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junggunz · 4 months

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crew love | 🔞

summary: sometimes dick appointments don't go as planned... cw: fembodied!reader, there is ZERO plot, pwp, smut, fwb!samuel, fwb!eli, fwb!johan, fwb!jake, reader really said why have one bitch when you can have four-, fivesome-ish...each of the crew heads take turns with reader, mentions of masturbation, oral (f and m receiving), fingering (f receiving), lazy handjobs and blowjobs, c*ck drunk reader tbh, p in v, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, degrading dirty talk...mostly from samuel, jake calls reader 'pretty girl' once, everyone is 18+, bukakke ending, honestly there's a lot going on let me know if i missed anything. wc: 4.2k words that's crazy bc i shortened this by a lotttt. an: absolute insanity and peak degeneracy. a late merry christmas and an early happy new years from me to yall hehehe.

“And here I thought, my favorite slut was just a cute nickname for you. I never would have guessed that you were running around fucking these punks when I was too busy for you.” Samuel laughs dryly, his jaw clenching as his eyes drift over the other crew heads.

Eli was just some runaway. Johan was a crybaby. But Jake Kim was a part of your little roster? You knew better than to even mention Jake around Samuel, but the fact you more than likely compared them when you talked about your sexual escapades with your friends was enough to get him seething with rage.

It was truly an unfortunate coincidence when you sent a text to all four of your fuck buddies telling them to come over on the same day. While juggling so many guys at once, you anticipated that at some point, you would fuck up and remember wrong details about the wrong guy or even call one of them the wrong name at least once. But to screw up on this scale was beyond your imagination; you blame your overly chaotic life that caused you to seek out relief in the form of casual sex. Besides your schedule being all over the place and causing conflict, each of these men catered to a specific need you had.

Samuel provided you with rough, degrading sex that left you drunk on his cock. Johan gave you the illusion of having some sense of control in your life as you basically coached him into being the perfect fuck. Eli easily played the role of being a friend you happened to sleep with—oftentimes, him being the one you try out your new tricks with— And last but definitely not least, Jake was the one who could give you both a shoulder to cry on and a dick to ride on after a long day. They all had their own quirks and strengths that catered to whatever you needed throughout the week. Trying to pick a favorite was out of the question because you weren’t sure if you felt emotional attachment to any of them. There were no blurred lines or confusing boundaries, the basis of your relationship with all of them was just sex. And all four of them were good in bed or else you wouldn’t have bothered to keep their numbers.

“Well, now what? This isn’t the first time we’ve met under strange conditions and it probably won’t be the last.” Eli says, his tone even but with a flair of nonchalance as he sits down on your couch and looks at the other men in your living room.

Samuel alone is able to make the atmosphere tense with his disdain for Jake but everyone else in the room seems to be more baffled by the current situation you’re all in. It’s almost comical but it’s more awkward than anything and you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

“I came all this way to get my dick sucked and I don’t wanna leave with blue balls so, if you all could kindly fuck off—” Johan states bluntly only for Samuel to interject.

“What do you think I’m here for? Do you think I came to have a meeting with you fuckers again?”

Jake who had been silently off in the corner, mind going at a hundred miles per hour as he contemplated his relationship with you after finally digesting the fact he had been sharing you with three other people, suddenly speaks up. When you hear the words that fall past his beautifully flawed lips, you swear that he has finally lost his mind. And to make matters worse, it seems like the madness is shared when everyone including Samuel agrees after taking a few moments to deliberate amongst each other; blatantly leaving you out of the conversation and not letting you know their gameplan.

Who would have thought that this day would be the ultimate test of how well these four could work together? Hands are all over your body, impatiently pushing you down the hall to your room and sitting you down at the ledge. Filling the spots on the bed on either side of you are Samuel and Jake; Samuel moving quickly to make the first move and assert his dominance. Inked hand roughly grabbing you by the chin, he turns your head to face him so he can plant his lips on yours. Lips parting in a salacious moan from his treatment, he seizes the opportunity to force his tongue into your mouth; tasting you before you could be tainted by one of the other three men surrounding you. Though Samuel is adamant on staking his claim on you first, Jake has no problem latching his lips onto the exposed column of your neck. The way his lips gently feather across your skin to make you squirm then gradually get more intense is the complete opposite of how Samuel is fierce with you from the get go but they both share the talent of easily turning you into a mindless, lust drunk mess with just their lips. With so many hands on you, you can’t tell who’s unbuttoning your shirt or who’s hands are snaking up your skirt to tease you through your underwear. You barely have any time to process Samuel pulling away from your lips because Jake occupies them as soon as the opportunity arises. You think you can recognize the feel of Samuel’s palms cupping your breasts and treating the tender flesh as stress balls. And you’re almost certain that it’s Johan who’s kneeling between your legs, pressing his face into your panty clad pussy while Eli is off to the side, keeping your legs spread.

It’s only after Samuel’s hands have freed the supple skin of your tits and you have him and Jake latching on to your nipples, you’re able to see what’s going on to confirm everyone’s position. Even with the fabric barrier of your underwear, the way that Johan was greedily slurping your arousal through the fabric had your head lolling around dumbly. Your body was burning hot and the temperature was only rapidly increasing due to all the hands and mouths currently on you. Samuel’s tongue flickers over the perky bud of your nipple, leaving tepid trails of saliva in its wake. Jake’s mouth was surrounding the other, every so often grazing his teeth along the sensitive skin. When you look over at Eli with apologetic eyes, he only gives you a sly smile as his hand strokes your inner thigh; silently letting you know that you would always be worth the wait for him.

