#granted he could kill me with one hand and i could cut myself on his cheekbones but still ❤️

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter One}

Alastor x (fem)Reader

Summery- Innocence meant nothing in a place like this. Here, innocence was weakness. It would only get you killed. And yet, it was craved by the most twisted and sinful of demons.

Innocence to them, was something to be tainted, corrupted, and ruined beyond saving. It gave them great pleasure to destroy that innocence.

And he was no different. To him, she was nothing more than a new form of entertainment. But even he, as demented and cruel as he was, could not ignore the feeling that slowly grew deep within his blackened heart.

"What have you done to me?"

I was once a woman of god, my faith unchanging and strong. Because of that, I was granted entry into the kingdom of heaven. However, it would not last.

I awoke in a dirty and dark alleyway, my whole body ached, my mind struggling to keep up. My eyes opened, and I was met with a most horrifying scene. Above me, in the blood red sky, was a giant pentagram that loomed over all. My heart sank upon realizing just where I was. Hell. I had landed myself in hell.

But, how? I was in heaven. I had earned it. I had been good. I've only ever been good. I was faithful and true. So why? I brought myself to a sit, as I did so, a sharp stab of agony shot up my back. I failed to hold back a cry of pain.

Looking back on myself, a gasp escaped me as I found the source of my pain. My wings were still there. Once neat soft white feathers, now messy and dirtied from the ground. But that was not the worse of it. What made my stomach lurch, what caused the horrible throbbing pain I could not ignore, was the broken joint on my left wing.

The bone jutting out from flesh, golden blood dripping down the feathers of my wing. The fact that I had wings at all was proof enough I actually was in heaven. That, and my long white and gold-trimmed dress. However, it only made my confusion grow. If I was in heaven, why am I here now?

I took a shaky breath before attempting to stand, however it would not happen so easily. I hissed out as I felt a sharpness in my legs. Looking down, I saw more of my blood leaking from the various cuts along my legs. One nasty deep gash in particular on my right calf. This wasn't good.

I was bound to be attacked by some loathsome demon if I didn't try to escape. Flying wasn't an option, and neither was walking it seemed. But if I didn't do something quick then-

"Well. What do we have here?"

My breath caught in my throat at the sudden voice. I looked up to see a rather tall, well dressed demon standing before me. His grin, filled with sharp teeth, made my skin crawl. His deep red eyes bore into my own. He looked at me as if I were his next meal, and in a place like this, I very well could be.

I kept my mouth shut, even if I wanted to talk, I couldn't bring myself to speak. So, he filled the silence himself. "I thought I had seen something a bit strange earlier. It's not everyday you see an angel falling from the sky! Well, not unless it's time for the yearly extermination. If that's what you're here for, I'm afraid your a tad too late." He said with a chuckle. Still I kept quiet, he continued.

"Though, you do not look like the usual exterminators. No, I don't think you are. How very interesting." He took a step closer to me. Finally my body reacted, I scramble to move back as he grew closer. My back hit the hard brick wall behind me, I wince at the pain I received by doing so.

My heart was beating out of my chest, tears gathering in my eyes. My reaction seemed to have been amusing to him, as his grin grew wider.

"Afraid?" He leans down, his face inches from my own. "You should be." I shut my eyes tightly as he moved his hand up to my face. Flinching as his clawed finger made contact with my skin. I felt him move a strand of my messily tangled hair out of my face, before his hand left me.

"A creature like you my dear, is just begging to be harmed in a place like this. Though, I don't entirely blame you. You appeared to be heavily injured." I dare to open my eyes, only to be met with his sharp gaze.

His eyes only left mine briefly to meet my broken wing, then down to my injured legs, then back up to my face. "Quite the fall you had." He chuckled. I only nod. That had to be right. I fell from heaven. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Why else would I be here? The demon stood straight again, looking over his shoulder for a moment before turning his attention back to me.

'I doubt I'll ever get an opportunity like this again.' He thought, his grin somehow growing even wider. "Tell me, what do you plan to do now? Surely you intend on leaving this horrid place, yes?" He questions. Of course I do. I don't want to be here any longer that I already have. I nod my head, words still failing me.

"It will be quite the challenge my dear. You can't fly, and no one leaves hell just like that." He says with a snap of his fingers. "What will you do?" An excellent question. What will I do? What could I do? Panic set in quickly as I realized that there was nothing I could do now. I was stuck here. I would never be able to leave this god forsaken place. The tears finally began to roll down my cheeks, my shoulders shook as I cried.

How could this have happened? Why was this happening? Perhaps I've done something wrong? Maybe I've upset god in some way? Is that why I'm here? I'm being punished? Is that it? The demon's voice caught my attention once more as he spoke.

"Oh, how I hate to see a lady cry." I could have sworn there was a hint of sincerity in his tone. But I would be a fool to think a demon could feel sympathy for anyone. "Perhaps, we should make a deal."

I wipe a few tears away before looking at him with a confused glance. "I'll try and find a way for you to return to heaven. And in return..." His expression grew dark and sinister. "All you have to do, is amuse me." Amuse him? My stomach churned at the thought of what a demon would find amusing.

I look up at the sky, the pentagram's glow stinging my eyes. Heaven was out of reach, but I yearned for nothing more than to return. The deal almost sounded tolerable. I look back at the demon and finally, I spoke.

"W-Will you hurt me?" My voice cracked. "Of course not!" The demon waved his hand, as if dismissing the thought. "I'm rather curious about you. And I can't have someone like you harmed. Your value topples almost over all here. Many demons would kill for a chance to obtain an angel such as yourself. That alone is enough for me to keep you in tact as much as possible." His words weren't comforting, that's for sure.

But he said he wouldn't hurt me. I think. I couldn't trust him, but what other choice do I have? I don't want to be stuck here forever. The demon offered his hand. "What do you say?" He asks as a faint green glow engulfed his hand.

I sigh before hesitantly taking his hand with my own. As our hands clasp, the glow engulfed mine as well and a sting could be felt throughout my palm causing me to wince. The glow grew brighter, I shut my eyes tightly to shield my eyes from it.

I missed the twisted smile from the demon, but I felt his hand tightening around my own slightly before the glow finally calmed down and went out. The demon let go of my hand, only to pick me up. I gasp as I felt myself being hoisted up into a bridal style carry.

I couldn't bring myself to look at him, so I kept my gaze down at his chest. "Hold on tight." He warns me. And before I knew what was happening, I felt a rush flow throughout my body. It was almost like the feeling you'd get when going down a steep drop on a rollercoaster. And suddenly, we were in a new location.

I look around and take in my surroundings. There was a rather nice looking home before me. Well, I could consider it nice if it didn't look...haunted. I could have sworn I saw a shadow move in one of the many windows. Surrounding the home was a swamp, the water was infested with gators.

But not normal ones. These gators were far larger, their scales an inky black, multiple sets of eyes glow a deep red, and their teeth abnormally sharp and long, stained with the blood of I didn't know what. The plant life was unnatural as well. While they were alive like normal plants, they were sentient.

Looking for some unfortunate passerby to feast upon. This being proven by a demonic version of a frog hopping by one, only to be snatched up and ripped apart. I look away, not wanting to watch as the sound of crunching and squishing filled my ears. The bugs were abnormally large too, and just as carnivorous as the other creatures of the swamp.

"Home sweet home." The demon sighs before walking up the porch stairs. He walks in, the inside completely dark at first before he steps through the threshold. Like magic, light filled the home. And once again, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, shadows retreating into darkness wherever they could find it.

"Now, let's get you patched up." The demon says as he heads up the stairs. He brings me to his bedroom and sets me carefully on the surprisingly soft and comfortable bed.

I tried to keep still, as not to irritate my wing any further. But nothing could ease the pain, I winced and hissed out sharply as another throb jolted my wing. I could have started crying again it hurt so bad. The demon took note of that before moving to my left. I watched him carefully, wary of what he would do next. He said he would patch me up, while that confused me, I still didn't trust his word.

"This might hurt. But do try to keep still." He says before moving his hand over the broken bone. I move away fearfully, a foolish thing to do. I cried as more pain shot up my wing and back. "What did I just say?" The demon sighed.

"What are you going to do?" I ask sharply. He didn't have anything that could properly set the bone, nothing to ease my pain. Did he intend to force it back? "I'm going to heal it. But I need you to sit. Still." The demon said sternly. Still noticing my hesitation, he rolled his eyes. "I will try to make this less painful as possible. Now, are you going to do as I say? Or are you going to just sit there, still in pain?"

I sighed heavily before doing as I was told. I shut my eyes tightly after I watch him move his hand back. Suddenly I felt a shift in my wing joint, but no pain followed as I had expected. After a moment or two, Alastor moved his hand away.

"There we go. All better." The demon says softly. While I felt no pain, I never felt more light headed. My stress finally caught with me and felt I just might actually pass out. My body began to fall forwards, but the demon caught me before I could fall completely. I go limp in his arms, my eyes lids drooping. I heard him chuckle before I felt him moving my body, he gently laid me on my back.

I look up at him with tired eyes, his grin remained the same. I got the feeling he was enjoying this, it made me more sick to think about it. "Try and relax. I'll work on your legs next." He tells you as he moves his hand down to hover over them. I then heard him laugh, before I could question him he spoke.

"My, how rude of me. I've yet to introduce myself. I suppose I've gotten use to everyone knowing who I am, that it slipped my mind." The demon glances at me, he spoke his name with the most charming of tones.

"My name is Alastor."

Alastor? It was such a nice sounding name for a demon. "And who do I have the pleasure of knowing?" I took a shaky breath before answering with a shaky and cracked voice. "Y/n." Alastor's grin soften for a moment as he spoke my name. "Y/n. What a lovely name."

It felt strange to hear a demon speaking my name. It felt wrong. Though, it wasn't any worse than actually making a deal with him. I close my eyes, and begged god for forgiveness. I hope god could forgive me for what I've done.

I only do this to return to god's light. That's all. Please...please understand. The more I thought about that deal, the worse I felt. I didn't want to think about it, but it would always be there. In the back of my mind, will forever be the guilt of my choice.

And I could only hope that whatever this deal would entail, wouldn't be as bad as I fear it would be.

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel spoilers #fallen angel #angst

[soft-girl-musings]

An Unexpected Proposition (pt. 2)

based on this prompt from @imaginexhobbit, previously submitted under @jawn-i-made-coffee

cross-posted to ao3

part 1

Kíli x fem!Reader

tags: mentions of blood/injury, Reader is described as tall (by human standards), Y/N is used

wc: 1,741

fic summary: An injured dwarf appears on your doorstep. Do you grant him sanctuary on this stormy night?

A/N: once again posting the cuties for myself. i have a loose outline from years ago i revisited and honestly? still slaps. so this might get a part 3.

You can't believe it. You’re actually doing it. You walk along the road leading away from town with your pack on your back, boots on your feet-

"Come on, (Y/N)!" Kíli shouts from the top of the hill. You smile. A friend by your side.

Only a few hours earlier you had broken bread and prepared to say goodbye; now, you’re following Kíli after he promised you an adventure. Was this a foolhardy endeavor? Perhaps. But after years in the quiet countryside, your roving heart had gotten restless. Kíli had tempted you with the open road and the thrill of a quest; how could you refuse him? 

As you climb the muddy slope, Kíli taps his foot in mock impatience. "You would think that with those long legs of yours, you'd move faster."

You reach the top and shove him lightly. "Shut up. I'm digesting." He laughs, shoving you right back. You notice he slows his pace to walk beside you this time. "So how much farther are you taking me, sir dwarf?"

"Ah, ah! (Y/N), if we're to be on the road together, we must do away with these formalities." He pulls a grimace and looks up at you. "'Sir Dwarf' makes me sound like some old fool."

You chuckle. Never a dull moment with this one. "Very well, Kíli, " you begin, drawing out his name in playful reverence, “how much farther until we get there?”

Ears tinged pink, he looks away, adding the figures in his head. "Where we're going is... three days on foot. We'd cut our time in half if I hadn't lost my pony." His brow furrows as he remembers his violent run-in with a few drunk locals.

You frown. "You're too weak to make that journey on a deadline." Kíli opens his mouth to object, but you shake your head. "There's a stable not three miles from here. I know the owner, he should take pity on our situation and help us." Kíli's face remains tense, but he nods in agreement and follows you.

Three miles later, you approach the stables and see your friend, just having finished mucking out the stalls. He raises a hand to greet you, but retracts the gesture when he sees who walks beside you.

“'Afternoon, Dylten!” You holler, but he turns and carts the waste to the back of the structure. Strange, he’s never this distracted. You place your bags down and chase after him. “Wait here,” you reassure Kili, “I’ll be right back!”

You find his cart abandoned as he walks hastily away from the stable. “Dylten!” you run to catch up to him. “At least a nod of greeting would suffice. Why the rush, friend?”

“I’m not sure I wish to be called ‘friend,’ if that’s the kind of company you keep,” he grumbles. His face turns red as he walks faster, and you notice a few fresh bruises along his jaw.

You piece two and two together as you reach the crest of the hill, where you see a chestnut brown pony tied haphazardly to a post in front of his home.

"New acquisition?" You ask flatly, knowing full well where the pony came from.

"Of sorts." He moves to walk inside, but you block his doorway, hand on the hilt of your weapon.

"You nearly killed him," you snarl.

"It wasn't just me! Nobody wanted him there!" He backs away, nearly tripping over his front step. "Some of us merely took it upon ourselves to send the dwarf a message!"

You're seething with anger at this point, sword drawn. You brandish the weapon toward him. "Yeah? And what was it-- that you and half the people in this town are beyond dense?"

He’s nervous, but scoffs all the same. “Don’t pretend to be all ‘high and mighty,’ (Y/N). I fought beside you. You knocked heads and drew blood just as easily as the rest of us.”

You’ve heard enough. In an instant, Dylan is knocked down by the pommel of your weapon and you crouch over him, knee to his chest. “Not innocent blood. Which doesn’t help you at the moment.” His breath staggers under your weight, struggling even more as you lean closer. “We’re taking the pony. And your black mare. If you’re lucky, my payment will include us never speaking of this again.”

__________

The next day and a half pass with ease. You notice you’ve reached the western countryside. Lush grass rolls in billowing green waves, speckled with countless wildflowers. Kíli plucks a few and sticks them in your hair while you’re busy preparing lunch; you sneak a few into his braid before he mounts for the final leg of the journey.

"Look!" You shout gleefully. As twilight creeps in, you are met with a most welcome sight. Little homes built into the sides of hills are scattered along the horizon. The grass rises and frames a beaten path before you.

Kíli rides up beside you, grinning wildly. "I think we've finally reached The Shire."

Exhausted from your journey, the two of you go to a cozy-looking tavern for a couple of drinks. You feel like a giant as you sip from a glass half the size of what you’re used to. The door jingles, opening to reveal a blond dwarf looking around warily before stepping inside. You nudge Kíli and point out the newcomer. He leaps from his seat almost immediately. 

"Fíli!" He calls out. The blond turns and, upon seeing Kíli, moves to embrace him.

"Glad to see you arrived safely, brother." They clap each other on the back and return to the table. Upon closer inspection, the family resemblance is much more prominent. Fíli is clearly the oldest of the two, having a harder maturity about him.

Fíli sits across from you, his smile slightly faltering as he looks you up and down. "And who's this?"

 "(Y/N)," you blurt out, offering your hand. "I've been traveling with your brother." Fili shakes it, looking to Kíli for an explanation. 

"She's done so much more than that, Fí. Why-"

"Tell me on the way. We're due at the burglar's house any minute now." 

As you travel to your next destination, Kíli speaks of your "grand rescue". Fíli listens readily, but later murmurs concerns of how "Uncle might not approve" of your presence at the halfling's home. 

The rest of the company, however, simply adores you. After Kíli tells them the tale of how you had saved him and secured transport (you had eventually told him about your run-in with Dylten), the other ten dwarves show an apparent respect for you.

"That'd explain why yer face looks like you fell head-first into a rosebush!" a dwarf called Bofur shouts across the table. You laugh as Kíli's ears turned red.

A heavy knock on the door silences the household.

"He's here."

"Gandalf," you hear someone say in greeting. You find yourself growing nervous as he walks in. Thorin seems to tower over the rest of the company. The graying hair and beard framing his face give his features an aged ferocity. You recall facing foes four times as large, but they suddenly seem dwarfed in comparison to this… well, dwarf.

You take a sip of tea and whisper, "Kíli, what if your brother was right? What if your uncle doesn't want me here at all?" Sensing the panic in your voice, he takes your hand in his and hushes you. "Fí doesn't know what he's talking about. Uncle needs every man he can get, and you're just as good as any of these old fools claim to be." He squeezes your hand andofferes a small smile. "He'll love you, I swear."

Unfortunately, Kíli could not have been more wrong. Thorin's face had been cheerful enough as he greeted his friends, but when his eyes fall on you, the subtle joy vanishes. After taking you in, he frowns. "I had believed this to be a private meeting, Gandalf."

"I had no part in her being here," the wizard insists.

"I brought her, Uncle." All eyes fall on Kíli as he stands. "I didn't think you'd mind. This is-"

"-A human who should not be aware as to why we are gathered."

"But Uncle, she's more than worthy to join us!"

"I decide who is worthy!" The red in Thorin's face deepens with every syllable. Your hand tightens around Kíli's. "Tell me, were you yammering about this quest on your whole journey, or was it just to the pretty ones you wished to impress?"

"With all due respect, sir-- your nephew is not at fault. I came on my own accord."

Thorin turns his glower to you. "Silence, girl. I'll deal with you later." 

"Enough, Uncle!" Kíli shouts He leaps forward, dragging you along until you both stand toe to toe with Thorin. You feel drastically out of place, awkwardly towering over the dwarf who looks about ready to take your head off.

"(Y/N) has done nothing to deserve your blind wrath! If anything, she deserves your utmost respect! She has seen battle in lands I'd never heard of. She served ten years of her life fighting alongside fierce men who were beyond her in years, and matched them blow for blow! And she saved my life. I wouldn't be standing here before you if it wasn’t for her."  He entwines your fingers and looks up at you. You notice he still has flowers in his hair. "She... she nursed me back to health. She fought for my property and restored my dignity, all in a day. And because I asked her, she abandoned her life of comfort to accompany me." He looks back at Thorin, determined. "I owe her my life."

