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tsunami-of-tears · 15 days

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Haunted – Part One

Elain x Medium!Reader (sapphic) Rhys x Medium!Reader (platonic)

Summary: When Amarantha heard of the strange fae girl who could communicate with spirits, she had her hunted down and brought to her court Under The Mountain. Now trapped with the High Lords, Y/N seeks comfort and protection from Rhysand, and the pair develop a secret friendship. Once freed by Feyre’s actions, Rhys brings Y/N back to Velaris with him.

A/N: I’ve decided to split this into multiple parts as it’s lengthy. Part One is the backstory for Y/N and Rhys Under The Mountain and when they first arrive back in Velaris. I just adore the friendship Y/N develops with Rhys ❤️ He really does like to collect strays 😂 Thank you @shadowdaddies for asking about this WIP, I don't think I'd have worked on it otherwise!

Wordcount: 3.4K

Warnings: Reader can speak to the dead, so this is very grief/loss heavy and there are lots of ‘ghosts’; general trauma themes (+ healing); Amarantha, the Attor + UTM; mentions of physical torture and suicidal ideation.

Cold, spindly fingers grip my arm tightly as I’m dragged closer to the dais by the Attor. He shoves me down, pinching sharply into my shoulder and forcing me to kneel before the High Queen. My knees throb upon impact with the red marble. The smacking sound of skin on stone echoes through the hushed hall.

I feel eyes on me from all sides, from the surrounding fae that make up Amarantha’s court. Their chatter dulls as they take in the commotion.

The Attor stands straight behind me and announces his findings, “As you commanded, your Majesty. The spirit girl.”

Amarantha drums her fingers along the arm of her throne, her dagger-sharp red nails clacking against the stone. “Ah yes, I've heard many stories about this one,” she says, smiling cruelly. “Girl, what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” I respond flatly, quickly remembering to add ‘Your Majesty’ at the end.

Amarantha toys with the gold chain around her neck, and the charm– no, the bone– hanging from it. “Jurian, what do you think? Do you think the claims are true?”

The man standing beside the Queen steps forward with his arms folded across his chest, his form flickers as he moves. He is human, or was, judging by his rounded ears. “Do you truly care for my thoughts, or do you just like to hear yourself speak?” Jurian asks, rolling his eyes. Those eyes - so alike the one on Amarantha’s finger...

I push myself off the ground and stand up tall, shrugging off the bony clutches of the Attor. “Jurian would like to know if you truly want his opinion, or if you just like the sound of your own voice.”

A gasp ripples through the court and Amarantha gives me a serpentine smile. “So, the little pet does have teeth–” she looks down, inspecting her nails, before returning my defiant gaze– “but can she use them?”

“Rhysand,” Amarantha calls across the court.

A handsome man steps forward, amusement flickering in his violet eyes as he takes me in before bowing deeply to Amarantha. He straightens, inclining his head, “Yes, my Queen?”

“Look into her mind, can she truly speak to those that have departed this mortal realm?”

The male, Rhysand, bows his head again and I feel a night-kissed breeze caressing my senses. ‘Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you,’ a deep, soothing voice says directly into my mind.

How are you doing that?

‘I’ll explain later. For now, be careful what you say. Her sister, Clythia, is a very sore spot.’

I’m not afraid of her.

Surprise and amusement that is not my own ripples within me. ‘I know,’ the voice says before fading away without a trace.

Rhysand rises, addressing the Queen. “Her power is real, Majesty. She can see Jurian standing beside you. He looks quite well, considering...”

Amaranth claps her hands together at his confirmation. “Wonderful, this is wonderful news. Oh, you and I are going to have such fun together.” She waves a hand towards me, my dismissal. “Attor, take her to her room. I don't feel like speaking to the dead at present.”

————

I finally have some privacy in my chambers. The room is small and plainly furnished. There’s very little warmth amongst all the dark stone, I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to fight the growing chills.

I’m alone for the first time in many years. Not even the dead walk these halls, so I only have my thoughts to keep me company.

I feel relieved that being tortured was not in the Queen’s plans for me, at least not yet. And I’m fortunate to get a room instead of a cell. Yes, I think I can make this work.

A soft knock sounds against the wooden door, jolting me from my thoughts.

Has she changed her mind about sparing me?

I move swiftly to open the door; hoping to find a friend, not foe, on the other side of it.

The handsome male from earlier, Rhysand, is lazily leaning against the wall across from my door, picking at the embroidered collar of his black jacket.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he purrs, pushing off from the wall. “May I come in?”

I step back and allow Rhysand entrance. His power swirls around him as he moves, like a cloak of liquid night.

“I apologise that there wasn’t time for proper introductions earlier. I’m Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” he offers, bowing his head to me.

High Lord. Of course.

At Rhysand’s admission, memories of Prythian’s history flood my mind. I recognised his name, and the black clothes should have been a giveaway… But his actions thus far did not match any of the stories I’ve heard about the formidable High Lord.

Rhysand gives me a sad smile. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but unfortunately we’re both stuck here. Do your best to keep out of trouble, and don’t do anything to piss her off. You’re now a member of this dreadful court, so you’ll need to attend all the festivities.” Rhysand emphasises ‘festivities’ with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

“Me? But I’m no one special.”

Violet eyes bore into mine as if they could see into my soul.

“You are special. Amarantha covets power - that’s why we’re both here in this position. My kind is called daemati. I can enter minds - make someone my puppet, read every single thought they’ve ever had, or I can destroy them from the inside out.” Rhysand looks to the floor, unable to hold my gaze as he continues.

“I don’t like to violate people that way unless absolutely necessary. I only got a glimpse of your thoughts, but it was enough to know I can trust you. I have to wear that mask around the others, but I’ll try to help you however I can.”

“Thank you. I don’t understand why you’re helping me, but I appreciate it. And I won’t tell anyone about… this.” Whatever this is.

Rhysand looks back at me, nodding once in acknowledgement. “Dinner is in two hours. You’ll need to dress up, I’ll have some of my handmaids come to assist you. Do not show any weakness here. She detests it and will destroy you.”

As Rhysand is about to leave, a woman with large batlike wings manifests beside him. Her form shimmers, her skin a dull pallor. She reaches out as if to touch his inky black hair but her hand doesn’t make contact. The woman’s hazel eyes portray endless love and sadness. “Y/N, please tell Rhys that Juno is proud of the male he’s become.”

He freezes as I relay the message from the beautiful woman. A single tear falls, leaving a trail of silver down his cheek.

“I didn’t think she was watching,” Rhysand whispers. “I don’t deserve her pride.”

I softly wipe away his tears, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “We don’t show weakness out there, but you can with me.”

Rhysand nods, squeezing my hand back. “Deal. And the same applies to you,” he says.

I feel a flash of heat down my forearm. My brow scrunches in shock as I drop Rhysand’s hand and pull my sleeve up. On my arm, there’s a mark that wasn’t there before. A mass of black whorls around a crescent moon.

Rhysand smirks at my contorted expression. “It’s a Night Court tradition to mark our bargains with a tattoo.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m aware of the practice, but you could’ve gone with something more inconspicuous.”

“I think it suits you, Y/N,” Rhysand says, his grin wide. “And as we’re now linked for life, you can call me Rhys.”

Rhys winks at me as he heads towards the door, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Prick.

‘I heard that.’

I smile smugly, shutting the door in Rhys’s cocky face. Prick is a much more suitable nickname.

————

The following morning I am summoned to attend the High Queen’s court. Rhys stayed true to his word about helping me, sending his handmaids to dress me.

I never needed such finery in the villages I frequented. Before Amarantha, I travelled between a few temples, offering my services to the Priestesses. Gods, I miss my old life - the days spent on the open roads, the peace I could bring people. There was no peace to be found near Amarantha.

The twins, Nuala and Cerridwen, help me into a gauzy white dress. There are enough layers that it’s not seethrough, and the panels float around me as I move. They dust my face with a light powder and line my eyes with black kohl. They also do my hair, braiding the top section and leaving the rest to flow freely down my back.

I get a glimpse in the mirror before I leave the room, doing a double take at the female staring back at me.

She looks like a ghost.

Amarantha’s eyes track me as I walk the length of the room towards her throne. She smirks as I bow deeply before her.

“You wished to see me, Majesty,” I say, keeping my head low and eyes on the floor.

“My my, don’t you scrub up well when you’re among civilised company,” Amarantha sneers. “Rise, girl. I wish to speak with my sister. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

Beside Amarantha, Jurian scoffs.

“It doesn’t work like that, Majesty,” I retort.

Amarantha narrows her eyes at me. “And why not?” she demands.

“I can communicate with the dead, but it’s on their terms. If they do not wish for me to see them, I cannot make them. And I can’t make them talk.”

‘Careful…’ Rhys says into my mind.

I’m speaking the truth. That is not a weakness.

Jurian pushes off the ledge he’d been leaning on. As he speaks, I will my eyes to glaze over - a little trick I picked up, making my powers appear more tangible to those who cannot see what I can.

“Clythia won't come near her while I’m here,” Jurian explains. “My soul is tethered to the pieces she’s kept of me, her cruel trophies… As the bitch is quite fond of my eye, I can’t leave. I don't believe you’ll get the pleasure of meeting her sister.”

“What’s happening?” Amarantha demands. “Rhysand, what is she doing?”

Rhys steps forward, “My Queen, that look, the hazy eyes, it means a spirit is calling to her.”

I let the fog fade from my eyes, turning to address Amarantha again. “Majesty, Jurian is tied to those objects you hold. Clythia will not come near him.”

Amarantha sighs loudly, inspecting her nails. “Of course not, why would she want to be near that filthy human? I have no further need of you today, but I will come up with some other uses for your talents,” she sneers.

I bow again and turn, moving to the back of the room to watch the rest of the proceedings.

————

I very quickly fell into a routine Under the Mountain.

The twins would dress me for court in the morning, making me look like the living dead.

After breakfast, I’d attend the throne room with the other High Fae. Court politics were… complicated. Fortunately, I had little involvement in this.

Then there were the balls and dinners of an evening. They were always a big event, with gruesome entertainment most nights.

I barely stomached the cruelty. After the first dinner - I spent the rest of the night throwing it up. The torment was only made worse when I was forced to communicate with the poor souls Amarantha tortured for sport. I spent many nights lying in bed, replaying the horrors in my mind.

As each day passed, it grew harder to live with myself and the things I was forced to witness.

My bargain with Rhys was the only thing keeping me going.

I began to look forward to his sarcastic comments in my mind while the other members of the court bickered.

When sleep couldn’t find us, we’d spend the night talking down our bargain bond. We exchanged stories of our lives before and made many grand plans for after. We knew they were unlikely to be realised, but our dreams were all we had left.

One day, Rhys tells me of dreams he’s been having—dreams of a human girl. For the first time, he could see her clearly, she must have come over the wall somehow. She was in Prythian.

‘I don’t know what it means, but maybe she’s the one we’ve been waiting for,’ Rhys ponders.

If only I was a seer, that would be a much more useful power.

————

That human girl was indeed who we were waiting for.

That stupid girl, entering into the bargain with Amarantha.

Like he did for me all those years earlier, Rhys helped Feyre as much as he could.

At first, I was doubtful that Feyre would complete all the tasks. When she showed up that wyrm and then threw the bone at Amarantha, I knew she was special. I finally allowed myself to have hope.

Then she died.

I watched as Amarantha snapped her neck. Watched as her life force left her body, though a spark glimmered near Rhys’s chest. Somehow, he held on to her, keeping her soul from moving on.

Once she’s made, I can feel her powers blooming, an echo of each High Lord, mixed with something else. Being brought back left a trace on her soul.

————

Amarantha had been defeated and we were free. Most of her court had left Under the Mountain already, the nastier fae made themselves scarce promptly after Tamlin killed her.

I’m not sure where I’m going to go. My family were long gone, along with the village I once called home. Now, Rhys was my only friend, and he had his own family to get back to.

A rippling black cloud blooms in front of me, and Rhys materialises. His black hair is dishevelled, his eyes wide with shock. Even his movements seem rattled.

“Are you okay?” I ask him, stepping closer.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, but he can’t meet my gaze.

“Don’t lie to me, you don’t have to tell me here or now, but don’t lie.” I reach for his hand, squeezing it firmly.

“It’s Feyre,” he says.

“Is she okay? She’s gone to be with Tam–”

“She’s my mate,” Rhys says so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. His confession stuns me.

“Oh Rhys, I’m so sorry. We’ll work it out, you have that bargain.”

“Yeah, I- I don’t know,” he shrugs, defeated. “If she’s going to be happy with Tamlin then that’s all I want.” Rhys pauses, still unable to look me in the eye. “Anyway, let’s go home,” he says, schooling his features into his signature smirk and extending his hand to me.

“Home?” I question.

“Do you think after everything that I’d leave you here? You’re coming with me.” He smiles softly before taking my hand in his and winnowing us away.

————

We materialise in a living room decorated with tasteful but eclectic furnishings. It’s warm and inviting, especially after those years under the mountain.

A blonde female enters the lounge room as we appear. Her mouth widens in shock and she drops the mug she was holding which shatters on the floor, spilling brown liquid all over the worn rug.

She lets out a sob and runs to Rhys, wrapping her arms around him. He holds her in silence, stroking her long golden hair as his eyes well with tears.

Two winged males enter the room with a short High Fae female.“Oh my gods,” one of the males whispers.

Rhys turns at their entrance and embraces both males. Everyone in the room has teary eyes, even me, while I stand awkwardly to the side.

I’m not usually a crier, but we got out. The weight of that fact is heavy on my soul.

Rhys releases his family and extends his hand to me, pulling me closer. “Everyone, this is Y/N,” he says before introducing each of his friends - all names that I’ve heard before. People that I never expected to meet in person. “Y/N helped keep me sane Under the Mountain. She’ll be staying in Velaris for the foreseeable future.”

Amren steps forward, observing me. I take a step back as her power overwhelms me. She is not from this world.

“What are you?” I ask softly.

“I was going to ask you the same question, girl.” Amren tilts her head to the side as if studying me. “You’re not of this realm, not entirely.”

Rhys cuts in, “Amarantha was using Y/N for her abilities. She can communicate with the dead.”

Cassian pales beside me, his face contorted in shock. “Cauldron boil me, you can - talk to ghosts?” He shudders.

“The living scare me more than the dead ever did,” I reply.

“Isn’t that the truth,” Mor quips before pulling out a bottle of wine and enough glasses for everyone, seemingly plucked from the air. “Settle in, you’ve got 50 years of gossip to catch up on,” she grins.

‘Is there somewhere I can go while you catch up with your family?’ I ask Rhys down our bond.

His concern ripples back in response. ‘You’re family now too, but I understand if you need some space.’

Rhys smiles at his cousin, “We’ve waited 50 years, I think we can wait a few more minutes while we get settled. Y/N, I’ll show you your room.”

I smile and nod as Rhys takes my hand and leads me up the stairs. He squeezes firmly, the way we always do.

“There’s a few empty bedrooms up here, you can take whichever you like - that one–” he points to the door at the end of the hall– “overlooks the garden.”

“Thank you, for everything.” I pull him into a tight hug and he kisses me on the top of my head.

“Go on, tell me if you need anything,” he taps on his temple.

I nod, “You go on, your family are waiting.”

————

Rhys was right. The view of the garden was a nice change after being stuck under the mountain for the last 10 years.

I’ve bathed, but even after scrubbing myself raw, I can’t quite shake the dirty feeling. My skin is red and angry, but I find a lotion in the bathroom that helps soothe it. The lavender scent fills my nostrils.

We got out.

I dress and decide to go downstairs. I feel restless inside and don’t want to be alone with my thoughts any longer.

Rhys looks up as I descend the stairs and he smiles widely at me. “There she is. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah…” I look at the door, and the coloured light streaming through the stained glass panel. “Can I?”

“Of course,” Rhys nods. ‘We’re free,’ he says down the bond. ‘You can go wherever you wish.’

I walk towards the door, hesitating at the threshold before finally stepping into the sunlight.

I pause, feeling the warmth on my skin, a sensation I never thought I’d feel again. In the distance, children are playing and I can hear people talking and laughing as they go about their days.