So greedy to feel as much of you as possible, when Samuel moves back to your lips and Eli is able to have a taste of your breasts. Getting in just a few sucks and bites, Eli is more interested in getting back between your thighs when he sees Johan pushing your panties to the side. Kissing his way down from your chest and his lips marking every patch of skin exposed by your haphazardly arranged clothing, Eli’s teeth skim along your thigh and cause you to shudder.

The moment Johan’s pretty fingers spread apart your sticky folds, everyone momentarily halts what they’re doing to look at the sight in awe before everything ramps up in intensity and your clothes are being pulled off your body. Easing a finger into your slick hole, Johan begins to move it in and out of you steadily; basking in the sensation of your tight walls stretching to accommodate the intrusion of the lone digit. Not too long after that, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and yanking you forward until your back falls flat against the mattress, your upper body no longer propped up Samuel and Jake. Even with the adjustment in position, Jake’s mouth had remained stuck on your chest; finally able to cup both tits in his hands when Samuel sits back on his knees after deciding he wanted something else, reaching for your hand and guiding it to palm the bulge in his boxers.

Attention disproportionately divided between the four men as their hands needily grope you, Johan occupies the most of it when his fingers enter you again. Palm facing up with his ring and middle fingers pressing against the spongy spot within your walls, your breathing is uneven with moans getting stuck in your throat. His fingers don’t move particularly fast or deep but they apply a consistent pressure against your sweet spot that makes your thighs shake and would have had your hips bucking if Eli wasn’t the one keeping your lower body firmly pinned against the mattress and your panties out of the way for Johan. With just a few firm pushes into the same spot, Johan makes your pussy squirt and Eli is quick to lean in and claim the first taste of your honey; earning a small glare from the man who had actually brought you to your orgasm. Immediately after Eli pulls away, Johan’s tongue is lapping at your clit to taste your release. Fingers still inside you, Johan repeats his same movements from earlier to make more of your nectar spill out of you before he leans in to drink your juices straight from the source.

“Open up, sweetheart.” Eli coos softly to get your attention, now kneeling beside you with his cock out which you respond to by gently holding the base of his length and guiding it into your mouth.

Only a few seconds into sucking on Eli, you feel Samuel slapping the heavy tip of his own erection against your cheek until you turn to him and give him the same treatment. You try your best to simultaneously stroke both of them and alternate giving them your mouth, but Johan is still having his fun between your legs and playing with your sensitive pussy, in search of other spots to make you see stars. At this point, any type of contact on your private parts gets you to thresh and writhe; your brain so muddled that it takes Eli and Samuel constantly reminding you that you were supposed to be giving them your mouth.

Things had just started and you were already drowning in your own sea of selfish pleasure. Pushing you to lay on your side and accentuating the natural curves of your ass and hips, you watch with hazy eyes as Eli and Johan switch positions; Johan presenting his hard length before you to which you thoughtlessly take in your mouth while Eli’s tongue ravenously licking up the trail of wetness that dripped from your pussy to your puckered asshole that was now easily accessible to him. Your eyes roll back in your head at the feel of Eli eating you out so hungrily. By no means was Johan bad with his mouth and fingers, but Eli was simply a more seasoned lover. With enough practice, the two would be on similar playing fields at some point because they had a similar wild streak masked by their pretty faces. Messily smearing your arousal all over the place, the dominant sensation in your lower half is wet and downright sloppy. There’s a gentle pulsing within you due to the back to back orgasms brought to you by Johan’s fingers, but it is quickly diminishing and being replaced by a new coil of heat building in your stomach.

Right when you think you’re gonna cum on Eli’s tongue, you see quick movement out of the corner of your eye.

“I can’t fucking wait anymore.” You hear Samuel growl.

Impatiently shoving Eli out of the way and lining his length up to your hole, sinking into you with one harsh thrust and starting off at a mean pace. The sudden stretch of Samuel’s cock stings like it always does, but with how wet you are and how heavy his thrusts are, he slips right in. With your senses zeroing in on the intrusion of Samuel’s length, your mouth comes off of Johan, only leaving him with the remnants of your saliva to lubricate his shaft as he jerks off to you being filled by Samuel.

“Fucking pathetic. Inviting all your fuck buddies over and you can’t even mulitask.” Samuel chuckles darkly, giving your ass several hefty slaps that leave the skin stinging with an almost pleasant burn.

Dizzy from all the movement and finding yourself on your back again when Samuel’s hands push both your thighs against the mattress so he could plow deep into you, watching your pussy greedily swallow his length. After observing from the sidelines for a bit, Jake joins in on the action and offers his thigh to rest your head on; the exchange being that your mouth was solely his for the moment. The lips on your face being stretched around Jake’s length while your lower lips were being plundered by Samuel, the sound of your moans have died out and the soundtrack of your bedroom consists of the sound of your poor bedframe trying not to break, wet skin slapping against each other with the low moans and groans of each of your fuck buddies. You don’t have to look at Johan or Eli to know that they were taking a breather, idly stroking their own lengths to the sight of you being wrecked by the two former colleagues.

