azriel…” He flinches at her touch, her fingers delicately trace her eyebrows, her hand gently rests on his face, “You really ought to stop worrying so much. If you want to talk you know I’m here. You are free to speak and ask whatever it is that’s worrying you.”

“Stay with me.” He finally says, grasping her hand and finally staring her in the eyes. Afraid to hear her answer but needing to get everything out, “I dont care where you want to go, but stay with me. I know you don’t know me. Not really but—”

Both hands now cup his face as she looks up. Her wings flutter ever so slightly and he feels her lips press against him once more, but the intention feels different. She purposely kisses him in the corner of his mouth, letting him decide whether or not he’d rather push it any further. She lingered for a few seconds, and then whispered, “You still owe me a tour if I remember correctly.”

She floats down, “I don’t plan on traveling alone anytime soon, what fun would that be?”

Azriel looks down at her smirk, her almost all knowing smirk. If she had any idea how he was entirely at her command. He would travel the ends of the universe for the smallest request. He was completely wrapped around her finger. He couldn’t deny it any longer. He needed her. Her company, her presence, her light. A balance to the darkness he seemed to carry around him constantly. She never pushed, and yet he felt like she was the only one that would understand. He grabs her face and kisses her as deeply as he can and hopes he can convey even a fraction of what he’s feeling. Its only when they both need to breath that they step back.

Azriel clears his throat, “Lets get going then, there so much I want you to see. And I can’t wait to get started.”

➽───────────────❥

She nods and grabs his hand. She closes her eyes and waits for the chill to pass. Every trip was exhilarating, literally breathtaking. She would never not be amazed by this ability, amazed and saddened. Calista wondered if he ever thought back to the times he had been scared of the darkness before it embraced, or if it ever still brought him a wave of sadness as he remembered exactly what brought this gift.

“This is wrong.” Azriels words force her eyes open

Callista immediately sees what he is referring to. The trees once green and lush looked dull. As if the life was being sucked out of them. And it was silent. Eerily silent. Callista felt her stomach harden.

“Where—”

Azriel shook his head, he is only whispering to himself but Callista wont accept what comes out of his mouth, “There’s only one?”

Callista refuses to believe it, she releases his hand and begins flitting to and from several different houses. She calls out names getting increasingly more panicked. Her home she once knew like the back of her hand seemed foreign to her now. Azriel could feel the pain in her voice but he was frozen, he caused this, he was sure of it. He should have never returned. No, that isn’t right, maybe he should have waited to hear the Elder’s concerns, pressed for more information. Likewise, Callista knew her absence had something to do with this.

“Azriel!!” She looked to him pleading, he seemed terrified, still he knew exactly what she was asking for, he point in a direction. This person would surely have some answers. Deeper in the woods, closer to the forest floor. Callista dashed off and Azriel snapped out of it enough to follow her. She breathed a sigh of relief when the elder who had protested when Azriel had first returned appeared. But Azriel noticed his aging immediately, Callista was so excited to see anyone she rushed and hugged him. The old man did not return the gesture. “Tommin.”

“So. You finally decided to come back.” He grunts and steps back. Callista seems taken aback by his attitude and finally realizing how different he appeared.

“How long?”

“Several hundred years if I am counting correctly.”

“What? That’s impossible, every other time was maybe a few years at most.”

“Because we had so many returning visitors before that young man. Anyhow, I’m sure you have questions. We don’t have much time.”

Callista shakes her head, refusing to accept what was plain to see. Azriel can only hope its one of two options, “But where is everyone?”

The old man, chuckles. As if he’s been waiting to deliver what hes about to say for years. As if it would make all of it okay…

“Oh child, they’re all long gone.”

➽───────────────❥

Taglist: @bubybubsters @mich0731 @azziessidehoe @cleverzonkwombatsludge @nightless @thelov3lybookworm @kemillyfreitas

[foolish-spectre]

Preparing for a New Life (A HomeGoods Adventure)

Pairing: Astarion Ancunin x Gender Neutral!Reader/Tav (Modern!AU)

Content Warnings: none (this is just fluff, other than some jokes and banter)

Word Count: 530

Characters: Astarion Ancunin (Do you really need anyone else?, Modern AU!, so no D&D stuff unfortunately :< but it's up to you if you think he's still a vampire or just albino lol)

A/N: This was actually the very first time I wrote Astarion, all the way back in August, I actually wrote most of this while in line at a Homegoods, but I didn't post it until now because I was unsure if it was up to snuff, but look at me now running an Astarion ask blog and investing over 175+ hours in BG3 hahahhahahahah, but I figured that since it's Halloween that I should post this! anyways happy Halloween and enjoy!

Astarion’s nose scrunched up in disgust at the foul thing he was holding in his hand. With its gaudy coloring, itchy texture, and the most egregious thing about it... the damn thing’s smile looking at him. He scoffed and called out to you, “Look at this abomination, they couldn’t even get the colors right.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Astarion come on, it’s just trying its best. Besides, it is going to be Halloween soon, let’s get in the spirit of things!” 

The pale man clicked his tongue and it looked like he was going to throw the ghost candle onto the floor until you glared at him. He sighed and placed the candle back onto the shelf but not before flicking it down. 

“What am I going to do with you, Astarion?”

“Divorce me?”

You took way too long to rebuke his statement for his liking. 

“My sweet, I was kidding! Besides, I'm the best thing that’s happened to you, aren’t I?” 

Your stoic face broke into laughter as Astarion reminded you of your proposal with pleading eyes. 

“Oh you silly silly man, of course I’m not going to divorce you.” 

Astarion wrapped his arms around your shoulders and hung off of you, “Of course not! Who would reject the likes of someone as beautiful as me?” 

Giggles erupted out of you, “Yeah yeah, I want to show the world my beautiful husband.” 

Astarion’s eyes widened as his grasp on you tightened, “You’re such a tease, darling. Besides, I'd never let you get rid of me.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, besides who else is going to decorate our home?" 

“Of course not you, my love. I adore you but your taste is terrible. If I let you decorate our home to your liking, it would be disastrous!” 

You lightly punched his elbow. 

Astarion dramatically flailed about, “First, you threaten to leave me now you injure me?! How horrible, what did I ever do to deserve this from my beloved!” 

You stuck out your tongue, “Oh please, you love me and you know it~” 

“Unfortunately yes, I am indubitably in love with you. Although sometimes I regret having my heart in your hands.” 

“Yeah because, I’ll throw it on the ground like that candle.” 

“Perish the thought!” 

“I'm kidding , I'm kidding, I can't help but tease my delicate, silly man.” 

Astarion huffed a bit before giving you a kiss on the temple, “Fine, I’ll only allow you the privilege. Besides we need to finish shopping, I don’t want to sleep on anything less than the finest sheets.” 

You gave me a kiss on the cheek, “Of course. I can’t wait to go back to our house.” 

Astarion hummed along as he perused the aisles with you, not too far behind, pushing the cart full of home decor. 

Finally, when you were about to reach the checkout line, you noticed the same ghost candle that Astarion threatened to end the life of. A smile spread across your face as you took it and put it in the cart. Astarion didn’t say anything when he saw it displayed on the mantle instead he was going to punish you later with a smile.

[jellyfosh]

throwback of who’s most likely to draw but w/ lore in making + Chosen n Mango’s relationship.

I remember when I was making this. I got little creative and took it to a deeper-ish level. For all four. Midas/Mike (owner is @yennasun), Navy, Dark and Chosen. Having their scars drawn with flowers, basically the “you drew stars on my scars kind”

It took me forever to find the flowers that matches them. Warning : Prepare for a lot of reading cause lots of text. Sorry in advance Q w Q

V

Midas - When I was looking up for flowers. I thought the Lotus flower would be the best to define Midas in R.S AU, given to his past and what he went through over the years. - Not wanting to leave just one, I remember the flowers that grew commonly in my old high school The Forget-Me-Not flowers. And fit to describing of Rooney, Midas’ old mentor n possible close as family growing up. - Coming to flower placement. If I covered his scars entirely, Midas will look like a walking Picasso. So I did this or in this scenario, Mango did this. His scars on the right side act vines for the Forget-Me-Not for “Each Scar holds a memory” while the Lotus is “Rising from the ashes” coming from the left of his scars.

Navy - originally I was going for an Orchid symbolism and meaning, but the Camellia flower caught my attention. Mainly it was the longing part, this connects to the AU of Redemption Squad between Orchid and Navy. - Magnolia although is the name of the flower, Magnolia was someone dear to him before he met Orchid. No known information of this person yet. - Because his scar was too big to be covered up. Mango decided to turn his scar into something that complements the flowers- by making it look like a pond.

Dark - The meaning behind the black roses, supposedly my way of saying how Dark sees in Chosen/Zen- including Chosen’s character. The romance dialogue describes how much Dark means to Chosen. - Of course I wouldn’t wanna leave out Charlotte. - He was pretty much my easiest part to draw, cause i already thought out that his flowers would be the Black Roses and the color looks good on him.

Chosen - It was tricky to find flowers that best describes Dark. The iconic flower i went was the Spider Lily because- I couldn’t let that pass. It was the best description of Dark honestly- and I wanted to add something more by putting the spiritual meaning to Japan and China (I looked up) and said it lead to reincarnation. As that fits to the character I put in for Dark. - The Peacock Flower describes how Chosen sees in Dark. Energetic, very lively. And it connects to his story, overall it shows of Dark’s second chance of living his life.

Then I went back to this while making.