I shut my eyes, letting the sounds of the city fill my head, enjoying the peace that the chatter brings.

We made it.

“I can’t quite believe it myself,” Rhys says from beside me.

I open my eyes, turning to look up at him.

“We got out,” he says. “It felt so hopeless at the end there.”

“I thought I was going to die Under the Mountain,” I confess quietly. “That she’d tire of my party tricks and amuse herself by torturing me. I would’ve welcomed it. An end.”

Rhys turns to look back at the house, at his family through the glass panes, “No one else understands.”

I take his hand in mine, squeezing it tightly. “Our bargain still stands.”

Rhys squeezes my hand back. “Always. Now I’d really like for you to show off your party trick for Cassian. If you’re up to it.” Rhys smirks and I raise a brow. “He’s creeped out by anything that’s not tangible. If you can pretend some spirit is angry with him, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“Oh I see, you brought me here to be your jester.” I give Rhys a playful shove with my shoulder. “Come on, let’s do it. You can feed me intel so it’s extra convincing.”

“Oh, you’re evil,” he chuckles darkly. Rhys holds the door open for me, and we step inside his home together.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acomaf #acosf #acowar #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand #elain archeron #elain archeron x reader #elain x reader #rhysand fanfic

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icycoldninja · 6 months

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Fluffcember #20 (SOLDIER boys + Reno x reader)

Owning a cat headcannons

♡Sephiroth♡

-Takes a little while (think 4-5 months) for him to learn to tolerate the cat, and nearly double that time for him to accept it as part of his life, which is understandable, considering that he's practically a cat himself.

-He'll let you pick the first name, but he chooses the surname (yes, your cat has a surname), and it's something remarkably humanoid. Imagine explaining to the vet that your cat's name is Sparklepaws Pembleton-Clark.

-Once he gets used to the feline, he'll start seeing it as his sibling. He will have full on conversations with the cat, ones that are very serious and not at all baby talk. When the cat wants to eat, a conversation like this might take place:

"Good morning/afternoon/evening, Pembleton-Clark, what would you prefer for your meal today?"

"Meow."

"Ah, cat food, a fine choice. Please be seated and I shall deliver your food presently."

"Meow."

"You're very welcome. Have you read the paper, by the way? I heard there was a sale on feline litter at the local supermarket."

-Will play with the cat and tickle it; occasionally can be spotted on the couch with the fluffy fur-baby in his lap, stroking and petting it while watching TV or reading.

-Basically, the pet is family, once he gets used to it.

◇Genesis◇

-Loves the cat the minute you bring it home. He'll pick it up and carry it around, cooing at it like it's a baby.

"Awwwww, who's a good little fluffy snookums? You are! Yes, you are! My pretty little puffy fluffle--awww so cute. Soooo cute."

-INSISTS upon naming it; your cat is officially called Her Divine Majesty Emperess Gen-Gen II, and there is nothing you can do to change that.

-Pampers the cat, giving it baths every month and grooming it as well as keeping its claws trimmed and it's fur nice and shiny.

-Sometimes he even ties it's fur up into little pigtails and decorates it with hairclips before taking pictures of it and sending them to you.

-Coddles the cat, spoiling and playing with it whenever he can. He sees your pet as an extension of himself, and therefore treats it the way he wants to be treated. (Lavishly)

-Adores the cat and always will, just as he adores you.

♧Angeal♧

-Angeal is the embodiment of the dad who says "We're not getting a cat" and then proceeds to adore and spoil the cat like a young child. He was against getting a pet, but then saw the fluffy little thing you pointed to and just caved.

-Lets you name it because he doesn't care what it's called. Unless you named it after yourself. Then he can't even look at it without tearing up.

-Is a true tsundere towards that cat, always giving it the side eye; regarding it with cold professionalism. But deep down, he loves that furry thing and will definitely let it sleep on the bed with him.

-Buys it toys and those little tree jungle gym things, as well as treats. As stated before, he keeps a cold front but truly adores that kitty.

-Will let it sit in his lap while he does paperwork, and sometimes even brings it to Shinra with him. (everyone gets jealous and always wants to pet it)

-All in all, loves that furry cutie, even when it scratches up the furniture and tears up his socks.

☆Reno ☆

-He and the cat eyed each other at the pet shop for 10 full minutes before he agreed to taking it home. Reno has had experience with cats, having owned one himself before, and knows exactly what kind of trouble they are.

-Very suspicious of the cat for the first several weeks but soon eases into its company, once he's sure it won't tear up his stuff. He soon goes from uncomfortable and jittery to relaxed and loving.

-He'll pet the cat, feed the cat, play with the cat, and even eat with the cat. He'll literally have a cat food bowl and a highchair set up so the cat can eat at the table like a human. It's the most adorable thing ever.

-Once he and the cat have bonded enough, he decides to make it his partner in crime. He'll try to train it by giving it treats whenever it knocks over a specific object, except the cat gets the wrong idea and thinks it'll get a treat whenever it knocks stuff over, so Reno has essentially turned your cat into a furry wrecking ball.

-Has decided to name your cat Sir-Smashes-A-Lot in light of this behavior. A cute name for a cute (but mischevious) cat.

-Sometimes he'll use a pet-friendly fur dye and dye Sir-Smashes-A-Lot's fur to match his. You might come home to find both your boyfriend and pet sporting bright green locks of fur/hair.

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mewcury-chaos · 3 days

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📻🍎𝐑𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒🍎📻

{𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠}

+ type: oneshot + note: hinting drugs + artwork: @JusciestE

synopsis: Does it ever drive you crazy / Just how fast the night changes?...

[ previous: {Day 5 - Domestic/Demon} ]

────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────────

Such a peculiar concept, slumbering away through the night. Alastor never felt the need to curl up on the mattress, gently washing away his sorrows. Even if he had matters to attend to, or even worry about, the deer demon wouldn’t waste precious time participating in such futile activities.

The Radio Demon couldn’t care less for his well-being. Alastor wouldn’t risk letting his guard down after…….

The brilliant crimson eyes dimmed as he morphed back into shadows and shade, a daunting grin remained untouched upon the sinner’s lips.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Another sleepless night for the King of Hell.

Lucifer shoved a handful of sleeping pills down his throat, swallowing the tablets in one go. The ruler washed it off with a cup of water before instantaneously slamming back down onto the bed. The pleasurable delirium gradually took over his anxious form as the sin dozed off, dark bags hanging under his eyes…

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Barely two hours later, he groaned in pain, his heart aching, pounding, and thumping heavily in his chest. The pills wore off so hastily.....

The blond let out uneven breaths, rolling over, heaving for air. His limbs were spread eagle, laying in unnatural angles as the fallen angel kept finding himself restlessly twisting and turning on the scratchy sheets.

His nightwear clung to Lucifer like hot glue, a sheen of sweat coating his figure. The thick collar tightened further around his slender neck, threads and fabric tickling the porcelain skin.

Head spinning and spinning and spinning again in a foggy daze, he clutched his skull between his palms, squeezing and desperately wishing the pain would ebb away the searing heartache coursing through his body.

His innocent Charlie. Her hopes. The dreams he couldn’t provide.

The angels. The extermination. When he was almost too late to snatch her from death.

His longing for comfort. The crippling worthlessness. The haunting loneliness.

The golden band on his finger…

The world twirled and danced mockingly in circles ‘round his small frame, the scarlet wallpapers closing in, nearer and nearer until he was chained onto the bed, gritting back the tears daring to spill.

“NO. STOP.”

Lucifer scrambled, fully awake, shoving his weight back against the wooden headboard, hard. The bed creaked soundly. His clawed hands subconsciously scraped at the bedsheets, reducing the cotton to tattered threads and linings.

The blond reached out for the yellow bottle of pills once more, considering getting another handful so as to appease his boiling nerves.

What would Charlie say?

A few shouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t have much of an effect on a divine being as himself anyway...

Lucifer swallowed one, and another just to calm the anxiety and worry steadily coursing through his veins.

The man desperately needed some fresh air.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Alastor sat elegantly upon the red cushions, humming a pleasant tune as he flipped open another page of an old storybook.

The everlasting smile was present on his face, pointed teeth glimmering under the dull light source—an antique lamp perching on the nearby table.

On this occasion, though, the daunting grin was less unnerving, and more distant, as well as horrifyingly carefree. An unusual expression for the Radio Demon to possess, but considering there was no one, and nothing occupying the vacant lobby, Alastor was free to not care.

That was until……

“Greetings! How do I owe the pleasure of your company at this, ungodly, hour?”

The demon cheered sarcastically before his majesty could utter a singular word.

A sour smirk was plastered, yet again, on the demon’s face. His claw turned to a different page of the book, the paper emitting a satisfying noise. Alastor didn’t even bother to turn a hair.

“Nice ta know I’m not the only-” Lucifer yawned wearily, stretching his arms wide, “-one stuck in this never-ending cycle.”

Footsteps nearing, closer and closer to where he was situated, the red demon continued his reading session without a care.

A small frame plopped down next to him on the velvet sofa, ushering curses and whines around his lack of sleep and insomnia, gently leaning closer to Alastor's slim figure. The feel of his body against the demon's side was more than enough to make his thoughts wander.

The sin can't have been tipsy. No no no. The blond barely has a tolerance for alcohol, so why…..

The pills, only just now, began to take effect. Drawing, urging, promising the ruler a deep, dreamless slumber. Its chemicals spread warmth through his system like a weed, comforting and contenting as Lucifer gradually submitted to his exhaustion.

“Just how fast the night changes, huh?” The angel murmured softly, the last thing he'd say before he curled himself up into a ball, tucking his knees into his chest. The figure soon fell limp, head leaning against Alastor’s broad shoulders.

A strange sense of fondness and endearment filled his dark heart as he eyed the Sin of Pride with interest and annoyance. The action made him feel trapped and uneasy, but it felt. Right...

The Radio Demon weaved a hand to the back of the other’s head, ruffling the silky hair for a moment before he removed the blond from the sitting position to rest peacefully on his lap.

“Little crowling, little crowling, with button-black eyes. Swoops down into the meadow where the rabbits all hide.”

Alastor whispered in a sing-song tone, returning to his readings with a semi-doting smile. It was a lullaby he would use on the cannibal children, whenever they bother their mothers too much. The sinner wasn’t quite sure if it would work on the King of Hell, but, this would be the closest thing to affection Alastor would allow out of himself. For now............

“Little rabbit, little rabbit stay by Mother's side. or the crowling, little crowling, will peck out your eyes.”

Alastor would murmur, turning from the lines of his book to glance at the sight of Lucifer, Ruler of Hell, sleeping so politely in his arms. A small, almost sentimental smile licked his sharp features as the demon reached over, then tentatively intertwine their hands. A thumb brushed across the sin's knuckles back and forth mindlessly.

Maybe, just maybe, though seeming so unlikely, deep down, the Radio Demon longed for this fragile moment more than he’d ever know.

────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────────

[ {masterlist} ] [ next: {Mini-shot - Domestic/Demon} ]

p/s: Lullaby by Ezra Squall from the book series: Nevermoor (Jessica Townsend)

eat, sleep and stay hydrated <333

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empiredesimparte · 10 days

Text

Live broadcast of ‘Le Sacre de Napoléon V’ on the national channel Francesim 2, hosted by Stéphane Bernard

(Stéphane Bernard) This is an exercise rarely undertaken by the French imperial family. In truth, few could have imagined that this ceremony would take place on the occasion of the coronation, especially considering the recent turmoil. However, His Majesty is determined to deliver a powerful message to all his detractors and to strengthen ties with the French people.

(Stéphane Bernard) Emperor Napoleon V must establish his style and herald change to win back his people. After the coronation ceremony, will we witness the swearing-in of all the bodies that constitute Francesim, thereby renewing their allegiance to the Emperor? His Majesty must make a successful entrance into his reign and, I believe, in some way, significantly transform Francesim.

(Stéphane Bernard) He will need to find the right words, gestures of appeasement, and an attitude that will bring about national unity. Many skeptics doubt his abilities due to his young age, barely 19 years old. Yet, this walkabout evokes the image of a thaumaturgic emperor, soothing ailments through direct contact with the people. This, in fact, is one of the foundations of the Napoleonic idea: the Emperor and the People. Of course, thaumaturgy is irrational, and hardly anyone truly believes in it nowadays. Nonetheless, the people display a strong desire to form a connection with this young emperor, in whom they can see themselves.

(Another journalist) What do you think, Stéphane, about Empress Charlotte? Will she live up to the role that awaits her? She's only 19 too

(Stéphane Bernard) Empress Charlotte will undoubtedly be an essential pillar for His Majesty Emperor Napoleon V. Already, she enjoys immense popularity among the French. She is a woman of great intellect, full of charm, and remarkable beauty. Strangely, she gives the impression of having always been part of the imperial family. She understands the role: sacrificing her private life on the altar of the monarchy. The couple must now take up the mantle and embody modernity.

(Stéphane Bernard) On screen, you can see the majestic entrance gate of the Château de Versailles. It is here, in this historic location, that the gala is being prepared, where tonight all the greatest heads of state in the world will be present. Choosing Versailles is not incidental. It is about showcasing French culture and refinement, a heritage to which we are all deeply attached!

(Stéphane Bernard) A glimpse of the famous Hall of Mirrors where the Imperial Household is preparing for the arrival of the Emperor's guests. It's an unconventional coronation, for several reasons. Tomorrow, Francesim will become the center of the world. The young imperial couple, in the spotlight, will seize this unique moment to assert themselves brilliantly on the diplomatic stage. The Emperor has wished to showcase all the splendor that Francesim is capable of. His Majesty has spared no expense to ensure that these days are truly unforgettable.

(Stéphane Bernard) Allow me to tell you about the regalia, these symbols of power that are currently safely housed in the Palais des Tuileries, in the heart of Paris. They will soon be transported to the cathedral for the grand ceremony. I must confess, I have been preparing for this event for nearly ten years, and like all of you, I am eagerly awaiting the realization of this historic moment!

(Other journalist) Isn't a coronation somewhat outdated today? Couldn't it be "simpler", like republican ceremonies?

(Stéphane Bernard) Yes, it's quaint. However, it remains an indispensable rite for the Nation to commune and identify with. In these times of identity retreat, the monarchy provides a path to overcome these divisions. As long as this symbol endures, it will continue to serve as a unifying force – and the Napoléons, better than anyone, have understood this well. Unfortunately, our Presidents of the Republic have never managed to accomplish this mission with the same grandeur.

⚜ Le Sacre de Napoléon V | N°1 | Francesim, Paris, 27 Thermidor An 230

The imperial couple took a walkabout on the eve of the coronation. It was broadcast live on television by Stéphane Bernard, the famous journalist covering crowned heads in Francesim.

Beginning ▬ Previous ▬ Next

⚜ Traduction française

Le bain de foule demeure un exercice fort peu usité par la famille impériale française. En vérité, bien peu parmi nous pouvaient imaginer que ce cérémonial se déroulerait à l'occasion du couronnement, surtout en considérant les tumultes récents. Cependant, Sa Majesté, avec une détermination à toute épreuve, aspire à délivrer un message puissant à tous ses détracteurs et à resserrer les liens avec le peuple français !

L'empereur Napoléon V doit arriver à imprimer son style et à annoncer le changement pour reconquérir son peuple. Après la cérémonie de couronnement, assisterons-nous à la prestation de serment de tous les corps constituant la Francesim, renouvelant ainsi leur allégeance à l'Empereur ? Sa Majesté doit réussir son entrée de règne et, je crois, d'une certaine manière, bouleverser la Francesim de manière significative

Il va devoir avoir les mots, les gestes d'apaisement et d'attitude qui permettront de ramener l'union nationale. Bien des sceptiques doutent de ses capacités en raison de son jeune âge, à peine 19 ans. Pourtant, ce bain de foule évoque l'image d'un empereur thaumaturge, apaisant les maux par le contact direct entre le peuple et le souverain. C'est d'ailleurs, l'un des fondements de l'idée napoléonienne : l'Empereur et le Peuple. Bien sûr, la thaumaturgie relève de l'irrationnel, et plus personne n'y croit réellement de nos jours. Néanmoins, le peuple manifeste un désir ardent de créer un lien avec ce jeune empereur, en qui l'on peut s'identifier

(Autre journaliste) Que pensez-vous Stéphane de l'impératrice Charlotte ? Sera-t-elle à la hauteur du rôle qui l'attend ?