No one says anything but everyone can see it on your face. When your mind is venturing off into space as Samuel fucks your brains out, all it takes it Jake gently caressing your cheek or your stroking your hair to bring you back to Earth; looking up at Big Deal’s leader with a more affectionate expression while you suck him off. Of course, Samuel is the only one bothered by this minor quirk; plowing into you harder and deeper like he was trying to ruin your pussy for everyone else by molding you to only take him. But all his brutal thrusts do is knock the wind out of you, making it impossible to warn him before he’s pushing you to your orgasm and causing your walls to squeeze so tight, it forces his cock out as your juices are expelled from your loins.

“You couldn’t hold it just a little longer, nasty slut?” Samuel groans, giving you another harsh slap but this time on your thigh as he reluctantly pulls away from you.

The sight of your orgasm signaled that Samuel’s turn was up and since Jake was the closest, he’s quick to claim his spot between your spread thighs, slowly easing himself into your sensitive pussy. As much as it irritates to see Jake so eager to take his place, Samuel moves off to the side; hand wrapping around his angry cock to maintain his hardness. Seeing how Johan and Eli were holding up with only a fraction of his frustration, Samuel started to wonder what kind of things you got up to with either one of the two for them to be so patient in this situation.

On a regular day, Jake would be better at taking his time with you and building up to a pace that brings you to your sweet release but after waiting so long to feel you and feeling the way your love canal rhythmically throbs around his cock after your finish, it’s like you have him in a trance. Not as rough as Samuel, but definitely more aggressive than his usual self, Jake thrusts into you needily. Your wanton moans mixing in with Jake’s are loud enough to drown out the sound of your bed squeaking in protest. Body so high strung, it comes as no surprise that you can only hold out for so long before you’re calling out Jake’s name between breathy whimpers.

“What is it, pretty girl?” He asks you, voice wavering ever so slightly as your walls squeeze him even tighter and become more slick around him; his body torn between pushing deeper into your pulsing heat or halting his movements.

“I’m gonna cum again—” You pant, looking up at him with glossy eyes to top off your sheepish expression; feeling bad for making him wait so long just to barely get any time with you. But Jake could never be mad at you for cumming too soon on his cock. The warmth of your walls gave him a comfort that simply couldn’t compare to other one night stands he had been with. Even in this situation where he had to share you, bringing you to orgasm filled his chest with pride just the same.

Reaching between your bodies, his thumb gently toys with your swollen clit in time with his thrusts, causing a shrill yelp to pour from your lungs before you tremble beneath him, your hips bucking wildly and your walls wrapped around him like you were made for him, it almost tempts into finishing inside you, but he swiftly pulls away. Dick throbbing after being denied of his own climax, his hand wraps around the end of his shaft, lightly squeezing the tip as he looks toward Eli and Johan to see who would call next.

Despite his eagerness to kick everyone out of your apartment earlier so he could have you to himself, Johan lets Eli go first. Not out of politeness but simply because making mental notes of how everyone else treated your body. Johan may have been at a disadvantage by not having as much experience under his belt as the others, but he was able to make up for it with how quick he learned by observing. Watching the same type of porn you liked may might have given him some insight to what gets you off; however it just didn’t compare to actually seeing in real time how you liked to be fucked.

Eli moves between your legs, ready to mount you until the wetness of the sheets against his skin nags at him. There had been countless times where he had been able to make a mess of you like this on his own but something about having to kneel in a puddle of your juices that were coaxed out of you by someone else bugs him.

“God, it’s wet everywhere. You’re so messy.” Eli teases softly, plucking you off your mattress and hooking your thigh around his arm as he stands at the end of your bed frame.

With you no longer laying down, everyone is able to see the faint outline of your figure created by you sweating on the sheets along with the sizable dark, wet stain of your orgasms. It’s so vulgar and dirty, but it’s exactly the type of thing that seems to boost morale amongst the men and make them even more eager to wreck you.

Balancing yourself on just one foot, it’s up to Eli to keep you stable; one hand tightly gripping your thigh and the other keeping a vice hold on your ass. The moment he sinks into you, your body tenses for just a moment before relaxing in his arms. Being taken at this angle somehow manages to wipe more thoughts from an already barren mind. You feel Eli’s length pummeling deep inside of you, you feel his lips ghosting along your neck and jaw but it’s almost as if there’s disconnect between your mind and body. You can’t even think about how loud you’re being and if you keep it up, you might end up with a sore throat because your moans just keep tumbling carelessly.

Rutting into you with the perfect balance of passion and primal instinct, Eli genuinely contemplates giving you a nice, warm load right into your cervix so you’d have to keep him around. The only thing that stops him from asking if you want his seed at that moment is the fact that there were three other guys coping with varying levels of sexual frustration and would throw a fit if he came inside you so soon. In the back of his mind, Eli was more than ready to creampie you if you had begged even just a little.

You don’t even have to string together the words to warn Eli that you were on the verge of another explosive orgasm. He could see it all over your face. He could feel it in how you clutched onto his shoulders and dug your nails into the skin. And the most damning of all, everyone could hear the way your moans escalated in pitch and volume. Your body feels like jelly as you gush all over his length, the only thought in your head wondering how were you going to make it through the rest of the night if things continued on like this?