I wondered how Chosen felt when his scars were being painted. Given to his past and actions he had done in his villain rampage. The fires, the deaths, the begging and screams, everyone being afraid to death by him. In the showdown, while fighting Dark- a part of him thinking that he deserved this - knowing he was the reason it all happened. And here he is, sitting down and letting Mango paint all over his scars.

As it was stated here in the bio of the two. Chosen becomes cautious around Mango who wants Chosen to be comfortable around him. This isn’t because Chosen is afraid of someone- It ended to be misunderstanding. Chosen was afraid of himself, overthinking that one day he might accidentally hurt Mango. While I was making Mango’s character. Despite seeing him as a powerful stick who nearly took down Minecraft/herobrine/the mobs and ruled over the piglins - and being also the King thing. He’s no different than a normal stick figure civilian. Not born as an abnormal or created by animators/creators. Sooo Think of it like a (S)trongest afraid of hurting (W) x (W)eakest not afraid of (S) dynamic. - It’s still working, it’ll work out.

I rlly wanted to say this, I like putting out Lore but not fully XD

[yelena-bellova]

The First You - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Plot: Soldiers don’t start out scarred, there was softness once where bitterness now lives.

Word Count: 753

Warnings: one curse word, too angsty to be fluff, lil’ spoon Joel

A/N: Had zero intention for writing anything TLOU related, seeing as I have zero knowledge of it…but fucking Joel Miller’s living in my brain so I figured I’d put it to good use. Wrote this in about 30 minutes, might delete this in the morning depending on how I feel.

————————

The ache in my bones belonged to someone older.

I considered the pointless thought as I turned my key in the door, rubbing my shoulder with my free hand. Double shifts were going to permanently alter my posture. But the longer I worked, the less time I had to think about how everything around me had gone to complete and utter shit.

The smell of whiskey permeated my senses as soon as I entered. A sign that things had been particularly bad today. Usually he’d wait for me to being drowning our memories. I swiped my finger across the kitchen table, picking up a stray morsel of a pill. Something had triggered this.

I almost didn’t want to look across to the bed, knowing what I’d see. In a world where everyone was at their peak point of suffering, he somehow made mine worse. The knots in my stomach, the pain in my chest, the fear lighting up every one of my nerves. Was love supposed to feel like this? Or had the Cordyceps infected that too?

Working up the strength, I turned around and saw Joel, in a dead sleep that couldn’t be achieved without chemical aide. I took calculated steps, avoiding the floorboards I knew creaked. Getting a closer look, I waited for the worry wrinkles in his forehead to disappear. People were supposed to find peace when they slept. Or maybe they were twenty years ago. Joel looked as hardened as he was when he was conscious.

Twenty years. Joel didn’t speak of his life straightforwardly. It happened more in passing and involuntarily. His knowledge of construction came out when we’d slip in and out through the skeleton of a building. His love of music peeked its head out when a signal would come through the radio. His foot would let out a single tap. Never more. And I’d figured out what food he’d liked by which meals he ate the quickest. Decoding him was both a hobby and a religion.

I sat down on the bed, biting back a groan as my muscles screamed. Working extra was good in the moment, horrible in the long run. I felt Joel stir behind me and as quick as I could, which wasn’t very fast at all, I gently rolled him onto his side. He was so far gone, he didn’t fight at all. The pills were in full effect.

I wrapped an arm around him, taking in the warmth of his body. His frame was solid, developed from years of manual labor and later, brutal confrontations. His clothes smelled of sweat and smoke, telling where he’d worked in the afternoon. I wiggled up on the bed and pressed my nose to the back of his neck, searching out any part that just smelled like him. As soon as our skin touched, I felt Joel shift his arm to sleepily grab my hand. That was the catalyst to let my thoughts wander all the places I stayed away from…

Had he slept in on Saturday mornings? Did he watch football? Were the Cowboys his team? Had he ever wanted to see the world, or was Austin enough for him? What games did he and Tommy play as kids? What was his favorite color? Had he celebrated his birthday, or gruffly brushed it off? What kind of guy was he in high school?

What kind of father had he been? Had he played Barbies? Attended tea parties? Painted a bedroom pink? Made pancakes into shapes? Watched weekend cartoons? Eyed any boy that looked his daughter’s way?

What kind of partner had he been? Was he romantic? Spontaneous? Did he do the whole candlelit dinner thing or had he liked cooking at home? Had his kisses once been soft and tender? Had he taken his time instead of urgent because how much time could truly be left? Did he like to go dancing or did he just randomly grab his girl’s waist and sway in the kitchen? Did his brown eyes light up when his love entered the room? Had they ever been filled with anything other than pain deep enough to have put down permanent roots in his heart?

Who was the man I could have had?

It didn’t matter, I told myself as a tear fell, it really didn’t. I’d have taken Joel any way I could have him. His strength, his resilience, his heart…I wanted it all. But that didn’t stop my heart from knowing he deserved better. We deserved better.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Pomegranate Ink: XXXIV

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: Some days after Sukuna’s defeat, you wake up.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: i can’t believe this is truly the final chapter

You weren’t sure how long you dreamt for. The scenes you were shown were random, an assortment of the things you had lived through, but in no particular order. Many of them were about Yuta, or were memories featuring him — whether this was because he was generally there for the most important events of your life, or because he himself was the most important thing in your life, you did not know. Some of them were things you had not even experienced: a woman being eaten alive but spitting in defiance at her tormentor anyways, another woman embracing a tall, dark-haired man in the rain as she cried, and a girl with golden hair drinking someone’s poisoned blood-like-pomegranates, signing a contract she was not even aware had been written.

When you opened your eyes, you were lying in a hospital bed, the last remnants of your hazy sleep fading in the face of the bright gold sunlight streaming through the glass-paned window. The room was sterile, as most hospital rooms tended to be, but on your bedside table was a pot of blue irises, the colorful petals brightening up the otherwise-white space.

“Am I dead?” you said, sitting up, your voice rough from disuse. You were not alone in the room; Maki was dozing off in a chair beside you, and this made you frown. If you were dead, that meant she was, too, and you hadn’t wanted that to happen. You had sacrificed yourself so that she and the others didn’t have to. Had it been for nothing?

Maki woke up with a start, scrambling to her feet as soon as she heard your voice. She stared at you for a second, and then her eyes filled with tears and she was wrapping her arms around you so snugly that you actually coughed from the pressure. Something wet and warm dripped onto your shoulder, and you realized she was sobbing as she hugged you, pressing her face against the crook of your neck.

“No,” she choked out. “You’re alive. Stupid, stupid Y/N…you’re alive.”

“I thought for sure I’d died, though,” you said with a small frown. “Did I really grow so weak that I couldn’t even manage that? Well, I guess it’s not important. Where are the others? What about Sukuna?”

“Everyone else is as fine as you could expect,” she said. “And Sukuna is gone.”

Sukuna was gone. They had figured out some way to do it, some way to defeat him. The creature who took and took and took — you were finally free from his all-consuming grasp. You were all finally free. At least, those of you who were left to enjoy it were.

“That’s good,” you said. “Does that mean Megumi—?”

“Yes,” Maki said, looking at the ground. You swallowed but nodded.

“How is Gojo?” you said, daring to hope for just that one second. She gave you a pitying look, and you knew even before she said it what her answer would be. You closed your eyes, waiting to hear it from her mouth.

“You’re the prodigy with Composition,” Maki said. “If you couldn’t bring him back, that means no one else could, either. He’s really gone.”

You pushed aside your grief, knowing that the time to mourn would come, but not yet. There was still something you had to know, someone you had yet to ask about.

“Where is Yuta?” you said. It was odd that you were in a hospital room and he wasn’t by your side, but you refused to think about what that could mean.

“He’s…” Maki trailed off, lost for words.

“No,” you said, cold washing over you. Her eyes widened as she realized what she was saying, and she immediately shook her head.

“It’s not like that! He’s alive.” she said. “He’s just in one of the hospital rooms.”

“You should’ve said so,” you said. “As long as he’s alive, it’s fine.”

“Yes, he is, but he’s been resting recently,” Maki said.

“Resting? Why?” you said. As the special grade sorcerer with the most cursed energy and a Reverse Cursed Technique of his own, such prolonged rest was generally beneath Yuta, who recovered almost instantly. Although you were glad he was taking a moment to relax, it was out of character enough for him that it confused you.

“Y/N,” Maki said with a sigh. “Yuta is — he’s not — he’s not exactly okay, just because he’s not dead.”

You threw your blankets aside without waiting for further explanation, sliding to the floor without even bothering to put your shoes on, your hospital gown fluttering around your bare legs as you sprinted out of the room. Maki shouted in protest behind you, but you ignored her, running through the hallways of the hospital ward with only one thing on your mind.

“Yuta!” you shouted as you ran. “Yuta!”

At the end of the hall, a door slammed open, and Yuta, also clad in a hospital gown, sans even a pair of slippers, stumbled out. He was unsteady on his feet, walking with an uncharacteristic gingerness, but when he saw you, his face lit up and he began running towards you.

“Y/N!” he said, opening his arms as you collided into one another, his frail limbs fitting around you as securely as if they had been made to be there. You held onto him, your breaths falling into sync, your heartbeats in tandem as he kissed your neck, your cheeks, your temples and forehead over and over like he was in disbelief that you were real.

“Are you okay?” you said. “Maki was insinuating that something had happened, but you seem fine. What’s wrong?”