L'impératrice Charlotte sera sans doute un pilier essentiel pour Sa Majesté l'empereur Napoléon V. Déjà, elle jouit d'une popularité immense auprès des Français. C'est une femme d'esprit, pleine de charme et d'une beauté remarquable. Etrangement, elle donne l'impression d'avoir toujours appartenu à la famille impériale. Elle a compris le job : aliéner sa vie privée sur l'autel de la monarchie. Le couple doit désormais prendre la relève et incarner la modernité.

A l'écran, vous voyez le majestueux portail d'entrée du château de Versailles. C'est ici, dans ce lieu historique, que se prépare le gala où seront présents ce soir tous les plus grands chefs d'état du monde. Choisir Versailles n'est pas anodin. Il s'agit de mettre au premier plan la culture et le raffinement à la française, ce patrimoine auquel nous sommes tous si attachés.

Une vue sur la célèbre galerie des glaces où la Maison Impériale prépare l'arrivée des invités de l'Empereur. C'est un couronnement atypique, pour plusieurs raisons. Demain, la Francesim deviendra le centre du monde. Le jeune couple impérial, en pleine lumière, saisira cet instant unique pour s'affirmer avec éclat sur la scène diplomatique. L'empereur a souhaité mettre à l'honneur toute la splendeur dont la Francesim est capable. Sa Majesté n’a pas épargné la moindre dépense pour que ces journées soit véritablement inoubliables

Permettez-moi de vous parler des regalia, ces insignes de pouvoir qui, pour l'instant, reposent en toute sécurité au palais des Tuileries, au cœur de Paris. Ils seront bientôt transportés à la cathédrale pour la grande cérémonie. Je dois vous confier que je me prépare pour cet événement depuis près de dix ans, et comme vous tous, je brûle d'impatience de voir ce moment historique se réaliser !

(Autre journaliste) N'est-ce pas un peu désuet aujourd'hui, un couronnement ? Ca ne pourrait pas être plus "simple" comme les cérémonies républicaines ?

On peut penser qu'un couronnement est une tradition désuète de nos jours. Oui, c'est désuet. Cependant, il s'agit d'un rite indispensable pour permettre à la Nation de communier et de s'identifier. En ces temps de repli identitaire, la monarchie offre une voie pour surmonter ces divisions. Tant que ce symbole perdure, il continuera de jouer son rôle de rassembleur – et les Napoléons, mieux que quiconque, l'ont bien compris. Nos présidents de la République, hélas, n'ont jamais su accomplir cette mission avec la même grandeur.

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daechwitatamic · 6 months

Text

Of Ruin: Chapter 5 || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @/sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

Section Warnings: language probably, tense situations with dangerous vampires, angst ig?

wc: 4.6k

Midmorning finds you and Namjoon seated on the stone floor around the low center table of your main room. The table is littered with papers and open books, pens and half-full coffee cups. Your previous argument forgotten, you’ve spent the morning productively and companionably.

On the paper closest to you, you’ve made a list of all the threads of the curse that you’re confident are present, the same ones you’d discussed with Prince Taehyung in this very room yesterday. On Namjoon’s side of the table is a list of possible threads - things you’re unsure about, things you’re considering, things that are possible but thus far unproven.

On the paper beside yours, you’ve begun listing options to counter each of these threads. There’s always more than one way. The key to a countercurse is to first determine each thread that must be countered, and then find the exact correct counter for each one.

It isn’t even a matter of countering each individual strand - there are elements of finding the least-common-denominator, in a way: you need the best thing that will counter as many as possible at once.

One thread might be best countered by a certain incantation, but if a different one will counter three threads, then it’s the better choice.

Once you know what incantations and magical elements you need to include in the counter, you can begin to decide how best to weave them together and cast them effectively into a countercurse.

“We counter the infliction of pain with healing,” you mutter, tapping your pen against the paper. You look at Namjoon, thinking hard. “Do you think we could tap into the prince’s healing abilities for that?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen and he scrambles for his own pen, starting to write quickly before he can lose the train of thought. “Yes,” he answers you as he writes. “Yes, that’s brilliant. Instead of weaving in our own healing spell, we can pull his ability to the surface - it’s much cleaner that way.”

“I was also thinking about this…” you muse, glancing up to see that Namjoon is following. “I know this might sound silly, but… I was thinking about the creation myth? The Hunter and the Highest, do you know it?”

He looks confused, but nods. “Who doesn’t?”

“The myth serves as an explanatory tale,” you say, accidentally slipping into professor-mode, “regarding how the Infracti changed from just monster.”

“They were traded humanity,” Namjoon says, trying to remember the story.

“Traded, gifted - yeah. The magic-wielders gave them humanity. So, I’m wondering… if that’s what we’re meant to do now, with the countercurse. Return his humanity.”

Namjoon thinks on this. “That’ll be a hell of a thread for us to create,” he muses, and you have to agree.

You’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and Dansoo approaches, looking down at where you and Namjoon are seated on the floor. You look up at him expectantly, your hand frozen mid-air, still clutching your pen.

“Her Majesty the Queen has requested your company,” the Infracti says to you, tone cold. He’s probably still pissed that you escaped the other night.

You look down at yourself - you’re in sweatpants and a t-shirt, feet in fuzzy socks.

“Can I, uh… get changed first?” you ask, gulping.

The Infracti man looks over you, lip curling just a touch. “I would recommend that, yes,” he says flatly.

“Okay,” you say, nodding. “Please wait for me outside. I’ll come out when I’m ready.”

“Do be quick,” he says, casting you a sharp side-eye as he turns to return to the corridor.

Namjoon looks up at you. “Do you think she wants both of us?”

You let out a wild laugh, anxiety already starting to worm its way through your system. “I don’t care if she doesn’t,” you say. “Please come with me. She scares me.”

Namjoon smiles at this. “I’d be honored,” he jokes, and heads to his room to - you assume - get more presentable as well.

You hurry to change, choosing something that you hope toes the correct side of the fancy-or-professional line. Once you’re done, you meet Namjoon back in the main room.

“Ready?” he asks, and you nod. He lets you lead the way into the hall, and Dansoo leads you both deep into the palace into a wing you haven’t seen before.

You notice something you haven’t seen before in your time in Infracticus - as you get further and further down this particular corridor… it gets brighter, sunlight filtering through stained-glass windows on the doors at the end of the hall.

“Are we going outside?” you ask, peering over the Infracti’s shoulder, trying to peek through the more opaque pieces of glass.

You’ve read about the physical characteristics of Infracticus, written papers about them, given lectures about them. But nothing prepares you for the momentarily blinding brightness of unfiltered sunshine, or the sudden melody of birdsong as you step out of the palace into Infracticus proper.

Your trip to the ocean’s edge last night doesn’t count; it was too dark to see a thing. Now, in bright sunlight, you’re breathless, taking in the beauty around you.

You must have come out the opposite side of the palace, because the ocean isn’t visible, nor does it even smell particularly salty here. Instead, a mountain looms to your left, the summit cut off from view by sandstone palace walls. Trees line a distant stream that runs nearly black, like ink. And the sky - the sky ranges from periwinkle to deep violet.

A light laugh breaks you from your reverie and you feel your face heat in embarrassment. The stone pathway you stand on ends before you with a roofed gazebo that seems to jut out over the valley below. Seated at the table, the Queen has been watching you stand in frozen wonder, staring in awe at the sky she has known for over a thousand years.

“God,” Namjoon mutters beside you, and you know he’s feeling the same thing you are.

It’s beautiful, you mean to say. Instead, you utter, “It’s purple.”

“I remember my first time going above,” she tells you, as you remember your feet and make your way closer. You can’t keep your eyes off the sky for more than a second. You feel like you’re inside a painting. “I felt the same way about the blue.”

“I read so much about it,” you tell her. “But nothing could describe this.”

“It pleases me that you find beauty in Infracticus,” she says.

“It’d be impossible not to find beauty here,” you breathe, turning further still to try and see more. “Could I go out there? With the prince, maybe? Do you think he’d take me, if I asked?”

The Queen purses her lips and says, “I imagine after you break the curse for him, the prince would do nearly anything you asked of him.”

This reminder of your purpose here sobers you. You find yourself forgetting, yet again, that you aren’t here just to experience Infracticus.

“Please join me, both of you,” the Queen says, opening a hand towards the empty chair across from her. There are a variety of pastries and fruits on the table, and you can tell that a small section of them aren’t bloodfood, but human food. There’s also a set of some sort of chess-like board game, the pieces intricately carved like tiny works of careful art. “My son said you were eager to see more of Infracticus. I thought it might help ease your restlessness to come outside. These are my private quarters, so no one will stumble upon us here.”

Prince Taehyung had said he wouldn’t tell on you; he must have mentioned that you were wanting to look around. Hopefully he left out that you’d tried, and been caught.

“Have you played before?” she asks, watching as you delicately take the seat she’d offered and pick up a piece to examine it.

Namjoon shakes his head, peering closer. “It’s not chess?” he asks, eyeing the different pieces for differences.

“I’ve played, but only with humans,” you tell her, turning the piece over in your hands. “It’s similar to chess, but the pieces and their movements are different.”

“Would you join me for a game?” she asks lightly.

You look at her over the top of the piece in your hand. If you’re right, and you aren’t completely sure, the piece is called the Seer. Behind it, the Queen watches you. Her eyes are inhuman, all black, and you find them hard to read. Her mouth quirks like she’s considering a smile, but you can’t discern if there is any true warmth behind it.

She’s beautiful. She’s frightening.

“Yes, of course,” you answer. “But you may need to help remind me of the rules.”

She gives a slightly bigger smile and begins to set the board up, and you replace the Seer where you think it goes. She gives you a pleased nod.

“I know it’s only been a day, but I wanted to inquire about your progress,” she tells you as she places the last piece, the single Bloodletter, on its spot.

She moves her first piece and sits back, waiting for your answer to both her question and her movement.

“We’ve identified many strands of the original curse,” you tell her, turning your shoulders to indicate inclusion of Namjoon, who sits in the chair beside you, watching the game board intently. It wouldn’t surprise you if he knew the rules by heart at the end of one game. “But certainly not all of them.”

You move a Mason piece, and then add, “There’s more we need to investigate. I need to spend more time with the prince, and perhaps run a few rituals to suss out what we can’t find through questioning.”

The Queen accepts this, nodding, and the game continues, pieces beginning to fill the middle space of the board. She asks a few follow-up questions about the threads you’ve determined, about what might help you discover the rest.

You don’t want to go over the prince’s head to his mother, even though you firmly believe that seeing him while the curse is active will be paramount to your work. You’d rather change his mind yourself, rather than risk making him upset with you.

You eye the board as you answer, weighing your options. You could move a Mortal, which would be a very safe movement and wouldn’t earn you much. You could let your Mason take a hit, which would open a path for your Seer. Or, you could take on the Bloodletter with your Priestess - which would give you a clear and unblockable shot at taking the Queen’s Thief.

Do you dare actually take one of her pieces, before she’s taken one of yours? It wouldn’t win you the game, but it would certainly make this an actual competition.

“I see the move you see,” she says evenly, her voice cool and still. “If I wanted to win without a challenge, I’d simply play against my staff.”

You smile at this, caught. “As you wish,” you tell her, and the Priestess takes the Bloodletter, the piece being placed to the side of the board, belonging to both and neither of you. On your next turn, as you’d arranged, you reach to take her Thief.

The piece burns your fingers and nearly slips from your grasp as you jolt with surprise and pain; you sit forward in your seat and use both hands to catch the piece before it can hit the board and scatter the others.

Cradled between your hands, the Thief glows - brighter and brighter, the color starting out orange and shifting quickly to yellow and then blue. It no longer burns where it touches you, but you set it down gently anyway, your hands starting to shake.

The fingers that were burnt seem to pulse, the pain stabbing and unrelenting. You hold up the hand that stings, eyeing your injured fingertips, looking for evidence of the burn. There is none, but the smarting continues, keeping time with your quickened heartbeat. The blue light fades from the Thief as it lays still and unassuming, sideways on the tabletop.

You do not reach for it again.

Behind you, Namjoon whispers your name. You don’t turn, instead locking your eyes on the Queen, whose face stays as impassive and unreadable as ever.

“I would really like,” you say, your voice low and trembling, an animal caught in a trap for the second time in as many days, “to know what just happened to me.”

The Queen lazily lifts her hand and an Infracti woman appears at her side. “Fetch my son, would you?” she says, and then reaches to move one of her Mortals as if nothing had happened.

When you don’t take your turn, she looks at you with those fathomless black eyes. “Does it still hurt?” she asks innocently.

It does, but less than at first. Mostly, you’re suddenly terrified, hands still shaking so badly you don’t think you could grasp another game piece without dropping it. You’re reminded that you are alone here - that you cannot and should not completely trust a single Infracti, that every single one of them sees you as dinner to be toyed with before eating.

You should have known the game was more than a game. You should have known a request for your company was anything but.

“That was a magical reaction,” you say bluntly, feeling something harden behind your ribcage, armor sliding into place and latches snapping shut. “I’m very curious as to the specifics.”

Beside you, Namjoon has shifted into your line of sight, in your periphery. You can’t afford to turn and meet his eyes right now. You can’t afford to look frightened.

The Queen is spared from answering you as Prince Taehyung strides up the walkway, brow furrowed.

He takes in the scene in seconds - Namjoon’s hand hovering near you, alarmed like a mother hen; the Queen’s expression gone defensively haughty; and you - clutching your burned fingers, trying to fight against the frightened tears that threaten to give away your terror.

He lets out an exasperated growl. “Mother,” he scolds, and then drops to kneel beside your seat. “May I heal that?” he asks you, expression open and apologetic. Your stupid heart dares to flutter - weakly, but there. The little ways he cares for you are enough to make you forget that he’s royalty - plus, inhuman.

It’s easier to forget when he’s made his eyes look human again today, as he had yesterday and the day before.

You nod mutely, letting him take your hand in his. He passes his thumb over the pad of each burned fingertip, and you feel the sting of the burn slip away, as you had imagined the whole thing.

“Thank you,” you whisper, keeping your eyes on him. His presence tethers you, is the only thing that allows you to feel safe. You want to hide behind him, make him stand between you and every scary thing here.

He stands again, but keeps your hand lightly in his own. He faces his mother, frowning again. “Well?” he demands. “Did you get the answer you wanted?”

The Queen sets her jaw in response.

Prince Taehyung scoffs and continues. “Do remember, Mother, that our guest could decide she doesn’t want to be here anymore. She could go right back to the human world and never look back. I certainly don’t want that - do you?”

You know he means for the sake of breaking the curse, but you can’t help but feel a rush of… something - gratitude? pleasure? - at his words.

“Come,” he says to you, giving your hand a light tug. “Mother’s played enough games for the day.”

You follow immediately, hearing the heavy steps behind you to indicate that Namjoon isn’t far behind. As Prince Taehyung nears the doors that lead back inside the palace, the Queen calls after him.

“It turned blue, Taehyung,” the Queen’s voice calls. “Almost instantly.”

Prince Taehyung doesn’t indicate that he’s heard, doesn’t even turn his head. He simply leads you inside without looking back.

In the safety of the palace, you feel yourself calming, no longer feeling like the Queen is simply playing with her food - with you.

Prince Taehyung doesn’t speak to you until he’s led you both in your own main room, latching the door shut behind Namjoon, who takes up the rear.

He sighs apologetically, his head hanging a little. “I cannot seem to keep you out of trouble,” he laments.

“Was I supposed to refuse her request?” you say hotly, feeling suddenly defensive.

“Of course not,” he soothes. “I’m sorry my mother tried to scare you half to death. Is the pain gone? Are you better?”

“I feel better,” you tell him. “But… what did she do? What does that mean, it turned blue?”

He shakes his head, frustrated. “That’s an indicator of your magical quotient,” he explains. He’s frowning deeply, and your mind is whirring fast trying to fit pieces of information together. “She was… measuring your ability. Blue is… well, it’s quite high.”