After Eli pulls out of you, it’s a literal hand off to Johan; feeling God Dog’s leader put his hands on your waist then bend you over while your hands still clung to Eli. Rough fingertips dig into the meat of your hip as Johan establishes a firm hold on your body, he pushes his hips forward; the harsh thrust cushioned by the softness of your ass. You gasp loudly, not expecting the tip of his cock to hit your sweet spot right away. If he continued to fuck you at this angle, there was no way you wouldn’t come apart with just a few more thrusts—Johan knows that and quite frankly, doesn’t care— It’s proven when he gives you a few experimental bucks of his hips and feels the telltale sensation of your walls clamping down on his cock that lets him know you had orgasmed. With how quickly you cum, your jaw hangs open in shock and no one else is the wiser so Johan continues to lose himself in the sensation of your warm, wet heat.

“How are you still so fucking tight?” Johan groans out, a delirious laugh rumbling in the back of his throat while he ruts into you, pushing so deep that his full balls are squished up against your swollen pussy lips. “Is it because you’re waiting for someone to bust inside you?” He says, leaning in to whisper the words into your ear.

You lose count of how many times you cum on Johan’s cock alone but at this point, your walls are so sensitive that even with the undulating, rapid movements of his hips, you feel every vein and ridge rubbing up against you.

“N-no…” You whimper, despite the very obvious spasming of your walls after hearing his question.

“Just say the word and I’ll fill you up-”

“If you cum inside, we’re kicking you out.” Jake quickly cuts in after overhearing the brief exchange between you and Johan.

Rolling his eyes at the latter’s comment, Johan promptly shoves you off his cock; not wanting to deal with the bickering that would ensue if he were to finish inside you like he wanted. Never empty for long, as soon as someone pulls out of you, someone else is filling you up again or moving you into another position before entering you again. It’s truly a group effort to remind you to use your mouth or hands on the other guys when you have one of them balls deep in your pussy, your mind long gone and in a depraved daze.

It’s only when you get to a point of being barely able to keep your eyes open, your bedroom is filled with an urgency to finish before your body finally gives out. It had been in the middle of one of Eli’s turns when everyone quietly came to the decision to wrap things out and he pulled out of you, your body tiredly sprawled out on the soiled sheets. Everyone stands around you and furiously jerks their dicks before you feel splashes of warmth all over various parts of your body. Even though your vision was mostly fuzzy by now, you could tell by just the locations who finished where. Samuel made sure to paint your face, uncaring of whether he got it in your hair or eyes but ensuring he slapped his tip on your tongue as he shot out the final rope. Eli came all over the outside of your pussy, fondly smiling at the sight as he did so. Jake had mostly aimed for your chest; letting a few stray ropes spray over the lower portion of your face because he knew it would get a rise out of Samuel. And Johan had opted to leave a nice pool of his seed right above your navel since your ass wasn’t an option for him today.

Fucked out and exhausted, you stumble to the bathroom to get yourself cleaned up and make it clear that they needed to change your bedding for you before they left. Once that’s all done, you don’t even bother saying bye to any of your fuckbuddies since it was a normal part of your routine to send them away after cleaning up. You hear your front door slam shut, the electronic deadbolt automatically locking it for you and you assume everyone has left so you could go to sleep but the sound of footsteps approaching your bedroom again makes you slowly sit up and look toward your doorframe.

You thought you didn’t have a favorite crew head, but when you see that he’s the one who decided to stay behind, you perk up as you welcome him back into your bed. Whether it was simply enjoying each other’s company or just resting before going for another round of sex, you’re glad it’s with him.

#lookism x reader #lookism smut #samuel seo x reader #samuel seo smut #samuel seo scenarios #jake kim x reader #jake kim smut #jake kim scenarios #johan seong scenarios #johan seong smut #johan seong x reader #eli jang scenarios #eli jang smut #eli jang x reader #junggunz.txt

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gambleofstars · 3 months

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Electrician Reader as Vox’s Assistant (Pt. II)

₍ ⌨ ᶻᶻᶻ gambleofstars is typing ... ₎

↳ ❝ [a/n: i’m on a roll, expect a third part also haha, i kind of love this concept to be honest, not to mention i work an office job too so, pretty relatable to me. also minor content warning for smoking, but it's just casual, really] ¡! ❞

Part I

⋆♡* In fact, you liked hell, because people were much less judgmental.

⋆♡* In the overworld, your coworkers would judge you for every move. You were polite? You were a suck-up. You were cold? You were rude. You were professional? You were distant. So when you started calculating your every move? You were scheming.

⋆♡* But here? Your scheming qualities were greatly appreciated and utilized.

⋆♡* Your boss would let you stay in the conference room for business holder meetings. He doesn’t want you to know, but Vox definitely observed your reactions during these meetings. Every twitch of your brow and rolling of eyes you thought went unnoticed, were important.

⋆♡* And having a boss who sees your abilities is a sure way of making a loyal employee. Maybe this was also scheming on Vox’s part but hey, who judges who in hell?

⋆♡* If Vox’s honest, the 8am coffee and your faint groan of annoyance at his client was a bit of a highlight of his day, if you will.

⋆♡* He has to listen to either: boring meetings or other vees’ tantrums every day, so your small presence is welcome as a solidarity of someone seeing what he has to deal with.

⋆♡* (Even though his own hissy fits are no less ridiculous and much more dangerous)

⋆♡* You do get bonuses for putting up with them though. Don’t be mistaken, this is a business transaction, after all.