“I’m the one who should be asking that,” he said, stroking your hair. “You’re the one who died.”

“Died?” you said. “But Maki said I’m alive.”

“You are,” he said. “Because I brought you back.”

It was the same story again. You thought Yuta had been the Heian Era Y/N and you had been her husband, the nameless one whose only claim to fame was bringing her back to life after she died against Sukuna, but it wasn’t the case. You were Y/N. He was the original L/N, the one who loved someone so much he could not bear to live without them.

“How?” you said. “You don’t have Composition, so how did you manage that?”

“The words ‘I love you,’” he said. “By refusing to say them out of a fear of cursing you, I made a Binding Vow with myself. All of my cursed energy got concentrated into that phrase, and so when I finally did say it, I was able to funnel every bit into healing you.”

“What does that mean, though?” you said. “If you used all of your cursed energy to heal me, then—?”

“I have none left,” he completed. “I’m a normal person now, Y/N. Your life for my sorcery; to be sure, it was an easy decision to make.”

Yuta was a normal person. Special grade sorcerer, Yuta Okkotsu, was a normal person. You cradled his face in your hands, brushing your lips against his, delicately, softy, afraid you’d break him now that he didn’t have his typical strength. But he grabbed the back of your head, crushing you to him, kissing you like he wanted to meld with you into one person, like he never wanted to be separated from you again.

“You’re in danger now,” you said, pulling away and panting, placing your hands on his shoulders for support. “Without any cursed energy, you’re in danger now, right?”

“From who?” he said, lips parted as he regained his breath. “Kenjaku and Sukuna are gone. And since there are no more special grade sorcerers left in the world, the few remaining curses are extraordinarily weak. We’ll get rid of them soon, and then there won’t be anything endangering us.”

A world without curses. It sounded like a fairytale, a utopian possibility that couldn’t occur for many years, but to hear Yuta tell it, it was something that was happening now. Something which you would get to see in your lifetime.

A world where you could all go to university together and have normal jobs that didn’t require you to risk your lives. A world where your only farewells would be borne of distance and not death. That kind of a world…was it really something that you might one day know?

You weren’t sure. For the moment, though, you decided not to worry about that. The future would always be uncertain, after all. But you had Yuta. No matter what, in some way, shape, or form, you had him, as he had you.

“Don’t let go,” he said when you tried to step away. There were things to be done, after all, others to meet, a funeral to plan — funerals to plan, actually, considering just how many people were gone now.

But, then again, all of that could be done later, too.

“Okay,” you said. “Not yet. Not today.”

“Not anymore. Not ever,” he insisted. And because you both had spent so much time apart, because you had died for him and he had died for you, because neither of you had to say goodbye anymore, you only smiled slightly.

“Yes,” you agreed. “I won’t let go of you, Yuta. Not anymore. Not ever.”

So, as the sun shone down the hallway and the sweet smell of irises filled the air, the two of you clung to each other tighter.

closing thoughts: i would like to thank everyone who was supported me with this story. whether by leaving a comment (or comments), sending me an ask (or asks), liking, reblogging, or even just silently reading, each of you are the reason i was able to finish this fic. there were definitely some ups and downs in terms of how consistently i posted, but i managed to get the whole thing done before the official two year anniversary HAHA so i count it as a win.

i never thought that this story was going to get so long, but it is my first to be over 200k words, which i think is crazy. in that many words and the time that i’ve been writing the characters of pomegranate ink, i’ve grown attached to them, and seeing everyone be as invested in the story as i am always makes me smile a little bit. i will miss writing the crew’s (mis)adventures, inside jokes, and various relationships, but i am glad i got to do so for as long as i did.

thank you all again for reading and watching y/n, yuta, and co. come into their own with me 🫶🏻 it has been a pleasure and i hope to see you again on one of my other stories ❤️

[mylittlediarys-stuff]

Bite Back Part 4

Link to part 5: https://www.tumblr.com/mylittlediarys-stuff/740736906727424000/bite-back-part-5?source=share

By the time she woke up, it was already dark outside and quiet. She guessed that Alfred put her in her room probably with the help of someone else. 

What would I do without him?

She slowly made her way out of her bed, then grabbed her glasses off her desk. She put on her glasses to make her way to her bathroom. Due to previous experiences she learned that not wearing her glasses to get to the bathroom during dark nights would lead to her face planting to the floor. 

She made her way to her bathroom. She took off her glasses to splash her face with some water to actually wake up. The only thing she could think of right now was what she should make for dinner. She was practically starving and it was hurting her stomach a bit.

It is probably pretty late so everyone must be at their nighttime activities. 

She grabbed her towel and started patting her face. 

Ramen sounds nice or could have some-

She started to pay attention to her hair. She started to mess with it. 

There is no way this is real. Maybe this is a dream?

Her black hair turned red and even got longer. She even pinched her cheek to see if this was real life. 

And why can I see so clearly without my glasses!

Amaka decided the next logical step was to slap her face this time because this had to be a dream. 

“That hurt,” she mumbled. The girl didn’t even know how to react. She didn’t know if she should scream or if she should pass out again. 

I can accept the different hair colors but I don’t understand why I can see. 

Amaka had always had pretty bad vision as long as she can remember but now she has 20/20 vision maybe even better? 

Thousands of possibilities of what could happen ran through her head. But suddenly she started having a headache. She opened up the drawer to get her bonnet and she covered her hair. Amaka thought if anyone were to see this she would be in serious trouble. 

I need to find some pain killer so I can figure out the hair and eye problem. 

The girl stared into the mirror a bit longer. She opened her mouth a bit and noticed that even her teeth looked a bit different. Almost like she had fangs. No she definitely had fangs.

I can't do this anymore.

The girl started to head her way out of the bathroom but each step made her head hurt more. The time she got to the door she felt like it was a thousand pounds on her head. She started to sweat even. She was somehow able to put her hand on the door knob but when she tried to pull the door open a bit more since it wasn’t fully closed she broke the knob. 

“Okay, what is happening?” Amaka could only make one logical conclusion. 

I’m sick and I should just go to bed and wake up in the morning then I will be better.

-

“Okay, I’m still sick.” was the first thing she said the moment she woke up. She still had a headache and she was hoping that the hair and good vision would go away (though she knew that wouldn't happen). Her morning seemed only to get worse as she kept on going. 

First, when she got her toothpaste she somehow squeezed it too hard, and all the paste ended up on the mirror. She reluctantly took some of the paste off the mirror with her toothbrush. Second, even the movement she made made her headache worse and she had a cough now too. Third, not only did she break the knob of the door she also somehow broke her shower knob thing.

It can’t get worse. 

It got worse. The moment she made it downstairs to get breakfast. She covered her face with a mask and wore a hoodie to cover her hair. She even put on her glasses even though she didn't really need them. 

“Good morning everyone,” Amaka said before taking a seat, she turned her face to make eye contact with her favorite butler. “Good morning Mr. Alfred.” Even though he couldn’t see it, she made enough to have a small smile. She picked up the good morning she got from her brothers and Bruce. They were too busy talking to each other to even make eye contact with her.

“Good morning Miss Wayne,” Alfred replied, then brought a cup of orange juice for the girl and a stack of pancakes with eggs and bacon. “Miss, are you feeling well?”

“Oh, yes. I just got a small cough.” She said, before pulling down her mask and taking a big bite of her pancake. “I think I just need to take it easy for today.” Alfred nodded his head before heading back into the kitchen to do whatever he did. 

Amaka tried to listen to the boy's conversation while eating but she found that their voice was making her head hurt worse, every word they said just seemed so loud. She did pick up the reason why Jason was here because after the brother bonding day (which Dick forced Jason and Damian to go on) he was too lazy to go home and Dick was here cause Dick basically lived here when he wasn't working.

She slowly got up. She wanted to just go back to her room and sleep. She picked up her plate and headed to the kitchen to thank Alfred. The moment she got up was the moment Damian threw a butter knife at Jason but he badly missed. The knife ends up going toward Amaka where she catches it easily. It took her a second to realize she had caught the knife.

“Since when can you do that?” Damian asked, all the attention was on her now. Which made her feel very uncombable. 

“Do what? Oh catching this?” She lifted the knife a bit higher. “Anyone can catch a knife I guess?” Amaka laughed awkwardly.

“I can throw a ball at you going at 5 mph and you won’t be able to catch it,” Damian replied. The thing she really didn’t like about Damian was that he enjoyed saying the most rude or passive-aggressive comments toward anyone in a radius of 1 yard.

“Maybe it was luck then,” She muttered. “Yeah, that's the only possibility is luck.” 

“And why do you look so weird?” He asked. 

Weird?!

“Damian, stop being rude,” Dick said. 

“But I’m only telling the truth she looks like she aged 50 years-” The only reason why he stopped was because Dick covered his mouth with his hand and because Bruce gave him a ‘Stop or no going on patrol’ look. 

Do I really look that bad? 

“Well because I’m sick if you hadn’t noticed.” She mumbled and made her way out. 

Extra- 

After Amaka left the room, Damion continued his complaining again. 

“I am not wrong,” He mumbled. “I mean look at her face, she had eye bags and everything. The face mask was actually saving her.”

“Like she said she was sick Damian,” Tim replied. “and everyone gets eyebags when they're tired or sick.”

“Drake you 're only saying that cause you can’t get rid of your eye bags.”

“Demon spawn needs to learn some manners,” Jason said. 

“Don't even talk about manners Todd.”

“Damien, your brother is right, you lack manners, especially towards your siblings,” Bruce said. 