"Let her stay, Uncle. They mean well," Fíli interjects  from his corner of the room.

Thorin's eyes never leave Kíli's. "I had known you to be reckless, but I did not take you for a fool."

"Nor I you." His uncle smirks, but does not let the humor reach his eyes. "Please."

A tense moment of silence passes between you. Thorin moves closer, now standing directly beneath you. "You have no room for error. One wrong move and I will not hesitate to make you pay." 

You kneel before him, hardly believing what you heard. "From this moment on, you are my King; I will serve you as such. You have my loyalty and my sword at your disposal."

#the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #hobbit fic #an unexpected journey #kili #kíli #kili x reader #kili/reader #kili x y/n #imaginexhobbit

[layla4567]

I'm just a librarian ✿ pt5

Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Fem!reader

Summary: You begin to discover things about Marc/Steven's past as your adventure begins.

Warnings: murder mention, death mention, persecution, swearing, sexual tension(?,

A/N: the next part will be the final, sorry!

Part 4

The next morning I woke up with the horrible feeling of having only slept two hours. What's worse, I had had a horrible nightmare where some men came into my house and someone mentioned something about a giant talking dove… anyway. I slowly sat up in bed rubbing my eyes and watching the morning light coming through my window. I stretched my arms like a cat, stretching and got up, yawning, dragging my feet towards my kitchen.

"I had the craziest dream of my life.."- I said to myself even with my eyes closed.

"It wasn't a dream"

I gasped and jumped on the spot, waking up. To one side Marc was resting on my couch, he was still shirtless and covered with a blanket. He rested his elbow on the cushions and looked at me seriously.

"For God sake, Marc!! Jesus!, you scared me. I didn't remember you were here"

Marc continued seriously and stood up slowly putting on his shirt. As best I could, I went to prepare breakfast for both of them. I needed a good cup of caffeine. While I prepared pancakes Marc sat in the chair inspecting his wound. The bandage was still in place and the cut was no longer bleeding. I finished breakfast and served it on the table.

"Thanks..."- Marc murmured, surprised.

"No problem, I'm used to having breakfast alone but I thought you would be hungry too"- I said confused by his reaction.

"No, it's not that, it's just that… I haven't had pancakes in years…"

I almost choked on the pancake I put in my mouth and looked at it with my mouth full and big eyes.

"In years?! So what have you been eating??"

"What I found in Steven's refrigerator, or leftovers…"

"That sucks, I don't know how you're still alive."

He laughed softly and I smiled, satisfied that I was able to get a smile out of him, again.

"Let's say that in matters of survival I excel quite well"

"Oh well, since you're bringing it up, I want to know exactly what you do."- I said, clasping my hands and leaning under my chin.

"Are you sure? It's not a very nice story."

"You owe me"- I said pointing at him with a finger

He looked around remembering last night's disaster and nodded. He told how he used to travel the world killing people, he was a mercenary, he worked for people and he had to obey, that's what they paid him for. One day someone hired him to rescue an important statuette in Egypt, but during the expedition a member of the team betrayed him and fatally wounded him. Failing, he took refuge in a pyramid, he felt his strength abandon him when an imposing figure with the head of a bird spoke to him with a voice from beyond the grave. He said his name was Khonsu, the Egyptian god of the moon. The cunning god saved his life in exchange for him becoming his avatar, that is, his faithful knight.

"Or his slave, depending on how you want to see it"- he muttered angrily

"What happened after that?"

He sighed with reluctance. And he related that now he called himself "Moon Knight" and served Khonsu. Unfortunately, the man who treacherously escaped with the statuette, Marc suspected that he was a follower of Arthur Harrow. Obviously Steven knew nothing about this, that's why sometimes he woke up in a place he didn't know, because Khonsu ordered Marc to go to those places.

"Holy shit..."

I stared at him weighing the information. Now you felt the pieces fit together, his fighting skills, the people chasing him, even that strange figure I saw running across the rooftops.

"So.. a mercenary.."

"Go ahead, say it, I know you have a bad impression of me right now"-Marc felt how you felt aberration for his work.

"I wasn't going to say anything, I was just thinking that everything makes sense now"

He looked at me confused so I told him everything I had been noticing in him since he first appeared, at least as Marc and not Steven.

"And I thought I was being subtle, you don't know how hard it is to imitate Steven's accent"

Marc began to awkwardly imitate his counterpart's British accent and it made me genuinely laugh. Suddenly he frowned and rested his hand on the back of my hand that was resting on the table.

"I know that what I'm about to ask of you will border on the height of disrespect, but I need you to come with me.."

Before I could say anything he continued speaking quickly.

"I'm serious. It's important that you don't stay here because now they know where to find you and they won't hesitate to extract information from you by force"

A small wave of panic made my blood freeze, I didn't want to imagine what those men could do to me if they entered my house again. But I didn't want to leave so suddenly either. Marc sensed my fear and explained

"You may have to move to another place for a few days until this is all over. If you come with me we will settle in Cairo in a small house with all the comforts, you will only have to worry about the intense heat of the sun"-He tried to smile

Cairo… suddenly superimposed images came to my mind. Pyramids, sand, camels, dunes… everything I had read in the library books came to my mind like a whirlwind. Egypt was known not only for its pyramids and all the culture that came with it but also for its high temperatures and sand storms.

"I understand that this is all confusing and sudden but I need you to-"

"I will"

Marc was surprised by your quick and confident response. I looked into his eyes with determination, trying not to regret my decision, even so, I knew it was the right thing to do. Stay would have been a suicide plan

"But I still need to know things about you, such as where you lived before, your father or mother, etc"

Marc's face tightened when he heard the word mother and a look of disgust crossed his forehead. His mother was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

"Fine I promise, but not now. You must pack your bags, we leave in an hour"

I got up from the table and Marc imitated me, nervously I went to my room and grabbed all the clothes I could find, I particularly chose cool and light clothes that would help me withstand the heat of Egypt. When I was almost finishing the suitcase, I looked for an object in the drawer of my nightstand, a small ring that I inherited from my mother before she died. I rubbed it lovingly, polishing it gently, and put it in a pocket of my suitcase. When I finished, I looked moved at my room and touched with my fingers the photo frames that hung on the walls, all my photos of me, my friends or family. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. Was I really about to leave all that behind? I shook my head to clear those thoughts and went to the kitchen where Marc was already ready.

"Let's go, the faster we get there the better, a jeep will be waiting for us outside."

Marc was about to leave when he suddenly remembered something and took two caps out of his backpack.

"Maybe this will help hide our identities just in case. And it also protects us from the sun"

With a sigh I took Marc's hand and we left my apartment. At no point did Marc let go of my hand, I didn't know if it was because he didn't want me to get lost or because of something else. When we arrived at the place the jeep was not there, it had a slight delay and we had to wait for it. Marc seemed impatient and from time to time he took quick glances towards the sky or what seemed to be the roof of a house.

"What are you looking at?"-I said looking at him

"Nothing, it doesn't matter.."

But Marc avoided eye contact with me and continued to look up, and not only that but he also made faces of annoyance by frowning and pursing his lips or making small angry pouts as if he wanted to shut someone up. I couldn't contain myself anymore and I turned around to where he was looking but I didn't find anything. I started to think he had gone crazy until I remembered the whole story about that Khonsu bird.

"Ohh I got it, It's the lunar god you told me about"

He nodded with a grunt and looked away.

"And what's he saying now?"

The middle-aged man didn't want to answer and instead returned to see Khonsu, increasingly angry.

"He says something about me?"

"He's getting involved in what doesn't matter to him."

I was going to say something else but he exclaimed again irritated.

"And he should learn to keep quiet!"

People passing by looked at us confused and worried about Marc's mental health. I smiled nervously, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking at the people out of the corner of my eye.

"Ok ok! easy man..I see you two have a lot to talk about"

"Anyway, I hope the jeep doesn't take long to arrive. I already want to get out of here."

I have never agreed more with him. We both stood a little away from the people waiting for time to fly. With my arms crossed I fixed my gaze on any point and my mind began to wander, I remembered everything I had experienced so far, Steven's arrival, his strange behavior, the thieves and then Marc's confession. All of that had happened in a matter of hours or days. They were the busiest and most chaotic weeks of my life, maybe my boss was right and I should take a break, although these were not the vacations I imagined. Suddenly a shake on my arm brought me back to reality, I looked at Marc intrigued and I could see the fear on his face.

"We have to run now"

"What? But why? What's wrong M-"

Marc didn't let me finish speaking because he grabbed my chin and turned it towards where he was looking. When I turned my head I saw four guys pointing in our direction. After exchanging a few words they began to approach at a safe pace towards where we were. A chill ran down my spine and for a second I was frozen in place.

"Come on, run!"-He said pulling my arm.

But I couldn't move and I felt stupid for that, but the shock was so great that it had paralyzed my body. Although I wanted to move because I was aware of the danger, I couldn't. The four men, noticing Marc's urgency in wanting to leave, began to advance faster. Marc grabbed my wrist firmly and with an accurate push he managed to get me moving.

"NOW!"

All that was missing was that little push necessary for my feet to start flying. I was running so fast that I couldn't feel the ground beneath me, I even seemed to be running faster than Marc. The pursuers ran after us pushing people who fell to the ground screaming or moved away offended. We avoided food stalls, street vendors but the other men threw everything in their path without caring. Although they were far from us, they ran very fast and it was difficult for us to keep them away because I was starting to get tired, Marc was dragging me and I couldn't keep up with him well. Suddenly Marc turned a corner and we hid in a narrow alley, in the brick wall there was a hole that two people could easily enter if they squeezed together. He put a finger on my mouth to silence me and dragged me to the gap in the wall. Obviously it was very narrow and it was difficult for both of us to fit in. I had to put my head against Marc's chest and I could hear his unbridled heartbeat reverberating in his chest like a drum. The four men who were still running stopped in front of the alley, inspecting it with their eyes. My pulse accelerated and I got closer to Marc's body as if it were a protective shield, he gasped softly and closed his eyes tightly. The men said something and separated, looking elsewhere, two to the left and the other two to the right. I felt my soul return to my body, I tried to take a deep breath and moved a little further away from Marc, or at least as much as could be possible in that narrow hiding place. Her heart was still beating fast and I wasn't sure if it was because of the proximity or because of the men who were chasing us. I raised my head to see him and his eyes shone abnormally and… his cheeks seemed slightly pink, but I guess it was from the effort of running so much.

"I-I think they've already left, we should leave"

"Yeah.."-he gasped

We slowly left the hiding place although we had to use force to leave the narrow gap and I almost fell on top of Marc if it weren't for him holding me by the shoulders. We walked until we left the alley and after looking everywhere and seeing that our pursuers were not close we began to jog. But the calm didn't last long because the four of them met again, it seemed like they had emerged from the sewers and chased us like dogs again. I was already exhausted and I felt my legs burning from the effort, when I felt that my thighs were going to tremble and I was going to fall to my knees on the ground, a honk made us turn our heads. The jeep had arrived and its driver, Marc's friend, was waving at us with his arm and shouting loudly for us to get on, but we were practically surrounded so Marc decided to quickly climb a staircase of a building that led to a balcony while the confused men It took them a few seconds to react before coming up with us. When we got to the balcony the jeep was right below us on the street.

"Are you ready?"

"For what?!"-I exclaimed scared

"For jump!!"

Marc held me by the waist and practically pushed me down as he fell with me. My scream was so strident that it could practically have been heard all the way to China. With horror I saw how the ground was getting closer to my eyes, I felt like my life was passing in front of my eyes. I closed my eyes and covered my face with my arms while I whimpered in fear, expecting the worst. But thank heavens we fell into the seats of the jeep while the driver started the vehicle that skidded and smoked the tires while we left the four guys behind cursing and showing the middle finger. At breakneck speed we were able to escape safely, although it was a stretch because I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Are you ok?"-He asked me worried

I was about to answer him in a bad way but I stopped myself because everything that was happening wasn't his fault, but honestly it was beyond me.

"I've been better.."-I said sharply and breathlessly.

We settled into the seats trying to catch our breath and gather our thoughts. Marc better have a plan to emerge triumphant from all this shit because otherwise I don't know how we could face Harrow and his sect of lunatics, we hadn't started our search and I was already feeling fed up. To calm things down, Marc's friendly friend started a chat.

"Hi!, you must be Y/n, Marc told me that I would have to pick him up and a pretty girl for Cairo, although he never told me that you were so beautiful."-he said winking

In another context, that type of "compliment" would have made me sick, but I was too exhausted to think about it, and Marc's friend didn't seem depraved, well after all, if he was his friend, he had to be a good guy. Even so, Marc covered his face, embarrassed and wanting to kill him, a laugh left my mouth without thinking about it.

"By the way I'm Leo, at your service"

I nodded with an amused smile while Marc looked in another direction trying to suppress the embarrassment he felt right now. I looked at him to see if he would turn his face or say something but since that didn't happen I decided to tease him a bit.

"So you told Leo that a pretty girl was waiting with you, was that girl me?"-I said, biting my lip, I inferred into a smile.

Marc shivered a little uncomfortably and shifted nervously in his seat but still didn't look at me.

"And what else did you say about me?"-I said with a honeyed and innocent voice.

Leo looking at Marc from the rearview mirror was holding back his laughter but it was obvious that he couldn't, he saw it and frowned.

"Oh come on!"-Marc said looking at me angrily and then looked away again.

Now Leo and I burst out laughing, it was a relief to laugh despite the difficulties. That seemed to calm the atmosphere because then the three of us seemed more relaxed. When I realized we were no longer in the city but traveling along the empty road. In the sky the sun was slowly descending through the horizon, dyeing the sky and the clouds orange and pink. I stood admiring the colorful landscape while counting the hours to reach Cairo. Suddenly the dream overcame me and my heavy eyelids began to droop until I closed my eyes. My head hung downwards and the soft rattle of the jeep shook my body. Unintentionally, all my weight swung to one side and I fell on top of Marc with my head resting on his shoulder. He seemed to be startled because he turned his head quickly looking at me confused and uncomfortable, but he didn't have the courage to push me aside so after a few minutes, sleep knocked him out too and he fell asleep with his head on mine. Leo saw us both from the mirror and smiled to himself.

"These lovebirds will end up in love"

As the jeep traveled down the long road, a tall, imposing figure with a bird's skull watched from a distance, crouching as the vehicle drove away. Guñendo stood up and placed his cane on the ground with a sharp thump that would have made the earth shake.

"That girl will give us problems, I hope you know what you're doing…Marc"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

tag: @corpsebridenightamare @perfectprofessorloverapricot

I know I owe you a big apology for taking so long to continue this series and another apology because the next part will be the final one. But I've lost a little interest in this story and if it weren't for the fact that I respect that several of you like this series I would have canceled it a long time ago.

#marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #imagine #female reader #one shot #x reader #moon knight #jake lockley #steven grant #khonshu #marc spector #moon knight series #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fluff #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector fanfiction #mr knight #marc spector fluff #fem reader #x female reader

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 25, 2021 9:00 p.m. seoul

**TW: SUICIDE MENTION**

[grant] hey, not to bring up the previous conversation, but uh, i wanted to say i'm sorry you had to deal with me the same year you were going through so much. it wasn't fair.

[henry] it's okay, grant. i don't think your motivation for being an addict and attempting suicide that year was, "yeah, fuck henry, i want to make his life so much worse right now. his dad's dead, he may not have enough credits to get his degree this may, and now me!"

[grant] it doesn't matter what it was. the fact is that my problems hurt other people. i didn't just harm myself. and i was not a pleasant person that last year when you really needed pleasantry.

[henry] yeah, i'm not going to lie to you, that very last year of college, i thought the version of you i knew and loved was gone.

[grant] i was insufferable.

[henry] correct. you were an asshole.

[henry] for the most part. you did try to be good again and be there for me when my dad died.

[henry] it was weird. i hadn't seen you sober in years, but when i called you for the first time in a few weeks because there was no one else besides soobin i wanted to talk to about my dad dying, you showed up to my place kind of normal again.

[henry] i don't want to say "sober" because you probably weren't, but you were at least on fewer substances than i was used to at the time, so you seemed sober.

[henry] you weren't in a place to show up for people long-term because you were suffering, too, but you tried. you checked on me every day for a few weeks until finals hit and everything got crazy for everyone. well, no, until we threw that intervention for you right before finals. nonetheless, i appreciated the effort.

[henry] it stopped me from cutting you out, so there's that.

[henry] i'm not trying to sound rude either, please don't take it that way. it was just a lot. i would have regretted it if i cut you out, and i didn't want to at my core because i do not want to do life without you, but i didn't think you had it in you to get out of that spiral you were in for years. i really did not. i thought you were done for.

[henry] i'm sensitive, even if i never sound like it. i was mad at you for bad behavior, but i was also, um, really sad to see you like that. i love you. i've loved you as a brother and a best friend for almost my entire life. and i did not think i could stomach watching you die at your own hand. it made me sick.

[henry] and it probably makes me a bad friend to have felt that way. one, to have thought about cutting you out, and two, to have had so little faith left in you. you deserved more faith from me. if the roles were reversed, you'd never give up on me.

[grant] don't say that. everyone has their limit, and it's hard to know where it is until you finally hit it. i would have one, too.

[grant] and man, you were meant to feel that way. i meant it when i told you i pushed people away purposely.

[grant] whatever conscience and consciousness i had during that time always reminded me that i was terrified of hurting other people. i was very well aware i was probably causing, like, terrible amounts of pain to my friends and family, and i didn't want to do more damage when i killed myself, so...

[grant] yeah, i always meant to kill myself. i thought about it every day for years, honestly all the way back into high school, and i got super close to trying it about a billion times, but i only ever went through with any of my plans once.

[grant] and i'll regret for the rest of my life that you and my grandparents had to see what i did to myself on graduation night.

[grant] but anyway, i chose to have those awful behaviors because i felt like if i ran everybody off and made them leave, they'd be glad i was dead and wouldn't hate me for what i did and just forget me.

[grant] terrible, terrible strategy! like holy shit! i also entirely regret acting out like that, the much happier and stable version of myself from the last, like, eight years realizes that made everything worse and wouldn't have fixed anything anyway.

[grant] trying not to hurt people by hurting them upfront is a fucked up strategy. just entirely fucked up and counterintuitive.