⋆♡* Sometimes though, you wonder who he was on earth? Or if you crossed paths in any way. You get this sentimental feeling at times that you can never explain…

★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

“FUCK!” Vox exclaims as he slumps down on his desk (?) chair after raging about the PR management team messing up their work. Yet again. At this point, his bowtie is all messed up and his button-up is half wrinkled.

He’s still seething, but you can see the anger is slowly sizzling out. Good, you were really not in the mood for playing therapist this evening. You already had a long day of sorting out the PR nightmare that is Valentino’s social media (which was partially the reason for Vox’s current exhaustion).

Usually, you’d listen to Vox yap about 99 problems in his vicinity. Let him let it out and then distract him with an upcoming business opportunity - kinda dealing it like you would with a teenager.

For some reason though, this evening the soft breeze coming through the open windows of the office and purple dust color of the hell’s sky, you felt an olive branch form in your heart.

“Would you like a cigarette?”

It always worked for you. After the stress of sorting out numerous affairs for the Vees (primarily your boss), a cigarette felt like a piece of heaven, really. So, why not? Bonding time with your boss or whatever.

He eyes your outstretched hand that’s holding a pack of Malborry Red (delivered straight from the gluttony ring); he seems almost suspicious, which makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry boss, drugs is Mr. V’s style. This is just tobacco”

“Fuck it”

He grabs the cigarette out of the pack and sighs like a single dad of 50 kids. Before you can laugh at this pathetic little man, you get out your lighter and light the cig up as courtesy, seeing as you’re the one who offered it.

There’s a tense moment when he just looks at you. You don’t know what he’s thinking at times and this is one of them. It bothers you a bit, like you can’t read an open book.

Either way, when he takes the first drag, he slowly goes to lean over the balcony railing with his elbows as you light your own stick. You don’t join him though.

Both of you stay silent in the comfort of an otherwise empty wing. The only noise is from the city down below and the quiet whirring of Vox’s fans to filter out the nicotine-filled smoke.

It’s kind of relaxing, in all honesty.

“Maybe I should just jump off here” he says out loud. The casual tone makes you scoff with amusement as you join him on the balcony as well. You stay close to the door though.

“Please think of the company’s integrity sir” you remind him, taking a drag of your own cigarette “Also, you can’t really die here. There are 75 electricians and technicians on standby at all times.”

Vox groans and puts the screen of his head down onto his forearm, his cigarette hanging off the 50 story building with just his two fingers as a safety measurement.

“Then maybe I’ll go out of commission for a week and ignore everything and everyone for once” he concludes with the same casuality.

“You need to be present at the shareholders meeting tomorrow afternoon or it won’t commence” you explain, honestly a bit delighted in deliberately pissing him off.

“You go do it then”

“No thank you”

Another sigh and a comfortable silence. You’d think Vox fell asleep if his fans weren’t still whirring. Even though feeling pity for the rich is a bit ridiculous, you find yourself approaching him and leaning with your back on the railing.

“Tell you what boss, I think you need to present the angelic security plan by tomorrow at 4:45” you suggest, eyeing his reaction.

He looks up at you a bit confused “Right after the meeting?”

You chuckle a bit mean-spirited “What are they gonna do? Leave?”

He picks up at what you’re putting down and a wicked smile crosses his face “So that means I won’t have any meetings until Friday”

You pick up an ashtray on the coffee table next to you and hold it out for him. But seeing as he doesn’t even notice how his cig is burning away as he plans his Thursday, you pluck it out of his hands to put it out for him.

It’s almost laughable how perplexed he looks, but you resist as you put your own stick out too and place the tray back down.

“Do you need me to plan anything for Thursday sir?”

“Do you think on earth we ever crossed paths?”

Well that was out of the blue “I don’t know sir, never thought about it” that’s a lie, you’ve thought about it every time you left the office with a feeling of deja vu.

“Whatever, who gives a shit” he said, aloof and walked back into his office “You’re more useful as my assistant down here anyway”

Maybe. Not like your life was any less stressful on earth, right? (please, do note the sarcasm).

Still, watching your boss blow up like a bomb every other morning was enough entertainment to make this job amusing.

Not to mention, on earth, this fleeting moment of fondness never crossed your heart. How ironic that you find the most vulnerable part of yourself in the flaming pits of hell filled with sinners alike you.

Maybe that’s why. The fact that you found someone who can keep up the pace with your deliberate chess-piece kind of thinking with no guilt, is a bit of a blessing in disguise.

How a string of your heart happily tugs at his victories.

You won’t let him know that though.

i'm really liking writing out my office work frustrations in these small drabbles ahaha >:) anyway, my request box is open if you wanna drop by :) <3

signing off, gambi 💋

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin valentino #hazbin velvette #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #the vees

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bingwriterxo · 11 months

Text

sisters, sisters

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x reader

summary: in which two people ask you out, and you make a decision

warnings: none

word count: 2800+

author's note: here she is! definitely more tara-centric, but that's ok!

Tara (8:43 pm): come over. now.

Mindy (8:44pm): u good T??

Chad (8:46pm): On our way

Tara (8:47pm): doors open

Tara (8:47pm): let urselves in

* * *

It was a madhouse in the Carpenter-Bailey apartment when Mindy and Chad arrived. There were pillows strewn all over the living room; plant pots had been knocked from their places on the back table, leaving scatters of dirt across the floor; the corkboard that usually hung next to the doorway to the kitchen was on the ground; and, to top it all off, Sam and Tara were arguing at the top of their lungs with a very stressed-looking Quinn in between them, her arms out to keep the sisters from jumping at one another.