Beside you, Namjoon makes a strangled noise, like he’s choked on his own breath.

He’s done the math faster than you.

“My magical quotient?” you repeat. “But I’m human. My magical quotient is zero, unless I’m casting - and that’s borrowed magic.”

“A human,” Namjoon murmurs to you, shifting protectively closer, “would have held nothing but a wooden game piece. There would have been no glow at all.”

Your eyes dart around the room for answers that aren’t there. Your head spins. You can’t even begin to process this - that you may be inherently magical - because still pressing is the question:

“Why did she want to know that?” you ask, your voice a bit like a gasp. Both men in the room are looking at you carefully. You’re a wild animal in a trap again. Again.

You want to go home, you want it to stop. You want to feel safe, and you haven’t since the Infracti two days ago had cornered you at the top of the stairs.

“I don’t know,” the prince admits, twisting his mouth to the side. “But I assure you, I know my mother well. Her intentions would not be to hurt you, or to frighten you. Even though it seems she did both.”

You shake your head, overwhelmed. “My parents were human,” you whisper. “What does this mean? Am I a -?”

You can’t make yourself say witch. This is too much. It’s too much.

Prince Taehyung reaches out a hand like he wants to comfort you, but thinks better of it and lets it rest at his own side again. “It happens that way sometimes,” he says gently. “You really didn’t know?”

You turn and look at Namjoon a little wildly.

“Don’t look at me,” he laughs, holding up his hands. “I just met you.”

“Dr. Kim?” you press. “He never -?”

“If he had suspicions, he never told me,” Namjoon tells you seriously. “Though it does explain your… aptitude.”

Something inside you feels like it’s sinking. “I thought I was just… well-studied,” you admit to no one. You feel weirdly like you’re grieving - like you’ve lost something instead of gained it.

You feel wilder still, less calm by the second. You need to get away from them both - their gazes too heavy.

The prince shifts his weight uneasily. “I have to leave you now,” he says, and he sounds regretful. “But I’ll come check on you - rather, on your progress - after the court families leave this evening.”

He waits; you don’t reply. You’re reeling too fast - you can’t fake normalcy, not right now.

“That’s fine,” Namjoon says, looking sideways at you cautiously, like he’s waiting for you to explode. “We’ll try to get some work done this afternoon.”

Prince Taehyung nods in thanks and heads for the door. Before pulling it shut, he pauses, and somehow his eyes meet yours. The look he gives you borders on pitying, but stops shy of it. Instead, you read something understanding and sorrowful, like he’d rather stay. You wish he would.

“I’ll check on you later,” he repeats softly, just for you.

You manage to nod. The door closes.

Namjoon looks from the door to you and then back again, like he’s starting to put pieces together of a puzzle you didn’t know you were part of.

“I think I need to be by myself for a little bit,” you manage to say, your voice flat and hollow even to your own ears. You close yourself in your own bedroom, change robotically into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, climb onto your bed and roll to face the wall.

You’re feeling so much - too much, all contradictory and all overpowering and none of it mixing well together. You’re been foolish here, and you’re embarrassed. You feel unsafe. You feel afraid. You feel angry. You feel doubtful about the curse. You feel doubtful about your partnership with Namjoon. You still, despite everything that’s happened, feel eagerness to experience more of this place. You feel excitement at spending more time with Prince Taehyung, which is the stupidest part of all of this. You feel idiotic that you hadn’t known you have your own magic for almost thirty years. You feel bereft that what you’d thought was grit and hard work was actually unearned, inherent ability. You feel grief at losing your humanity.

It’s too much, and you’re a simple creature. It all furrows into one thought, and you repeat it to yourself over and over as your blue-grey walls blur before you: I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home.

You repeat it until, eyes puffy and nose stuffy, you drop helplessly into sleep.

—

When Taehyung enters the dining room, where his parents are already seated, it is with the energy of a stormcloud descending on a picnic. His father seems downright jolly, bristling with good cheer as Taehyung stalks his way towards them, scowling.

“Whatever are you so worked up about?” The Queen asks, peering carefully at him, as if she herself hadn’t just tried to scare away his best chance of a cure.

“The stunt you pulled this afternoon,” Taehyung says honestly, leaning his long legs against the sturdy wooden table and eyeing them both, arms crossed over his chest. He addresses his father, asking, “Did she tell you? That she tried to send the curse-breaker running? What would the plan be, if she left? I’d stay like this forever?”

They both ignore most of this outburst, exchanging a mildly amused look. Taehyung’s irritation digs its teeth in a little harder, pushes him closer to snapping.

“Well?” he demands.

“Your mother told me she tested the girl’s magical quotient,” the King admits, still smiling slyly at his wife. “Did she tell you? It glowed blue?”

“Who cares?” Taehyung bites out. “Beyond that she can use her innate magical abilities to cure me, which is all I care about.”

“That’s just the problem,” the Queen says with a sigh. “You’re failing to see the bigger picture, as usual, my dear.”

Taehyung grits his teeth. Six hundred years of their bullshit have been too many. “Enlighten me then,” he growls.

The King raises an eyebrow, looks at him appraisingly. “Do you think I forgot about our little deal?”

Our little deal. As if it was just a laugh, to him.

Taehyung finds himself scowling again. “Of course not. But I did think we could afford to shift our focus just a bit until the curse is broken.”

Their little deal, to Taehyung, was anything but little. And his side of the bargain, his price to pay, was to start meeting suitors, and to give them a fair shot.

And he had - suitor after suitor, some human but most Infracti, some common but most from court, some clever or funny but most just… lacking.

“You promised to give her a chance,” the King had complained when Taehyung had refused to meet one particular Infracti for a second date.

“I am,” Taehyung had groused, aggravated but trapped. “Pick a better selection, that’s all I can tell you.”

“You need to think more like a prince and less like a -”

Well, Taehyung doesn’t need to remember the rest of that sentence. It wasn’t very kingly.

“What exactly does that mean?” Taehyung had challenged. It was a dangerous game, pushing back against his father. If their agreement crumbled, there was an awful lot at stake. He’s got to remember that this game affects more than himself and his pride.

“Think more about what she can do for the bloodline and less about if she gives you butterflies,” the King had snapped, eyes narrowed. Taehyung had slammed the door on his way out that day.

“I believe we were shifting focus,” the Queen says, something softer in her tone, finally. “But I saw you two together, and wondered…”

Taehyung bristles, feeling weirdly protective of the little witch (apparently) who’d been brought here to fix him. “You saw us together and wondered what else you could get from her?”

The King laughs. “What are you angry for? We were curious about her - couldn’t you feel her magic?”

Taehyung grimaces. At first, he couldn’t. For your entire first meeting, he hadn’t felt a thing.

He’d felt it, finally, when he’d found you in danger. You hadn’t thought to use it, but your magic had been screaming, so loudly that Taehyung had heard it before he could hear your heart beating. In your distress, your magical signature had risen to the surface, singing just under your skin, summoned by and answering the magic that was inherent in him, in all Infracti. They knew each other, these two magics, and they called like-to-like.

He’d known it was strong. He hadn’t known what to do with it, so he’d ignored it, had put the information away for another time.

It hadn’t occurred to him that others - his parents especially - might notice, might have their own questions they wanted answers to.

“I felt it,” he admits, voice low and defensive.

“She has the potential to be quite powerful, if she learned. Imagine adding that kind of raw ability to our bloodline,” the King says, serious for the first time.

Taehyung doesn’t answer. He’s busy remembering his deal with his father, his agreement to marry - for the sake of the bloodline.

He’s thinking about all the suitors he hadn’t cared about at all.

He’s thinking of waking up morning after morning exhausted, his muscles weak from hours of throwing his poor, battered body against the door, his eyes heavy from lack of sleep, his throat raw from growling like the animal he is, deep down.

He’s thinking about the look of relief you’d sent him when you spotted him behind your attacker, and again when he’d appeared at the veranda this afternoon. Like you trust him, like you knew even if everyone else was a danger, he wasn’t. Like you believed in him, and no one else, to be more than a monster. Lately, he’s felt like the monster is winning, and being seen as more feels… as necessary as oxygen.

“Of course we want her to end the curse above all else,” the Queen says gently, watching her son’s eyes go unfocused as he loses himself in his thoughts. “But when that’s done… maybe her time in Infracticus doesn’t need to be. Consider it.”

“I’m considering,” Taehyung concedes, moving to take his seat. The King beams, but Taehyung talks over him. “But you two need to watch your step with her. If you scare her away, she won’t end the curse - and then no one will marry me.”

<;- Prev || Next ->

thank you for reading!!! <3

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mentallyinvernation · 4 months

Note

Courting disaster for the wip game <3

Heya!

Courting Disaster (the title will proooobably change it's just a filler atm) is an Alpha/Beta/Omega, arranged marriage, royalty AU. I blame the entire thing on Queen Charlotte because I watched that and immediately got ✨inspired✨so it very very very loosely follows that.

ANYWAY, a snippet for your time:

“God’s wounds, you could at least pretend to have a good time. It’s supposed to be our wedding day, is it not?” “It is.” “I get it. I’m a troll to you.” Hob mutters. “You’ve made that much perfectly clear.” Dream diligently refrains from rolling his eyes. “I do not believe you to be a troll.” “Then you despise me, correct?” “You are my husband.” Dream replies by way of answering, though his expression remains a practised blank. “Impressive how you made those two things sound synonymous.” A wry smile twists the corner of Dream’s lips. “I do not despise you. I was transported overseas so that I might be here with you. How could I be anything but happy? A crowd of nameless faces cheer for our union. It is their wish to see us dance, so I will dance. It is most unfortunate that my family could not attend on such short notice, and it is unlikely I will see much of them henceforth. But no matter. I consider it a great honour to wed a man I met mere hours ago. A man whom, from the moment I stepped foot inside these walls, I have been poked, prodded, weighed, and assessed to ensure that I am fit to please. So tell me, Your Majesty, do I please you? Have your staff succeeded in presenting me as an adequate mate?” Hob’s mouth hangs open. “Of course, you’re -” “Then the matter is settled.” Dream interrupts, tone sharper than the edge of a steel blade. “I cannot despise you. I do not despise you. You are my husband. We are the Crown. I have been agreeable. It is done.”

As you can see, they're both very happy 🙃🫠

#dreamling #dreamling omegaverse #dream x hob #my writing #tag game #astrophel hireath wips

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serasfanfiction · 3 months

Text

Cw for blood. No gore, tho. Cw in tags as well. Mostly Alastor being Alastor.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

If Lucifer didn't know any better, he would have sworn Alastor was going out of his way to make certain they ran into each other.

He seemed to be everywhere.

It didn't help that whatever he was doing, Alastor had seemingly decided to pull out all the stops. Horrifically enough, he was good at just being there, right as Lucifer would turn around, watching and waiting as if to see how long it would take the little king to notice him.

(And if he had damn near shrieked the first time it had happened? Well, no one else was around, so who would hold him to it?)

After a week of this, Lucifer was starting to feel twitchy. It was difficult to tell if he was actually sensing eyes on him like a second skin or if he was just being paranoid. The only place he felt any relief was in his own room, which he might have taken to hiding in when it all became too much.

It felt like being stalked. Like he was being hunted.

Lucifer growled to himself, frustrated he had been driven to such drastic measures. Yes, he could totally stand up for himself! He was significantly more powerful than that petty little sinner! He just really, really didn't want to deal with all of this. There was a reason he avoided senseless drama.

He groaned, throwing off his covers and forcing himself out of bed. Enough, he thought to himself. This had gone on far too long and it was past time he and a certain Radio Demon had a little chat.

He donned his suit, building up his armor like he was going to war. Which, he supposed, he sort of was. He settled his hat in place and grabbed his cane, aware he was doing all of this over a lowly sinner, Overlord or not, but he felt the uncontrollable urge to remind Alastor which of them was actually the King of Hell and which of them wasn't.

He was self aware enough to appreciate that if this really was just a matter of the Ruler of Hell putting a sinner in his place he wouldn't have needed to have put on his uniform, but Alastor had gotten under his skin and everyone already knew it.

There was no point in looking for Alastor. Based off of previous behavior, the red head would simply come to him.

Lucifer deliberately kept to public enough areas to invite company, while still being private enough that Alastor would be tempted to sneak up on him.

And Alastor did not disappoint.

Lucifer spotted him out of the corner of his eye while getting lunch. Triumphant, he spun around and pointed an accusing finger. "You!"

Alastor's ever present smile ticked ever-so-slightly wider, but it wasn't showing teeth yet. "And how can I help you today, your Majesty?"

"We need to talk," Lucifer stated, tone brokering no disagreements. Not that the other Hellion was protesting. "Now."

Alastor tilted his head to the side at just the right angle to be unnerving, hands folding behind his back. "Are you actually going to talk to me or are you going to run away again?"

Lucifer allowed himself a deep, calming breathe. Allowed Alastor to see it. The released exhale was hot enough for a whisp of smoke to escape.

There was still no teeth, but it seemed like it was only barely.

"We both know the only reason I've tolerated your behavior is because I promised not to fight with you."

Alastor raised on eyebrow, asking without verbalizing it as to if this wasn't a potential fight.

Lucifer crossed his arms to keep from wrapping his hands around that scrawny little neck. "And I want to keep my promise, but to do that, we need to get whatever you've been going through this last week out of your system."

Alastor laughed, false and mocking. "Ha! I assure you, I have no idea what you mean."

The blonde refused to rise to the bait. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we are doing this." He smiled, tone generous as he added, "I'll even be nice and let you chose if we're having this talk in your room or mine."

Alastor considered him, body language giving away nothing. "You'd give the familiar ground to a potential enemy?"

Lucifer waved a hand at the room in general. "One could argue anywhere in Hell is my territory." He hummed lightly. "But in all honesty, even if your room - the one I built for you - could be considered enemy ground," here he leaned in to make his point, "There's nothing you could do to seriously harm me if I don't let you."

There it was again: the flicker of the dials. It was written all over him that Alastor wanted nothing more than to take that as a challenge and to put that theory to the test.

Lucifer welcomed him to try if it meant they could move on from this - whatever this was. Because that statement wasn't a theory, it was a fact.

Alastor reigned himself back in until not even a hint remained of his control slipping. "My room, if you don't mind. Shall we go?" He held out a hand, gesturing for Lucifer to take the lead.

Which, nope. He was not turning his back on this guy at this point in the game.

With a snap of his fingers, red smoke wrapped itself around them. It was showy and unnecessary, but it was worth it for the way a brief spasm of panic tightened Alastor's smile at just how easily Lucifer could just straight up kidnap him if he wanted to.

Which was good. Let him chew on that tidbit for a while.

They reappeared in the Radio Demon's quarters. The basics had been done per what Vaggie (with a V!) had been able to remember, as she was the only member of the hotel who'd seen Alastor's room. They'd left his personal touches to him, but an honest effort had been put into rebuilding the structure of it.

Glancing off to his right, Lucifer could see that Alastor had rather impressively bent reality (like the elderich creature he was) to morph half of the room into what appeared to be a bayou. It gave the impression that the room was significantly larger than it was. The residue of the magic it took to pull off such a stunt made his teeth itch, the same kind of wrongness the original bar had had.

Various other personal effects had worked their ways around the room. Some of the more interesting ones were the array of trophy skulls, both human and animal, decorating the walls. He had little doubt that Alastor had hunted, skinned, and mounted every one of them himself. The only real question was if they were original to the room pre the hotel's destruction? Or were they... newer?

By the time he turned his attention back to the owner of the room, said owner had had more than enough time to regain his composure. Lucifer was a little sorry he'd allowed Alastor the break, but he did genuinely want to resolve whatever the hell was going on between them. Being stern when needed was fine, but he didn't want to push Alastor so hard he snapped unless he had to.

Lucifer tapped the fingers of his predominant hand against his arm, all weight on one foot and ready to start tapping the other if necessary. He gave Alastor an expectant look. "Well?"

Alastor was nothing if not up for a fight. He may have been knocked off balance, but he was clearly up to being ornery as pay back. With an air of boredom, he inspected his claws, as if looking for nonexistent dirt. "Well, what, my dear king?"