[henry] no, it wouldn't have worked. you'd have left everyone traumatized by not being able to repair things with you.

[henry] so, whether you like it or not, people do like you. people tend to really, really like you. you have a very magnetic, charming personality that very few other people in the world share.

[henry] and people do want you around. i want you around.

[henry] i know what i just said, but i really do want you around.

[henry] but also, wow. i guess you did a great job at trying to run us off since it almost worked on me.

[grant] it was easier than acknowledging people care about me or worry about me. i'm not good at that.

[grant] oh, and in those rare early moments where i thought that i needed help, i was scared everyone would only ever see me as a fucked up shell of a human being. like if i got better, i would still be reduced to the guy with problems.

[grant] i'm glad that i regret trying to kill myself. there's a lot i would have missed out on, including the chance to be nice to myself. but i do worry that some of those things are true, that fucked up is the only way people see me, even strangers.

[grant] i feel like glass sometimes. like everyone looks through me and sees the worst in me and only the worst.

[henry] i'm sorry you feel that way.

[henry] it's a little ironic, though. the more you hold back from telling your loved ones these things or try to push us away so we never see you struggling with anything ever, the more we worry you have the same exact problems that almost killed you before.

[grant] i've really backed myself into a corner, eh?

[henry] there's about a million things i could respond to that with, but here's the most important one. you're worth worrying about.

[henry] you spend your life looking after people and telling everyone to care about others, like you just told me to worry about my future kids, but you seriously do not believe you deserve that in return, and i don't get it. no, i do, but i don't.

[henry] yes, your parents taught you that you don't deserve love, but then again...

[grant] i'm trying to believe. and i have gotten at least a little better. my birthday, you know? i handled that pretty well.

[henry] everyone has flaws. we could and should try harder to not emphasize yours so much. but i don't see those flaws first. and if i do think about them, it's because i don't want them to take you away.

[henry] you don't see my flaws first, do you? clearly, you don't. right? you don't act like you see them.

[henry] the person i see you as is the kid who became friends with me two decades ago. some random nice kid who approached the one new kid at the park sitting by himself and played with him even though they couldn't talk to each other yet. some random kid who learned the basics of my language on the internet to write me a sweet letter saying, "hi, i'm grant, i'm six years old, and i want to be your friend." it didn't even matter it was written poorly.

[henry] i see a lot of good things in you. remember, i was just telling everyone about how nice you were to help me save the first dinner i hosted for soobin. a day ago, you helped me get over failure, one of my lifelong biggest fears, for an hour or two.

[henry] but i think our beginning sums you up nicely. i don't know anyone else who would have gone to such lengths for some nobody new kid. you didn't owe me your time or your respect and yet you gave it to me. and that was a weird time in my life. everything turned upside down when i moved. to have a friend like you then was...

[henry] and of course, nothing's changed. you're still a kind person. you're funny. you're smart. you're just you. you're one of the only people on earth who isn't fake. the kid i remember isn't gone. i'm glad he survived. i'm glad i didn't lose him.

[grant] despite everything, it's still me?

[henry] yes. but so we're clear, you don't have to do nice things to be worthy of being liked. you're likable on your own. i'm only saying that your kindness stands out to me, and i know that you value that trait, so it bears mentioning. you've been very good to me. i can forgive the times when you weren't. i've been a jackass before, too. i've probably been a jackass to you.

[grant] i feel like we've said thanks a lot today but thanks for sticking with me. don't feel bad that you thought i couldn't get better. that was my fault. but you're still here. and you showed up on graduation night for me. i'm beyond sorry that you had to see any of that, like i cannot repent or apologize enough in my lifetime, but thank you.

[grant] i owe you my life.

[grant] i owe you a lot but that first.

[grant] i've said it before but it should be repeated, you know? i definitely would have died if you didn't come that night. aside from my uncle, you're the only one i know who can pick a lock.

[henry] just do not make me do it again. i would show up a second time, but it would be better on my psyche if that was unnecessary.

[grant] it won't happen again. i've been good for a long time, but i'm great now and most of all, appropriately medicated for bipolar disorder. it's all going to be okay.

[grant] we're going to go home, continue being best friends forever, you're going to be a great dad one day.

[henry] and you will get your job back!

[grant] great minds think alike! now, how much longer until the arcade? i promise i'll let you win a game of air hockey for once.

#tw suicide #tw suicide mention #tw drug mention #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 storytelling #simblr #hlcn: everything the stars promised #I'M NOT SORRY THIS IS SO LONG GUYS IT'S WORTH IT IMO #ALSO THE GRADUATION DAY INCIDENT I'VE WRITTEN ABOUT FOR YEARSSSSSS IS FINALLY BEING EXPLAINED #this is a sad post in many ways but i'm excited to be tying up some of these storylines i created a long ass time ago #also i was trying to be extra safe about the tws here because i never know if the tags alone are enough #post x100 script: sometimes we don't get to see grant's flaws bc this story is through his perspective but here we go here's a look at them #holocene.docx #holocene.png #hlcn: grant #hlcn: henry

[strawbrerian-writes]

About Damn Time

This fucking thing was meant to be my contribution for @elucienweekofficial day 7 Prompt: AU. Did I get it complete in time? No. Life got in my way. Oh Well.

So here's a smutty, more plot than I meant it to have, really long Elucien one-shot. Which I am completely dedicating to @separatist-apologist for being a wonderful human and inspiring me and so many others out there.

Title: About Damn Time

Rating: Explicit

Summary:

Elain planned to have a quiet, cool day off. The universe took one look at her plans and said "bet."

Elain Archeron was convinced that a good cup of coffee could stop wars.

She was equally convinced it was a lack of a good cup of coffee that caused them.

It was 7:30 in the morning, and she was struggling. Summer was in full swing. As a landscaper, she preferred to do her work as early as possible. It was both better for the plants and for her employees’ disposition, as working conditions from eleven on in the summer were the stuff of nightmares.

The sun would be relentless. The heat would climb well into the nineties and the “feels like” would push it into triple digits. Most people would retreat to the air conditioning or find some body of water and stay there.

If the heat weren’t bad enough, average eighty percent humidity meant that even standing outside for five minutes kept her entire body soaking wet without her consent and her hair threatening to mutiny even in its braid.

The heat wouldn’t stop the bugs, though. They’d swarm, getting stuck in her sweat and biting any skin left exposed.

Elain loved it. She loved the messiness of it. The way the dirt was always cool beneath her fingers, the way the right plants flourished under the burning sun. She was made for sunny days and warm weather and mess.

She wasn’t crazy, though. Even she had her limits. Like the fact that it was 90% humidity and 90 degrees at seven-thirty with the weatherman calling for over 100 degrees by noon when she’d meant to be up and at the jobsite by six. She’d had three of her five employees call in, taking advantage of her high temps’ policy.

She usually wouldn’t mind. Had even decided last night to call it, herself. She texted all clients on the books for the day to let them know her crew would get to them the following business day and turned off her alarm.    

Until her favorite client called that morning.

The director of the public library was in a panic, begging her to get the landscaping done before the summer reading program finale. Tomorrow. It was their biggest program of the year and auditors from the state were coming in.

“We have the potential to bring massive grants if everything goes off without a hitch. We could finally start the renovations we need. I know the weather is bad, Elain, but please I’ll pay double. Out of my own damn pocket,” Helion begged, his usually rich, smoky voice taking on a whine.  

“It’s not just that, Helion,” she sighed into the receiver. “I’m down three guys today due to heat. You know my temps’ policy; I can’t make them come in. It takes four of us total to do a job that big in a day.”

“How many do you have?” he responded quickly. Elain could hear shuffling in the background and a woman’s voice murmuring. Likely his wife, who has hired Elain on several occasions to spruce up her gardens.

“Including myself, three.”

“Great! I have a meeting this morning and then I’ll be out to help. Sylva is grabbing Aodhan. He’ll meet you in, what? Thirty?” Helion was determined. She’d give him that.   

“Aodhan Vanserra?” Elain questioned. She started to gather her things for the day. She knew the moment she answered the phone she was going to go. “Is he back in town?”

“He likes to get his hands dirty, and he’s strong. Put him to work wherever you need him,” Helion said loudly. She heard more scuffling, doors being shut and then her friend was back in a whisper, “Beron kicked him out, cut him off, and nearly killed the poor guy. Do not say anything about his ear.”

“What’s wrong with his ear?” Elain whispered as well. Even though she was in a room by herself and presumably no one could hear her.

“Later,” Helion hissed, then louder, “and you’re not paying him, dear. I am. As a thank you for this. Truly.”

“I didn’t say I’d do it,” Elain lied sweetly. Of course, she had already shoved the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could pull on her brown work boots.  

“E-laain,” Helion whined, drawing her name out ridiculously, “but you love me.”

She sighed theatrically. “You know I do. You don’t have to pay extra. Just take care of your step-son and provide us with lunch and hydration.”

“Deal!” Helion’s shout was nothing short of triumphant. “Love you, too. See you soon.”  

He hung up the phone, leaving Elain standing in her living room shaking her head.

Elain couldn’t bring herself to say no to Helion.

She’d spent most of her days in that library. Helion had become one of her closest friends over the years. Before he was director of the library, he was a high school history teacher and headed up the gardening club. He was probably Elain’s most favorite person outside of her family.   

So, she threw her hair in a rough ponytail and rushed out the door. Between the two employees who agreed to work the heat and Aodhan, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day. She’d be starting later than she wanted but with any luck, she’d been done before they all melted into plant food.

She’d do just about anything for her clients, especially Helion.

Well, except give up her morning large, iced coffee. He could wait another ten minutes. She was feeling chocolate peanut butter and whipped cream this morning.

“Elain?”

Every muscle in her body tensed. She squeezed her eyes tight, counting to three before she turned around.

Standing in line just behind Elain was her ex-boyfriend, Graysen Lorde and a very petite, beautiful woman she’d never seen before. She had beautiful ebony skin and sleek, black hair down to her shoulders. They were both dressed for work, Graysen in the gray slacks and a white button-down that indicated it was Thursday, the woman in a sleek, black pantsuit and heels.

“Graysen?”

What was he doing here? Last she’d heard he moved, took a high paying position at a new bank out west. Not to mention, he hated coffee.

“I thought that was you,” he said with a nervous smile. “You look…good.”

Elain glanced down at her clothes. She was rushed this morning, grabbing the first set of anything she could find. Which meant wearing a pair of canvas shorts with tears from work, a white tank top with a dirt stain along the bottom hem where she’d undoubtedly rubbed her hands without thinking, and an oversized green flannel one of her little sister’s friends had left behind years ago, in an attempt to hide the stains and tears of her work clothes.

“Thanks, just heading into the office,” she joked lamely. Graysen was never a fan of her “blue-collar” job. When they met, she was a bank teller working through community college. She spent her days in business casual clothing, hair always curled, and her makeup flawless.

No dirt under her nails. No sweat. No mess. No fun.

Graysen looked as he always had. Handsome face, sandy brown hair cut close, clothes tailored perfectly to his body. He looked like he’d put on some muscle, and maybe gotten a little tan somewhere.

“You’re Elain Archeron?” the beautiful woman said smiling, her voice deeper than she expected. It was almost musical. Graysen coughed a little and seemed to give her some kind of a look from the side.

Elain tried to brush it off. They had split over a year now, halfway agreeable, but she knew her ex to twist everything to his advantage. There was no telling what he’d told this woman.  

She collected herself, standing a little straighter. She brushed her hands off on her shirt. “Uh, yeah…yes. I’m Elain Archeron.”

“Oh wow! You did the floral arrangements for my sister’s wedding this past February! The Rosenbluth/Cress wedding,” the woman smiled brilliantly, her pearly white teeth shining. She seemed…genuine. She even reached out her hand to shake Elain’s.

Elain remembered the wedding. It was a Valentine’s wedding. The bride wanted every pink, red, and white flower in existence. If that wasn’t a tall enough order, she’d waited until a week before the wedding to order anything at all. A week before Valentine’s Day. Every shop in a fifty-mile radius was booked up, and no florist would take her on.

Then someone had given Elain’s name to the bride’s mother.

“I remember her,” Elain mused. She took the woman’s offered hand in a firm shake. It was surprisingly calloused – just like her own. “I’d done some floral arranging before, but nothing to that scale. It was a nice challenge.”

They moved up a bit in line. She snuck a glance at Graysen. His face was quickly losing color.  

“Oh, don’t be modest! She asked for the moon, and you gave it to her. You pulled an absolute miracle out of thin air,” the still nameless woman gushed. Elain was starting to blush. There was something so kind and sincere about this woman that it put her at ease. She just had one of those sunny personalities that drew people in. Elain couldn’t help but like this woman. “I honestly wish I would’ve known about you sooner, and I wouldn’t have wasted my money on the hack who did our wedding.”

Wait, what? Elain’s brain stuttered. She prayed the shock didn’t show on her face. Our wedding?

“Cora…” Graysen started, a hint of warning in his voice. He had a thin line of sweat beading up on his hairline now, his face completely pallid. The woman paid him no attention.

“Don’t you remember, babe? The flowers were half wilted before the ceremony was even over. It was a disaster,” Cora – his wife, apparently – went on seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension in the atmosphere. “They were sunflowers, even. Hardy things, right? Perfect for a fall wedding, but no…the guy had cut them too early, didn’t care for them properly and they were dead before nightfall.”

In that moment, three things became absolutely certain to Elain.

First, Graysen had lied to her when they broke up. He’d said they’d drifted apart, and it just wasn’t working out anymore.  

Second, he had to get married within weeks of breaking up with her. Which meant either the man who took six months deciding on which tie to wear to a Christmas banquet suddenly decided to add some serious spontaneity to his life, or ...

Elain didn’t want to think about or, because the last thing that was very clear in that moment was that this woman – Cora, Graysen’s wife ­– had no idea who the hell Elain really was.

Cora kept talking, but Elain couldn’t hear. Her heartbeat was thumping so loud in her ears she couldn’t hear anything besides her own panic and rising anger. She was vaguely aware of the line jostling her forward. Cora was still smiling, going on about the wedding and flowers and what a wonderful job Elain did for her friend.

Bile was rising in her throat. She had to get out of here. She’d send Helion out for coffee. He owed her, but she had to leave.

“I couldn’t remember if you wanted Lemon or Raspberry, so I got one of each,” a confident, low voice broke through her panic. Elain turned to the source and looked up…and up.

A very tall, very handsome man in a black t-shirt and jeans was standing beside her holding out parchment wrapped scones in one of his massive hands. The other hand held two coffees by the bottom, impressively long fingers keeping them steady. She looked farther up at the curve of his nose, those full, full lips and the familiar cut of jawline. At the rich, auburn hair pulled into a tight bun. At the long scar running along the side of his face.

Oh thank God, she knew this man.

“Babe?” he said it as a question, head quirked slightly. Elain could have kissed him. Might have, had she not been frozen in place.

“Lemon,” she blurted more forcefully than she’d meant. She grabbed the correct scone from his hand and one of the coffees, as if he’d gotten it for her. She smiled gratefully at him. “I’m feeling lemon today. Thank you, Lucien.”

His name rolled off her tongue with ease.

Lucien grinned. “A little sour today, sweet-tart?”

“Don’t you mean sweetheart?” she teased back, trying to appear effortless. Graysen and his wife were still standing there, after all, watching with interest. Though by now color had started to return to Graysen’s face.

“I said what I said,” Lucien smirked proudly. He turned to the other two. “Good to see you again, Gray.” He nodded. “Cora.”

“That explains it!” Cora exclaimed, clapping her hands cheerfully. She turned to her husband. “That’s how you knew to recommend Elain! She’s Lucien’s girl.”

Graysen’s eyes hardened imperceptibly. His ears were turning red, a sign of rising temper. Elain held her smile as Lucien stepped a bit closer to her, claiming her space. At least now she knew how Mrs. Rosenbluth got her number.

“Yes ma’am,” Lucien answered for Graysen, still grinning like a fool. “Graysen mentioned how difficult a time your friend was having around the office one day, and I kindly offered my girl’s assistance.”

Graysen’s left eye twitched. “Yep.” He said, lips popping hard on the ‘p’. “That’s exactly right.”

Elain had to fight down a nervous laugh. This all felt so absurd.  

“It was good seeing you again Cora, Graysen, but I’ve got to get my lady to Pops. You know how he panics,” Lucien laughed. He gestured to the door, arms encircling Elain and ushering her toward it. “I’ll see you around, Lorde.”

Graysen nodded curtly, Cora giving an enthusiastic wave.

“It was nice to meet you, Elain!” Cora called sweetly. Elain smiled back, raising her coffee in the air as if in a wave.

“You too, Cora!”  

When they were outside the doors, Elain turned to Lucien. “Glass doors, Elain. He’s still watching,” Lucien said, smiling widely. Elain chanced a glance through the windows and sure enough, Graysen’s eyes hadn’t left her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, staying close to Lucien so as not to break the illusion. She looked down into her cup. “What is it?”

“It’s a Reese’s Iced Coffee, extra whip,” Lucien answered as he swirled the cup in his hand. “Which sounds absolutely atrocious with a lemon scone, by the way.”

Elain narrowed her eyes. “How?”

“Pops,” Lucien shrugged in response. He took a sip from his cup. “The coffee is amazing, though. I’ll give you that. Come on.” He motioned down the sidewalk, towards the parking lot a few buildings down.  

“Helion told you my drink order?” Elain questioned as they started walking down the street.

“Apparently you have him and mom both hooked on it,” Lucien explained. His russet eyes twinkled. “Though the scones were a guess.”   

“Oh,” Elain said softly. She eyed her scone for a minute, replaying the interaction in her head. She didn’t even know Graysen was back in town. Lucien seemed to, though. “Do you work with him?”

“Who? Lorde?” Lucien asked.

She gave a small nod.

“Not exactly,” Lucien shook his head. He wiped his mouth with the back of the hand holding the other pastry. “Different departments. Different floors. I really only see him at functions or in the gym.”

“When did he get back?” she asked. Elain didn’t want to seem like she was digging for information about an ex, but she was so thrown off by everything that she couldn’t help herself. She wanted answers. Lucien seemed to have some, at least.

“About two months ago, but I know he interviewed with Jurian back in February,” Lucien answered honestly.

“He works for Jurian?”