“Thank god you guys are here!” Quinn said when she caught sight of the twins walking through the front door. “I don’t know what to do with them!”

Tara and Sam didn’t seem to hear the redhead--or chose to blatantly ignore her--as they continued their screaming match.

“She was my friend first, Sam!” Tara shouted.

“So?! That doesn’t mean you have dibs on her!” Sam yelled.

“Woah!” Mindy exclaimed, interrupting the two. They turned their sights on her, anger raging behind both of their eyes. Mindy would’ve been intimidated--scared, even--if she didn’t know that the two were harmless (unless, of course, she was wearing a black robe and a stupid Halloween mask). “First of all, you can't call dibs on anyone,” she said, like it should have been obvious to the sisters, which it should have. “Second, what the hell is going on here?”

Sam sighed, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead. Tara clenched her jaw and balled her hands into fists; she was clearly the more aggravated of the two.

“Sam’s a bitch,” Tara seethed.

Before Sam could respond, Chad butted in. “Guys, come on. Why don’t we just sit down and have a nice, calm talk?” he suggested, gesturing toward the couch.

“Please,” Quinn agreed, falling into the armchair. “I can’t play mediator anymore.”

“Fine,” Tara huffed. She sat on the couch, tense, and crossed her arms over her chest as Sam did the same on the other end, and though she was more relaxed than Tara, she made sure to leave enough space between them that a large elephant could fit.

Mindy and Chad made their way to the center of the room, staring at the sisters. The air was thick with tension, and Mindy rolled her eyes when neither Sam nor Tara made the first move to speak.

“Okay,” Chad started, “so what’s wrong?”

“Didn’t I just say what’s wrong?” Tara snapped. “My sister’s a bitch.”

“T,” Mindy said sharply. “This is supposed to be nice and calm. No attitude.” She looked at Sam, hoping that she would be more cooperative considering the fact that she was older and, usually, the more reasonable of the two. “What’s going on?”

Sam inhaled deeply. “I tried to talk to Tara earlier, and she completely blew up at me.” She gestured around the room. “As you can tell.”

“Oh, that’s not fair!” Tara complained. “Tell them what you told me.”

“All I said was that I want to ask Y/N out on a date.” Sam shrugged. “I didn’t really think it would be a problem, but I know all of you guys are closer to her than I am, so I wanted to tell Tara before I did anything.”

Chad hummed, confused, and Mindy furrowed her eyebrows. “And, Tara, why is that a problem?” she asked.

Tara mumbled something beneath her breath, and everyone leaned closer as though it would help them hear her. She glared at the group, sighed, and then rushed out, “Because I want to ask Y/N out.”

Mindy’s jaw dropped, Chad’s eyes practically popped straight out of his head, Quinn made a noise akin to a surprised baby, and Sam let out a soft, “Oh.”

It was silent for a moment, and the tension somehow seemed to thicken. Tara fidgeted uncomfortably beneath the eyes of her friends, shifting where she sat and playing with the skin around her fingernails.

“It’s not that big of a deal guys,” she finally muttered after the silence became too much. It snapped everyone from their thoughts, and they all started talking at once.

“We just didn’t know--”

“I mean, I had no idea--”

“You never said anything--”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize sooner--”

They spoke over one another until they realized that nothing they were saying was intelligible, and when they stopped, Mindy took the lead. She knelt down in front of Tara and took her hands in her own.

“You never told us you were into girls, T,” Mindy said.

Tara shrugged. “I just didn’t think I had to do the whole ‘coming out’ thing. I wanted to be able to bring a girl home, preferably Y/N”--she glared at Sam, who huffed--“and say, ‘This is my girlfriend’ and have that be it.”

Mindy nodded. “Okay. Fair enough. Then we won’t make this a big deal.” She stood. “But we still have the pressing issue to deal with.”

“I can’t believe you guys both like the same girl,” Quinn said, a teasing smirk on her lips. Everyone looked at her with narrowed eyes; she was not helping the situation. “What? This is fucking hilarious!”

Chad shook his head. “Anyway…” He inhaled deeply. “What’re we gonna do? You can’t both ask Y/N out. I think the girl would combust.”

Mindy snapped her fingers and pointed at her brother. “No, I think you’ve got an idea there.” She turned to the women on the couch. “You two should both ask Y/N out. She’ll only say yes to one of you, and this whole thing will be solved.”

“So, we both ask Y/N out…and she chooses?” Tara asked, unsure of the idea of even letting her sister have a chance.

Mindy tilted her head and shrugged. “Well, yeah. I mean, we can’t choose for her. Just…don’t do it at the same time, or on the same day. Chad’s right: she probably would combust if that happened.”

“What about the person she says no to?” Sam asked.

Quinn spoke up. “They’d have to suck it up and accept that Y/N doesn’t like them that way.” She shrugged. “This really is the best way to solve things.”

“What do you think?” Sam asked as she looked at Tara.

“I have a feeling you’ll ask her out even if I say no,” Tara said.

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek, unraveled her hands, and held one out. “Fine. We’ll both ask Y/N out. When you get rejected, you’ll forget you ever thought about her in a way other than friendship.”

Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes but still reached out to shake her sister’s hand. “Whoever gets rejected will forget they thought about Y/N in a romantic way.”