Lucifers fingers didn't pause. "Don't play coy, it doesn't look good on you." He was pleased with the narrowed eyes he got in response. "What has this last week been about? You've been acting weird." Lucfier waved a hand in Alastor's general direction. Added, "Well, weird for you."

Alastor's irritation smoothed out at the implication that Lucifer paid enough attention to him to have come to some conclusion about what might constitute as 'weird behavior.' He hummed lightly, the noise oddly soothing in a way. "Very well, if you must insist. Just don't get angery if you don't like the answer."

Lucifer frowned. Angry? About what?

All thoughts were cut off as Alastor melted away into his shadows (and when the heck had his shadow gotten that close? He hadn't even seen it move). The thought crossed Lucifer's mind that he should have warded the room to keep the sinner from leaving, but ultimately, he needn't have worried.

Well, about Alastor trying to run away.

Because he really should have known better.

He realized where Alastor had gone, just as he could hear the unmistakable sound of someone taking a deep breathe right in his ear.

Lucifer could feel every single one of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as that breathe was exhaled against his neck, sweat breaking out across his skin as a shiver ran through his body. The only reason he didn't yelp was because he was too busy choking on his own tongue.

Dignity be damned, the King of Hell nearly teleported across the room, hand slapping up against his neck. Eyes widen in horror, he brandished his cane like a rod. "Wha-- what in the seven rings of Hell was that!?"

Alastor watched him like a cat watches a mouse it's having fun playing with. "You asked what had gotten into me." He folded his hands behind his back, as if he hadn't just been sniffing the Devil himself. "That was... curiosity."

Lucifer stared at him incredulously. "Curiosity?" He laughed, a little forced as he tried to reign in his too-fast heartbeat. "If you were curious how I smelled, you could have just asked."

Alastor raised an eyebrow to that and Lucifer belatedly realized he'd just implied all someone potentially had to do was ask to smell him and he might let them do it.

Lucifer flushed but refused to correct his statement.

"Hm, how quaint." Alastor leaned in eye so slightly, just to see Lucifer unconsciously lean back. "Rest assured, it isn't quite so simple."

A pause lulled between them as the blond waited for the rest of the explanation. When he failed to receive one, he waved a hand impatiently for the red head to get on with it.

Alastor turned enough he could look out into his bayou without completely losing track of his guest. The motion drew Lucifer's attention to the area, although he didn't dare take his eyes off the serial killer.

"Has anyone told you what my dish of choice is?"

The question confused Lucifer and his impatience made him feel irritated by what felt like a non-sequitur in the conversation. He'd heard Alastor was a cannibal, so he assumed it was other sinners. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Alastor rolled his eyes, gesturing out into the bayou.

As if on cue, a tree branch snapped closer to the edge of the trees in the distance. Lucifers eyes snapped to whatever had made the noise, making eye contact with ...a deer?

Lucifer stared, that feeling of being hunted roiling over him as it dawned on him what had happened. He didn't have to look at the Radio Demon to know he was watching him like a predator watches his prey.

Lucifer swallowed, hard. "I... I don't know what you..."

There was no mercy, no quarter in Alastor's eyes as he near stalked over to the Devil. His smile was all teeth as he ran a finger along the brim of Lucifer's hat. "When I saw those ears, I was curious if you would still taste like an angel or if you might taste like something more to my ...preferences."

Lucifer was fairly certain his brain was short circuiting. Some wire must have gotten crossed, because what came out of his mouth wasn't 'you're a freak,' it was:

"If you got your taste, you'll back off?"

The two stared at each other, Lucifer unsure who was more surprised by the question.

Alastor's grin was every inch as wicked as everyone only thought the actual Devil was but really wasn't. "Are you offering a deal?" The hand he'd used to near caress Lucifer's hat fell into the offer of a hand shake.

It was Lucifer's turn to roll his eyes. He shook his head vigorously. "Nope! No deals!" He glared, slapping the hand aside. "You'll likely find some wiggle room no sane person would think to look for and I am not interested in being on the menu indefinitely."

Alastor didn't even bother to look contrite. He simply looked disappointed. Since the offer wasn't on the table, he withdrew his hand and straightened his posture. "Then what are you proposing?"

Yes, self, Lucifer thought, what are we proposing? He felt like he'd lost all direction in this conversation because he had no clue how his day had gone from 'put Alastor in his place' to 'let's let an actual cannibal bite us.'

Lucifer grasped for the last shreds of his dignity, realizing that he might have finally found something that ranked high enough to be added to the Top 5 Insane Things I've Done For My Kid list. It didn't stop the ever-so-slight tremor from creeping in, even as he tried for stern, as he offered, "I'll bring back the deer attributes, you get to satify your curiosity, and then we go back to whatever our usual is."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "To be clear: I get to draw blood and you won't retaliate?"

There was no official deal, but it still felt like they were making one. "Yeah." Lucifer shifted, trying to shake off the last of his nerves and at least seem like he was confident. He was still absolutely sure Alastor couldn't deal him damage faster that he could heal from it, but his nerves didn't want to settle. "You get a freebie, no punishment or retaliation, in exchange for returning to the status quo."

Alastor's teeth sharpened visibly, the room growing darker around them.

"Deal."

Still feeling like this was going to come back and bite him in the ass - or, well, neck or arm, if one was being literal - at some point in the future, Lucifer made his way over to one of the chairs near the room's fireplace. He set his hat down on the seat, before pulling off his coat. He had a feeling this was going to be messy. Neck wounds often were, and he had a feeling Alastor wouldn't be satisfied with being offered anything else. He regretted the amount of layers he'd dressed in, even as he used untying his bow tie and unbuttoning the first several buttons of his shirt as a desperately needed delay tactic to simply breathe through what he was about to do.

Judging by the indulgence he could almost hear coming from Alastor's spot in the room, he held no such disillusions as to if the red head knew that he was stalling.

Taking a deep, steadying breathe, he pulled the shift over himself, falling deeper into it than he had during the trust exercise. Blond ears flicked into existence around small antlers on his head. Goat hooves morphed subtly into deer ones. A fluffy, equally blond tail twitched slightly at the base of his spine, in mirror of his anxiety.

Burrowing it all down, down, down, Lucifer gripped the edge of his shirt, yanking it down as he spun around, finally allowing a grin fit for his reputation to spread across his face from ear to ear. Tilting his head to the side in invitation, he asked, "Well, Alastor? What are you waiting for?"

Alastor control snapped with an audible static screech. Moving across the room with a speed that had kept him alive during his fight with Adam, Alastor near pounced onto his prize. The force of their collision sent them toppling to the floor, Lucifer's head just barely missing the seat of the chair. The impact with the ground drove the air from his lungs, and Lucifer didn't have the chance to even attempt to recover as he felt razor-sharp teeth sink into the tender flesh of his throat.

Lucifer's body spasmed as it attempted to draw in air, lungs needing a second to remember how to work and he was startled by the pain of attack despite knowing it was coming. He was finally able to draw a desperately needed gasp in as those teeth withdrew. Lucifer could feel it even without seeing the damage that of course Alastor had gone deep. It was definitely going to take him a hot second for it to heal, but heal it already was.

The Radio Demon, seeming to realize this, sunk his teeth in again. Lucifer's hands flew up to grab onto Alastor's arms at the new wave of agony coursed through him, squirming as he resisted the urge to shove the larger figure off of him. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood himself as he braced himself for Alastor taking his pound of flesh.

There was a creak, like bone grating against each other. Alastor shifted, teeth unmoving as he moved. As he made himself more comfortable, Lucifer realized as the shock of it finally began to abate and adrenaline flooded his system in response to the trauma. He had to swallow down the urge to laugh, knowing it would be more hysterics than actual humor.

He grunted as those teeth withdrew, surprisingly without taking a chunk of his neck with it. He was confused until he felt a warm, wet tongue slide over the wounds, chasing blood the color of gold regardless of what form the seraphim donned. Without meaning to, Lucifer flinched at the odd sensation. It was not quite pain, but not quite soothing.

As the pain began to recede, Alastor seemingly merely content to fill himself up with one of the rarest delicacies in Hell, Lucifer was able to take stock of his body. The bruises along his back from his fall were already healing almost as fast as they appeared. The deer tail, smaller and thicker than his normal, whip cord one, protested being squished the way it was. His ears twitched as they followed every noise Alastor made, the sensation odd.

Since this appeared it was going to take a moment, unless Alastor decided to go for his throat with his teeth again, he decided to try and relieve his poor tail to distract himself from the fact that it felt like there was a tongue digging into one of the still open wounds.

Alastor's own ears twitched as the shifting of Lucifer's hips caused the sound of clothes rustling to sound through the room like a shot. Lucifer was tempted to reach up and pet one, but that would have moved all of this into territory far too close to something intimate, which this very much wasn't, thank you very much.

When the pain finally disapaited, the lapping of that insidious tongue moving from stinging to something far too close to ticklish for comfort, Lucifer decided he'd had enough. "Alright, I think you've had enough."

He was far too proud of the fact that his voice didn't shake.

Much.

His fingers dug into red sleeves as he could feel Alastor's smile brush up against the base of his ear.

"And if I haven't satisfied my curiosity?"

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

"Nope, you're done." Lucifer bucked, shoving off the grinning asshole, who went with all the grace of someone who'd gotten thier cake and ate it, too. Lucifer sat up, glaring as Alastor looked barely rumbled while he knew he himself looked like a mess.

"There, you've gotten your taste. Agreement upheld." Lucifer pulled back up his shirt, wincing at how much blood had soaked into it.

"Hmm, perhaps." Alastor placed a finger to his lips, eyes half lidded.

Something about the way it was said raised Lucifer's hackles.

Alastor merely stared back, not adding anything to his comment.

Right. Okay. Whatever.

Lucifer stood slowly in an attempt to hide the way his legs trembled. Once he felt stable, he began putting his facade back together. Buttons all buttoned up. Blood vanished with a mere wave of his hand (to Alastor's obvious disappointment).

He was slipping on his coat when Alastor rose to his own feet. Lucifer felt it was massively unfair that all it took was some minor adjustments, and the Radio Demon looked as put together as normal.

(Almost, an insidious voice whispered in the back of Lucifer's mind. Look closer, and he could see the little ways in which Alastor was affected. The slight flush to his cheeks of a successful hunt. Unhinged smile replaced with something more peaceful. The satiated hint of hunger quenched for the first time since they'd met.

This way lays trouble.)

But Lucifer shook it off, just like he shook off the foreboding feeling of Alastor holding the Crown of Hell.

He was already in too deep.

He slipped his hat on, letting the deer attributes he'd donned finally disappear. "Well, see you around, I guess."

Alastor hummed in agreement. For his own sanity, Lucifer refused to read into it any deeper.

And if his portalling out of the room was straight up turning tail and running?

Well, it wasn't like it was the first time he'd done it that month.

Tbc

Part 4

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #tw: blood #cw: blood #i have no idea what theyre doing at this point #im just the writer #know i said that before but its still true #theyll probably let me know what the hecks happening #right as im trying to sleep #like they did this time 🥲#oh god i just remembered i gave the user name to this blog to someone i know irl #whelp too late to turn back now 🙃

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guilty-pleasures21 · 1 month

Text

So, I was researching Queen Victoria (for the upcoming Bridgerton fic - I FINALLY managed to fix that plothole that was bothering me!) and this idea had me kicking my legs and giggling when I was supposed to be sleeping so I could get up for work the next day (spoiler alert: I overslept 🥲). Well, I hope it was worth it. It's only 3 parts now, but let me know if you guys are interested in a full-scale story!

The Queen and the Duke

Part 1 - the ball

Part 2 - the alliance

Part 3 - the wedding

Warnings: None.

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

“So, what do you like to do in your free time, Your Highness?” She’d only just been crowned Queen and yet, every man in her cabinet seemed to already have their own opinion on whom she should marry, fighting over who would best strengthen her position as monarch. So, in an attempt to assuage their concerns, she’d thrown a ball inviting every eligible suitor on the continent to get a chance to prove themselves to her. Of course, she had no intention of marrying anytime soon, but it wouldn’t hurt for her to get to know her eventual prospects.

“Oh, well, of course, I enjoy a good hunting trip every so often, Your Majesty,” the man dancing with her replied. She’d made all of them wear masks so that she wouldn’t be partial to any one of them in particular. But they had all been instructed to dance with her in a specific order; the same order in which they’d be announced to her tomorrow, revealing their true identities. The man’s eyes lit up now through his mask as he remembered a story he seemed especially fond of. “Oh! There was this one trip on which I chanced upon the most beautiful fox …”

X did her best to listen, not wanting to appear rude or hostile towards her guest, but then he started going into gory detail about his hunts and she found her heart squeezing with sympathy for all the poor animals he’d slaughtered.

“Perhaps …” X interrupted him swiftly, “we should move on to something else, Your Highness? Unfortunately, my ... delicate womanly sensibilities are being rather affected by such a gory tale.” She peeked up at him, hoping he would fall for the feeble excuse, and breathed a sigh of relief when he did.

“Oh! Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” the man replied, seeming a little embarrassed that he had not previously considered her delicate sensitivity. “My apologies. It was not my intention to offend you in any way.” X cheered up a little at his understanding.

“It is no problem, I assure you,” she replied quickly. “Do you have any other interests? For example, reading?”

“No, I'm afraid I've never been one for the written word, Your Highness,” the man replied, disappointing her. But she’d known it would have been too much to hope for a man who would have been as interested in classic literature and ancient history and romantic poetry as she. Nevertheless, she pressed on, undeterred.

“What of the spoken word? Do you enjoy watching plays? Or perhaps the opera?” she suggested, hoping to find some common ground between them. But the rest of her night followed in a similar fashion: agonisingly slow and painfully boring.

X sank into the seat beside Lady Jane, her close friend and lady-in-waiting.

“A pleasant evening, my Queen?” the Lady teased her, sensing her frustration immediately. X winced at the joke and turned to face Lady Jane, her features scrunched up in irritation.

“Honestly, Lady Jane, it's like they mass produce all of these ‘eligible suitors’!” she moaned. “Either that or they simply all receive the exact same handbook on how to present yourself as the perfect example of a man at the peak of society.”

She groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Perhaps Lord Alfred was right and this was a stupid idea after all. What does it matter whom I choose to marry if they're all just the same?”

Lady Jane snickered at the young Queen’s rant, but a tinge of pity coloured the edges of her smile.

“Well, perhaps if you look past their interests, you might find subtle differences in their personalities that would help you make a decision?” she suggested hopefully. “Whose voice was the most gentle? Who held you most tenderly?”

X took a moment to think about it, sifting through her numerous interactions that evening. But she was quickly interrupted by the smooth and unfamiliar voice of a suitor she had yet to encounter that evening.

“Your Majesty,” the man greeted her, bowing low before straightening to hold a hand out to her. “I hope I am not too late to request a dance with you.”

X glanced up, her expression startled as he pulled her out of her thoughts without warning. He was tall, the stranger; large and imposing in his red tailcoat and silver mask, so that she questioned how she could have possibly missed him in the room that night.

“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, realising that he was still waiting for her response. She placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “Of course, Your Highness!”

Wow! Even standing, she barely grazed his shoulder! She gazed up at the man as he led her to the dance floor, puzzling over his possible identity. She turned to face him and reached a hand up to clasp his shoulder as they assumed the appropriate positions. Her stomach fluttered at the feeling of his broad muscles beneath her fingers and she turned her gaze away, shy at the realisation that he was the first man of the night to make her stomach flip with excitement.

He felt a warm feeling flood his chest at the way she turned her head away from him shyly. He’d known she’d be cute, given her young age - a mere eighteen to his twenty-two - but he hadn’t expected her to be so … breathtaking.

“Do let me know if you are tired, Your Majesty,” he entreated her. “I understand you have had a long night tonight and I do not wish to keep you on your feet for any longer than necessary.”

Her lips formed a perfect little ‘o’, taken aback by his unexpected thoughtfulness. “Oh! Thank you, Your Highness.”

His lips curled at the sight of that sweet little smile returning to her features, and they soon began their dance.

“But it is not your fault that you have not had the chance to speak with me until now,” X continued, taking note of his foreign accent. “It would be unfair of me to dismiss you as such.”