“Yes, Father.” Damian was able to finally shut his mouth after Bruce said something. “But, you guys don’t think it's weird she caught the knife.”

“No, not at all,” Bruce said.

“Anyone who lives here can catch a knife easily,” Dick said. 

“She can’t even dodge my punch during practice,” Damian said. “But she can catch the knife I threw?”

“Dodging and catching are two different things,” Jason said. 

“Not really they're both just reflexes,” Tim said. “They're more alike than you think. 

“Smartass,” Jason mumbled. 

“Someone doesn’t get that good overnight, and not someone as bad as fighting like her,” Damian said. 

“Just drop the topic,” Bruce said, he realized his sons are just going to give him a headache. 

Note: Red hair? Check! Accelerated vision? Check! Super strength? Check? Fangs? Check! Superhuman reflex? Check! Possibly some spider sense? (check the end of the last chapter) Check! Spoiler alert Amaka powers going to be based on Migual and Toby versions spider man.  I still didn't really talk about how Amaka looks but now you guys know she used to have all-black hair but now it is red for some magical reason and she has glasses. I don’t know if you guys could pick it up but Amaka is Nigerian you can tell by her name. I think i'm going to make a whole character profile for her and probably draw her to it. 

[bratzforchris]

hi! neurodivergent!luke is my new favorite thing ever <33 could you please write something about him infodumping (like maybe they go to a small dog park with petunia and he sees a bunch of dogs there and he just has to tell reader all about it) and reader is just in awe of him and lets him talk??

Dogs are Cool

❃

Summary: Above

Pairing: Luke x feminine reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 855

A/N: Thank you for the request! Please send more neurodivergent requests because I adore writing them :)

❃

“Can we take Tunia to the dog park?” Luke asked you, looking up from his phone. 

It was a Sunday afternoon, and by some miracle you and Luke both had the day off. You’d normally spend it cuddling in bed and running errands for the upcoming week, but why not try something different? Luke had been struggling with a bit of autistic burnout lately, so going to see some dogs (his number one special interest) would be good for him, you figured. Not to mention, the park would be good for Petunia too. She’d had entirely too many treats and not enough exercise lately. 

“Of course, lovely,” You smiled, kissing his cheek, which immediately turned a tulip-pink color. “Tell you what, let’s get ready and we’ll stop for coffee on the way, yeah?”

Luke nodded quite quickly, immediately running upstairs to get changed. With all the work lately for CALM, he hadn’t had time to engage in his special interests and it was definitely taking a toll on him. All that would change today, though. Just the thought of being at the dog park brought a grin to his face. 

Twenty minutes later, you two and Petunia were headed down the block to your favorite coffee shop. The morning rush had cleared out and you easily ordered two coffees; an Americano for you and a latte for Luke. The blond smiled happily when you handed him his drink. 

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, setting the drink down on the bar so he could wiggle out his wrists excitedly. “Dog park now?” 

“Yes, honey,” You chuckled. “Dog park now.” 

Luke smiled and took Petunia’s leash from you, petting her head quickly before dashing out the door. You laughed and quickly picked up Luke’s forgotten coffee, following closely behind. You hadn’t even been to the park yet and you could already see the sparkle coming back to Luke’s personality. You loved the way your boy got excited about things he was passionate for. It really gave you a new outlook on life. 

By the time you caught up with your long-legged boyfriend, you were at the dog park. Luke kissed Petunia’s head gently before opening the gate and letting her off the leash. The bulldog was actually quite social and quickly made a friend with a Golden Retriever. 

“Look!” Luke smiled happily, flapping his hands enough to stim but not so much that he would inadvertently hurt himself. “Tuney’s got a friend.”

“She really loves goldens for some reason.” You laughed. 

Ever since you and Luke had adopted Petunia, every time she would get around other dogs, she was automatically drawn to Golden Retrievers. You were unsure why, but luckily Luke was armed with an arsenal of dog knowledge to help you learn. 

“Did you know Golden Retrievers are commonly referred to as therapy dogs?” Luke asked you. “They have really high empathy and unconditional love. Also, they mature really slowly so they still have puppylike behavior as adults, which makes them really fun!” 

By this point, the blond was absolutely beaming and you couldn’t help but to smile. Where other people found Luke’s infodumping “annoying” and “inappropriate”, you found it fascinating. The fact that one person could love something so much that they desired to know everything about it made your heart swell. The joy was evident in Luke’s face too; he had gotten more animated, stimming happily with a look of utter passion on his face. You got so wrapped up in admiring him, that you didn’t even notice when he stopped talking. 

“I…I’m sorry, babe. I’m annoying you, aren’t you? I’ll stop now.” he whispered softly, looking down at his feet and hunching his broad shoulders. 

You snapped out of your trance, quickly giving Luke a smile. “No, honey, no. Never. Please keep talking.” You nearly begged him. 

“Really?” Luke asked, the smile slowly coming back to his face. 

“Really.”

“Okay so,” he started. “My favorite breeds are Pitbulls and Bulldogs. Obviously,” he giggled. “Did you know that during World War II, Pitbulls were seen as the dogs of America?”

“I didn’t know that,” You said honestly. “What do you like about those breeds, Lu?”

“They’re just so cute!” he giggled. “And I like their pretty colors and how sweet they are,” he said shyly, brushing a blond curl out of his face. “What’s your favorite dog, Y/N?”

You looked over at Petunia and chuckled. “Does a Piggy count as her own breed?”

Luke gave a little squee. “She is really cute. Did you know that Bulldogs were inducted into the American Kennel Club in 1886? I think Petunia’s mixed, though.” he scrunched his nose cutely. 

“You’re so cute when you talk about your special interests.” You smiled, hugging Luke’s torso tightly.

“Really?” he asked quietly, looking at Petunia through the fence to avoid meeting your eyes. “I know some people think it’s a little annoying…”

“Well, I think it’s interesting.” You told him, snuggling into his tall frame that nearly engulfed you. 

And that? That was the truth. You would never take Luke, or the the things he taught you, for granted. 

⌗

➜ taglist: @lukesbolts @thatmarvelgirly

[inawickedlittletown]

Don't Make A Shadow Of Yourself (BuckTommy fic) - 2/?

Summary: "A man who's pure of heart...may still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright" - Howl (F+TM)

Throughout most of his adult life, Tommy had dealt with what he was. The duality of being a man and also an animal…a beast. Werewolves weren’t born, they were made. 

Words: 3,374

Read on Ao3

Chapter One

-

Chapter Two

Chimney’s pilot friend was a Werewolf. Buck knew it the moment they arrived at Harbor Station Air Operations. He figured it wasn’t a big deal and that they had a lot more going on for that to be the focus. It wasn’t exactly relevant or anything, even though it had been a full moon just the night before. 

For Buck, it was just kind of instinct to be able to tell immediately if someone was a Werewolf. It was probably one of the few things he’d retained from his parents, the way that simple observation was enough. 

Tommy was easy to make, though. He walked like a wolf, all confident strides and like he had excellent control of his entire body. There was also how he couldn’t quite hide how good his hearing was. He’d known even before Buck — or Eddie — when Hen arrived. His face had even turned in the direction of the sound and if it were possible, his ears would have perked up. Tommy gave himself away and he had no idea. 

It was only when everyone had made it off the capsized cruise ship and they were on the coast guard ship on the way back to LA, that Buck couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“How, uh, how long have you been a Werewolf?” 

Maybe…just maybe there had been a better way to ask, because the way Tommy’s smile fell away, it made his stomach kind of drop. Maybe he’d got it wrong…but, no, he couldn’t be wrong. Buck knew he was right. 

“What?” Tommy asked and his voice had lost all the confidence and surety. 

“A Werewolf,” Buck said, softer and he let his hand fall off of Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy stared at him and for the first time since they met at Harbor, Buck could see that he was panicking. Buck had felt him go tense and he could hear the rise in his heartbeat, the way that his eyes wouldn’t meet Buck’s and how instead they shifted around the ship as if he were looking for an escape route. He looked like a panicked rabbit more than a wolf. 

“Hey, man, you alright?” Eddie’s voice broke between them, gaze fixed on Tommy before flitting to Buck. 

Tommy seemed to latch on to it and he took a step away from Buck. “I’m…I’m good,” he said and then with a final terrified glance at Buck, he walked off.

“What was that about?” Eddie asked. 

“I know I’m not wrong, Eddie,” Buck said, eyes on Tommy’s back. “That guy’s a Werewolf.” 

Eddie followed Buck’s gaze, tracking Tommy as he got to the otherside of the ship. 

“You’ve never been wrong before,” Eddie said. “What did you say to him?” 

Buck winced. “Asked him how long he’s been one.” 

Eddie chuckled under his breath and he even shook his head. “I’m gonna go talk to him before this creates an even bigger mess.” 

Buck just dropped his head, a little bit defeated. 

“Hey,” Eddie said, causing Buck to look up. “You’re sure.” 

“Yes,” Buck said and he was. 

Eddie nudged his shoulder with his own. It was wordless comfort — wolf mannerisms in human form. Eddie gave him another nod and Buck watched as he walked away, weaving past people and all the way to where Tommy was standing on his own. 

Tommy was a big guy, tall and broad and strong. Buck couldn’t help but wonder about what he looked like transformed. His wolf was probably huge. Dark fur probably, going off his hair color. Buck found himself hoping that he would get to see him transformed. He doubted that it would ever happen, though, not with the way Tommy had all but run from him. 