Tara hummed. “Deal.”

“Deal.”

“See?” Mindy said. “That wasn’t so hard!”

Chad fell onto the couch between the sisters. “So, how’re you guys gonna do it?”

* * *

“I just don’t know what to do, JJ,” you said with a sigh, falling back onto your bed. You held your phone above your face so that you could see your best friend on FaceTime. “I mean, she’s so funny, and she’s smart, and she really cares about me--I can tell.” You could feel your cheeks heat up at just the mention of her.

JJ furrowed her eyebrows. “So, what’s the problem? Ask her out, stupid.”

“I can’t.” You bit your bottom lip. “It would mess up…everything.”

“It would only mess things up if she says no, and from the way you talk about her, she’s not gonna say no.”

“No, you don’t get it. Even if she says yes, it would, like, destroy the friend group, and I don’t want to do that. I love these guys. Obviously, they don’t compare to you, but they’re pretty decent people otherwise.” You dragged your free hand down your face and groaned, your stomach dropping at the thought of losing the friends you had made at college. “I hate having feelings for people.”

She chuckled. “You just need to learn to not have feelings for people you’re friends with.”

“Wait until you meet her,” you said. She’s fucking perfect, you thought. “It’s easier said than done.”

“I still think you should do it.” JJ shrugged. “If these people are really your friends, they won’t let your guys’ relationship get in the way. They’ll be happy for you, probably, since you won’t be pining over her anymore.”

“I’m not pining over her!” She gave you an ‘are-you-sure-about-that?’ look. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, maybe I’m pining over her a little bit.” Her face didn’t change. “Okay! A lot!”

She smirked victoriously, and you sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

“I hate you, you know that?”

“You love me--”

JJ was interrupted by a sharp knock on the front door of your apartment. You sat up and furrowed your eyebrows, confused. No one’s coming over today, right?

“What is it?” JJ asked.

“Someone’s at the door.” You shrugged and glanced back at her. “Probably one of my roommates’ friends--” The knock came again, harder this time, and you groaned. “I should get that, I guess. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Yeah. Talk later.”

You shuffled out of your bedroom and to the front door, peeking through the peep-hole. You couldn’t see much beside a head of brown hair and the tint of tan skin, and your heart sped up.

Is it…?

You whipped the door open, grinning from ear to ear, but your smile faltered as you saw who stood in the hallway.

Sam.

She looked up at you, smiling the way you were just seconds ago, her eyes shining with an emotion you couldn’t read. “Hey,” she said.

“Uh, hi,” you said, voice a little too high with disappointment. You cleared your throat. “What’s up?”

Sam shifted on her feet, tucked her hands into her jacket pockets, and swallowed hard. “Could I come in?” she asked.

You could tell she was a little nervous--she was never usually so fidgety--so you nodded and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to step inside. You shut the door behind her and spun around, watching her expectantly.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She opened her mouth, like she was about to say something, and then closed it again. It was starting to make you anxious—seeing someone so confident and sure-of-herself suddenly reduced to nothing more than nerves. You were going to speak up, ask her what was wrong, but you didn’t get the chance as her question tumbled from her lips.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Your eyes widened in shock, mouth falling agape as all of your limbs suddenly felt frozen. You watched as Sam began to shrink in on herself, and a pang of sorrow struck deep in your chest.

“I--I--” you stammered. You inhaled deeply and regained your thoughts. “Sam, I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea…but I don’t like you that way.” Her face fell, and you frowned, hating yourself for having to hurt her. “I’m sorry.”

She took a shaky breath and shook her head, eyes glancing down. “It’s fine.”

“Sam--” You reached out, wanting to offer her some sort of comfort, but it felt wrong if it were to come from you, since you were the reason she needed comforting in the first place.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” She looked at you again and tried to offer you a small smile. It fell flat. “Really, it is.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us. You’re a great friend, Sam, and I’d hate for that to be any different now.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. No, yeah, of course. Nothing’s gonna change.” She shifted again. “I should probably get going.”

“Okay.” You moved to open the door, then paused and looked at her again, anxiety hitting you like a train. “You sure we’re okay?” You didn’t want to lose her, not because of this.

Her features softened as she took you in, picking up on the turmoil coursing through you. “I promise. We’re fine.”

You sighed. “Okay.” You opened the door and watched as she started to leave. She was halfway down the hall when you called out to her. “You really promise?”

She turned around, chuckled softly, and offered you a smile. “I really promise.”

* * *

Even though Sam had double-promised that things were okay between the two of you, and had made good on that promise by inviting you over for dinner with the rest of the group later that same night (to which you had lied and claimed you were busy), you still found yourself wallowing in your bed for the next few days, the image of Sam’s upset-face burned into the backs of your eyelids. You hadn’t even been the one to be rejected, yet you still felt sorry for yourself--sorry that you had to hurt a friend, sorry that you couldn’t like her back, sorry that you had been wishing it was her sister.

You were in the midst of your new daily routine--watching TikToks for hours on end while tucked beneath the comfort of your favorite blanket (that Tara had gifted you for your birthday just a few weeks prior)--when Mindy’s face suddenly appeared on screen, her contact picture sticking its tongue out at you.

Your thumb hovered over the decline button, more than tempted to press it and let yourself fall back into the monotonous routine of scrolling, but the longer you stared at Mindy’s photo, the more you knew you couldn’t avoid her.