“Fuck no,” Lucien spat, his head whipping back and forth. He was smiling. “Jurian hates that guy.”

Elain giggled. They walked for a beat in silence before she was brave enough to ask.  

“So … did you know about…?”

“Only recently. He brought her a luncheon with my boss. He’s trying to switch out of accounting,” Lucien answered when she trailed off. “Until then, I didn’t know a damn thing.”

Elain and Graysen had dated on and off all through college. Lucien had been around for the entire disastrous thing.

She wasn’t as close to Lucien as Feyre was, but Lucien had always been an important part of Elain’s life. He’d always bought her flower seeds and pastries when she was down. He would drive her to the library on rainy days. He was at every party in college, living it up and chasing unwanted idiots off her and her sisters.

He walked with her in Feyre’s wedding, being both friends to the bride and groom. She was at the hospital with him the night of his wreck senior year.  His father was her first client when she opened her business. His mother her second.

But life took them in separate directions, Elain and Graysen got back together for the last time and Lucien just kind of…stopped coming around.

“He’s a bastard,” Lucien uttered as they arrived at their vehicles. “And he can’t hit his squats.”

Elain laughed. “Can’t all have thighs like yours Dump Truck,” she said with a smile, using his old high school nickname.

Lucien threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

“You know, I always did wonder where that shirt went,” he said, pointing to the flannel she currently had on. “Though how the hell you’re wearing that thing in this heat, I don’t understand.”

Elain looked down at it and grinned. “You don’t remember? You gave it to me after Jurian threw me in the pool at that kegger freshman year of college,” she said, ignoring his last comment. He didn’t need to know how it comforted her to wear it.

“You were in a white dress. Seemed like the right thing to do,” he shrugged. He had a lazy smirk still plastered to his face as he leaned against the side of his sedan.

“So, you do remember,” Elain narrowed her eyes at him.

“Guess so.”

“Then why’d you say you wondered where it went?” she asked exasperated. She sat her drinks down on the hood of her red truck.

“Something to say, I guess.” 

Elain shook her head. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was flirting with her. She did though. Lucien had only ever seen her as he saw Feyre, a silly little sister he had to take care of.

“Thank you, Lucien,” Elain said genuinely as she unlocked her truck door.

“What for?” he teased. He didn’t move, just stayed against his sedan, watching her with those rich reddish-brown eyes.

“The coffee, the scone, helping me out of an awkward situation.” She paused and gestured to her chest. “The shirt.”

He shrugged. “It was the right thing to do. You looked like you were gonna throw up or stab him.”

Elain giggled. “Which time?”

“Both,” Lucien chuckled. “Same look, different guy.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Elain said softly. “Both times.”

“No problem, sweet-tart.”

She couldn’t help smiling at him. Lucien was kind. Fun. “My hero,” she said rolling her eyes dramatically. He chuckled.

She needed to leave. She needed to get in her truck, back out, and get to the library before the heat got any worse. She couldn’t make herself do it. Not with him smiling like that.   

“I’m not getting my shirt back am I?”

“It’s been six years, Dump Truck. Give up.” He laughed again. Big and bold. She liked it. “I’ll see you around?” she asked, turning to get into her truck. She had to force herself to move.

“Yep, in about ten minutes,” Lucien said with a smile. Her hand stalled on the silver door handle.  

Elain cocked her head in confusion. Lucien’s smile only widened.

“Pops said you needed help,” he said, voice low and dangerously close to making her swoon. “Looks like I get to be your hero a little longer.”

**

“Two weeks! Two fucking weeks after you broke up?”

An older woman on the treadmill three machines down shot the three of them a dirty look. Elain mouthed “I’m sorry” before turning back to her sister. “Nesta, keep it down.”

“Like hell,” Nesta spat, flicking her long brown hair over her shoulder. “I own the place. I’ll talk however I want to.”  

After leaving the coffee shop, Elain went straight to the library, followed closely by Lucien’s silver sedan. Her two guys were already there, shovels and rakes in hand. So was another man, who she could vaguely remember as being Lucien’s older half-brother Aodhan. He was shorter than Lucien, with brown hair not red. He was also missing the top part of his left ear. Per Helion’s instructions, she said nothing about it.

She’d shaken the cobwebs from her head and began to bark orders. She put her guys doing technical work, like trimming the hedges, weed eating and edging the property. When Helion came out ten minutes later, she made him get out the old zero turn he let her borrow and mow the entire lawn. The two brothers she put on hauling mulch, bags of topsoil, and garden stones.

All in all, they managed to get done in record time. Every one of them were drenched in sweat and red as a beet. Elain had never been so thankful for the heat. Her face had been scarlet for hours, ever since Lucien whipped his black top off ten minutes into the job, exposing a massive expanse of golden-brown muscle. When he commented on her flush, she brushed it off as the sun disagreeing with her pale skin.

She went home after, to shower and eat and maybe nap. Anything to get her mind off the sweat dripping down Lucien’s spine as he hauled a bag of topsoil across the lawn and the surprisingly dirty thought she had of tracing its path with her tongue.

Predictably, her mind bounced from one extreme to the other. She drifted back to that morning, and her interaction with Graysen. She couldn’t believe she did know that he’d gotten married.

So, she did what any woman in shoes would do. She wound up in a social media deep dive that was borderline stalking.

Graysen’s page turned out to be an information desert. Cora’s was also surprisingly sparse. There were lots of photos of cheerleading competitions, a few of her family – all beautiful – and a ton dedicated to a dachshund named Buttercup. Nothing actually personal.

Finally, after a good hour of deep diving into her ex’s life – something she’d swore she wouldn’t do after the breakup – Elain hit paydirt.

An obscure friend of a friend of a friend, who Elain didn’t even bother to remember their name, had posted a photo of a Graysen and Cora’s wedding, two weeks to the day that he broke up with Elain.

She read every single comment under the post. Then she put on her gym clothes – an adorable neon pink matching shorts and bra set, with a baggy band shirt – and left to find Nesta.

“You sure you can trust whoever posted it?” Gwyneth Berdara – her sister’s best friend — huffed out on the stair climber beside her. Elain liked the redhead. She was quiet and friendly, but a firecracker when pushed. She was a good foil for her sister’s outright bitchiness.

“Yeah, I knew he moved out west,” Elain managed out as she worked through her exhaustion. “Apparently, she’s from out there. I found the engagement announcement online.”

“Why bother with an announcement at all with how fast they got married?” Nesta spat. Her anger was rising, Elain could tell by the silver sheen crossing her sisters blue-grey eyes.

“They got engaged on Christmas,” Elain stated. She waited for it to sink in.   

“You broke up in September,” Nesta said finally, voice cold as ice. She slowed to a stop on her machine.

“We did,” Elain nodded, trudging on the stairs.

A beat.

“That motherfucker!” Gwyn shouted.  

The old woman on the treadmill threw her hands up and stalked off mumbling. She’d likely left to find the owner, Cassian, who would likely tell her he had as much control over his wife and her friends as he did the weather.

“Language, Berdara!” the deep voice of their trainer barked as Azriel turned the corner into the room. He stopped by Gwyn’s machine and leaned his tall frame around it, facing Elain. “Who are we calling a motherfucker?”

“Why do you get to say it?” Gwyn complained, shoving at him while still keeping pace. Azriel stepped back and ran an olive-colored hand into his black curls.

“I’m not yelling,” he stated drily. He pointed to the logo on his shirt. “And I work here.”

“Shouldn’t that make you less able to curse?” Gwyn asked, teal eyes narrowing as she glared at their trainer.

“Elain’s ex,” Nesta interrupted from the other side, still seething.

“Why do we care?” Azriel asked, ignoring Gwyn’s question. One dark eyebrow disappeared behind the black curls twisting over his face like shadows as he faced Elain. “You guys broke up over a year ago.”

“Because he lied to me,” Elain grunted, stomping at the machine, as if it were the cause of all of her problems. She was struggling now. It was one thing to think they’d broken up amicably. It was another to admit that he’d lied to her. He’d cheated on her. “He got engaged at Christmas.”

Azriel shrugged, “he moves fast I guess.” Gwyn groaned and slapped the emergency stop on her machine.

“The fucking useless douchecanoe shit stain on the underwear of existence was cheating on Elain the whole time they were together, you thick, beautiful fucking dumbass,” Gwyn snapped, shoving her index finger into Azriel’s chest to emphasize each word.

Elain slowed to a stop; eyes opened impossibly wide. She’d never known anyone outside Cassian or Rhysand to speak to Azriel that way.

Azriel was slack jawed. Gwyn was breathing heavy, finger still shoved into his chest.

“I…” he started. His voice was breathy, low, as if the words were stuck. Hazel eyes bored holes into Gwyn’s baby blues, “am so sorry Elain.”

She did not believe for a single second that he gave any thought to her. His tongue came out to swipe at his lower lip. Gwyn’s hand slowly fisted into the top he was wearing, right over the logo he’d pointed out earlier.

Elain whipped her head around to her sister and mouthed the word “when?” She discretely pointed between the the red head and the bodybuilder.

Nesta shrugged, a wide grin on her face, and shook her head. “Now?” she mouthed back.

“I feel like I’m interrupting something.”

Elain knew that voice. Had heard it all day long.

She looked away from her sister to where Lucien had walked up beside her machine.

Holy fuck.

She’d thought he looked nice earlier, shirtless and in jeans. But now…Lucien in athletic shorts was…almost better than coffee.

“No, we’re good,” Azriel said, not breaking eye contact with Gwyn. “I’ll meet you by the squat rack, Vanserra.” He grabbed Gwyn’s hand on his chest and leaned in. He whispered something in her ear and the red head actually wobbled.

“You good, Gwyn?” Nesta asked slyly.

The woman in question nodded. “Uh yeah, I just…forgot to eat lunch. Gonna go…fix that now,” she said before hopping off the stair climber. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, catch you later Gwyn,” Nesta waved her off.

Elain couldn’t help but notice that while she was talking to Nesta, she kept glancing back to Azriel. She also noticed the slight tilt of his head as he walked off.

“Okay then,” Lucien stared for a moment before shrugging.

“How are you not exhausted?” Elain asked him before she could stop herself.

Lucien grinned, rubbing his shoulder. “I’ve always had really high endurance,” he remarked, then winked at her. “Can’t help but notice you’re here, too.”

“I bounce back quick,” she quipped, unable to hide the little grin tugging at her lips.

“Hurry up, Vanserra!” Azriel called out. Lucien shrugged, nodded acknowledgement at Nesta and sauntered off to the weight racks with the visibly agitated trainer.

“When the fuck did that happen?” Nesta hissed, pointing at Lucien’s back.

Elain followed her finger to where Lucien had started to cool off at Azriel’s instruction.

Elain laughed brightly. “That has never happened. He just helped me out today at the library job. Well, and with Graysen.” She added as an afterthought.

“Helped you with Graysen?” Nesta quirked a brow.

The sisters resumed their climb. Elain wasn’t sure how long they’d be going today, she always just followed Nesta’s lead. Some days it was quick. Some days she couldn’t move when she got home.

“Yeah, he saved me from the whole encounter. Pretended to be with me, bought me a coffee and scone. Gray was starting to look like a tomato before we got out of there,” Elain smiled. Nesta gave her a side-eye.

“Pretended huh?”

“Don’t you start,” Elain warned. She hated her sisters’ meddling. From their attempts to set her up with moody Azriel, to dragging her clubbing all over the tri-county area, to one horrible incident involving a bag of flaming dog shit on an ex’s porch, she was done with letting them get involved in her love life.

“Whatever you say, Elain,” Nesta murmured unconvinced.

They continued their steps in easy quiet, the silence broken only by huffing and groaning. It was shaping up to be an ice bath kind of day, the rate they were going.  

Elain tried to get her mind off the burn in her calves or the way her sweaty hair kept clinging to her face. She kept glancing around the gym, watching the television in the corner playing basketball or trying to look out the windows at the sunset. Her eyes were traitors though. They kept going back to the weights. Where Lucien and Azriel were warming up, directly in front of them.  

Lucien had already taken his shirt off, the blue fabric flung across one of the chairs lining the back wall. His wine-red hair was braided away from his face and knotted at the top. He was wearing gray shorts.

Short, gray, athletic shorts that left nothing to the imagination. His thighs were on full display and Elain, for the first time since she’d heard her sister start calling him it, fullyunderstood why he was called Dump Truck. They were sculpted, thick and led up to an ass she wanted desperately to sink her teeth into.

She didn’t want to look at the front. She was scared to look at the front. The man had to have a shortcoming somewhere.

Nesta whistled. “You think Feyre ever tapped that?” she stage whispered, breaking the very comfortable silence in the most awkward way possible.  

“What? No!” Elain exclaimed. Lucien glanced up. He tossed her a grin and a little wave before readying himself for a pullup. She hoped like hell he couldn’t hear them.

“Oh, come on, they used to spend all that time together. They were practically inseparable,” Nesta drawled out. Had Elain been paying attention, maybe she would’ve seen the sly smirk gracing her otherwise elegant sister’s face.

“She was with Tamlin,” Elain pointed out. Her face twisted into a scowl. “Lucien would’ve never havedone that to Tamlin.”

“She wasn’t always with Tamlin,” Nesta sing-songed. “Remember when he keyed up her car? He told Jurian it was because he caught them in bed together.”

Elain tripped again. She hadn’t heard that. She’d never heard that. “Lucien admitted that?”

“No. Tamlin told Jurian he walked in on the two of them,” Nesta explained slowly. She waved a hand dismissively. “But that is just rumor.”

It better be, she caught herself thinking. She wasn’t sure where the possessiveness came from. Wasn’t sure she didn’t like it though.

“It better be, huh?” Nesta teased, answering her thoughts. Or, what she apparently had let slip through.

Lucien was breaking her concentration. It was his fault. Yes. His fault.

“What is he even doing here?” Elain tried to divert her sister’s attention. She did not want to talk about whatever feelings she may or may not have for Lucien Vanserra.

“Cass swiped him,” Nesta sighed, allowing herself to take the bait. Elain quirked a brow. Her sister pointed to Lucien. “Cassian wanted him on as an investor in the beginning. I put my foot down. Didn’t want Vanserra money if it meant being tied to Eris in any way.”

“Oh.” Elain understood that. Eris and Nesta had a … thing, once before. It didn’t end well. It was just another one of the many ways Lucien had been around forever.

“Yeah, anyway we ran into Lucien the other night at the movies. He was busy telling Feyre about how he couldn’t work out at the office gym anymore and Cass swooped in. Got a new client and Lucien agreed to a small investment in the business.”  

“He…couldn’t work out at the office gym?” Elain asked quietly.

Nesta shook her head. “Didn’t ask why. I just overhead him say he’d kill something or someone if he went back.”

He’d mentioned something earlier, but it would entirely too self-absorbed of her to think he couldn’t work out there anymore because of Graysen.

“Are you ok? Honestly?” Nesta asked, her soft voice barely heard over the whirring of the machine.

Elain sighed. “No. I’m angry,” she admitted, for the first time out loud. “He lied to me. For a very long time, apparently. And he did such a good job of it I never questioned it.”

She could feel the tightness in her chest building. She was angry. At Graysen for lying, at herself for falling for it. Strangely, there was no jealousy. She’d let that part go. Let him go. She wasn’t sure how easy it would be to let the anger go, though.

“He’s just…such a douchecanoe,” she hissed, using Gwyn’s earlier term.  

“Do you want me to stab him?” Nesta asked seriously beside her. “We’ll call Rhys to hide the body.”

Elain blinked at her big sister. Nesta slowly cracked a smile, and they both erupted into a fit of giggles. Tears of some twisted mirth sprung to Elain’s eyes.

“Thank you, Nes,” she smiled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You know Rhys isn’t mafia.”

“We don’t know that,” Nesta said conspiratorially. She winked one blue-grey eye. “And besides, even if he wasn’t –“

“Which he’s not.”

“—he’d do it anyway. He loves us,” Nesta paused for a second, smirking, “well he loves you. And he loves Feyre and Cassian both enough not to fuck with me.”

“You know one day we’re going to walk in on the two of you in matching pjs, wearing face masks and watching ‘Mean Girls’ together,” Elain sighed out rolling her eyes. She’d never understand her sister’s relationship with their brother-in-law.

“Elain, honey, you know that wouldn’t happen. Rhys and I are far more ‘The Devil Wear’s Prada’ type,” Nesta said in a faux-haughty tone that had Elain laughing again.

This was why she sought out her sister. Nesta was her rock. They lapsed back into a companionable silence, working out beside each other while watching Azriel correct Lucien’s pull up form. She knew Nesta never missed an opportunity to ogle Azriel when he was training – and unfortunately was aware of how good a night Cassian would have. Typically, Elain would be right there watching the tall, dark trainer in utter appreciation as well.

Today though, she took the opportunity to watch the muscles in Lucien’s back work.

She’d spent a large portion of her workday dreaming about those muscles. The way sweat traveled over the striations. The way she imagined they might feel under her fingers. Her core started to ache as she watched his face, reddened from the exertion, twist into a determined grimace. She could easily imagine that same face over her, working hard to keep his own orgasm at bay as he pounded into her –

“Well, you know the best way to get over someone is get under someone else,” her sister interjected, breaking Elain of her reverie.

Oh God, please don’t let her have said something else out loud.

“What?” Elain asked in a daze. Nesta said nothing, just arched one flawless brow and inclined her head towards where Elain had been focused. “I’m already over Graysen! I’m mad at the lies, Nesta!”

“So? Sex is a fantastic way to work off frustration,” Nesta crooned, reaching up to shut off her machine. “Come on, we’re done for the night. Let’s go cool down.”  

**

Elain walked down the hall of her sister’s gym rubbing her neck. Nesta had turned their cool down into a thirty-minute yoga session. She had adopted her husband’s obsession with stretching, and Elain often had to suffer for it.  

Nesta had deposited Elain in her own personal office, pointing out a small wardrobe with a handful of spare clothes. She had said that Cassian had a late meeting with an athletic director from the college looking for a better outfit for conditioning and weight training. As soon as Nesta made her appearance and went over the financials, she’d be free to take her sister out for drinks.

“And hopefully find you a rebound,” Nesta had added with a wink.   

Elain had passably cleaned up. Nesta’s clothes always fit a little loose in the chest, but this dress was a wrap, thankfully.  