Buck found Hen and Chim. They were sitting out of the way, in the opposite direction of Eddie and Tommy, which was probably a good thing. He could tell they were coming down from all the adrenaline that’d been coursing through them too and that they’d cleared the air about the whole thing with internal affairs. 

“What is it?” Hen asked, at his approach. 

“I just…why didn’t you guys say anything about Tommy being a Werewolf?” 

Hen was frowning at him. “Because he isn’t,” she said. 

“He is,” Buck insisted. “When have I ever gotten that wrong, Hen?” 

She eyed him. “If you say so, Buck.” 

“Maybe it’s recent,” Chim said, thoughtfully. “Or maybe, Buck got it wrong for once.” 

“I didn’t,” Buck said. 

“Hmm, well it’s not like I could have been able to tell back when he was still at the 118,” Chim said thoughtfully. Hen nodded along. 

“Well, I hope you didn’t bring it up to him,” Hen said. 

Buck looked away and he was aware that Hen had probably already figured out that Buck had brought it up. There wasn’t keeping much from Hen. 

“Bucking things up, what’s new,” Chim said, grinning. 

“Eddie’s talking to him,” Buck grumbled and ignored Chim. 

Hen’s hand landed on his forearm, gentle and reassuring and Buck leaned into her, taking in her warmth and her familiar scent. If they weren’t in the view of so many people, he would have already shifted into his other form and laid himself out on her lap. He felt that itchy need to be in his other form. 

“Whatever the story with Tommy is, you really have got to be more subtle, Buck,” Hen said. 

“I thought you and Chim knew,” Buck said. “I figured you didn’t say anything because everything was so crazy.” 

Buck didn’t say that he’d decided to approach him because Tommy was fascinating. He was just cool and it was separate from him being a Werewolf. Tommy was a firefighter pilot, he had flown them into a hurricane on a helicopter that he helped steal, and then when they spotted the capsized ship, landed on its belly like it had a giant white H on it. And not that he didn’t think Tommy was a great pilot, but Buck was sure being able to see better in the dark had made a huge difference. So, Buck had latched onto the thing he could talk to him about. Clearly, he didn’t take the right approach. 

He also didn’t tell them that a part of him had felt a little hurt that Hen and Chim had kept another Werewolf from him. It was irrational the more he thought about it. Hen and Chim weren’t super close with Tommy, afterall. Them not knowing made a lot more sense, after all no one at the 118 was like Buck. They didn’t have the ingrained instinct to find Werewolves. 

Buck grew up not in a pack or even much of a family. He grew up human, ignored by his parents, and a magnet for trouble. Ignored was actually a bit far, he supposed, because the few times that Buck did have their attention it was because he’d broken yet another bone or done something that meant his parents had to actually deal with him. Buck didn’t even know when he realized that was the way to get their attention, he just remembered how it was Maddie that always patched him up and Maddie that saw through him and why his choice in hobbies always came with some risk. 

At some point, he found out one of the reasons his parents were always too busy to be parents. His parents were Werewolf hunters. 

Buck overheard them talking about it when he was around nine or ten, but it was a few more years before he believed it. On a night when the moon was full, Buck woke up to noises coming from the backyard. His bedroom faced it and curious as he was, he looked out to the backyard. He expected to find a deer or maybe a raccoon. Instead, he was the unmistakable figure of his father dragging something behind him. A big something that wasn’t human. Some other people were with them and there was another something being carried between two of them. Then his mother appeared. They looked like entirely different people, dressed all in black with what looked to be weapons strapped to them. Buck thought he was dreaming, but several pinches to his arms told him otherwise and when they started a fire, he couldn’t watch anymore, not when he realized the somethings were animals. Wolves.  

That was the day when Buck knew with complete surety that he didn’t know his parents at all, and that he didn’t like them that much either. 

He told Maddie the next morning on the way to school and he remembered how she had looked at him, not with pity, but resignation and so much sadness that he hadn’t known what to do with it. She’d known, had kept it from him probably. Hated it too, though she never quite said it outloud. 

When Maddie left him to run off with Doug, he understood just as much as he didn’t. He didn’t like Doug, even then, and not just because he was taking away his sister all the way to Boston. There was just something about him that didn’t sit right, but Maddie said she loved him. Once Maddie was gone, they suddenly found some interest in him. 

Buck hated it. Hated them. 

He remembered asking why, but the answer was nothing more than hateful rhetoric about beasts and monsters and the world being better off without them. 

“They hunt us down too, Evan,” his mother had said with more emotion than Buck had ever heard from her. “They turn into those monsters and they attack people. Kids. It’s why we do this.” 

The thing was that he’d seen them dragging that body and he’d seen them the next day all smiles and congratulating each other. Realized that anytime they were in a good mood it was because their night of hunting had gone well. 

They taught him stuff. Not much to do with the weapons they kept hidden in the shed in the backyard, but about how to find Werewolves even when they weren’t transformed. Buck did his own research and there hadn’t been a reported animal attack in years. Somehow, he still got caught up in their orbit. He learned about Werewolves, about how it all worked. 

The bite carried on the infection that turned a normal human into a Werewolf. The saliva had to go in through an open wound often created by the teeth tearing into someone’s skin and then once it was in the bloodstream that was that. At the next full moon, if that person didn’t die beforehand, they would shift into the animal. 

Fire and silver were the things used to kill them because they were resilient with heightened senses and even enhanced healing. Buck was actually fascinated by Werewolves in the completely opposite way that his parents were. Where they wanted to get rid of them, Buck wanted to know them. They were people, enhanced by a bite. He couldn’t actually find any information on why or how. And for all that his parents claimed that the Werewolves were pure animal and pure monster, nothing he found said that was true. 

In some ways, he was lucky that his parents didn’t pressure him to really join them. He suspected that they had wanted him to be more interested and when he wasn’t, they lost interest in him as well. Buck hadn’t had much of a problem with that. After Maddie was gone, living at home with his parents had felt like coexisting out of necessity rather than anything else. 

They had never been very controlling parents, but they provided what Buck needed. A place to sleep, food, and money. He graduated high school and they didn’t even show up for the ceremony. Because it was expected, Buck applied to the nearest community college. It was there  that Buck learned out about the Werewolf Division. 

He found out on accident, entirely because he’d been dumb and not paid his tuition. After arguing with the bursar, he was told to be careful walking back to his car. 

“Why’s that?” Buck asked. 

“Animal attack,” the secretary said and then turned her attention to the girl that had just walked in.

Turned out, someone had been bitten out on the parking lot just the night before. Buck didn’t even have to look it up to know it had been a full moon. It was talked about like an animal attack, and everyone was a bit nervous about bears or coyotes to such a large extent that animal control was called in. Buck knew better and curious as he was, he found a way to figure out who’d been attacked. It was a sophomore named Ruby Williams and he was lucky, because they’d taken her to the hospital Maddie had recently started working at. 

Despite having finally moved back from Boston, Buck didn’t see much of Maddie. She was busy with work or busy with Doug. There wasn’t much that Buck agreed on with his parents, but they too were completely against Doug. They’d even refused to go to Maddie’s wedding and so, Buck hadn’t been able to either. Maddie didn’t hold it against him. 

Maddie was reluctant to help, but eventually she relented. Giving him a guest pass and telling him what room to go to. He got lucky and not only found the room but got there just in time to eavesdrop. 

“...sorry to say this is more than just an animal attack. You were bitten by a Werewolf,” one voice said. 

For a moment came the arguments from Ruby. Her voice sounded strained and hoarse but absolutely panicked as she denied it with repeated “no’s” and “that’s not true” and “you’re crazy”

Buck for his part just leaned against the wall and listened.  

“We realize this sounds fantastical, but it is true. You will start to see signs of what you are becoming over the next few weeks and when the next full moon occurs in about twenty seven days, you will transform into a wolf. I know this is a shock, but it is what happened.” 

“Is this some joke?” Ruby asked. “Did someone put you up to this? Millie? Or or Brody…this isn’t very funny.” 

“We’re very sorry. We’re here from the Werewolf Division. The hospital called us when they realized what happened. You are a Werewolf, Ruby.” 

“I’m not,” Ruby responded. 

Buck listened as they fell into silence. A nurse walked by and he ducked his head, hoping to not be noticed. 

“We will check in again, and we hope you will come to us when you’ve come to terms with what you are now. We encourage new Werewolves to spend their first few full moons with the Werewolf Division. Your school has been informed as well. You have our card.” 

When Buck heard footsteps, he quickly moved away from the room and down the hall. His parents had never mentioned the Werewolf Division before. Though he was curious to sneak into the hospital room and visit with Ruby, he didn’t think it would get him very far. The Werewolf Division might. 

“I hope that was worth it,” Maddie told him when she found him again. 

“She’s definitely a Werewolf,” he said in a hushed whisper while she looked at him with disapproval. “And get this, the hospital called something called the Werewolf Division to come talk to her. Ever hear of that?” 

Maddie shook her head. “No, Buck. I don’t know why this interests you so much.” 

“Because mom and dad are wrong.” 

 “You will never convince them otherwise,” Maddie said in all seriousness. “You know that, Evan. And anyway, shouldn’t you be in school?”

Coming clean to Maddie about how he’d used the tuition money for parties and the motorcycle he’d actually crashed had all wound up in Maddie giving him her car and sending him away. She even warned him to stop with his obsession before he wound up like their parents. 

“I just need to see this thing through,” Buck argued. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?” 