“On the contrary,” the man replied immediately, “it is absolutely my fault that we have not had the chance to speak until now. I wanted to be your last dance partner of the night.”

Her lips twitched at the ends, amused by the conviction in his voice. “Whatever for?”

“Well, your last thought of the night would be of your last partner of the ball: me. And your first thought the next morning would be of your last thought the night before: me.” He flashed her a knowing look and she couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. His lips stretched wide at the sound, his heart fluttering in his chest at the sight of her delighted smile.

“What a strategic mind you have, Your Highness,” she praised him. “A fine quality to possess in a man who is to be wed to a queen.”

“Is that your proposal then, Your Majesty?” he retorted quickly. X gave another little giggle, her body heating up at his easy flirtation.

“It was but a mere observation, Your Highness,” she dismissed him playfully. Dios, she was adorable. And intelligent too, so easily responding to his mischievous banter without any of the awkward self-consciousness ingrained into so many of the sheltered young women of the nobility.

“That's all right,” he reassured her. “I've still got plenty of time to sway your mind. Or, hopefully, your heart?” She pressed her lips together, trying to maintain a thoughtful expression so she wouldn’t give too much of her emotions away.

“Hmm, we shall see about that,” she decided. “So, tell me, Your Highness, what do you like to do when you're not planning alliances with foreign monarchs?” The man spun her around, then tugged her back into his arms before replying.

“That depends. Would you rather hear about my hunting trips or all my lessons in political negotiation?”

Her smile twisted into a grimace as her stomach dropped at the prospect of another meaningless conversation. “Whichever pleases you, Your Highness. Although I must admit that I am partial to conversations that do not involve gore or cruelty.”

¡Santo cielo, she was so sweet! Even despite having partaken in the exact same conversation for what must have been almost twenty times that night, she was still willing to entertain him and give him his chance to speak. “You would listen to me drone on about the same stories you must have heard repeated a hundred times throughout the night?”

The smile she’d forced onto her features faltered at his teasing words.

“W-Well, as I mentioned before, it is not your fault that you were preceded by so many men in much similar positions to yours,” she pointed out. “It would be unfair of me not to grant you the exact same opportunity as the first person I danced with tonight.”

Ay, Dios, she was going to make such a wonderful ruler: sweet and kind and intelligent and thoughtful. He only wished that she would give him the chance to support her through it all.

“How thoughtful of you, Your Majesty.” And he'd have to make sure to preserve her sweetness and morals in the face of all those who would dare challenge her. Yes, he'd stay on the sidelines, stoic and resolute, her anchor in a stormy sea. “But I was only joking, my Queen. Why don't you tell me what it is you enjoy doing in your spare time?”

She grinned at the question, delighted to finally have someone inquire after her interests instead. And he seemed to genuinely want to hear her responses as well! “Well, I enjoy literature. And philosophy! It is important to know what is in the minds of your people in order to do right by them.”

He smiled at the way she lit up as she spoke about the things she loved. He asked her a few more questions, letting her carry on about her favourite books and schools of thought, and the two of them continued to dance the night away.

“You study the sciences?!” X asked, intrigued. “Like … a doctor? Are you a practitioner of medicine, Your Highness?”

He smiled at the way she bounced in her seat in excitement - they'd retired to some of the chairs placed on the edges of the dance floor a while ago, but so captivated had they been by one another that their conversation had continued without pause. “Not exactly, Your Majesty. I am simply a scholar, that is all. It would be extremely unwise for you to put the life of another in these hands.”

He rested his hands on his knees, his palms turned up towards her, and she bit her lip, hesitating for a moment. She reached out and brushed her fingers carefully across his palm, then glanced up at him and grinned before pulling away again.

His palm turned cold as she pulled her slender fingers away and a spurt of disappointment rushed through him at the absence of her hand in his. But then she treated him to that adorable little smile again and his stomach fizzed at the sight.

“Your Majesty,” Lady Jane began, leaning over her shoulder to catch her queen’s attention, “it’s getting rather late. Perhaps you should retire to your chambers now?”

“Oh.” Her stomach sank at the thought of having to be parted from him already. She turned back to the thoughtful young man, trying not to let her disappointment show too badly. “Your Highness … would you … would you tell me your name?”

He gave her a soft smile, the edges tinged with disappointment. “I thought that wasn’t allowed, Your Majesty?”

“W-Well …” X clenched her fists to stop herself from grabbing onto his forearm. How desperate would such an act make her appear?! “I’m the Queen. And I make the rules. And I say you can tell me your true identity.”

She looked up at him, her features hard so she wouldn’t look like the teenager she really was. He chuckled anyway at how blatant her feelings for him were, but in truth, he found himself relieved by the prospect.

“Tomorrow, Your Majesty,” he reassured her calmly. “We will meet again tomorrow. I promise.” He held his hand out to her and she placed hers in his, letting him bring her fingers to his mouth and brush his lips against her knuckles. He stood up then, still holding onto her hand, and gently tugged her to her feet before releasing her to give a low bow. He took a step back, putting some distance between them, then waited for her to take her leave.

X sighed, disappointed. But then a resolute expression overtook her features. “Tomorrow, Your Highness.”

She turned to leave and he watched her go with a smile. Then, once they were safely away from the vicinity of the ballroom, she turned to her lady’s maid, determined. “Lady Jane, you must find out who that man was! I fear I shall lose sleep tonight puzzling over his identity!”

Jane grinned at the Queen’s dramatics. “Are you sure you would like to know, Your Majesty?”

X paused and turned to Jane with a disbelieving look on her face. “Yes! Of course! He knows absolutely everything about me and I know nothing about him!”

Jane chuckled softly, her heart warming at the thought of her friend finding someone who was able to make her so happy so easily. “I’m sure that can’t be true, Ma’am. You did spend more than an hour in conversation with him tonight.”

She gave her queen a pointed look and X burst into delighted laughter.

“I suppose I did, didn’t I?” She continued down the hall, her mind consumed with thoughts of the young man she’d spent so long enjoying the company of that night. “Though it wasn’t nearly long enough.”

She gripped the armrests of her throne, trying to stop herself from tapping her fingers impatiently as the next suitor on the list was formally introduced to her.

“Prince Christian Frederik Georg Michael, second son of King Frederik of Denmark.” The young man strode into the room, his blonde hair neatly swept back from his cherubic features. He bowed before her when he reached her throne and X flashed him a kind smile when he straightened. But he wasn't the one she was looking for. She kept her thin smile fixed on her face until the prince left the room, then she exhaled and slumped over in disappointment.

“Just one more, Your Majesty,” Lord Alfred assured her from his position beside her. She straightened again at the revelation, her heart thudding in her chest at the thought of finally seeing him again. The steward cleared his throat and X rearranged her features into an expression of disinterest, not wanting to give her emotions away so quickly.

“Infante Miguel Francisco Álvarez de Borbón y Fernández - Duke of Seville and first nephew of the King of Spain.” But he was so handsome, with his thick brows and his chiselled features and his tanned skin, and she felt her heart give another little flutter at the sight of him.

He strode into the throne room, his eyes fixed straight ahead, his features set into his usual stoic expression. “Your Majesty.”

But then their gazes met and her lips curled into that adorable little smile that had his own lips turning up at the ends. They gazed at one another for a moment longer, taking the other in completely, then she cleared her throat and straightened her expression, suddenly remembering the other people in the room with them.

“Thank you for coming all this way, Your Grace.” She nodded at the Duke before turning to address her prime minister. “Lord Alfred, if you would be so kind as to dismiss the rest of the party for the remainder of this afternoon. I shall see them again at dinner tonight.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lord Alfred gave his queen a low bow, using the opportunity to discreetly size up the young man who had so clearly captured her heart. Then he left the room to go dismiss the failed suitors. X stood up and made her way over to the Duke, her steps measured and precise so she wouldn't come across as too eager.

“Your Grace, I have arranged for a walk around the gardens this afternoon. Would you care to join me?” She held her breath as she waited for his response, hoping that she hadn't just dreamed everything up last night. But the Duke took a step closer to her, his expression soft as he gazed down upon her.

“I would like that very much, Your Majesty.” He held his elbow out to her and she accepted it keenly, the same adoring expression on his face reflected on hers.

“The Duke of Seville?!” Lady Anabelle hissed to her two friends. “Isn’t he the one who dismissed his cousin for being an ‘insolent fool unworthy of his time’?!”

“And in front of his entire court, too!” Lady Delia added, keeping her voice low so the Queen and the Duke wouldn't overhear their conversation. Lady Jane frowned, her stomach starting to tighten with concern over how the Duke might end up treating the Queen once they were married.

“But … should we warn Her Majesty?” she suggested, allowing her friends to pull her along with them down the path. Anabelle waved away her worries nonchalantly.

“Oh, I doubt our Queen would ever let anyone treat her in such a manner.” She glanced over at the Duke and gave a longing sigh at his broad and towering form. “No matter how handsome he might be.” The three women turned their attention to the couple in front of them, their heads bowed towards one another as they murmured to each other, their lips stretched into equally dazzled smiles.

“I daresay they look rather … taken by one another,” Delia commented. Then she turned back to Annabelle and nudged her playfully. “But I’ve heard that the Duke is a rather difficult man to impress.”

Jane sniffed, offended by the remark. “Well, it is not as if our Queen is lacking in any way.”

Delia's lips parted with a horrified gasp. “Oh, of course not! If ever there was anyone who could possibly melt the heart of that frigid duke, there is no doubt in my mind that it would be our endearing Queen.”

She gave Jane a warm smile and a reassuring pat on the arm and she relaxed. They heard the Queen let out a pleased giggle and looked up to find her turn her head shyly away from the Duke's. But his gaze remained fixed on her, his expression soft and admiring as he looked down upon her, and Jane felt the rest of the tension leave her body.

She looked up at the Duke, a tinge of fear clouding her expression as she clung onto his arm.

“And you will return in a month’s time?” She didn’t mean to sound so desperate, having only really known him for two full days, but the thought of not seeing him again made her stomach curl. The Duke gave her a reassuring smile and a pat on her hand.

“Yes, my Queen. And we shall correspond as often as possible during that time.” She grinned at his reciprocation of her feelings and his smile widened at the delighted look on her face. She really was cute. And so clever too. Such an accomplished and capable young woman and she would choose him? When she could have the hand of any man she so desired? He took hold of her hand to remove it from his arm so he could press a kiss to her knuckles in farewell. “Until we meet again, my Queen.”

She deflated, disappointed by his necessary departure. He was just so clever and so interesting, so well-read and so kind. She just knew she'd be counting down the days until she could see him again. The Duke got up on his horse and gave her a final wave before speeding back off to his faraway homeland.

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xximpressions · 3 months

Text

The Duchess (12)

Anthony Bridgerton x Duchess!reader

Series Summary: After coming into a title you did not expect, you have a chance encounter with a handsome rescuer.

Chapter Summary: The truth

Word Count: 848

A/N: Surprise! I've been looking forward to writing this part since the story started, so I hope you like it!!! :)

Bridgerton Masterlist

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There were three main emotions you recognized within your being as your eyes took in such a disappointingly predictable sight.

There was annoyance at yourself for not seeing this coming.

There was frustration with his persistent decision of not letting you go.

And there was implicit rage that your private affairs were to be made public yet again due to this imbecile’s blatant disrespect to you as well as his brother’s memory.

Letting out an aggravated huff when he sent an irksome smirk your way upon making it to the foot of the throne, you were trying to keep the anger out of your voice when you turned to face the Queen in order to say,

“Your Majesty, please believe that any words coming from this man’s mouth were said out of spite and are therefore not in any way believable.”

Having preemptively celebrated with a few drinks, your brother-in-law could not stop his amused snort upon hearing you speak before retorting with,

“Just because your actions have proven you are unsuitable for your station, it does not mean the things I say are lies.”

Refusing to make eye contact with him again, you simply directed your next statement imploringly to the Queen.

“Your Royal Highness, I can assure you anything this man has said must be a falsehood!”

You and the rest of the court watched as the Queen merely arched a brow before asking a question that made your heart stop.

“Do you mean to say that you and the Viscount Bridgerton did not share a kiss at the Clyvedon Ball earlier this week?”

The abrupt directness of such a question in front of such a crowd immediately froze you to the spot.

Before you could even think to give an evasive response, her Majesty continued speaking.

“Because that is the tale I was told by this man standing here and that is what he bases his claim on.”

So shocked into silence, you unknowingly admitted to your crime when you thoughtlessly breathed out in response to the Queen,

“But we were alone when that happened…”

Scandalized gasps followed your unconscious words, and the atmosphere became tenser still when a look of utter hatred was shared amongst Anthony and your brother-in-law at your unwitting admission.

The repercussions that came with such a social faux paus had you almost ready to resign yourself to your unwanted fate of being considered ruined when that one minor detail made you realize one major thing.

Gathering your courage, you looked at the Queen before bravely saying,

“No, your Majesty. I will not deny that I shared a kiss with the Viscount…”

Locking eyes with your brother-in-law, who felt secure enough in his win at this point that he returned your look with his own expression of triumph before turning forward again, meant you got to watch as that triumph shattered when you finished with,

“...so long as my late husband’s brother does not deny that him being witness to such a sight means he was also around when I fell down the stairs only moments later.”

More gasps filled the room and your brother-in-law’s head snapped your way as the Queen demanded to know,

“What do you speak of, Duchess?”

The rage you initially felt upon seeing him only increased tenfold over as you explained his actions with increasing clarity to her Majesty.

“If this man claims he saw me share a kiss with the Viscount, then this man admits to being present when it happened after the ball. Only, society is aware that I took a particularly violent fall down the stairs the very same night thanks to Lady Whistledown.”

Turning to face your harasser as you finally began to understand how that fall actually occurred, you narrowed your eyes as you scathingly said,

“So is it not fortunate that the one person who would benefit most from my death has all but admitted to being present for this supposed accident?”

Conceding to your marvellous point, the Queen turned her gaze from you to him in order to regally ask,

“And what have you to say to that, young man?”

Being in his typically inebriated mindset, and not having expected the tables to have turned against him so quickly, the panic on your brother-in-law’s face was obvious prior to it turning into outrage.

“You harlot!” He shouted before turning to advance on you.

“You are as weak as my brother was! I knew I should have poisoned you both! This is what I get for trying to spare a pretty face.” He aggressively said as he quickly stalked towards you seeking some form of retaliation.

But the swift punch thrown by Anthony—who had rushed to your side upon seeing such a thing—soon collided with his face before he ever had a chance to lay a finger on you. And his advancement ended with him lying flat on his back.

Taking in some calming breaths now that the danger was no longer immediate, you finished processing what you had just heard and said with horrified realization,

“You poisoned your own brother?”

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Taglist:

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#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton x black!reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction

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sunshine-scented · 1 year

Note

Can you do a Nezha x reader fluff

Thanks

There isn't really any specifications on what you wanted which was stated on my Introduction post, which is also a pinned post on my page. I will let this slide, once, however, any other request like this will be deleted. Just don't do this again okay~?

❀ I worship you ❀

: Oh how much he craves to be in his darling's arms. But considering on your playful behavior, just how far was he willing to go just to receive a single spec of your affection?

: Nezha x gn!reader

: Fluff! However, it gets a little bit suggestive towards the end since I got carried away haha~

He felt annoyed down to his very core of existence, not only did a bunch of low life demons tried to pick up a fight with the deity and attempted to steal some of the artifacts and relics he was ordered to protect, but he also remembered that Wukong existed and that made him even more annoyed.

He sighed for the uptenth time as the days and nights started to move slower and slower, as if they were mocking him in sadistic glee. His mood only dampened.

Maybe if he could just immediately kill anyone bad in this world, that way there would be any problems for him, or perhaps him having the ability to clone himself over and over again would lessen the stress.

Nezha could only think about the what ifs, but his body stays in the present. Dull and boring, stress inducing planet with it's disgusting creatures.

Suddenly, he heard footprints coming his way, the palace walls echoed as he stills, like a snake ready to pounce on his prey. Watching, wating, listening.

He pulled out his staff and prepared for combat with a furrowed brow and pointed it towards the door as it slowly starts to open, with it's stone and marble dragging against the tiled floor, his grip on the staff hardened.