“The place is really lovely,” a low, melodic voice drifted around the corner up ahead of her.

Elain blinked for a moment. She vaguely recognized that voice, but she couldn’t quite remember where from.

It had been a long day.

“You said the locker rooms are this way, right?”

“Yes ma’am, let me show you Mrs. Lorde,” Cassian’s booming voice carried, maybe a little louder than necessary. As if he wanted to be heard.

Realization dawned on Elain just as the shadows of two people, one tall and bulky the other petite and lithe, became visible.

Nesta’s office was in the same hall, right past the locker rooms. Nesta had been in a meeting with Cassian and some athletic director.

Elain had been in Nesta’s office.

Oh shit, Cassian was trying to warn her.

Oh fuck…Mrs. Lorde.

Elain had glossed over it in the woman’s bio, the little tidbit of information irrelevant as she was too busy hunting for evidence of Graysen’s infidelity. But it was coming back to her now

All the photographs of smiling cheerleaders – smiling college cheerleaders.

Cora Lorde was the athletic director of the cheer department at the local college.

Cora was Graysen’s wife who seemingly had no idea her husband had been leading a double life.

Cora was walking down the hallway that very second to look at the locker rooms.  

She saw a foot round in the corner and ducked into the nearest door.

Straight into said locker room.

Someone else was in there, too. She was vaguely aware of hearing the shower running as panic overtook her hearing.

She squeaked for just a moment and survey the room for the best hiding spot. As she wasn’t flexible enough to fold herself into the lockers, the shower stalls were really the only place available. Surely the woman wouldn’t want to check the conditions of the stalls.

She ran to the closest shower stall door, shoved it open just enough to slide into and quickly closed it, throwing the lock into place. She released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She was in the clear.  

She kept her eyes on the door and threw her hands out behind her. She intended to back into the corner of the stall, hug the wall and wait for trouble to pass.

Only, her hands didn’t hit the cold tile she was expecting. Confused, Elain spread her fingers along the surface. It was hard and wet and warm…and hairy.

“Fuck me,” she moaned. This was not her fucking day.  

“If you insist,” the fleshy, hairy wall behind her murmured in a familiar, smoky voice.

Great. She’d ran into the wrong locker room.

Elain twisted around, coming face to chest with Lucien, again. She meant to tell him to keep his hands to himself, or to scream, or do something. Instead, she stared.

And stared.

Lucien was naked. Completely naked, all that glorious golden skin on display and so close if she stuck out her tongue she could trail it along his chest like she’d been dreaming about all day. He was also wet, water droplets running the length of that powerful body. His broad shoulders blocked the spray from hitting her directly. His hair was loose and drenched.

Elain was in danger.  

“As fascinating as this is, I don’t think for one second you’re in here to actually fuck me, Elain,” Lucien said. This close she could see his chest vibrate with his words.

It caused a small stream of water to dislodge from the dip of his collarbone. Elain’s brain, which was already working at half capacity, had finally short circuited the second she realized she was standing in the stall with a naked Lucien fucking Vanserra.

She didn’t hear what he said. Couldn’t hear anything. All of her senses, all of her focus was on that single stream of water flowing down, over his chest into the dips and ridges of his abs, down further until it got lost in the line of red hair trailing down to the edge of what could only be described as the most beautiful dick she’d ever seen.

Lucien’s dick.

Lucien’s very erect dick.

Lucien Vanserra’s very erect, very large dick that was an inch from touching her hand.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. Elain’s legs chose that moment to finally give out, too.

Strong hands shot out to grab her arms, steadying her. He immediately angled his hips backwards to put space between them. Not that it did much good in such a small stall.

“Never had that reaction before,” Lucien chuckled nervously. He cocked his head. “Are you good?”

No, she wasn’t good. Right now she couldn’t decide if she was doing great or she was delusional. How is it that someone that handsome, that kind, that…fucking wonderful also had a dick like that. The universe was not fair.

She couldn’t look away from it. Even though Lucien was trying to angle it away. She felt like a creep, a drooling pathetic creep but … hot damn.

“You’re going to give me a complex, Elain,” Lucien joked shyly. Elain nodded.

“A god-complex,” she whispered reverently. How long had it been since she’d been with anyone? It was Graysen she remembered, at least two months before the breakup.

“Did you just call my cock a god, Elain?” Lucien said astonished. His large hands shook her shoulders gently, breaking her line of sight with his member. Her brown eyes immediately snapped to his. He looked equal parts amused and concerned.

Elain parted her lips, she meant to reply. Honestly, she did. But she heard those familiar voices carrying into the locker room. She jerked around, out of Lucien’s hands and peered down. The shower door would hide their bodies…but not their feet. There was a gap about a foot wide, and this was the first stall in the locker room. If anyone looked, they’d see two sets of feet.

“What is going—”

Elain cut Lucien off by jumping him. Literally.

She scrambled up his tall body, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and locking her feet together behind his waist. Lucien’s hands darted to thighs to keep her steady. He opened his mouth again and Elain began to shake her head viciously.

“COVER YOUR JUNK!” Cassian bellowed. “LADY COMING IN.”  

Both of them whipped their heads to the door. Lucien angled his body, trying to keep the water from hitting Elain too badly.  

“You sure you want to see in here? We try to keep it looking decent, but the guys can be animals. As you can see both rooms are roughly the same set up,” Cassian’s voice, back to a normal level, still carried as he spoke.  

“You said this room had an extra ice bath?” Cora’s voice floated in. Their footsteps were louder, closer. They were standing just a few feet away.   

Lucien’s eyes went wide in understanding. He adjusted his grip on her, keeping her flush against him. She dug her fingers into his shoulders.  

“Yes ma’am, right this way,” Cassian continued, footsteps carrying him right past the shower stall.

Elain trembled, burying her head in Lucien’s neck. A large, strong hand came up to rub soothingly on her back.

“I don’t have too much longer,” Cora said. Cassian’s footsteps halted. “But I wanted to see, you said this room had a sauna but the women’s doesn’t?”

“Not exactly. It’s a co-ed sauna,” Cassian explained. “Both locker rooms exit into a short hall that leads either to the sauna or the pool.”

“Oh! I understand now! How fantastic!” Cora exclaimed. Elain heard her clap her hands again. “I hate to rush you, Mr. Marcellus but I do need to get out of here.”

“Of course! This way, please.”

Elain held her breath as their footsteps retreated, their voices getting quieter.    

“You good?” Lucien whispered in her ear. She shook her head, finally releasing her breath but not raising from his neck.  “Want to get down?” A pause. Then she shook her head again. He smelled good. She wanted to stay there.

If she got down, she’d have to face the fact he was naked. That she very much liked that he was naked. That for some reason the universe decided she would be the pincushion they’d poke today, and all she wanted was to be held.  

Then preferably held down and fucked by that big, beautiful cock nestled under her ass right now.

So, no. She didn’t want to get down.

“To be honest,” Lucien began to murmur, one hand still running the length of her spine while the other was wrapped around her lower back for support, “I thought I’d have to at least take you on a date before I got you to shower with me.”

Elain looked up cautiously from his neck. Chocolate brown eyes met deep russet. He was smiling. “Y…you thought about taking me on a date?” she asked. Her brain was still mush, still struggling to catch up.

“Elain,” he said her name slowly, reverently. She liked the way his lips moved with the syllables, the way his tongue flicked his teeth on the ‘l’. “I’ve wanted you since the day Jurian threw you in that pool.”

Wait…what?

“Wait…what?” she whispered. Lucien’s responding grin was nothing short of foxlike.  

“I’ve been crazy about you, Elain Archeron, since the moment I wrapped my shirt around you. It was the first time you smiled at me. Just me. I’ve been a goner since. And when I saw you in it again today…” he groaned. She felt it as it bubbled up his chest.

“I smiled at you before that,” she whispered again, afraid if she spoke any louder, she’d wake up from this dream.

“Not like that. Not like I was something…special. The only goddamn man in the room. Not like I was your hero,” he rasped out. He was struggling with something. Elain realized she’d been subconsciously rocking her hips against him in the tiniest motion.

“I already told you that you were,” she smiled, rocking her hips gently once again. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Lucien shut his eyes, a muscle in his jaw feathering. He was barely hanging on. “You kept getting back with Lorde.”

Elain’s heart skipped. She brought her small, calloused hand to his chin and tilted it down until he opened his eyes. She hoped to convey everything in her look because words were beyond her. “I’m not with him now.”

“No…you’re not.” Lucien’s eyes fell to her lips, barely a breath separating them.

Elain held his chin, her thumb coming up to caress his bottom lip. “I would’ve chose you,” she breathed against his lips. “Had you said something, Lucien, I would’ve been yours.”

“Elain…” he breathed her name against her lips, the feel of it somehow more erotic than if he had kissed her. His chest was heaving with his breaths, so deep and uneven.

She leaned in, as close as she could without touching. “What are you going to do now?”

Lucien answered by kissing her softly, barely a brush against her lips. It sent lightning down her spine all the same. “I’m going to do exactly what you asked…if you’ll let me.”

“What I asked?” She was breathless, delirious. Her hips still rocked gently into him, his hands now guiding the movement. When had they gotten there?  

“When you ran in here…now sweet thing, can you remember what you said?” Lucien teased, voice barely more than a rasp. A smile tugged at the corners of those lips.

She nodded. Oh, she remembered.

Lucien tsked, tapping her thigh with one hand in warning. “Words, please.”

“Fuck me,” Elain demanded, loudly.

“With pleasure,” he growled.

It was an unleashing. Lucien turned, slamming her against the back wall, water now spraying down on the both of them. His mouth slanted over hers, full lips sucking her bottom between the two. She opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, his tongue claiming her mouth for its own.

He pinned her against the wall with his hips as his hands roamed her bare skin, pulling and tugging her dress open to give him more to touch. One hand ran the length of her body, skimming the side of her breast, her neck, her ear before delving into her golden brown locks and yanking her head back so his lips could wrap around her pulse and bite.  One calloused hand slipped under the fabric of her dress, sliding up and up her thigh until it rested on the curve of her ass, kneading the the flesh there.

“Sweetheart…where are your panties?” He breathed against her neck, tongue slipping out to lick a long stripe up to her ear.

Her giggle turned to a moan. “I…I don’t wear them to the gym.”

Lucien’s answering groan was nothing short of pornographic. He wrapped his large hand around the sweep of her ass cheek, squeezing and spreading while his pelvis ground into her. She could feel that cock, now somehow sandwiched between them. She’d been too delirious to know how it had gotten there. Until that moment her hands had barely left his shoulders or left the tangle of his long red hair.

She had to feel him. Had to touch him. The urge was overwhelming.

She reached down, fingertips skimming the top of the rounded head of his cock. He was weeping at the slit. She gathered the liquid with her index finger and used it as lubrication, rubbing it around the sensitive head. The tip alone was large, the length of him thick and long. She was fascinated with the silky, hard feel of him.

Elain relished in the strangled cry Lucien gave into her neck as his mouth worked her pulse there. She wrapped him in her hand and began to pump. He jerked, once, twice in her hand. She squeezed a bit tighter, made another pass around the top when his larger hand snaked between them and stopped her. He gently pried her hand off him.

“I’m not going to last,” he breathed heavily next to her temple, “all day…all my fucking life I’ve been dreaming of this. There’s no way … I won’t last if you keep on.” He began to lower her feet to the tiled floor.

One calloused hand came up to cradle her cheek, running his thumb along her jaw. The other ripped the last tie holding her dress together. The dress finally fluttered open, revealing her sun kissed skin and total lack of undergarments.

Lucien groaned. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled. He bent down under the spray, taking one peaked nipple in his mouth, nipping and sucking. The other he took in his hand, kneading and pulling at the flesh until Elain whimpered.  

She reached for him, but he angled his hips away again. “Nuh-uh,” he mouthed around her breast. He took one long, biting suck before pulling off with a pop. “Give him some time to cool off before I embarrass myself, sweetheart.” He moved his head to her other breast. “Give me some time to appreciate these gorgeous tits, huh?”

She nodded, bringing her hands up to tangle in his hair, nudging his head back towards his intended goal.  

Taking her lead, Lucien’s mouth descended on her previously neglected breast and went to work keying her up. He alternated between flicking the nipple with his tongue, nibbling at the soft flesh, or downright sucking it. His hands stroked down her sides, skimming her curves, nails grazing as he worked up and down. The sensations were intense, overwhelming. She’d never come from nipple stimulation alone, but…fuck.  

One hand slipped between her legs, long fingers slipping between her folds. The second his finger hit the slick of her his head pulled away from her chest and came to rest against her forehead.

“You are so fucking wet,” he moaned, eyes shut tight. “Is that for me?”

“No,” she lied breathlessly. “Watching Azriel work out got me all hot and bothered.”

“Yeah?” he asked, cracking open his eyes. His fingers didn’t stop their slow movements. Up and down the seam of her, not once touching her clit or her opening, carefully avoiding where she wanted him most. “You’re such a pretty little liar.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?” she tried to sound offended, but his teasing fingers stole her resolve.

“Azriel wasn’t at the library, Elain,” he chuckled darkly, his eyes boring into hers. “I saw how you kept looking at me when I was working.”

“How…how was I looking at you?” Her breath hitched. She tried to move, twist her hips or grind or do anything to get him to touch her where she wanted. She pulled his hair, raked her nails along his skin, but he was steady. Undeterred.

He dipped his head down to the curve of her ear and whispered. “Like you were in that weight room. Like I was a piece of fresh meat.”

“Felt…objectified, did you?” she whined. He pinned her hips back against the tiled wall with his free hand. Lucien nodded sardonically, parting his lips to no doubt give some asshole response. “Want to know a secret?” she interrupted him, voice shaking.

She leaned up as close as he allowed her, her lips grazing his jaw. She’d never been good at dirty talk. Graysen had hated it. She had no idea if Lucien would find this hot or tell her to shut up. “I had to take my panties off in my car after the coffee shop.” He went still, breath frozen in his chest. “I’ve been so wet for you all day, Lucien, that it’s been rubbing me raw,” she moaned, laying it on a little thick but he seemed too far gone to notice.

She took a deep breath and nipped at his jaw. “So won’t you please stop with the teasing and just fuck me already?”   

Lucien said nothing. He trembled in her arms for a moment, as if to collect himself. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes again. She could’ve sworn there was literal fire staring back at her. In one swift movement, with no warning, Lucien filled her with his long middle finger. His pointer and ring finger held her open while he twisted slightly, crooking that middle finger and dragging it down inside her.

Elain nearly screamed. He quickly covered her mouth with his own, swallowing the sound. His tongue swept in, licking the length of her mouth while his finger pistoned in and out, dragging down with each thrust. It was incredible, but she needed more. Felt so selfish that she needed more.

She wiggled her butt and Lucien obliged, adding another finger, stretching her deliciously. She could feel how tight she was around his fingers; how great the stretch was. She knotted her fingers in his hair, tugging, keeping him against her.

He'd moved in closer, no longer angling himself away. He ground his cock against her hip for just a bit of his own relief as his fingers dragged her closer and closer to orgasm. She reached again for him, and he grabbed her hand, pinning it over her head, lacing their fingers together. Lucien shook his head against her, a clear no. He delved his tongue back in her mouth.

Elain moaned obscenely as he began to fuck her mouth in time with the fingers fucking her cunt. He devoured it, drinking in her sounds like a dying man. Just as she began to tremble, that weight in her core building and building, Lucien thrust in a third finger, scissoring the three a bit, stretching her beyond anything any man had ever done. He was readying her for his cock, she realized.  She was almost a goner right then with that thought.

Then Lucien ground the heel of his hand against her swollen clit as he thrust those fingers one last time. Her released slammed into her harder than she’d ever felt before. She saw stars. Every muscle in her body contracted, her abs caving in on themselves, her legs shaking uncontrollably. She may have screamed. She’d opened her mouth but either no sound come out, or the pounding of her heart in her ears was so loud she could hear nothing else.

Lucien hauled her against him, holding her tight between him and the wall, stroking her sides in soothing gestures as she started to come down.

“You with me?” he laughed shit-eating grin spread across that handsome face.

Elain nodded deliriously. “H-holy shit. Holy fucking shit. I’ve never … never…” she trailed off, head shaking, legs still trembling. Lucien laughed again, the sound the sweetest thing she’d ever heard.

“Should I stop?” he murmured before he kissed her gently one more time.

Elain shook her head viciously. “I’ll kill you,” she hissed, nails digging into his shoulders. “If you fucking stop now, Lucien Vanserra, I will kill you.”    

Lucien erupted in laughter beside her, his whole body shaking. The movement rocked through her as well, and Elain was acutely aware of him still holding her up and open. He had been lining up his cock against her entrance, the tip she had been playing with gliding through her slick. Now, he was holding back. She tilted forward a bit, dragging her still quivering cunt over the head.

“I don’t have a condom, Elain,” he whispered tightly, moving his hips so his cock ground into her slickness broadside, giving her delicious friction. “I am clean though. Haven’t…haven’t in a while, and I’ve been checked since.”

“I’m on birth control,” she said quickly. “I get checked once a year. I’m good.” She was going to die if he didn’t get inside her.

Lucien grinned, lining them up, leaning down to take her mouth in his as he slammed home with one powerful stroke.

Oh fuck…

Oh fuck…

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, ARE YOU SERIOUSLY FUCKING IN MY LOCKER ROOM RIGHT NOW?” Cassian voice thundered through the locker room.

Elain froze up, her pussy clamping down so hard on Lucien’s cock they both had to bite the other to keep from screaming. One hand shot passed her head to steady them as Lucien’s legs began to shake.  

What did she do to the universe? Was she a puppy killer in a past life? Did she burn down a village full of orphans? Had she stepped on too many cracks and her dead mother was torturing her from beyond the grave?

“I’m running a gym, not a goddamn whorehouse, Azriel Singer!” Cassian swore, walking passed their stall. “Vanserra’s showering in here for fuck’s sake.”

“LUCIEN WAS LISTENING?” a high-pitched voice squealed from somewhere further down.

No…no way. There was no fucking way that this was actually happening.

Elain knew that voice.

She bit Lucien’s shoulder harder to keep from making noise. Her body trembled with silent laughter, sending vibrations through her core, which felt so…fucking…good. She just couldn’t enjoy it. Lucien made a small, strangled sound as his hips seemed to involuntarily jerk forward. She felt his cock jump, his body tense and his release fill her.