Maddie let out a sigh that showed her annoyance. His sister had changed since going to Boston, graduating from Nursing school, marrying Doug, and moving back. She was less at ease and even a bit skittish. He knew better than to ask her, because that just brought out excuses and annoyance and Buck didn’t understand. Looking back, he wished desperately that he had pushed harder, but he was hardly more than just a stupid kid then. 

“Don’t get pulled into their world, Evan. You don’t want that,” Maddie said. 

“I’m going to find out more about the Werewolf Division,” Buck argued. “I just want to know more. And maybe…maybe I want to warn them because it isn’t right.” 

He would never forget the way that Maddie looked at him until she nodded and insisted he take her car on his investigation because at least it was subtler than his bike. 

It was far easier to find the closest Werewolf Division facility. It was actually right there in Hershey and no one stopped him as he drove there or when he walked up the building, or even when he walked in. It was far too normal, actually. He didn’t meet a Werewolf that day, but he met a guy that actually answered all of Buck’s questions after Buck mentioned being Ruby’s friend. 

Elliot was just a few years older than Buck, dark curls spilling from the crown of his head to frame his face. He seemed excited to talk to Buck and so Buck learned about Werewolves. 

It was a sort of magical infection, at least that’s how Elliot put it. 

“No one knows the origins, other than legend and story. They just exist and it makes me think other things exist too. Who knows, right? But it isn’t something you have to worry about. Werewolves are just people too and unlike in the stories they don’t need to eat people’s hearts to live.”

They talked for a while, long enough that another employee made a pointed comment about it. Buck hadn’t even realized how he’d monopolized Elliot’s time. He apologized but Elliot waved him off. 

“It’s nice you’re so interested in this stuff. Your friend will appreciate it. New Werewolves need all the support they can get.” 

Despite everything, Buck didn’t tell him about his parents or their friends. It would tear apart his lie and Elliot was too nice for Buck to do that to. He even agreed that they could hang out when Elliot wasn’t working. 

Maddie wasn’t too interested in hearing Buck recount his day when he tried to return the car to her. When Buck got home, he had to hear about the attack from his parents, mostly about how irresponsible it was for Buck not to tell them someone had been attacked on his campus. 

“There is one of them — maybe more out there! They’ve made another one! They all have to go, Evan. You should have told us at once!” His mom was screeching, her voice piercing and loud. 

When Maddie showed up, he ran for it and that was when she convinced him he had to leave.

“I don’t want this for you, Evan,” she said. 

“Come with me,” he said and it almost worked. He almost had her. 

The next day, all he had was a note telling him to go. She didn’t even tell him to his face and as Buck left, feeling completely abandoned for the second time by the person he’d never expected that from, Buck decided that maybe he didn’t need anyone. Not his sister, and certainly not his parents. 

He did write a letter to drop off with the Werewolf Division. A warning about his parents and Ruby being in danger from them. He wished he’d had an explanation for why he even needed to warn a whole governmental division about the existence of Werewolf hunters. 

It would be a long time before Buck got an explanation for why his and Maddie’s parents were Werewolf hunters in the first place and by that point, Buck himself was a Werewolf even though they didn’t know it. 

[moonlight-prose]

for our precious senior citizen <3

❛ there it is, there’s that smile! ❜

❛ i haven’t laughed like this in a long time. ❜

❛ it’s better with you here. ❜

❛ you feel like home to me. ❜

BROKEN RADIANCE

➝ A HURT DRABBLE

a/n: a small happy and fluffy as fuck bonus scenes with our two favorites. i feel like boston and joel need so many more short scenes together of just being happy. so i am over the moon that you sent these in! i hope you like it babes!

summary: when the light fades and joy was hard to come by, he could always rely on you to make him smile.

word count: 1k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, fluff, kissing, very light romance, joel being happy, bad jokes.

series masterlist

Birds chirped in the distance, a sound that always brought a smile to your face. Even as you trekked through the forest—your feet and back aching—you couldn’t fight against the small grin that formed. Why should you? When there was rarely a reason to smile since the world went to shit. You took what you could from what you had left.

Smiles and all.

“Joel?” you called, waiting for him to turn. You’d taken to walking on his left side, noticing that he never quite responded right away when you were on his right.

“Hm?” he grunted, chewing on the dry and flaky shit that he called food.

What you wouldn’t give for a real meal right about now.

“Did you hear the birds?”

He paused, head raising to look at the trees. “Was I supposed to?”

Sighing, you figured it was easier to let the subject go, but you were just as stubborn as him. There was a new feeling that you had latched onto, a new goal harbored in your heart. One that formed after you were wounded, while you watched him stifle his emotions—opting to remain numb to the world. You were going to make sure that above all else, Joel remembered how to live.

He flooded through life, never truly settling. As if he considered his self worth less than everyone else.

That in itself broke your heart.

You grabbed onto his arm, stilling his movements. “Listen,” you said softly, smiling up at him.

Wondering if the birds heard you, their echoing chirps resounded off the trees, surrounding you in their beauty. You never caught his small smile, never saw how his eyes refused to tear away from you, but something told you it happened. Smiling, you leaned against him, your eyes watching as a bird’s wings fluttered above, landing on the opposite tree.

“I never told you…” you began, finally finding your way back to his brown eyes that flickered with something unknown. “It’s better with you here.”

His eyebrows raised slightly. “What’s better darlin’?”

“This,” you replied, gesturing to the area around you. “Life.” Twining your fingers with his, you felt that all too familiar sensation pluck at the strings of your heart again. “You feel like home to me, Texas.”

You caught how his lips twitched, the smile not yet forming in its entirety. Even though you knew it resided below the surface, threatening to come out at a moment's notice. He just needed a small push. You watched as a bird flew above your heads, settling on a tree branch that seemed far too thin to hold its weight. Yet it still placed enough trust in that single piece of wood, to hold it up.

Kind of like you did with Joel.

You trusted that he wouldn’t break you. That even after all of this, he’d be there to continue pulling you along behind him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t offer you a damn thing, because what good was a promise in what was already broken? The both of you took what you could, relishing in the small pieces that remained of days long gone and time purposely forgotten.

“Bird song,” he murmured, glancing up at the flurry of wings that rustled the branches. You wondered if it was finally spring.

“Do you think they know anything specific?” you asked, following his lead, your eyes catching the color of them here and there. 

When was the last time they had seen humans? The lightness of simply hearing the chirping of birds brought a smile to your face. For a moment you felt normal. As if you and Joel simply wandered into an unknown forest while you walked. Just two people who went for a stroll together. Instead of the tortured souls you really were.

“No,” he replied. “Those would be the hummingbirds.”

The joke didn’t register at first—not entirely—until you heard him snort. His lips curling up into a smirk, brown eyes bright with joy. Joel had made a joke. Not just any joke. He made a fucking pun, and you didn’t even bother to stop the peal of laughter that bubbled up in your chest. Your lips stretched wide, stomach jolting as you broke over such a stupid joke. But then you heard it. The deep warm sound of his laugh, his hand pressing against a tree as he nearly doubled over.

His face was scrunched up due to his smile, its brightness practically blinding you, but you burned the image in your mind. Finally, Joel was laughing. Not just a chuckle, or a huff, but a real fucking laugh.

“There it is, there’s that smile,” you said, moving forward and collapsing into his chest. His body was still shaking even as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

Pressing his face into your neck, you felt the vibrations of his chuckle shoot through your heart like an arrow. “I haven’t laughed like this in a long time.”

You smiled, one hand clutching onto his shirt, the other burying itself in his hair—twining your fingers through the slightly gray locks. “Laughter sounds good on you.”

His chest rumbled, lips finding your neck. “Feels good,” he murmured. “Sounds like heaven from you.”

Heat spread through your chest, slowly creeping up your neck. “You flatter me Texas.”

“How else am I gonna win you over Boston?”

You smiled, pressing your lips to his scruffy jaw, unable to whisper the words against the warm skin there. You already have. They played in your mind on a loop. A record player that never seemed to come to a stop. Except you couldn’t get them to come out of your mouth. Something told you he knew, but that wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough—not when it came to Joel.

“Ready?” he asked, grasping tightly onto your hand—attempting to make it perfectly clear that no matter what…he’d never let go. Even in all his broken radiance, he was still just a man looking for some semblance of humanity in this shriveled up world. You were just that.

His humanity.

Nodding, you felt the words press against your chest, uncomfortable in their burning truth. You have me forever. I love you. You don’t have to win me over. You already have.

“Ready,” you said.

[ravennaortiz]

CountDown: The Beginning

As always this is an 18+ only story. This story is AU based and not your typical Sons of Anarchy story. Some readers may find some plot lines and changes to some characters to be problematic please read at your discretion. This story also time jumps heavily so keep this in mind as you read!

Warnings: General themes of the show such as violence, drugs, swearing etc, minor age gap, minor smut in later chapters.

Juice made his way slowly from his room to the kitchen. He could hear music playing and voices carrying up the stairs. He was feeling nervous and anxious for several reasons. He took a deep breath before walking into the brightly lit kitchen and taking in the sight of those he called family.

Before he could say anything a chorus of happy birthdays rang out and he was dog piled on and taken to the floor. After a few minutes of roughhousing he was let up by his sponsor Jax Teller. Jax gave him a warm smile and patted his shoulder before pulling him towards him for a hug.