Carefully stepping into the palace, you passed through the door without a second glance, meeting eyes with your lover.

His eyes softened at the sight of you, suddenly all of the stress and annoyance he felt was gone in just a glance at you, suddenly all he felt was nothing negative but the need for your comfort.

Suddenly he felt okay, because you're here

"(Name)" he said your name in subtle fondness "What brings you here in this domain?"

You smiled and waved your hand at him "I'm just here to collect a few things the jade emperor requested of me" you explained, walking towards some of the relics "What is his reason? Honestly I don't know. But orders are absolute, I would rather die than question his Majesty" Nezha followed you as your hands grab onto the small white bag the emperor gave.

He watched you carefully from your shoulder as you handle the relics with gentle movements with your hands, carefully taking off the glass chamber from the rose golden table and keeping the relics snug into the bag.

His mind starts to wander, how would your hands feel in his? Would you treat them with the same fondness you had with the relics? Would your warmth spread all over his body until it reached his very core? Would you trail your hands all over his hair if he asked you to?

Perhaps it was the stress finally piling up on him, but his thoughts were plagued by the thought of you. He needs your touch, he craves your warmth, he—

"Nezha?" Your voice snapped him back into reality "Are you okay? You've been staring at nothing for a wh—"

"(Name)..."

You turned around to see him already staring at you, his brows furrowed as his gaze never left yours "Touch me"

Your eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting such a bold request from Nezha himself, yet he stayed the same, as if he was unfazed by his own words, as if he meant everything he said.

You stared at him, still perplexed by his actions, yet, you can't stop the amused smile etching onto your face "Oh? What's this? Poor little Nezha missed me too much, hm?" You teased as you dragged your finger into his chest, slowly going down futher, and further.

His breath hitched, mind dizzy and sight complete blurred out, his head felt like exploding as his heart was beating out of his chest, attempting to separate from his body from how hard it was beating, it rang in his ears.

Oh how adorable he is to you, getting all worked up over a finger, however, you quickly took your hand back, away from his body and playfully clicked your tongue "As much as I love you, I don't think I want to give you any of my affections" you mocked in fake pity.

"You might have to work for it to get what you want, Nezha ♡"

The playfulness in your tone and that mischievous smile you make drives him crazy, he huffed a breath out of spite but made no further complaints as he started to walk closer to you, your bodies touching by a mere inch.

He pins you between his arms with his hands resting on the table behind you, never touching a single molecule of your figure. His eyes stayed focused as his breath got heavier "Please.." he started to lean his face closer to yours until your lips are barely touching with his "I want your hands on my skin, I want to feel your every part touch me bones deep"

He started to grip the table, crumpling the ironed sheets "I want you to hold me, kiss me, make me all yours all over again" his brows furrowed even more as his stare becomes more feverous, yet his stance less stable.

"I want you to ruin me with your love, if it's the last thing I do"

You chuckled, finding his bold confessions adorable as you tilted your head slightly to match his "As you wish, My prince~♡"

As you can see I have a new favorite

#lmk #lmk x reader #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #monkie kid nezha x y/n #monkie kid nezha #nezha #nezha x reader #lmk nezha #monkie kid nezha x reader

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bidisasterevankinard · 3 months

Text

Tease tidbit Tuesday

no one tagged me but I was inspired to write more in my enemies to lovers singers au yesterday so I need validation

“You-you didn’t have to come if you were busy, you know.”

“Nah, it’s fine. You said you need my opinion on your new song and I really need to rest.”

Eddie almost falls on the bag armchair in the corner of the room, closing eyes while getting comfortable, and then smirks at him.

“But if you don’t want me to fall asleep listening to your new attempt at writing a good song, you better get me coffee.”

Buck just exasperatedly shakes his head at this little shit (affectionate) and goes to his coffeemaker.

“I’ve shown you how to program Hildy to make your coffee hundreds of times. And here it is even already saved,” Buck literally just hits one button and Hildy starts preparing coffee.

“Yes, but you still do it better,” Eddie still does not open his eyes explaining to Buck why he uses him as a servant.

Buck shakes his head again, admiring resting Eddie while he can’t without being caught.

The man is so beautiful and Buck is still so scared to show him his song.

To show him his heart.

Him being in love doesn’t mean he is going to let Eddie’s remark about his music go unnoticed.

“And I see your taste in music is still as bad as it was as you can’t understand how incredible my songs are. I guess they are indeed for not all people. Only for the smart ones.”

Eddie just smirks brighter on it.

Hildy signals that coffee is ready and Buck takes Eddie’s cup he keeps for the man.

Coming to man, he bows and as Eddie still sits with eyes close he makes his present so close to the man known with,

“Your coffee, Your Majesty. Should I also bring you something for it?”

Eddie opens his incredibly deep chocolate eyes, and even in a bow Buck way taller than the man in the armchair, who still smirks, taking his cup from him.

“No, peasant,” once again: little shit, “you can be free.”

Buck really considers pushing him off the armchair, but decides to be the one adult in this room.

tagging @wikiangela @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @ebdaydreamer @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rogerzsteven @rainbow-nerdss @the-likesofus @tizniz @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @transboybuckley @icecreampotluck @puppyboybuckley @pirrusstuff @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz @devirnis @dangerpronebuddie @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @hippolotamus @jesuisici33 @loserdiaz @cal-daisies-and-briars @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @buddierights @buck-coded @mandzuking17 @monsterrae1 @steadfastsaturnsrings @slowlyfoggydestiny and anyone who wants

#enemies to lovers singers au wip #my wips #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #evan buck buckley #911 abc

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ultimateyapper · 19 days

Text

anyway, here's wonderwall. | chapter two

[ chapter 1 ]

why is frostheim so cold, and why is jin's room somehow worse? even just standing outside his room, you can feel the cold seeping through the cracks. like a freezer, a blast of icy air swings out each time it opens. everything about jin was cold, from his unyielding gaze to the feel of his hands. when he uses his stigma, chills run down your spine as his cold hands meet yours. it's like the dorm was made to fit him, a king with a kingdom to match.

jin could definitely be cold but he wasn't entirely made of ice. you could see the way your friends had managed to get under his skin, even if he still called them brats. had you managed to do the same? with all the back and forth you do for him you sure hope—

"what do you want."

ah, speak of the devil. the door opens with a gust of wind that makes you involuntarily shiver. standing there, looking mildly annoyed, was his majesty himself. his hair is tossed in a way that screams he'd just woken up. you're a little jealous of how flawless he looked, even with his eyebrows cast downward. you also wonder how he'd react if you told him that, but he's probably not in the mood for small talk. he never is, but still, it might be better to make this quick.

"good morning to you too. i got the documents tohma reprinted from your last mission but they need to be resigned. do you have a minute?"

his frown deepens at that. "for tohma? no."

"oh. well... do you have a minute for me?"

he continues glaring but sighs and halfheartedly opens the door. as he dips back inside the white-ish fluff on his head lightly swishes with the movement. "are you coming in or what? i don't have all day."

"...for tohma or for me?"

"for either of you now hurry up."

when you step in jins room it looks the same as always. not much changes and you wonder what he even occupies himself with in here. the plain and bare interior is way different than the other ghouls. ren has movie posters plastered across every wall of his room, a collection that he'd been building since he was a kid.

looking in his room would give you a glimpse of his personality even if you didn't know him. jin on the other hand didn't have anything like that. he walks over to the stupidly large couch in the back to recline as usual. "grab a pen and get over here."

demanding as ever...

over on a desk you find a cup with a few different writing utensils. funnily enough, despite the set up you've never actually seen jin sitting at this desk and you almost laugh. you'd only seen it occupied once by tohma, signing a contract he said you'd have to die to know about. with how darkwick can be you don't think he was joking. you return to his side with a black pen and present the papers.

"tch. i told that three eyes to handle this shit. i swear when i catch him." tohma definitely gets a kick out of getting on his nerves. it seems to be working well, too.

you start to feel awkward watching him lazily flip through the pages. you'd be constantly on your feet once you got to jabberwock, so maybe you should rest while you can. jin doesn't look willingly to budge anytime soon. his bed could be an option but you don't know if he'd consider that rude or not. it wouldn't hurt to ask. "uhm, jin can i sit with you?" you force yourself not to take it back when he raises and eyebrow.

"you expecting me to move for you?" why does he make it sound so absurd? you feel your face heat up at his inquiry but no way are you backing down. "well i didn't want to sit on your bed..." you trail off. his eyes follow yours before focusing back on you. "i just figured it's more comfortable than standing."

"comfortable? you think i care about making you comfortable?," he scoffs. is it a crime to rest your legs? your unamusement doesn't seem to affect him. a slight smirk starts pulling on his lips. "you realize servants aren't the ones who should be giving orders don't you?"

you want to roll your eyes but part you also doesn't want to test him. his status as the presidents son is a little intimidating. maybe if you don't break eye contact he won't be able to tell you're nervous. can ghouls smell fear?

"yeah but i saved you the trip by coming up here, the least you can do is allow me to sit with you. unless... you wanted me to send tohma instead?"

his smirk falls and he takes a moment to squint at your response. you doubt jin wanted to deal with tohma's pestering right now. the fact that he wasn't up before you got here was a clear sign tohma hadn't already swung by to interrupt his lazing about. after an exasperated sigh he surprisingly lets up.

"whatever, but don't get too comfortable. you're running more errands for getting snarky with me." you're too busy with the other dorms for that but decide not to mention it. you take your victory on the couch while he continues like you're not even there. "don’t make a habit of this," he mutters, almost as an afterthought.

"yes sir," you say without thinking. that's not a weird thing to say is it? it must be all the servant and master stuff he keeps mentioning. you look away so he doesn't see you get flushed again, and relievingly he doesn't say anything further. it's a little weird for him to be this nice but maybe he's just tired. an oddly comfortable silence envelops the room as you lean back and relax.

—

the sun greets you like a warm hug when you exit the building. it's comforting after being stuck inside a cold space for so long. automatically you stretch up toward the sky until your back satisfyingly pops.

"there you are! did you finish up with everything?," a voice says over to your side. when you open your eyes, luca's heading over with a certain blondie in tow. kaito perks up upon seeing you and meets halfway with a high five.

"just to be clear, i'm not indebting myself with this volunteer thing right? i really don't need another sinostra situation," he jokes. haru indebting people to him? he can barely get ren and towa to actually help around the dorm. even peekaboo doesn't listen to him sometimes. jabberwock is run like a kindergarten compared to sinostra's pseudo mafia.

"i doubt you'll have to worry about that... you'll see when we get there. luckily i got out of there before jin started ordering me around." any longer and you would've been doing his laundry again. thankfully the king of frostheim was still tired. luca frowns at this revelation so you nudge his elbow reassuringly. "i'm just joking, honestly it was no trouble at all."

you'd perfer luca not to make a big deal out of it. he almost confronted jin on his own accord once but was stopped by that vagastorm situation. you're glad it happened, even if he got in trouble for the fight that came afterwards...

truthfully, you didn't mind doing stuff for the dorms. it was only the ghouls that treated you like dirt in exchange that irritated you. it's not like you were trying to bother anybody. your honor student title basically just made you a glorified helper for them anyway. why do the ghouls have to treat you like a burden? you didn't ask to be here anymore than they did. if only you could find the cure to this stupid curse...

alas, there's no use spiraling, you can't do anything about it yet. eventually, it'll work itself out. the puzzled gaze of your friends grounds you back into reality. you give them a smile and head down the concrete path. at least, for now, you have something to focus on.

"let's get going, haru's offering of 50% off tickets expires at noon." a few steps in, kaito fully registers your words. "wait we have to pay!!?!!?"

ah. right. forgot to mention that.

#me when i lie #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #kaito fuji #lucas errant #jin kamurai #tokyodebunker #no joke #had to squeeze this mf out like a a fat shit #why is writing so hard #writhing in my grave rn #x reader #divider creds: cafekitsune #this sucks don't look at me

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forgotten-bharat · 7 months

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Let's talk about the idolized Aurangzeb. What he did and why is he considered great?

We will be focusing on the destruction of temples and hindu genocide done by him to debunk claims deny that this.

By the order of Aurangzeb (1645 AD) according to Mirãt-i-Ahmadî, Temple of Chintaman situated close to Sarashpur (Gujarat) and built by Sitaldas jeweller was converted into a mosque named Quwwat-ul-lslam (might of Islam) (1645 AD.) A cow was slaughtered to 'solemnize' the 'ceremony'.

Slaughtering a cow was a heinous choice, cow being one of the holiest animal in Hinduism. As well as, Hinduism prohibits animal slaughter, to do it right where their place of worship used to be where now stands a Mosque was simply to mock and destroy the souls of the indigenous population. The Pandits and Cows were always their main targets.

This was done before he even became the king, he was just a prince at this point.

When he became the king he sent Mir Jumla on an expedition to Cooch Bihar. Mir Jumla demolished ALL temples in that city and erected mosques in their stead. The general himself wielded a battle-axe to break the image of Narayana.

Mirãt-i-Ahmadî continues, In 1666 AD, he ordered the faujdar of Mathura to remove a stone railing which had been presented by Dara Shukoh to the temples of Keshav Rai. He explained: “In the Muslim faith it is a sin even to look at a temple and this Dara had restored a railing in a temple!”

You can still argue that Islamic Colonization simply had a political motif and not a religious one, if that would have been the case, none of the indigenous people would have been harmed, none of them would have been forcefully converted, their heritage would not have been destroyed right in front of their eyes, their schools and texts would have been burned. This is downright evil and was done in the name of Allah by all the Mughal tyrants.

“The richly jewelled idols taken from the infidel temples were transferred to Agra and placed beneath the steps leading to the Nawab Begum Sahib's (Jahanara's) mosque in order that they might be “pressed under foot by the true believers”. Mathura changed its name into Islamabad and was thus called in all official documents.”

In the same year, Sita Ram ji temple at Soron was destroyed as also the shrine of Devi Patan at Gonda. News came from Malwa also that the local governor had sent 400 troopers to destroy all temples around Ujjain.

According to Muraqat-i-Abul Hasan, civil officers, agents of jagirdars, karoris and amlas from Cuttack in Orissa to Medinipur in Bengal were instructed as follows:

“Every idol house built during the last 10 or 12 years' should be demolished without delay. Also, do not allow the crushed Hindus and despicable infidels to repair their old temples. Reports of the destruction of temples should be sent to the court under the seal of the qazis and attested by pious Shaikhs.”

(1672 AD) several thousand Satnamis were slaughtered near Narnaul in Mewat for which act of 'heroism' Radandaz Khan was tided Shuja'at Khan with the mansab of 3000 and 2000 horse.

(1675 AD) Guru Tegh Bahadur was tortured to death for his resistance against the forcible conversion of the Hindus of Kashmir. The destruction of gurudwaras thereafter is a well-known story which our secularists have succeeded in suppressing because the Akali brand Sikhs have been forging ties of friendship with Islam as against their parent faith, Hindu Dharma.

Mirãt-i-Ahmadî goes ahead: “On 6th January 1680 A.D. Prince Mohammad Azam and Khan Jahan Bahadur obtained permission to visit Udaipur. Ruhullah Khan and Yakkattaz Khan also proceeded thither to effect the destruction of the temples of the idolators. These edifices situated in the vicinity of the Rana's palace were among the wonders of the age, and had been erected by the infidels to the ruin of their souls and the loss of their wealth”. Pioneers destroyed the images. On 24th January the king visited the tank of Udayasagar.

His Majesty ordered all three of the Hindu temples to be levelled with the ground. On 29th January Hasan AN Khan made his appearance' and stated that “172 temples in the neighbouring districts had been destroyed.” His Majesty proceeded to Chitor on 22nd February.

Temples to the number of 63 were destroyed. Abu Tarab who had been commissioned to effect the destruction of idol temples of Amber, reported in person on 10th August that 66 temples had been levelled to the ground.’ The temple of Someshwar in western Mewar was also destroyed at a later date in the same year. It may be mentioned that unlike Jodhpur and Udaipur, Amber was the capital of a state loyal to the Mughal emperor.