That fucker just orgasmed.  

She tried to look at him, but he was hiding his face in her neck. She shoved at him. He raised up sheepishly, golden skin nearly as red as his hair. A rush of fluid escaped her as he gently pulled out but didn’t set her down. I am so sorry, he mouthed.

“I didn’t know shit!” he yelled, voice cracking. Elain held on tight, trying her hardest to fight off a grin. Lucien looked like he was slowly losing it.    

“Get out Cassian,” she heard Azriel growl. “No one’s going anywhere with you standing in here.”

A low huff. “Works for me, just stop fucking in my gym!”

“We’ll stop when you stop,” she heard Azriel yell as footsteps retreated out of the locker room. Elain sighed, slumping against Lucien. Poor Lucien, who was still trying to avoid eye contact.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Azriel called out again.

She froze again, inadvertently clawing Lucien once more. His eyes finally met hers. “The fuck you mean?” Lucien asked for her, just as freaked as she was.

“You’re pretty loud, Elain,” the woman said with a laugh.

Elain and Lucien untangled from each other. Lucien wrapped a towel around his waist, his still flagging cock still large enough to tent the fabric. Elain wrapped her wet dress back around her, long enough she figured until she could reach the towel rack.

They stepped out of the stall.

Azriel and Gwyn were standing there, both with mussed hair and angry red marks, sharing satisfied smiles. Azriel still had the rope of one of the spa robes tied around his wrist. “Looks like you had fun,” Lucien remarked, no sign of the embarrassed man from a moment before.

Azriel’s grin threatened to split his face. Gwyn just brushed her leggings off, a little self-satisfied smirk playing on her own face.  

Elain couldn’t say anything.

She was suddenly hyperaware of everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. Lucien being quick off the mark. Her own powerful orgasm – which apparently, she was screaming—and the fact she used Azriel’s name while Lucien had his fingers on her pussy.

Yup. She had to have been a puppy killer in a past life. She wondered if she passed out right now, if everyone would forget they heard anything at all.

“It’s totally cool, Elain,” Gwyn laughed, laying a delicate hand on her partner’s shoulder. “Azriel makes me horny all the time.”

“I’m going to die now,” she moaned. Lucien wrapped an arm around her, possessively, pulling her into his side. It was comforting.

“Nah, don’t be embarrassed,” Azriel said in a near sickly sweet tone. He was such an ass when he wanted to be. “It was a good line.”

“How come we didn’t hear you?” Lucien asked, trying to throw attention off of them. His face was slowly returning to its normal hue.

“I gagged him,” Gwyn stated, matter of fact, shrugging her thin shoulders. “And having a twin sister constantly around means you learn to be quiet.”

Elain and Lucien just stared in confusion. She couldn’t speak for Lucien, but Elain just had so many questions. She opened and closed her mouth a few times. She felt like a fish gasping for air, but she just couldn’t make the words come out.

“We were fucking in front of the security cameras,” Azriel answered their silent question. He pointed to the other end of the locker room. “There’s a camera on the storage room on the other side of the lockers. We’ve got equipment in there there Cass wants surveilled, so no…we aren’t pervs with cameras in the showers. It’s not even really in the locker room.”

Elain cocked her head. Honest to God that thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. “Why in front of the cameras?” Lucien asked for her, pulling her in a little closer.  

“He ate your sister out on my desk last week,” Azriel stated plainly, turning to point at Gwyn. “She just fucked me on a new machine he has to assemble.”

“You’re evil,” Lucien chuckled. “But we owe you one.”

Azriel nodded. “I want Eris’s address.”

All three heads turned to Azriel. Even Gwyn looked at him skeptically. “Why for?” she was the one who asked. Lucien quirked a brow, awaiting the answer as well.

Azriel shrugged. “He pisses me off.”

Elain and Gwyn traded incredulous looks. Gwyn opened her mouth, no doubt to tell her partner how stupid he sounded, when Lucien began to nod. “Totally reasonable,” he muttered approvingly. “I’ll text it to you.”  

“Good man,” Azriel tugged at Gwyn’s hand. “Round two?” Gwyn’s answer was a smirk that could only be described as devious.

“Cassian and Nesta are going out for drinks,” Elain offered as she wrapped her arm around Lucien’s waist.

“Fuck yes,” Az said laughing, dragging a giggling Gwyn out of the locker room.

Elain turned to Lucien, “so…”

“I was already so hyped up, and you were so tight – oh my god Elain I’ve never in my life … and then you laughed. Do you have any idea what that feels like when you laugh?” Lucien began rambling. His eyes were wild, and the pink began to creep up his neck. “I’ve never done that before…I swear I –”

“Lucien!” Elain finally shouted, grabbing him by his chin once again. She gently urged him to look at her. “It’s ok. Just…what now?”

Lucien stepped closer, until she had to tilt her head back to see him. He smiled sheepishly. “I meant what I said. I’m crazy about you, Elain.”

“And I meant what I said,” she said breathlessly. “I really do think you’re my hero.”

“Come home with me?” Lucien urged, hugging her to his mostly naked body. “Let me make it up to you.”  

“For the night?”  

“Forever.”        

#acotar #elain archeron #elucien #lucien vanserra #modern au #azriel #gwyneth berdara #nesta archeron #cassian acotar #elucienweek2023 #prompt: au

[bloobluebloo]

Sorry but my brain keeps wandering back to that interview, where Fujibayashi mentions that he wanted to depict Ganondorf as a “proud king of demons”. To be honest I think they succeeded there because Ganondorf, in his Demon King form, seems genuinely happy and giddy with the power he’s granted. He seems to take pride in the monsters under his command, readily lending them his power so that they can become the most powerful versions of themselves and carry out his orders. The monsters in turn seem to serve him without question, though it is also shown that they have their own personalities and their own way of life when they’re not busy pursuing the wayward traveller that intrudes on their territory.

Which now leads me to ask this: I get it, the monsters are your enemies because when they see you they react with violence and are meant to be killed. This is the game mechanic. However, how are monsters any different from a wild animal that would react viciously should you intrude on their territory? What makes them evil? If we go back to the theory that the Zonai mining operations is what unleashed them, is it because they have become an invasive species that now share the land with the surface dwellers? Is it because they are followers of Ganondorf? (I suppose the game wants you to understand their evilness as due to being followers of Ganondorf). If Kilton is to be believed then monsters are also indigenous to Hyrule so why should they not have some right to living on the land instead of being subjected to mass extermination campaigns?

Circling back to Ganondorf, his ruling philosophy, essentially being the survival of the strongest and the fittest, emulates the way the monsters in Hyrule have lived and survived for thousands upon thousands of years. Those that were capable of surviving the many onslaughts brought on by Hyrule were the ones that lived on. (Though, Ganondorf cheats here by reviving the the monsters that were slain with the blood moon. Maybe interesting to think that Ganondorf aims to subject Hyrule’s citizens to what monsters have been subjected to when he was not present, a reversal of roles if I may). Also, the idea that slain monsters become “aimless spirits”. An aimless spirit usually entails a spirit of a living being that died before it could complete its purpose, its life cut short and its spirit yearning to find meaning as it aimless roams the land.

Anyways, all’s this to say, I think Ganondorf, as a king of demons, ruled them as they wanted to be ruled. He ensured the most powerful could survive. He lent them his power. He brought the ones who were slain back to life so that they could have another chance to prove themselves worthy of the world of the living. As the most powerful demon amongst them, Ganondorf utilized his power not only to empower himself but also his armies so that Hyrule could not overcome them. He rides into battle with his demons beside him instead of commanding them from afar.

To me, that sounds like a decent king. He’s Hyrule’s enemy since he seeks to upend what surface dwelling citizens are accustomed to, but in terms of how he commands his own forces, he does a good and rather effective job. Even as leader of the Gerudo, the fact that he was able to convince his people to mount an attack against an allied Hyrule with a Zonai at its helm speaks a lot to the loyalty, faith and respect they had for him. Even in the final battle, his words “I will crush all opposition, I will rule. That is what a king must do” speaks to a sense of duty he has within himself that is so similar to Rauru aka this is how the world must be and I am the one that is capable of seeing it through so I will put myself on the throne.

My point at the end is this: it would have been cool if Zelda could observe how a respected king rules on both sides of the spectrum in her decision to restore Hyrule’s monarchy, considering all the little tidbits we learn about light and darkness existing hand in hand, the effort to better understand monsters stemming from Kilton etc. I don’t see it happening in LoZ (because an ultimate evil will always be regarded as just that) but it’s a cool thought to consider, because Ganondorf is an awesome Demon King in more than just looks and being a looming threat.

#ganonthots

[heraldofcrow]

What do you think of Laurence and Brador's bond? It is easy to assume proximity because there is a chance that Brador mercy-killed Laurence, but it also could've been one of the following cleric beasts or something? Like, do you think Brador and Laurence even met in person, were they close or just boss + servant, did they know each other for a long time and so on and so on... ?

Well, to answer this one, I have to first describe how I view these characters individually, because I can’t build relationships without first working with foundations.

—

So, I may one of the few in this corner of the fandom that doesn’t see Laurence as this unapologetic and unhinged, “Consequences? What consequences?” type guy that caused utter chaos while on the verge of several mental breakdowns if that makes sense, haha.

I like the interpretation because it’s actually fairly humorous and it can even be slightly more honest than what most would allow, but I still find myself leaning more towards the “fallen hero” take on Laurence.

Or at least, I don’t see him as having had utterly no remorse for his actions or any qualms about what he was planning to do. I think a lot of it bothered his conscience, but only because his overall intentions were good…er…respectable? He was maybe the type of fight for “the greater good” in his work.

However, I do think he became desperate towards the end of his life, and his pride prevented him from ever really admitting the obvious… which is that, yes, he absolutely ruined everything.

Confused bastard. The ultimate tragic example of, “what could have been.”

I imagine he wanted to make the world a better place as a youth, but was foolish and ended up miscalculating a lot of his decisions. Yes, he did have his remorseless, rather arrogant and cruel phase, which was when he was at his most dangerous. This was likely when he was at the height of his power.

Then, towards the end of his life he turned more overtly cynical and drunken with pessimism, fatalism, hopelessness, all that good stuff. No, I totally did not model his late life personality after Sydney Carton from “A Tale of Two Cities,” what are you talking about.

(Granted, one of the very first interpretations I ever saw of Laurence’s story was the illustrated lore version by Raquel Cornejo, so that’s likely why I stan “tragic Laurence.” His cut dialogue also brought out his humanity in slivers, and the inherent sadness of his musical theme amped up the implications for me as well.)

Now, on the other hand, I see Brador as the exact opposite of Laurence….initially, that is. I think Brador gave up on humanity as a youth and was more of the cynical, fatalistic type from the start. My version of Brador was essentially this disturbed criminal gang-leader in Yharnam’s slums for years before being recruited by the Healing Church under a pay-based contract.

He was their first criminal employee, and a sure-sign of their obvious corruption. At that point, Maria’s loyalty as the Clocktower guardian and keeper of the Church’s past secrets was wavering because of her mental health. Laurence needed someone more prepared to kill and butcher without question. That was Brador.

This would have been when Laurence was so desperate and paranoid that he was actually willing to hire assassins to prevent people from uncovering his sins. Yet that’s where I like to imagine the twisted pact between him and Brador was formed.

Brador, being the sick and hateful individual he was, began by wanting Laurence, the reputably holy and glorious vicar, to be brought down to his level. He relished in flaunting his position as a hired assassin and was fond of reminding the other Church staff that he was Laurence’s right hand man. He was the one Laurence would unleash on any of them if they even dared to speak against the Church.

In Brador’s contorted mind, this was justice for how he had grown up being treated like a dog for being from a foreign family and raised within a lower status in Yharnam. Oh how the mighty had fallen, and Brador was there to relish in their shame. Simply the title of “church assassin” thrilled him.

But then years passed. Laurence began to grow ill, and severely worn down with his guilt. He had no one in the world to confide in besides Brador, who he knew could not judge him. Brador had always been comfortable reveling in sin and debauchery. He was no stranger to its horrors. Laurence could confess everything to the man he had hired to bury his transgressions like a wrongdoer to a priest. He was dying and had nothing to lose by that point.

Brador was the one to see Laurence at his lowest, most vulnerable state, and then something in him snapped. It was the first time in his life that one of the “elite” truly broke down and laid aside their pride before him. He was, dare I say, moved? It was a moment of understanding the foolishness of humanity, and how ultimately nobody was truly faultless.

Oh, then the dreaded attachment began to form, and Brador found himself actually caring about Laurence. Gasp.

It was too little too late. After years of using his position to torment the Vicar and only carry out his duty as some inverted form of equity, Brador found himself not wanting Laurence to actually…give in?

But this man could never confess such a thing. He was an assassin, a criminal. His ability to truly express care for another person had been lost long ago. All he had was violence.

So, that’s when he offered Laurence one final deal. He would stay with the Church, protecting their secrets until the end of his life, warding away any and all intruders faithfully.

But he had to be the one to kill Laurence when the latter inevitably turned.

It was the notion of “If you want my undying loyalty (and since you somehow gained my attachment), then I want your life.”

To Brador, that was fair. His decision to keep Laurence’s wishes in a genuine manner demanded a sacrifice. Laurence would not die a hero, he would not be put out of his misery before beasthood, but he would die in agony.

So, when Laurence transformed, Brador burnt him down with Molotovs and finished him off with the Bloodletter, delivering his head to the Cathedral, but wearing his scalp as a seal of their agreement. He could not deny that the process secretly grieved him deeply.

Brador sealed himself away in the cells, away from everyone that would come after him, with his bell, and only reared his head when anyone got a little too curious about the Church and particularly Laurence’s past.

His bond with Laurence was a malformed, ill-bred thing, wreathed in violence and hate, but it was undeniably strong. It was a glint of human connection amidst a long-term conflict.

Or at least, that’s how I see it. Brador brought out the beast in Laurence and Laurence brought out the humanity in Brador. Tragic innit.

—

(HERE IT IS FINALLY, SORRY FOR THE WAIT XD)

#sjnjksbhsj #that took me way too long tbh #but there you go girl #the shorter answer would have been “it’s complicated” #i just like the idea of brador demanding laurence’s life in exchange for his loyalty and even his friendship/care #because to brador that shit always had a cost #it’s absolutely deranged and it suits him #brador church assassin #laurence the first vicar #bloodborne #asks #mutuals

[rphelperblog]

Brigid Kemmer Quote RP Meme

NYC best selling author who is most famous for her fantasy series-inspired by @multistoty​ and @for-the-king-x​

“Not all scars can be seen, my lady.” 

“I will not take from those who have nothing.” 

“I can appreciate that he wants to do it himself, but I'm kind of done with prideful men” 

“Because despite all outward appearances, I’m not cruel. I don’t delight in pain. I don’t delight in any of this.” 

“When there are calls for revolution, we should be riding at the front, not hiding in the shadows.” 

“Scars mean you survived something terrible.” 

“Unfortunately, the desires of rulers are not always the desires of the people.” 

“She's not the type to swoon for pretty lies.” 

“Never offer blindly, my lady. Not for your family. Not even for yourself.” 

“Do not fault yourself for choices you believed were right in the moment. It is not princely.” 

“I often find comfort in the thought that fate has already drawn a path beyond what seems impossible.” 

“I’m not sure precisely what has changed between us, whether it’s trust or respect or simply the ability to see each other in a different light.” 

“One poor choice shouldn't undo a thousand good ones.” 

“You have an unusual definition of luck."

"Spoken like someone who lives in a castle with an endless supply of food and wine, but calls himself cursed.” 

“True strength is not determined by how brutal you can be,”

“True leadership is not determined by killing those who oppose you.” 

“I could have chosen no one better, my lady. Truly.” 

“He looks like revolution. He looks like compassion. Blue eyes and gentle hands and quick feet and a core of strength and steel.” 

“Fear makes people act in ways we'd never expect.” 

“I'll take anything over days of silence.” 

“Kindness leaves you vulnerable. I learned that lesson years ago.”

“I’m not a killer. I heal people; I don’t harm them.” 

“Our relationship seems to tick forward like the hands of a clock, always changing in relation to each other.” 

“I’ll never be free of this. Of who I am. This will be my life as King’s Justice: the most feared man in the kingdom, and somehow also the most alone.” 

“Have we spent so long seeing each others vulnerabilities that we forgot each others strenghts?” 

“Knowledge should not be greeted with scorn.” 

“There are too many layers here. I thought it was as simple as right or wrong . . . ​but it’s not.” 

“ It is meant as a mark of respect. When you travel with me people will assume you are a lady, a servant, or a whore. would you prefer one of the latter?”

“If I put a crystal goblet in this one's hand, she'd likely smash it and use the shards to cut me.” 

“Reading is not unproductive.” 

“I have heard every manner of scream without flinching. I have listened to promises and threats and curses and lies—and occasionally, the truth. I have never hesitated in doing what needs to be done.” 

“I´d like to kiss you,"

You are not a weapon,”

“She trusts me. I trust her. This feels more monumental than love. More precious. More earned. I keep my hands to myself.” 

And acting like a prince generally means acting like an arrogant know-it-all, so you shouldn’t have any trouble at all.”

“He has this uncanny ability to make his words a veiled threat and a whispered promise at the same time.” 

“Whoa. I have no idea what I expected him to do, but that's even better.”

"Choices are never easy. There are good and bad options, but the most dangerous is to not make any choice at all.”

“Today, guilt is a thorn I cannot remove.” 

“Right now, in this moment, I would grant her my kingdom if she asked.” 

“When I was young and I’d wake with nightmares, my mother always used to say, All you have to do is think of me, and I’ll appear in your dreams. I’ll help you chase the nightmares away.” 

“They're being such idiots. They should have just talked to each other.” 

“Have you not figured it out yet? The curse torments us all.” 

“A spark of rebellion is all it takes to defy the night.” 

"That monster killed them all.” 

“You are merciful and kind. But kindness and mercy always find their limit, beyond which they turn to weakness and fear.” 

“You said that not every problem can be solved by the end of a sword. I have carried those words with me for days... Since you made me realize that I am no longer a weapon to be wielded by another.” 

“I’m not going to fall in love with you,” 

“I know trust is not something you win once, but is instead something you must earn over and over again.” 