“You know you can stay here as long as you need to. I’m not kicking you out of the nest just because you’re eighteen” joked Jax reassuringly. Jax knew things had been weighing heavily on the younger man lately. “Thank you Jax. I’ll never be able to repay you for everything you have done for me the last few years” replied Juice as he felt relieve wash over him. “No worries man. Just remember my baby sister is still off limits” joked Jax as he stepped away from Juice, wrapping an arm around his sisters’ shoulders as she rolled her eyes at him.

Juice nodded in acknowledgement as he chuckled, everyone knew Jax was protective of his little sister, and turned his attention to the younger Teller. Where Jax was blonde and blue eyed his sister Rockette, who they all affectionately called Rocky, was raven haired and had piercing jade colored eyes. “This is for you” stated Rocky with a smirk as she stepped towards him with a box in her hands.

Juice took the box and walked over to the kitchen table where Chibs, Opie and Half-Sack were now sitting and grinning at him as they drank their coffee. “All you guys grinning like creeps is making me nervous” joked Juice as he looked around at them and chuckled lightly. “Just open the box birthday boy” laughed Rocky as she nudged his shoulder with hers and rolled her eyes as she joined him at the table with Jax on his other side. Juice tried his best to ignore the jolt that her touch brought to him. He knew every man in this room would rip him limb from limb if he let on his feelings for her. He internally kicked himself for not having had the courage to say something before now. Now it was too late since he was eighteen.

“Juicy Boy? You Okay” questioned Chibs as Juice stood before them a faraway look in his eyes for a couple of minutes. “Oh, yeah….  Sorry guys” laughed Juice as he felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. He quickly undid the box and lifted lid and felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw the contents. He gently pulled the black leather Kutte with his patches already sewn on out of the box and looked to Jax. “Surprise brother. Today is your first official day as a fully patched member. You can thank Rocky for being nice for once and sewing your patches on last night” stated Jax as he smiled at his now former prospect who he had taken a serious gamble on with him being a run away and all. He couldn’t be happier for how the kid had turned out though. “Thank you, though I think you’re nice all the time” stated Juice laughing as he hugged Rocky who had playfully smacked Jax, before turning back to Jax. “Thank you also. I couldn’t have had a better person to show me the ropes” he added as he put the Kutte on.

Juice spent the rest of the morning opening gifts from the others and talking while they ate breakfast. Juice couldn’t imagine life without these five. He saw Chibs as the father figure he never had, Jax and Opie like his older brother and then of course Half-Sack and Rocky who were his best friends.

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[theodoradevlin]

|Bathed & Bruised|

Summary: Sebastian Sallow x MC. Prefect Bathroom Shenanigans. Smutty Drabble at no particular point in time.  Hurt/Comfort because life’s been SHITE recently and I could probably use some of it myself. So please accept this one shot as a result of built up life angst. 

Also someone HALP …I fear I spend way too much time on the build up... but need to work on detail of the smut. So…maybe next time no build up and just smut LOL what a terrible excersice to try oh darn

Word Count: 3.4k

It had not taken Theo long to make quick work of those damned loyalists. There had been an irritating amount of them, but she had handled them all the same. 

She had killed them all. Death had stained her hands in increasing measures as the weeks went on. 

But it was to protect the school, she told herself.

She had to. 

She didn’t let herself consider that there was some other reason she had become comfortable with that elephant in the room. The murderous side of her. No.. she wouldn’t think of that long. She couldn’t. 

In the current moment, she didn’t know if it was late at night, or early in the morning by the time she got back to the castle. Luckily, she had managed to save enough Floo powder to travel from the coast back to Fig’s classroom, her battered body clumsily making immediate impact with the floor as she groaned. 

An irritated scoff echoed in the hall, which she had anticipated to be empty. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”  His voice was flat, and entirely unamused. 

She heaved herself up on to her legs, only to see Sebastian laying on the bench across from Fig’s class room. 

“Have you been sleeping here all night?!” Her incredulous whisper rang out in the hall, but not before Sebastian’s gaze snapped back to her. 

“Have I been sleeping here all night? No. Mostly I was pacing a damn hole in this floor since I figured this had something to do with Fig, or some genius plan you hatched on your own, while failing to tell me. So again, no. I haven’t been sleeping much at all since you keep deciding to run off on your own and come back looking like this.” His equally incredulous whisper shot back at her. 

Color rose to her cheeks in frustration as they regarded each other. As their eyes met, Sebastian paused to really look at her, his eyes turned hollow as they spotted a soft purple hue gracing her cheek. Blood smeared across those lips he had kissed only the night before. His exacting gaze took it all in, his jaw twitching. 

He wasted no time making his way over to her in a direct line. 

Instantly, his hands were on her.  Gentle. Surveying the damage he could see, sick at what he couldn’t. 

“Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand.

Theo’s brows knitted together in annoyance. 

“Go where? It’s nearly-“ 

He cut her off. 

“Prefects bathroom is closest - and likely deserted at this time anyhow. So let’s go. You need cleaning up.” 

She opened her mouth to protest again, but when she did she felt the pang of pain from the bruise deepening on her cheek. Looking down, there was undoubtedly a multitude of blood stains crusting her clothes, some of it hers, some of it not. She had used quite a bit of Bombarda, and it had resulted in some rather explosive debris. Perhaps he was right. 

“Fine. I’ll go. But afterwards, promise to stop fretting like an old nursemaid, Sallow.” Theo consented as he gently grabbed her hand, leading them towards the staircase. He didn’t even look back at her as he growled, 

“I’ll do no such thing.” 

Then, another deep breath, and then most in a most confused voice:

“Nursemaid? Really?”

~

They stalked along the edges of the corridor, as fast as her battered body would allow, Sebastian giving gentle pulls on her hand as he led the way. Before breaking into the faculty tower, he essentially forced the wiggenweld down her throat…but despite her protests to not waste it, it thankfully allowed her to breathe a little easier, mending what must have been a broken rib. 

As they rounded up the staircase, he peeked his head up to see that there were no prefects around - the castle all still sound asleep, save the two of them. The absence of their sleep schedules, as torturous as it was during the day, seemed to open up an entirely new world at twilight. 

He ushered her into the prefect’s bathing room, before casting a lock spell on the door to ensure that no one else would find their way in. They had another few hours before the earliest of morning birds awoke.

Theo leaned against the wall, breathing in deep, her eyes taking in the extravagant room, with its multitude of golden faucets, and tiled mosaic lining every inch of the blue and white walls…she had only been in here once before, to nab a Demi-guise. She hadn’t had the time to appreciate the way the light from the stars gleamed through the stained glass windows, fleeting across the cerulean bath water like fairy lights. 

It was calming in here. She couldn’t be terribly angry that this is where he had brought her to.

Her head swiveled back to Sebastian as he slowly took his robe off, heedlessly letting it drop to the marble tiled floor as he rolled up his sleeves coming over to her. 

He moved aside her hair to see that the bruises continued to flower across her jaw, neck. He inhaled.

What did you do to yourself, Thee?” He said, his voice clipped, broken, as if he couldn’t bear the site of her battered body any longer. His breaths were ragged as his fretting and gentle touches brushed against her cheek, her arms, pausing on each purple bloom of the bruises on her skin. 

She noted the panic in his eyes. She had seen that need, the burn for him to protect. She saw it when he looked at Anne, during the painful bouts of her curse. She would not be another burden to him. 

“I’m fine, Sebastian. Nothing I haven’t done before… I’m absolutely fine.” 

It didn’t matter how many times she said it. He passed her a curt glare, and lowered himself to his knees to inspect closer. 

His breath passed along her abdomen as she stilled herself against the coolness of the wall, in contrast to the heat of him so near her.

“Fine? I think you’re lying to me.” He accused her gruffly, as his searching hands went to determine for himself, undoing her buttons of her blouse, gently parting the fabric to expose the trail of cuts and bruises that continued underneath. 

Her beautiful abdomen had been painted in an unforgiving litany of dark and angry colors.

“Dammit, Theodora.”

He hissed sharply, his eyes squeezing tight as he looked away, his hands gripping her on each side as if to hold himself up, but still careful to avoid the bruises. 

She breathed shakily. His reaction to her was startling. Startling enough for her to realize she had been pushing herself so hard, that she hadn’t even realized the state she had been in. Not until she watched as it crushed Sebastian in front of her. How could the destruction of her body not make her feel the same? She had been so focused…

“Seb…I..I’m really okay-“

He ignored her pleas, leaning his forehead against the plane of her thigh. Her beautiful body. She was fighting a war for everyone but herself, and yet the only one taking the hits. 

“You…You’re covered in more bruises each time I see you.”  His breath was pained as it skirted across her lower stomach. She could hear how angry he was, and she didn’t know if it was at her, or at himself.

“It’s an occupational hazard…” She tried to lift the tension with a half hearted jest. 

He gritted his teeth. 

“Of what occupation, Devlin? Hanging around me? Or doing Fig’s bidding? Or of putting fucking everyone before yourself? How about you explain that to me? ” He snapped.

She stilled at the emotion in his voice. Her hand came up to his jaw, lifting his gaze up to her. In some ways, it could be mistaken for supplication. But she knew that couldn’t be possible. Not for him. Not towards her. Yet here he was. Kneeling in front of her, with fervor in his eyes as he looked up towards her. 

She cleared her throat. 

“…It’s not like that. It’s nothing that I can handle. You would do the same.”

He grimaced again at her words. 

“Devlin - I swear you’re fucking wrong. Because this is something I can’t handle. I refuse to handle. You. Hurt. All the damn time….this is not something I can agree to handle. ” He breathed in admonition as his gaze reached upwards, she heard the strain in his voice, and saw the fear in those brown eyes that were near black in emotion as they gazed upwards. 