Khafi Khan records in his Muntakhab-ul-Lubab: ‘On the capture of Golconda, the Emperor appointed Abdur Rahim Khan as censor of the city of Haiderabad with orders to put down infidel practices and innovations, and destroy the temples and build mosques on the sites.’ That was in 1687 AD. In 1690 AD, he ordered destruction of temples at Ellora, Trimbakeshwar, Narasinghpur, and Pandharpur.

Aurangzeb also destroyed, Kashi Vishwanath Temple in Kashi, Uttar Pradesh - which considered as the most scared hindu temple and land.

In 1698 AD, the story was repeated at Bijapur. According to Mirat-i-AhmadT: 'Hamidud-din Khan Bahadur who had been deputed to destroy the temples of Bijapur and build mosques there, returned to court after carrying out the order and was praised by the Emperor.' As late as 1705 AD, two years before he died, 'the emperor, summoning Muhammad Khalil and Khidmat Rai, the darogha of hatchet-men' ordered them to demolish the temple of Pandharpur, and to take the butchers of the camp there and slaughter cows in the temple.' Cow-slaughter at a temple site was a safeguard against Hindus rebuilding it on the same spot.

The saddest part is, all of this information, the bloodiest part of Indian History is never shown to the people, they grow up learning, Mughals were great emperors that built great things. When none of that holds any ounce of truth. It should be said without any censorship, these tyrants destroyed the culture, tradition and religions of India.

With all this information, if you're still defending these tyrants, if you still "want them around", if you still insist "it wasn't that bad", you absolutely do not care about "human rights", every activism you take part in is just performative. And I do not respect you or your opinion on any social issue.

#aurangzeb #mughal empire #hinduphobia #ancient india #colonisation in india #temple destruction #mughal invasion #hindublr #hindu temples #pseudo secularism #hindu genocide

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roxanaagriche111 · 5 months

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Chapter 1

Before we begin: this is an 18+ story and could have suggestive and dangerous mentions. If you are uncomfortable, please walk away! If you’re willing to stay then welcome! Enjoy the book as it progresses.

This story is set before the plot of twst events takes place. The battle between fae and humans is still at war. Lilia will be given a title at the beginning of this story. The story will not have a prologue but chapter 1 right off the bat.

This is chapter 1, however, it sounds like a prologue which it isn’t.

~~~~~~~>>>

The Valley of Thorns is a place filled with dark fae. They are known as the evil counterparts of the light fae kingdom. The rules within the valley were stricter than theirs. Their people are adorned with black and their spells are considered evil by all. It is because of this that their kingdom is hated and feared by everyone. Including the nearest human kingdoms, who despise them. Their kingdom is at war with most of those kingdoms, led by a king who is well respected by the humans. The Knight of Dawn is the human king and the valley’s current enemy.

The royal family of the valley has been against the Knight of Dawn’s people for many generations. From their ancestors to their descendants was seen as such pure annoyance. For they have wide connections of every kingdom and village full of humans. All live close to the valley of thorns, yet never dare to cross the borders. Their current enemy was the strongest out of all the past knights of dawns. Because of this, they were searching for a general to lead the crown princess’s command, who hoped the lead them to victory.

Many fae warriors had tried to prove themselves, but only one prevailed over all expectations. Lilia Vanrouge is the adopted son of the current queen and the crown princess’s mother. He had grown up beside the crown princess, but he had worked hard to obtain the title that was being given to him. Without the royal connection, he had made while growing up with the queen and crown princess.

The very person was kneeling before the high priest. The priest began the ceremony as many of the nobles and warriors within the valley was present for such ceremonies. Even both their majesties was watching.

“I, high priest of the Valley of Thorns, ask Lilia Vanrouge if he is willing to put his life for this title. To use his title to the fullest, the strength he wields, and knowledge to help aid the royal family in their desperate need. Govern and lead will he only obey the crown princess’s orders she gives to you. You shall obey only her along with the royal family and nobody else! To die by the hands of our enemy if you fail, but is honored even in death. Does Lilia Vanrouge accept this order of the high priest?”

“I, Lilia Vanrouge, accept this and shall serve the royal family and only them. Following the crown princess’s orders within this war. I shall sacrifice my entire being only for the crown, and no other outside of the army.”

“Then I give, Lilia Vanrouge, the title of general to help lead the army and to aid the crown princess’s battle! May you give the Valley of Thorns the glory that we so dearly deserve within this desperate time of need!”

Roars of cheers and congrats were thrown. The now newly appointed general stood up from his kneeling position. Before facing the people behind him. Everyone wished the man luck as he walked off the steps. His acquaintances within the army gathered around him, congratulating him for being given such a high title. Being given such title was a huge honor. Lilia could only give a small smile and thanked everyone, but he was honestly not paying attention to them. He was looking for a certain someone amongst the people that involved all nobility and not just the army themselves.

That’s when he found the person that he was searching for. (Y/n) (l/n), the youngest and the only daughter of the archduke. She wields the title of archduke after everything her ancestor had done for the kingdom. Her title is so important that she could be a princess if you will. However, she is not close to actual royalty like the Draconia family. Her family earned the title while the Draconian’s was born from it. But despite not being an actual princess. Lilia stood there unmoving as he was immersed by her appearance.

(Y/n) (l/n), the only daughter of the archduke held her head up high. She wore a gorgeous dark green ball gown with black tinted into it. Her hair put in a half updo, letting the rest of her hair fall down to its natural curls. Her beauty and elegance of how she carried herself made her stood out from every noble lady in the room.

(The dress: 👇👇👇)

Such beauty left Lilia stunned as he watched her taking a sip of her drink. A thick red liquid in her wine glass. That was obviously blood and not a red wine from the palace’s cellar. She is given a special treat due to her being a vampiric bad, rather than a fruit bat.

Seeing her standing there before him cause a smile to form on his lips. For he had been waiting for this moment. Wanting to prove himself to her after being told he held no title. Now that he does—should he dare go over to her. Even if he is now a general, the crown princess right hand man. He still felt inferior to her presence. The very woman who holds the key to his heart. Only she can bring out such feelings to his cold heard. Always beating rapidly upon seeing her.

One of his men, Baul Zigvolt, had noticed his staring at the woman. As a devious grin came to his face. Wanting to help his friend, he decided to roughly elbow him. Catching the smaller male’s attention, who then glared at him. For he didn’t like being interrupted.

“What?” Lilia asked trying to hold back his anger. Lilia did not appreciate how his friend in battle made him lose focus on the one thing that was interesting in the entire room

Baul rolled his eyes a bit at how his friend was being, but couldn’t blame him. He knew of his friend’s (now general) long affection towards the young arch noblewoman. Even knowing how he was always denied by her when he asked for her hand. Simply because he had no actual title to his name and only his battle records till now. Baul decided to give his friend a push and gestured to her without making it obvious. “You’re now a general. One that nobody could talk down upon you except for the royal family and the senators. This is your chance to ask for her ladyship’s hand,” he said.

Realizing what his friend was trying to do for him. Lilia couldn’t help but have a smile creeping onto his face. Thanking Baul, he began to walk over to the lady that he had been trying to court. Only for his smile to fall as the girl glanced at him before quickly leaving the room. His heart broke upon seeing this, knowing she still looks down at him. Baul cringed upon witnessing the events that had unfold. He put a hand on his shoulder, feeling guilty for giving him false hope. “Don’t worry. You’ll get her next time. Maybe prove yourself more to her,” Baul suggested to him. But Lilia was too busy wondering and questioning why wasn’t he good enough.

Why won’t you give me a chance? Why?

Meanwhile, (y/n) made it out of the palace and into the royal garden. She knew her parents were not happy by her sudden disappearance, but she had to get out of there. It was not because she hated the banquets being held at the castle, but because of him! Lilia Vanrouge! A thorn at her side since she had met him and she didn’t know why he was so interested in her! She declined him so many times and yet he was still into her! She hated him!

She knows that many within the valley heard of her hatred towards the male. Heck! Even their majesties knows of it! Their reaction is always a shock and bunch of questions on why she hated him. Before those people rant on everything he’s done, and how ungrateful she was being. She knows she sounds horrible as many rumors and gossips are already made and directed at her. For her unjustified hate towards the man with so much achievements in his life.

She doesn’t mean to be like this. To show disdain to a person that is sacrificing his entire being for the kingdom for this war! In truth, she does think it was amazing how he managed to climb through the ranks so fast. But the man in question was someone she hated since she was little. No, hate is a strong word for such a situation. She didn’t hate him—in fact, she is scared of the very male. How laughable. She’s scared of a man serving her kingdom and country. She who is an arch noblewoman. Even if she is overthinking—she can’t shake off that very memory. She had witnessed something that she can never get rid. Something that had happened many years ago that involved him. Something that made her traumatized of him because of it. It was—

“(Y/n).”

!!!

The sudden voice caught the young noblewoman off guard. She recognized the voice from a mile away. She quickly looked over to see none other than General Vanrouge!

“You— no…I suppose I should now call you General Vanrouge, correct? Congratulations on your achievement, please excuse me.” She said as she turned and was about to leave, but the male grabbed her wrist causing her to look back in shock.

“Stay, we need to talk…”

~~~~~~~~~~>>>

Oh my goodness! Whatever is going to happen! Do you guys happen to like my new way of writing? I’m trying to upgrade my writing a little. Anyways, what do you guys think will happen next?

Stay tuned!

Fun facts:

The author has no idea how a title is given to someone. All she knows is that the king or queen does it, but since it is the valley of thorns? It has to be something that the Valley of Thorns would do.

The author doesn’t plan to write the hair color, length, or eye color nonsense. Not even the skin color stuff as it’s too hard to shorten/write it as she usually does. For now, she only says hair, eyes, and skin. She’ll leave all that to you guys for she doesn’t know what you all look like.

Go check the bio if you haven’t. To find the chapters for this book. Look up

Vampiric love

On my search bar

#twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge #yandere general lilia vanrouge #yandere x darling #yandere twst #yandere x reader fanfic #yandere x reader #general lilia vanrouge #vampiric love

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cypherthesuccubus · 9 days

Text

Dirty Little Secret

Alastor x Lucifer/ RadioApple -Part 2- (NSFW) (MDNI)

Warnings: 18+, smut, slow burn, eventual smut, cock worship, glory hole, enemies to lovers, murder, blood kink, bondage, tentacles, marking, breeding kink, size kink, S&M, Dom/Sub, switch, facial

Other Tags: Fluff and Angst

Aftercare forever!!✨

Here’s part 2, y’all!! Wonder what Alastor is gonna find when he sees where our short king is going. Let’s find out together~ 😈💕✨

It’s been a good 5 miles since Lucifer had started walking from the hotel to his destination. Every so often when a denizen passes by him, he makes sure to pull his hood down enough to hide his face; looking down at the ground for extra measure. He really didn’t need anyone recognizing him, especially where he was heading. He doesn’t need to be made a fool out of than he already was. The day Lilith left, he was pretty much a laughing stalk that his wife would up and leave without saying a word. This was definitely one of the many reasons why he struggles with depression so badly; thinking he did something wrong to have her leave the way she did. Being alone for 7 years definitely has taken its toll……in more ways than one. He can’t have anyone find out what he’s been doing these past few of weeks since extermination day.

Lucifer looks around before making a sharp turn into an alley way between some large colorful buildings; navigating effortlessly through the twists and turns of each building being mashed together in such a manner. It almost feels like going through a maze everytime coming here, but he knew his way after coming here so many times. He felt a shiver run up his spine, as he feels like he’s being watched. He turns behind him look at every nook and cranny to see if he was being followed, but turned up nothing. With a sigh of relief, he turns back making his final turn around a tight corner; slowly walking towards a black metal door with a sliding peep hole and a bright neon pink sign above. The sign’s light flickered a little, saying the same thing everytime he comes here, “Employees Only”.

Lucifer approaches the door, knocking on it rhythmically like a secret code, as he takes a step back; waiting for the bouncer to show. The sliding peep hole opens abruptly, showing a pair of red glowing eyes as a voice spoke in a low gravely voice “I-D?” He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a matte black card with the place’s logo, saying “Employee ID-Exclusive Private Stall User.” The bouncer a-ha’s in acknowledgement, closing the peep hole and opening the door, gesturing him inside. “Hurry inside, before you’re considered late.” He quickly puts the ID back in his pocket as he makes his way inside; keeping his head down as the bouncer closes the door behind him. As soon as the door shuts, an inky black shadow forms from the ground, now revealing a very curious Alastor. He hums as he glances to the bright pink sign above the door, thinking to himself. “How interesting.~”

His grins widens at the possibilities of ruining the king of hell himself. What business did his majesty have in this lowly establishment? Whatever this secret may be, can be of use to him to finally finding a way to pull all the strings sort of speak. But unfortunately, this means the only way to get the full details of his majesty’s scandal, is to be in disguise himself. He wretches at the idea of wearing such clothes, but he has his own reputation to uphold and can not be recognized either. With a disgusted sigh, he snaps his fingers as his normal attire dissipates; revealing him in such common looking clothes. He summons a mirror to fully look at himself; making sure no recognizable features are present. He practically gags at the sight of himself; thinking about how this is not what a proper gentleman should be wearing.

He wore a similar black hooded jacket, except he kept it unzipped; showing him wearing a black loose fitting tank crop; his chest fluff slightly protruding over the neckline. His pants were slightly baggy with at least 2 outward pockets on each leg; including the inner pockets at the waist with the fabric feeling of a Capri like texture. The hem of the waist hugging his nicely; tastefully showing a bit of his v-line. The shoes itself were heeled, looking as if a scandalous soldier would wear them. Alastor then puts the final touch; a black clothed mask to cover his ever present smile. “I look like a common harlot….this is not gentlemen like at all.” He thinks to himself as he dissipates once again into the shadows; reappearing in the dark corner of this “night club” of some sort.

Alastor looks around at the noisy setting of this establishment; thinking of what predicament has he gotten himself into this time. He glances over at the counter where he spots Lucifer straight away; talking to the receptionist as he then takes his leave down the hallway adjacent to the desk. His grins widens once more under the mask, as he makes his way to the front desk. He stops a few inches from the counter, as he turns his radio effect off before speaking. “Hello there, miss. The man that was just here before I approached, could you tell me his name?” The woman then looks up at Alastor with a confused look.

“You mean Lance? Yeah, he just started his shift actually. If you want to know prices, you can look at this here under “Private Stall Exclusive.” A what now? He looks at the laminated paper taped to the desk; scanning to where the woman was pointing at. He reads as follows:

Private Stall Exclusive Tonight’s Host:Lance

Paying Members Only!!!

Prices

1 hour: $280

2 hours: $350

3 hours(Max): $495

Thank you for your purchase!!!!

Enjoy~

Taken aback by this, for once in his life, Alastor starts to get anxious; thinking to himself. “What did I just get myself into?!” Nervously drumming his claws on the counter, the woman starts to get alittle annoyed with his lack of decision. “I really need you to make a choice, hun. You’re kinda holding up a line a little.” He glances over his shoulder to see two taller, muscular men behind him; staring down at him hungrily. One being a lone shark and the other a hellhound. Alastor turns back around as one of the men spoke. “Hey Jackie, is this the host for tonight?” She shakes her head as she thumbs to the adjacent hallway next to her. “Oh no, he’s already in the back.” The man chuckles as he steps a little too close for comfort behind Alastor.

“Too bad, cause I was kinda hoping to see what this one’s mouth can do.~” He feels one of the sharks hands snake on his shoulder; feeling this wretched creature’s breath near his neck. If Alastor’s teeth weren’t grinding hard enough from this disgusting behavior; his eyes flickered between dials to pupils as he balled his fists. This thing had the nerve to run its claws along his tail! Quickly, Alastor lets a tentacle shoot out of him and into the lone shark’s chest; coming out of the shark’s back before retreating back through to Alastor. The shark falls to floor with a heavy thud as the hellhound backs away in fear. “I think I’ll come back another time.” The hound says as he quickly speed walks to exit.

Alastor then pulls out a wad of cash as he hands it to the one called Jackie. “An hour should suffice, thank you.” She timidly takes the money as she puts it in the register. “Of course, I’ll buzz Lance to let him know you’re here. Just go down the hall to the door that says private. You can’t miss it.” Alastor chuckles as he makes his way to the hallway entry “Much appreciated, Miss Jackie.”

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