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” 

“I keep hoping for peace. I keep longing for empathy. I keep expecting people to act as I would.” 

"Have mercy, my lady. I know your soldiers are said to enjoy tearing men limb from limb, but----"

“There was something about knowing how long you have to suffer that was better than just waiting.” 

“I think that very few people truly deserve what they get.”

“I’m confident in my strengths, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about my weaknesses.” 

“I was born this way and I'm going to die this way, so teach me to work around it.” 

“While your weakness may be a disadvantage in some ways, it is an advantage in others. One I think you could use to your benefit.” 

“Mind your mettle”

“To whom it may concern: I’m not involved.”

“Ah yes, the most dangerous person at the party is always the girl sitting alone with a book.” 

“It is not weakness to wish for peace.” 

“When a man no longer deserves your loyalty, it is not a failing of yours” 

“It [is] possible to be strong and yielding at the same time.” 

“I haven't gotten in a fight yet this year!

It is not the moment of passing that is most important. It is all the moments that come before.” 

“Failure isn’t absolute.” 

“If you can't fix what went wrong, then fix what you can make right.” 

“One day isn't your whole life. A day is just a day.” 

“The choices we face may not be the choices we want, but they are choices nonetheless.” 

“You make your own path.”

"Yield to yourself. Yield to forgiveness. Yield to happiness. Yield to this moment. It's not hers. It's yours. It's mine. It's ours.” 

"Because that is all that exists at the end of this path. I am sure of it. This was never a curse to be broken. This is a death sentence. The true curse has been the thought that we might find escape.” 

“Fury and fascination wage war in my thoughts.” 

I want so desperately to turn it into more, to see where this blossoming attraction will lead.” 

“I didn’t realize it was possible to be strong and yielding at the same time.” 

“I hope she does come here. I hope she comes to this room. Because I don’t care what I have to do. I’m going to end her.” 

“I am crying because you are a prince,'and I..'I am not a princess.” 

“This early in the season, the other girls would sit by the hearth and gaze at me over crystal goblets, while I’d pour wine and tell stories with just enough devilishness to make them blush. If I put a crystal goblet in this one’s hand, she’d likely smash it and use the shards to cut me.” 

“Girls are more likely to stay if you don’t fight with them.” 

“Failure isn't absolute, just because you couldn't save everyone doesn't mean you didn't save anyone.”

“Words spoken in the dark in the middle of the night always feel so much heavier than they would at any other time.” 

“I think I’m going to need you to run that by me again.”

“I am always surprised to discover that when the world seems darkest, there exists the greatest opportunity for light.”

“Choices are never easy. There are good and bad options, but the most dangerous is to not make any choice at all.” 

“...while ruthlessness may have its place, I believe your brand of strength would garner greater loyalty. That is what makes you dangerous. Not because you would ride in with a blade and take control, but because you could quietly sit in this chair, in the dark, with your book...and you could determine the best way to achieve what needs to be done.” 

Do you want to hit me back? You can."

“He stalked across the room like he wanted to wage war, but he kisses me like I'm the most delicate thing in the castle.” 

“My left leg is clumsy and about to give way, but I mentally threaten to cut it off if it doesn't get me out of here. It listens.” 

#open to all #open to anyone #open rp #ask meme #rp meme #open meme #open to anybody #roleplay meme #ask prompt #memes #open starter #fantasy starter #fantasy rp #open fantasy roleplay #open fantasy starter #historical rp #open historical roleplay #open historical starter #book quote meme #booktube #ya books #book rp meme #brigid kemmerer #a curse so dark and lonely #a vow so bold and deadly #defy the night #defend the night

[realityandrebirth]

Summary: Morro and Nya speak to the king of Merlopia. A follow-up to Day Twenty-Two.

Warnings: None.

Prompts: Royalty/Destiny

Morrotober: Day Twenty-Six

Morro bowed his head to the King of Merlopia, unable to keep himself from smiling. Would it be seen as suspicious? He had to be careful. He couldn't ruin his chances now, not when he had gotten this far.

"So you two hold the elements of Water and Wind," said King Trimaar.

"They claim to," his son cut in. Prince Kalmaar shot a glare at Morro and Nya before turning back to his father. "They may have minor control of Wojira's elements, but we cannot take surface-dwellers at their word."

"Why not?" Trimaar rose to his full height. "We have no reason to distrust them, and we have seen their powers for ourselves. I believe you are who you say you are–Nya, Master of Water, and Morro, Master of Wind."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Morro said.

"However, I cannot grant your request."

Morro's smile disappeared.

"May we ask why, Your Majesty?" Nya said quickly.

"It is not under my control," said the king. "Wojira's temple has been sealed for centuries, and even if it wasn't, we have no vessels that can take you there safely. Not for a surface-dweller, and certainly not for a ghost."

Nya put a hand on Morro's shoulder. "I understand," she said. "Then we only request a room in your palace while our vessel is repaired."

"Granted, Master of Water. My guards will show you where you may stay." Trimaar gestured to the pair on either side of the door. "Take them."

Morro bowed again and allowed himself to be led out of the room with Nya. Every step on the damp floor felt like acid against his feet. He regretted agreeing to Nya's terms more and more with every step. What was the point? Nya couldn't give him what he wanted–not even her title of Green Ninja.

The room was bare. "We did not have time to arrange for beds," one of the guards told them. "We are recovering your belongings from your vessel, though it will take time for them to dry. We will have them ready before nightfall."

"That's fine," Nya said. "Thank you for your help."

When the guard left them alone, Morro started pacing the room.

"You good?" Nya asked.

"I'm on the bottom of the ocean," Morro snapped. "What do you think?"

Nya rolled her eyes. "You were just saying earlier that this was the one place she couldn't follow you."

"And then our vessel was shot down." Morro shoved down the memory of the water rushing towards them. "You almost drowned, and if I hadn't been possessing you, I would have been sent right back to the master I betrayed. And for what? We can't even get to Wojira!"

"We'll figure something out."

"How do you know Wojira's stronger than the Preeminent, anyway?"

"It's the strongest creature I know of, and we'd have a shot at controlling her if we woke her up."

Nya's voice remained calm even as Morro's rage and terror grew. There was water on every side of them, half the palace was perpetually flooded, and at any moment Nya could simply decide she was done with him and banish him back to the Cursed Realm.

"Hey."

He hadn't seen Nya approach him. Morro shoved her away.

She stumbled back, but stayed on her feet. "If you're scared of the water, I'll let you possess me again," she said.

Morro took a step back. "You're lying."

"Why would I? We're working together now." Nya held out a hand. "Plus, I almost got myself killed and you banished. I figure we're even now."

"Even for what?"

"Are you serious? You tried to kill my brother!"

He had to take a moment to remember. "The Fire Ninja?"

"Ugh!" Nya dropped her hand. "Fine. Be scared and alone."

"Wait!"

A ghost couldn't blush, but Morro burned with the shame of showing weakness. He clenched his jaw and turned his face away.

Nya raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to behave?"

"Yes," he said. "Just… please."

Nya held out her hand again. Morro took it.

Inside her mind, Morro steeled his mental defenses and sat down, taking deep breaths. He had forgotten how it felt to breathe, even in a body that wasn't his own. He would show no weakness. He had been a general under the ruler of the Cursed Realm, he had been a student under the son of the First Spinjitzu Master—he would keep his emotions to himself.

I know, Nya said. I'm scared, too.

Morro refused to acknowledge her. Eventually, the guards brought the bedding from their destroyed ship, and they went to sleep.

#morrotober #wojira duo #ninjago morro #ninjago nya #ninjago #lego ninjago #morro ninjago #nya ninjago #morrotober2022 #morrotober 2022

[collecting-stories]

Fairchild - Bucky Barnes

Request: Can you do 7 from the dialog prompt list with bucky?🥺💕

A/N: God knows what actually happened to the original ask but I found this half-finished in my docs and am SO PROUD of myself for actually getting it written. Like not to toot my own horn but yay me for not being a completely lazy bum for once.

 Marvel Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You had known Bucky for a while now, technically longer than he had known you...or even really known himself. The Winter Soldier had attacked you in Washington DC while you were running counterintelligence on S.H.I.E.L.D. for Steve. He broke your leg in two places and the next time you saw him Steve was asking you to help bail him out of an international crisis.  

Now, after surviving a blip and an alien invasion with him (and briefly without him) you had traded near death experiences for pizza on Friday nights and reruns of television shows that you had grown up on but he had never seen. It was all very domestic and not very “ex-assassin for Hydra” but you weren’t one to complain and you preferred this Bucky far more than the one who was blowing up a city street in broad daylight and trying to murder you.  

“God, can Morgan Fairchild’s hair get any bigger?” You asked, walking around the couch with the largest blow of popcorn your kitchen could handle making.  

Bucky leaned back against the couch and looked at you, tilting his head to watch as you sat down beside him. “Too bad I cut mine...shoulda done it like that, what do you think doll?” He asked, cheeky grin on his face.  

You set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of you and turned to Bucky, ignoring the screen and instead setting your attention on the super soldier beside you. He was watching you skeptically, probably because you both were extremely aware of his aversion to touch and you were literally reaching a hand toward him, brushing his hair away from his face with your fingers. The look that passed over his face when you smiled was unreadable and yet, somehow, you recognized it.  

Reading Bucky had become a skill you were particularly versed in. You spent more time with him than anyone else you knew of (especially now that Steve had gone back in time...or gone to a new timeline...you weren’t entirely sure you understood, or wanted to understand, how all that nonsense worked) and had built up a comradery with him. Or maybe it was something more than that, a bit more complex than simple friendship and harder to define than just someone helping someone else.  

“You know, or...well, probably you don’t, I told Steve that I kinda found you attractive with the long hair.” You admitted, almost laughing after the fact. You been too busy actually helping in Geneva to focus too much attention on him and he’d been in too fragile of a mental state to really comprehend any attempts at friendship. Especially on your part. You were just some Steve had promised was trustworthy and that didn’t count for much when Bucky knew he could lose what little hold he had on his sanity at any moment.  

“When was that?” 

“Oh god,” you paused as if you could hardly remember all the times you interacted with Bucky despite the fact that you had cataloged every insignificant moment as if they were priceless heirlooms in your head. “Geneva...after they finally knocked you out and you were in the warehouse.” You laughed at his slightly confused expression and wondered if he even remembered you in Geneva, “I mean granted you had just tried to kill me and you had a decent layer of grease in your hair...still looked pretty good though.” 

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” He replied, sounding almost distracted, catching your hand in his when you started to pull away.  

There was a beat of silence again and you thought fleetingly of all the times you’d looked at him and caught him looking at you the way he was now. The first had been in Wakanda, while alien forces were bearing down on the small country and you were resigned to the upper lab with Shuri. You could remember the moment, on the stairs, before he’d left with Steve and you saw him for the last time. At least for five years.  

You’d spent those five years agonizing over what if’s and choices that you didn’t make because you had convinced yourself that you were being a good friend and not pushing Bucky into something he wasn’t ready for. But now you were well passed those years, well passed everything that had happened that felt otherworldly and surreal, at least for now, and there was no reason (good or bad) that came to mind when you tried to stop yourself from leaning in. It was all just white noise and Morgan Fairchild’s husky voice in the background, arguing over a smooth jazz soundtrack that sounded more like someone was setting a mood than solving a murder.  

Bucky reached you first. His hand, still holding onto yours, pulled you closer to him on the couch and you followed the motion. For a dreaded second, he felt both too close and too far away and you were almost afraid you’d never reach that inevitable place you were headed, at the collision of just friends and something more. Bucky looked completely calm, like he knew all along that tonight was going to go exactly this way. But then, hadn’t you when you reached out for him and he didn’t pull away. Hadn’t you known then that this was no small moment to fantasize big what ifs about.  

“If I kiss you,” he started to say, voice almost a whisper. He was on the edge of the precipice and waiting for the go-ahead. This was where it was heading, he was saying, but I’ll give you an out if you want it. “I won’t be able to stop.” 

You considered telling him that you didn’t want him to stop, ever. That you’d been wanting to kiss him since Geneva. Probably even DC if you really sat with that one (which you weren’t going to do). You considered telling him that you were mostly positive that you loved him but that felt like too big a declaration to have in your apartment over a bowl of popcorn and a rerun of Murder, She Wrote. So, you settled for, “I don’t care.” and by the way his glittered in the light you were almost certain he knew exactly what you meant.  

This was it. He kissed you and it felt like the entire world outside your apartment melted away. Like it was only the two of you there in that room and nothing else. You moved as close as you could without breaking the kiss, grateful that you’d had the good sense to move the popcorn to the coffee table when you first sat down (it was a good batch tonight and even Bucky kissing you wasn’t worth a good batch of popcorn on the floor). His hands found your waist and somehow you were straddling his lap and you thought briefly ‘I wonder if this looks as sexy as it always does in the movies’. You didn’t get too much time to really think that one through, or any thought after it. 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes blurb #marvel cinematic universe imagine #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes drabble

[lenofiga]

[Unraveling the Shattered Secret]

Murr Hart - 2024 Valentine’s Day SR Card Translation (Commission)

A HARMLESS QUESTION - CHAPTER 1

Murr: *nom nom* This meat is so wonderfully tender, I might not need my teeth to chew it!

Snow: The seafood terrine is also exquisite—Mia has great taste.

Murr: Speaking of Mia’s tastes, remember that cage? Quite the show of her ardency, wasn’t it!

”I can't stand to see him taken away from me. He will be mine,” [must be what went through her mind.] If not straightforward to the point of naivety, what else could best describe how she acted, guided by such irrational feelings?

While that might not be her love in its entirety, I’ll grant that the cage constitutes one manifestation of it.

Snow: Her love was too egoistic than I’d prefer. Though I must say, the desire to lock up your loved one somewhere beyond anyone’s reach...is no stranger to me.

Murr: Wow! Did I really hear that from you? Because that sounded more like something White would say.

Snow: What?

Murr: I mean, wasn’t it White who dissuaded you from leaping out into the world in an attempt to confine you both in your own little sphere?

Snow: …Is now really the time to discuss such a sore and delicate topic? Much less with you, the root of it all?

Murr: What do you mean? The opportunity has presented itself, hasn’t it? If not now, when else can we? Tonight? Tomorrow? In a hundred year’s time?

Snow: Goodness… Enough. Having this conversation with you will spoil the feast Mia took the time to prepare.

A HARMLESS QUESTION - CHAPTER 2

Murr: Sooo, are we done talking here?

Snow: Why, yes. I did not sit here to kill you, after all.

Murr: Oh, I see. And here I thought you cut the conversation short because it became unfavorable for you!

Snow: …

Murr: That, or talking to me reminded you of the gravest mistake of your life. Or perhaps, despite committing such tragedy, you still…

Snow: …The nerve of this deranged whippersnapper to presume on my leniency. Don’t you dare push your luck.

Today is the day I read you your last rites. Have you bid goodbye to your beloved moon?

Murr: What?! Not even close~! ≪Eanul Rambul>>

Snow: ! Chocolates? In a dish styled like stained glass… Quite elegant, I must say…

Murr: You love a good stained glass piece, right? Treating yourself to something sweet while admiring what you love could help cancel out the exasperation you feel! Help yourself! Bon appétit!!

Snow: ...Goodness. Why, you are proving quite the… One day, I’ll find myself regretting, yet again, that I didn’t kill you when I had the chance.

Murr: Is that so? Then I better prepare heaps of chocolates for when the time comes!

The world is brimming with all things riveting, dazzling, and frightening I have yet to encounter–I’ve got better things to do with my life than die!

AN EXCITING GAME OF TAG?

Murr: Aaaah! Book it!!

Akira: Murr!? What’s going on? How come you’re darting around like that?

Murr: I’m playing tag with Snow!

Akira: You and Snow? That’s not something you ever see. (Aww, who knew they were close…)

…... Hm? Er, is it just me…or do I feel an oddly chilling breeze coming from that direction…

Murr: That’s Snow inching closer as we speak! He’s gonna catch me!

Akira: You mean, Snow is the source of this cold wave? This is turning out of hand—like dead of winter levels of cold…!

Murr: Snow fell silent in the middle of our debate about solitude. I took that as a sign we were done and got up from my seat. But then he started chasing after me! And so began our game of tag!

Akira: Um, what? Seems to me like he blew his top and he’s chasing you for real…! If I recall correctly, didn’t something similar happen at Miss Mia’s castle?!

Murr & Akira: !?

Akira: T-The wall just exploded and collapsed…

Murr: Hahaha! Whoops! He caught up to me!

Akira: Now is not the time to be so easy-going…! Oh no! He came in through the wall that caved in!

Please, Snow, I need you to calm down! I totally understand how you feel, but kindly put away your magic ite– NOOO!!

#mhyk #promise of wizard #mhyk snow #murr hart #masaki akira #mhyktl #I'm not eloquent enough to be translating mhyk pieces forgive me

[iwillberunningfromdemons]

The Fool came to me, moving quietly through the darkness. He sat down on the earth beside me and for a time we said nothing. Then he reached over, set a hand on my shoulder, and said, "I wish there were some way I could ease your grieving."

It was a useless thing to say, and he seemed to feel that, for after those words he was silent. Perhaps it was the ghost of Nighteyes who reproached me for my surly silence to our friend, for after a time I groped for some words to bridge the dark between us. "It is like the cut on your head, Fool. Time will heal it, but until it does, all the best wishes in the world cannot make it heal faster. Even if there were some way to disperse this pain, some herb or drunkenness that would numb it, I could not choose it. Nothing will ever make his death better. All I can look forward to is becoming accustomed to being alone."

Despite my effort, my words still sounded like a rebuke. Worse, it seemed a self-pitying one. It is a tribute to my friend that he did not take offense at them. He only rose gracefully. "I’ll let you be, then. I think you are choosing to mourn alone, and if that is your choice, I’ll respect it. I do not think it is your wisest choice, but I’ll respect it." He paused and gave a small sigh. "I perceive something about myself now; I came because I wanted you to know that I knew you were in pain. Not because I could heal you of it, but because I wanted you to be aware that I shared that pain through our connection. I suspect there is an aspect of selfishness to that; that I wished you also to be aware of it, I mean. A burden shared not only can lighten it; it can form a bond between those who share it. So that no one is left to bear it alone."