“Ominis has told me you’ve been limping in the halls. Clutching your side in class. He had to help you up the stairs the other day when I was gone in Feldcroft for Merlin’s sake.” 

He continued, breathless at the panic in his voice. 

They stood there, as he remained on his knees, trying to force air in through his lungs

“I…” Theo swallowed again. Ominis had even been worried about her? She …she had been so busy with everyone…Poppy..Natty…Fig…she hadn’t even seen it herself. She hadn’t had a moment to. She didn’t even realize anyone had noticed.

As if Sebastian read her shocked expression, he laughed darkly, just once.

“You and that damn Hufflepuff need to put everyone first.” His eyes burned into her as he pressed a fleeting kiss to her stomach. “… I told you once. I’ll tell you again. I can’t loose you. I won’t. So please. Please. If for no one’s sake but your own - put yourself first Devlin… I beg you. You’re going to tear my damn heart out if you don’t tear yours out first from letting it bleed for everyone else.”

His pleas were murmured against her skin, but reached into her core and had her burning.

Gruffly, he stood, and his face was flushed. He gently shrugged off her unbuttoned shirt until it joined his robe on the ground. 

“I’m going to take care of you, now.” He murmured. 

Theo didn’t trust her voice to speak. Didn’t find it in herself to remind him that he always had taken care of her, anyhow. 

His fingers unbuckled the buttons holding her skirt in place, then neither of them broke their gaze as the next piece of fabric hit the floor as well. 

She slid off his own shirt, then tugged on his belt loops in protest of the layers of his own clothes that still remained. 

As their last articles of clothing fell away, he led her slowly towards the bath, those doe eyes of his locked on her the entire way. 

She shivered at the feel of the water as they sank in deeper, walking until it met her shoulders. 

He brought her close to him, turning her as the warm water enveloped her muscles. She allowed her self to lean her back against his chest, his hands taking her arms, crossing his own over hers as he held her to his chest. 

 She shuddered at the weightless feel of the bath, of the blood and dirt slowly coming off her skin. Of the feel of his breathing against hers. 

“Don’t let go.” She murmured deliriously at the feel of it.

 He nuzzled her neck.

“Never.” 

He drew up water in his hands, as he let it gently fall down her hair, smoothing it softly as he washed away any traces of the battle that was left. Her hair was always so curly, he forgot how long it actually was as the red tendrils spread across the water like a water nymph. 

He held her like she was the most fragile thing, when he knew in reality she was the strongest thing he’d ever seen. 

She allowed him to continue to rub the dirt from her face, her arms, inspecting every inch of her until she felt it all fall away. 

He leaned in, pressing another kiss to her neck in reverence, and as the small moan slipped from her lips, there were multiple parts of his body that ached to take care of her. 

He turned her towards him then, lifting her slightly up out of the water, backing them both up until she was arching against the edge of the tub. He pressed more kisses. She was his anchor. He was hers. He pressed a kiss against the darkest bruise. Against the scar he had helped heal across her abdomen.

His lips continued almost of their own accord, as he placed more pressing kisses against her stomach so intently that pressing she found herself letting loose a sigh. 

“Ah..” She gasped softly, as he continued to press his doting lips on each mark, cut and bruise on her stomach and side, leaving no bruise untouched, shifting her up higher to grant himself access to her hip bones peaking over the surface of the water, just above the spot he loved most.

 Her hands tangled gently in his hair as she enjoyed his fretting touches, her red wildly hanging in wet locks around her vision, and his brown curls dripping with moisture into his hooded eyes as he watched her. 

“Mmmm…you know you make it hard to make promises to be careful when this is the welcome home I receive…” She murmured breezily as his fingers started to trail up her thigh, in tandem with his mouth trailing down her hips. Hoping to both meet somewhere in the middle…

“Mn.” At that most irresponsible comment from her, he gave her a gentle nip in warning against her thigh. “You’re missing the point, my dear Thee. This isn’t a reward. Don’t make me torture you instead - because I will.” 

She had no doubt about that. A smile broke across her lips despite herself.

“I thought you were under the impression I did enough of that myself…?”

His kisses turned more relentless, as all of a sudden a finger parted her folds, slipping into her with confident and deft hands. 

As she gasped against his palm, he chuckled darkly in agreement.

“You do..All heroes do it seems.” He nipped again against her hip, a demand for her to spread her legs slightly wider to allow him to continue his caress of her. His mouth trailed against her until it reached the bundle of nerves at her apex. His tongue flicked against it, but didn’t make another move until he murmured against her, “….And for whatever reason…You seem intent on being one.” 

Her eyes met his in confusion, but his gaze shifted until it glazed over at what he wanted to worship more. 

His breath skittered across the core of her, and she shivered at the feel of it. His tongue darted out to press against her, moved in circles at the center of her, while a second finger slipped in to press and curl in, parting, coaxing her, and making splashing noises as the water swirled around his movements. She shuddered at him undoing her. 

“Despite….how it tortures me. I think you enjoy doing that…” She barely croaked out as she leaned back further over the edge, arching dramatically at the angle and his touches. 

He  didn’t answer, just watched as he continued to work, appreciating her writhe as he continued to taste her. 

She keened at the feel of it. 

“I …I don’t - I don’t - I’m not a…” She huffed out in gasps, struggling to speak as a result of what he was doing with his mouth. 

His free hand left the grip he had on her upper thigh to silence her mouth, before he stood up. She whined at the absence of his mouth on her. 

He pressed against her, and their wet bodies slid together perfectly. The hardness of his thick length was already pressing deliciously against her. He hadn’t yet removed his hand from her mouth. 

“No talking.” His eyes watched her carefully, “…You haven’t listened to me-  ever - it seems. So now you’re going to make up for it…and not…talk..”

“Hah…” She threw her head back obliging,  as he continued to lean against her, his slick abdomen pressing against her own wet body, her breasts peaking at the trickle of water against air, against his chest as one of his hands stabilized her lower back, the other rubbing a thumb across her nipple gently. 

He leaned into her as her legs started wrapping around him, his kisses soft as a butterfly against the tenderness left on her neck,

His mouth pressed against hers, coaxing it open as his lower lip pressed her own down, allowing his tongue to snake into her mouth. Her own pressed into his, the gasps of breath barely there between the absence of space as everything closed between them in frantic movements. 

 She stumbled slightly off the ledge, but his other hand quickly ran up the back of her thigh to hold her against him, as he grabbed her other leg to lift her completely off the ledge. He lowered them both back into the water, as their kisses pressed together faster, yet gently, Sebastian careful in each way he held her to not hit the bruises in a way that wasn’t tender. They were both bruised, and battered. And yet not one scar had not been left un-worshipped. Not since the first day. Their scars are what had bound them together. And she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

She could drown in this. In him. If she wasn’t already. 

“Now…”He breathed against her mouth as he aligned his hips beneath her, pinning her against another edge. “How about I show you how well I can take care of you..?” He prodded at her entrance, the thick feel of him so enticing she was cursing the water for not letting her slide down sooner. She writhed towards him but he held her up. 

“Tsk…none of that. Not until you promise….that next time your reckless..you’re not reckless alone. You’re reckless with me.” 

His eyes met hers, and despite the lightness in his voice, she heard the serious question behind it. 

Do not do this alone. Let me help you. 

She nodded, pulling him back towards her. He gasped as her mouth answered in frantic movement. She would never be alone. Not as long as he was there. 

“Never. Only with you. Only you.” She breathed out as she guided him into her. He groaned as her hand allowed him to slip inside of her. His only response in his hand that snaked into her hair, pulling her head back towards him, as he pressed into her, filling her deeper. 

They both huffed gasping breaths at the feel of him inside her, moving together, letting the water ripple at the momentum of it all. Her legs wrapped around him as his arms gripped the sides of the bath for leverage. 

There was nothing but them in this twilight. There was no hurt, there were no obligations - no promise but to each other. 

She cried out as he hit her center, clenching around him. He responded in a grinding motion, groaning at the feel of her that enveloped him. 

“Thee- gods…you …” 

“Yes…”

“Ah..fuck.” His mouth captured hers again as he pumped harder, the water completely sloshing now, as he buried himself deeper and deeper. 

She broke away, her head tilting back and falling against him, screaming out. 

“Seb- You’re - ah - “ 

She moaned and cried out as her orgasm shuddered through her…her walls clenched around him, and he gave himself to her completely, sputtering and rolling until he completely spent himself inside of her, gasping into her ear.

Slowly, her legs unwrapped and his arms came around to her waist again, as they floated, her hands mindlessly twisted in his wet curls as he drew them both in the bubbly waters. He pressed a kiss to her neck, that he was currently nuzzled in as he held her against him.

“So…should we actually get clean now?” She murmured, blissfully. 

He chuckled.

“While I prefer the dirtier version of ourselves, perhaps not a bad idea.” His eyes squinted as the silver light peeking through the stained glass started to turn the room amber. “..Especially since I expect dawn is here….prefects will be barreling in soon dying to give us another detention.” 

She pouted, lamenting the fact they would have to hurry to get out and dried soon as to avoid being caught. 

“Well like I said - I’m only reckless with you Sallow. And if this bathroom routine is reckless…I’d vote to make it a habit.” 

He pulled her under the water, attacking her with aquatic kisses before coming up for air. Although he never felt like he could come up for air with her.