I sensed there was some germ of wisdom in his words, something I should consider, but I was too weary and wracked to reach for it. "I’ll come back to the fire in a little while" was what I said, and the Fool knew it was a dismissal. He took his hand from my shoulder and walked away.

It was only when I later considered his words that I understood them. I was choosing to be alone then; it was not the inescapable consequence of the wolf’s death, nor even a carefully considered decision. I was embracing my solitude, courting my pain. It was not the first time I had chosen such a course.

I handled that thought carefully, for it was sharp enough to kill me. I had chosen my isolated years with Hap in my cabin. No one had forced me into that exile. The irony was that it had been the granting of my often-voiced wish. Throughout my youth, I had always asserted that what I truly wanted was to live a life where I could make my own choices, independent of the "duties" of my birth and position. It was only when fate granted that to me that I realized the cost of it. I could set aside my responsibilities to others and live my life as I pleased only when I also severed my ties to them. I could not have it both ways. To be part of a family, or any community, is to have duties and responsibilities, to be bound by the rules of that group. I had lived apart from that for a time, but now I knew that had been my choice. I had chosen to renounce my responsibilities to my family, and accepted the ensuing isolation as the cost. At the time, I had insisted to myself that fortune had forced me into that role. Just as I was making a choice now, even though I tried to persuade myself I was but following the inescapable path fate had set out for me.

To recognize you are the source of your own loneliness is not a cure for it. But it is a step toward seeing that it is not inevitable, and that such a choice is not irrevocable.

Golden Fool, by Robin Hobb (Tawny Man Trilogy #2)

#golden fool #rote reread #robin hobb #tawny man trilogy #realm of the elderings #realm of the elderlings #rote #fitzchivalry farseer #beloved #the fool #fitz x beloved #fitz x the fool #tawny man #fantasy books #book quotes #books #reading #fantasy #fantasy literature

[squadron-goals]

Letter by Leutnant Hans Joachim Wolff to Leutnant Lothar Freiherr von Richthofen

                                                                                        Airfield, 25 April 1918

Dear Richthofen! I still can´t believe that it´s true. I feel as if I had a nightmare. But it must be true, because everyone is talking about it. Just don't think about it, otherwise you have to cry. I can sympathise with your pain, nothing could cut deeper than the loss of your brother. The greatest pain a person can feel. We all, even the youngest mechanic, grief. We mourn the loss of a man who was everything to us, to whom we would have given anything. But unfortunately we were not granted the opportunity to prove our unbreakable loyalty to him. I in particular am deeply unhappy. I have lost more in him than just the great role model he was to everyone. I loved him like a father. I was happy when I was allowed to be with him. Especially in the last time, this was the case. We talked about a flight to Freiburg and Speyer. It was to take place on 24 April. Herr Rittmeister wanted to go to the Black Forest for a few days on a hunting trip and then to the Pfalzwerke. And now all that is to be no more. How everything will be so different now. Really everything was allowed to come, except that. Fate was too cruel. On the evening of 20 April, he shot his seventy-ninth and eightieth. Late in the evening, around half past seven, we took off again. A division lying near Villers-Bretonneux had asked for protection. We had hardly arrived when we encountered a whole bunch of Sopwith-Camels; we immediately attacked, of course. Hardly after a second the first one was on fire, immediately afterwards the second, not long after that the third. I didn't get mine, unfortunately. - By the way, I now have nine kills - Herr Rittmeister had two, one for Leutnant Weiß, who now leads our squadron and has eighteen kills. Herr Rittmeister must have been terribly pleased with these two kills. After the dogfight he went down low so that everyone could see his red machine and waved to the infantrymen. Everyone knew who was on the plane, and they had all seen the burning Englishmen shortly before. Enthusiastically, everyone waved and waved their caps. When Herr Rittmeister landed, he clapped his hands and rejoiced, saying: "By golly, eighty is a decent number.“ And we all rejoiced with him and looked at him admiringly.

That happened the night before, then came the fateful morning. We started around three quarters of twelve in the morning in two chains. The first chain: Herr Rittmeister, Leutnant Freiherr von Richthofen (Wolfram), Oberleutnant Karjus, Vizefeldwebel Scholz and me. We had hardly reached the front when we saw about seven Sopwith-Camels below us on our side in the Hamel area. Apart from the five of us, Jasta 5 was still in the vicinity, but much further on this side in the Sailly le Sec area. Above us there were still seven Sopwith-Camels, but some of them attacked Jasta 5, others stayed above. One or two came at us. We started to fight. In the course of the fight I saw Herr Rittmeister near me several times, but he hadn't shot any down yet. From our chain, only Oberleutnant Karjus was with me. Vizefeldwebel Scholz was fighting with the Albatrosses in the Sailly le Sec area. Leutnant von Richthofen was apparently not quite in the picture yet, since it was about his first air combat. While I was fighting with Oberleutnant Karjus against two or three Camels, I suddenly saw the red machine next to me shoot at a Camel, which at first let itself spin, then pushed away in a steep dive towards the west. This battle was already taking place on the other side beyond Hamelet. We had quite a strong east wind, and Herr Rittmeister must have also not thought of that. Now that I had some space, I occupied myself a little more intimately with a Camel and shot it down. While the Camel was falling, I looked around for Herr Rittmeister and saw him still chasing the Englishman at an extremely low altitude about above the Somme near Corbie. I shook my head unconsciously and wondered why Herr Rittmeister was pursuing an opponent so far beyond. While I was still trying to observe where my kill fell, I suddenly hear machine gun fire behind me and am attacked by another Camel. On the side, this was a pro who put about twenty hits into my machine. When I was rid of him, I looked around for Herr Rittmeister, but saw no one, except for Oberleutnant Karjus, who was near me, but not quite in the picture yet either. That was when it started to get scary for me, as I should have seen Herr Rittmeister. We circled the area for some time, were also attacked again by an Englishman whom we pursued to about nine hundred metres above Corbie, but there was no sign of Herr Rittmeister. I came home with bad suspicions. There were already reports. A red triplane landed smoothly northwest of Corbie. - That another Englishman could have shot him down from behind was out of the question, I could vouch for that straight away.

That would have been the most terrible thing for me, as I considered myself to be Herr Rittmeister's personal protection. - Herr Rittmeister is said to have shot down the Englishman, then he wanted to pull up, but suddenly made a steep glide and landed smoothly. So now there were two possibilities. The machine was overstrained, a valve has popped out, and the engine already at a standstill. The other possibility was hits from the ground in the engine. But he must be alive, and that eased some of our pain. Yes, we were happy for his parents, who were able to see their eldest son again after the war. And then the next day Major Hähnelt came and told us that Herr Rittmeister had died. That was impossible, that couldn't be true. And then I had a terrible suspicion. A rumor that has been going around for some days. You cannot land a triplane smoothly with a deadly injury. But there are Australians lying there who saw the Englishman being shot down, and suddenly the triplane had to land there. No, it's unthinkable. Are all people really that brutal? You will probably get more detailed information about it. And if it is true, then the German people will collectively demand accountability. And we, the Jagdgeschwader Richthofen, especially his Jasta 11, will prove to the English that even if Richthofen is dead, his spirit will live on with us forever. They will be surprised. - I wish you a speedy recovery. Hopefully you will soon be at the front leading us from victory to victory. Because we only have one thought, and that is to avenge your great heroic brother. And again, my heartfelt condolences. With the best regards Your Hans Joachim Wolff

#manfred von richthofen #Ein Heldenleben

[megsironthrone]

Mystery Drabble Party 🥳 xxoo

I would love to see A-13-Potato

Thank you! 

A: Petyr Baelish

13: “Never hide an engagement ring in the food!”

Potato: ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS! (I swear Baelish is perfect for this trope!)

You hated Petyr Baelish. Really you did. Well...you used to. And he despised you. The two of you hated both tried to outwit and betray each other so many times it was getting ridiculous. So why were you starting to feel differently? And why in the world did you agree to join him for dinner that night? He’d reached out to you a little while before saying that his dinner plans had fallen through and asked you to join him. You were almost positive he was going to kill you.  Granted, that small part of him that enjoyed the games you two played could be enough to keep him from doing that. 

You shifted on your feet somewhat nervously as you waited for Petyr to answer the door. When he did, you were taken back by how good he looked. He was dressed up, even by his standards. “Come in.” You slipped passed him, entering the warm home. You handed him the wine you picked out and let him lead you to the dining room.

After a few tense, silent minutes, you finally spoke up. “Why am I here, Baelish? It’s not exactly a secret that you and I hate one another.” Petyr’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t say anything. You merely shrugged and continued eating. As Petyr had been eating too, you knew it wasn’t poisoned. You only managed a few bites before your teeth clamped down on something hard. “SONOFA-” you cut off, spitting whatever the offending thing was into your napkin. When you caught onto what it was, your eyes widened.

“Uh, Bae-Petyr? What the hell is this?” you asked, showing him your napkin. Much to your shock, his face turned red. “This was originally a dinner for Lysa. I was meant to propose tonight.” You nearly fell out of your chair in surprise. “First off, NEVER hide an engagement ring in the food! Everyone knows that! And second...why am I here then? Shouldn’t you be with her?”

“NO! I was about to leave when I realized that I couldn’t marry her! For once, it doesn’t matter how much money and power I could get from marrying her. I don’t want it! The only thing I want is YOU! And I hate myself for it!” You were torn between being smug and being angry. He hated that he felt something for you, but at the same time, he was willing to throw away money and power...for you. That was never something you thought you’d hear Petyr admit. 

“Well, if that’s how you feel, I should tell you that perhaps I feel the same way. And perhaps, one day, I could see us reaching this point in our lives. If we can stop betraying each other, that is. I could also say that if you ever pick a ring for me that’s as gaudy as that, I will never forgive you.” You let a smile creep onto your lips as Petyr took in what you were saying. Once it finally processed in his mind, he was up from his chair in an instant, pulling you up with him. His arms wrapped around you. “I’ll buy you whatever you want. Anything at all. You shall have it.” You smirked. “I’ll hold you to that. For now, I just want you.”

#mystery drabbles #petyr baelish x reader

[nightskywriter]

Layla Meets Jake

A/N: This fic is also posted on Archive of Our Own under the same name! This is a fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters. Comments always welcome (and greatly appreciated)!

CW: This fic references previous child abuse, but doesn't actually show anything. It also shows Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). I did a lot of research on DID for this fic, but I could have gotten things wrong. Sorry in advance.

Characters: Marc Spector, Layla El-Faouly, Jake Lockley, Steven Grant (briefly)

...

Marc and Layla checked into the hotel and lady at the front desk gave Marc the key. Layla knew they were a sight. They were both covered in sand, Layla even more than Marc. They had been digging most of the day and they were both sweaty and gross. She had stayed mostly clean from sand until she got in that fight. She was pushed in the sand before Marc showed up. The man who attacked her hadn’t even been interested in the dig. He wasn’t there for that. He just saw her and thought she was alone.

But currently, Layla was fighting to appear amicable for the clerk. She tried not to look at Marc because she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop her eyes from narrowing and glaring at Marc. Marc and Layla always tried to appear to be getting along in public, but that didn’t mean they were actually getting along.

Marc put the hotel key in his pocket and picked up their luggage again. He insisted on carrying both of their bags.

“Am I just a liability to you?” Layla asked in a whisper once they were out of earshot from the clerk.

Marc didn’t look at her. He was focused on the dialog lights showing what floor the elevator was on. “We really doing this?”

“I grew up at dig sites. I can take care of myself.” Layla could feel the grit from the sand in her shoes and it was only making her mood worse. All she wanted was a shower. She felt like she still had blood on her from the splatter after Marc cut the man’s throat with one of his stupid crescent blades. It itched even though she knew she had wiped the blood off before they even came into the city. Blood splatters got the wrong kind of attention and the wrong kind of attention led to the wrong kind of questions from the wrong kind of people. Even though she knew it was gone, the itch wouldn’t be gone until she took an actual shower.

“Yeah. I know you can,” Marc said.

“I had that guy.” The elevator door opened, and they walked off together. “If you hadn’t gotten in the way, I could have knocked him out instead—” of you killing him. Layla stopped herself before she said the last part, but Marc knew what she was going to say anyway.

He opened the door to their room and set their bags down. “You don’t know what that guy was thinking.”

Layla crossed her arms, glaring at Marc’s back until he turned around. “I’ve got a pretty good idea. People like that man are why prisons are built. You didn’t have to kill him.”

“So what?” Marc threw up his hands. “You would have done the same thing.”

“No, I wouldn’t—”

“If he was going after another woman or a kid, you wouldn’t have killed him?” Marc knew she wouldn’t answer because they both knew the answer. Layla would have without hesitation. “We were there for the artifact. We were there on a job. But just because we were doing our day job of collecting artifacts doesn’t mean I get a day off from Khonshu. Khonshu wanted him dead and after Khonshu told me what that guy was planning to do, I agreed with him. Congrats, tonight you were a Traveler of the Night.”

Layla shook her head and scoffed. She ran her hand through her sweaty hair. Layla hated arguments like this. She wasn’t going to budge; she knew what killing people did to Marc and she hated him doing it. But she also knew Marc wasn’t going to change his mind. No matter how bothered he was, he believed he had done the justified thing and there was no convincing him otherwise.

“You need to learn when to stop,” Layla said, getting undressed so she could take her shower. She took her belt off and Marc froze.

Every muscle went rigid, and his eyes became unfocused. He blinked a few times, and his eyes softened a little.

“Marc?” Layla asked.

“Um, not right now,” Steven said. He looked around the room, confused. Marc had told Layla that it was hard for them to watch what was going on when the other was fronting and it seemed that Steven hadn’t been using the extra energy to listen in on their spat. “What happened? Marc just…left.”

Layla started to answer and took a step towards him—then Steven’s eyes hardened. Instantly, his postured changed to a more defensive stance. He cleared his throat.

Something about this change made the hairs on the back of Layla’s neck stand up.

“I wouldn’t come any closer, chica,” Not-Marc-or-Steven said. His voice was deeper than the other two and had an accent that sounded Hispanic. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Who are you?”

“Please answer the question. I’m being polite for Marc and Steven but everything in me is telling me not to.”

“I’m not sure, that’s what I was asking Steven. We were just talking.” This new guy didn’t say anything, just kept watching. “I wasn’t going to hurt him if that’s what you think. We disagreeing and then he just…switched with Steven and now you,” Layla said.

Layla and Not-Marc looked down at her hand that was still holding the belt. She dropped it and covered her mouth with her hand. “He didn’t… Did Marc— Did he think I was going to hit him?”

“Were you?”

The question was like a slap. Layla thought back to everything Marc and Steven had told her about their past. After the Harrow situation, Marc had decided to tell Layla everything. She knew about his past and why Steven developed but she didn’t know he was scared that she would hurt him until now.

Layla shook her head. “Never.”

“Hmm,” Not-Marc said. “I believe you.”

Layla was so focused on her own thoughts that she barely heard Not-Marc. She thought back to all of the arguments she had had with Marc over the years. He had always kept his distance from her, never getting within arm’s reach. She hadn’t thought much of it.

Peripherally, Layla saw Not-Marc walked over to the bed and sat on the end. “This sucks.”

Layla looked up at him. “What?”

“Cat’s out of the bag, isn’t it? You weren’t supposed to know I exist but now, now you know.”

“Why wasn’t I supposed to know? Why didn’t Marc tell me?”

“Because he doesn’t know.”

Layla blinked. Marc seemed to be so aware of Steven that Layla never considered others. “Who are you?”

“Jake,” he said, “Lockley.”

#Moon Knight #Marc Spector #layla el faouly #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Fanfiction #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort

[runelocked]

HE REALLY CAN’T FAULT HER RESPONSE. CHUCKLING, BUT STILL PRESSING CLOSE LIKE HE’S WHISPERING, the glitching form of her father claps its hands together in delight. He can finally tell someone what he’s done. Explain his breakthroughs, his discoveries, his sacrifices: and to his own daughter, nonetheless! This kind of pride is one he’s waited to experience . . . savouring the very day it would be granted to him. And it’s been so long!— he can’t help the theatrics now.

Steps forwards, hands spreading, seizing her shoulders and gripping on tight. His fingers are cold and unyielding — not real enough to bruise or fully hurt, he doesn’t think, but corporeal enough to be felt. To imprint. Isn’t that good enough for now?

“When Elizabeth came with me, she died. She went against my instructions, the silly thing, and, ah—“

(…How does he quickly and succinctly explain the kid-killing function on the Funtime animatronics? Grandiose expression hardly withering despite this, he tries to push on…)

“—There was an accident. The Circus Baby model killed her, Olivia. It killed her before I could get there, and I couldn’t save her. And then— haha!— and then I could! JUST LIKE I DID WITH EVAN. I saved them both, I harnessed their souls inside the machines, gave them new life, new and improved life.”

Is it possible for a computer virus to experience mania? It doesn’t know. What he does know is that he feels the old dangerous pull: that frantic energy, pupils blown wide, and the computer on the table cuts out almost immediately. He’s grinning horribly, barely able to keep his form, and he’s telling her more, more, unable to slow himself down.

“Just like I did for those children, those — those ungrateful brats, and j - u - st as I did for myself. Well, in a way. Olivia, Christ, you’ve got no idea. The blood on my hands is nothing compared to the l- i - ves I can extend now ! […] It powers me now. The substance I extracted from their deaths, it powers me, keeps me from dying. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts. Do you know how many times I begged to die in that old suit ? I lost count. And yet here I am ! ” A shriller laugh now. That grin is the only steady thing about the glitch’s structure right now. “I’m a god, you know. A real one. Liz is more alive than ever. I AM MORE ALIVE THAN EVER.” Cycling between half-forms in his hysteria. From himself to an inconclusive glitch to that Spring-Bonnie suit, sometimes whole and healthy, other times that rotting corpse of his past. “ And soon you will be too. ”

CONTINUED. / @feardrummed

#(( Sorry about him he’s experiencing almost every emotion at once after feeling nothing in a computer for years 👎 )) #(ii) man behind the slaughter — roleplay thread. #(ui) original: glitch. #(oxo) family burdened: william & ollie. #tw child loss #tw child death #tw child experimentation #tw child murder #tw mental breakdown #tw mental instability #tw dysfunctional family #tw delusion #( to an extent ) #( ask to tag. ) #a; feardrummed