“Hey,” you croaked as you answered. Your voice was rough, your throat sore from not using it.

“And where the hell have you been?” Mindy asked quickly, her voice loud over your speaker. You cringed slightly at her words and tried to bury yourself deeper into your mattress.

“I’ve been, you know…around.”

She hummed. “Yeah, okay. Well, I thought I’d give you some sort of heads-up because Tara is on the way to your apartment right now.”

You shot up, holding the phone close to your ear. “What?! Why?!”

“That is a question I cannot answer!” she said.

“Mindy, what--”

Your phone clicked as she hung up.

Almost immediately, there were soft knocks against the front door of your apartment. You scrambled out of your bed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a random sweatshirt from the floor and throwing them on, not bothering to check if they matched.

“I’m coming!” you called out as you walked toward the front door, your head stuck in the armhole of your hoodie. Fucking hell, you thought. Pull yourself together. Once you could finally see again, you pulled the door open and inhaled sharply at the sight.

Tara stood in the hallway, a shy smile on her lips and a blush painting her cheeks, making her freckles stand out even more than usual. One of her arms was outstretched, and in her hand was a bouquet of flowers, waiting to be taken by you.

“Hi,” she said, and just her voice made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey.” You opened the door fully and she slipped inside.

She pushed the flowers further in your direction. “These are for you.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh!” You took them from her, your fingers brushing over her own as you did, and a jolt of electricity zipped up your arm. You tried to ignore it as you said, “Thanks, Tar.”

“Sure.” Her voice was shaking slightly; well, she was shaking slightly.

“Why did you--”

“I want to take you on a date,” she said suddenly and all at once, like she wouldn’t have been able to say the words unless they fell out of her mouth in a jumble.

Deja vu washed over you, sending a shiver down your spine, and all you could get out was a soft, “What?”

Tara tried again, her words slower and more calculated. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take you on a date.”

You swallowed, your brain short circuiting, and, in your stupidity, asked, “What about Sam?”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, unsure of how to respond. “Uh--” A beat of silence passed between you before she found something to say. “Sam’s okay with it. She doesn’t--she doesn’t mind.”

“Oh.” You nodded and glanced down at your feet, suddenly too aware of the way the seams of your socks were resting against your toes. A blush was forcing its way up to your ears in embarrassment. What about Sam?! you thought. You fucking idiot! Who says that? “Cool.” Jesus Christ.

Tara clicked her tongue. “Yeah.” She shoved her hands into her back pockets. “So, about that date, then?”

She was watching you with wide, hopeful eyes, and the softest of smiles, and, god, you just wanted to fall into her.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “Yeah. A date--that sounds good. That sounds really good.” Just shut up, me! You offered her your own smile, watching as she lit up with excitement and joy and--Would it be weird if I kissed her right now?

Tara bit her lip as she grinned, her dimples prominent. “No, I don’t think that would be weird.”

You paled. “Did I--Did I say that last bit out loud?”

She giggled and nodded. “Yeah. Kind of.”

“Oh.” You gulped. “But…it would be okay?”

“It would be more than okay.”

And then your lips were pressed against her, and she sighed into you, and neither of you thought about the flowers that were being squished between you.

bonus: jj <;3 (10:59pm): u done pining yet?

you (11:06pm): shut the fuck up.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #scream 6 #scream 5

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notroosterbradshaw · 1 year

Note

42. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed." With Rooster pleasee (to be honest.. would it be actually a problem?)😂

A/N: this is a bit of a dumpster fire. Every save has failed, so here you have it. I hope you enjoy it. okay, pal, I am going to raise you two tropes:

42. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed."

There was only one bed and

Enemies to... something. Not lovers, but something.

"Because of you... let me rattle this off because this is entirely your fault and I don’t want to miss anything, okay? Because of you, we; one - left late. Nearly two hours to remind you. Two - got the last bedroom. With one goddamn bed!”

Rooster Bradley was wild. And not in that cute, gee, he looks like a fun, cool guy way, but close to a rage blackout. Like he was so ticked off, the ridges of his ears were blushing pink as the rage seared from his strong, broad chest towards his thick neck, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His hands flexed as he tried to control his emotions that were just so out of check. No breathing techniques could save him now.

“I am not staying in here with you,” he seethed. You, on the other hand? Music to your ears! The trip to Tahoe was pure frigging torture, and you were still not sure how you were so unlucky to have to make the ten-hour drive with one of the people you actually despised and you both made it out alive.

The daily issue you had with each other in the air too.

"No sweat," you grinned, thrilled with this development. “Enjoy sleeping anywhere but here, pal,” you pat his muscular pecs and took a step into the room before slammed the door in his face joyously.

Later that night at the dinner table, you could feel Rooster burning a hole into the side of your head, still roasting from your earlier disagreement. Disagreements? Yeah, definitely plural. Not stopping your conversation with Bob, you relinquished your glass of red and said, “Hey Rooster, here’s another bird for you,” you gave him the one-finger salute. "Get over yourself."

The table was silent. You could hear a pin drop.

“More wine please, Mickey?” you asked, utterly refusing to give Rooster Bradshaw another moment of your time. Last you’d heard, he’d committed to either sleeping in his ridiculous car or on the couch. Fine by you, the King size bed was just perfect for little you.

"God, you're so goddamn petulant, I don't know how you managed to get through the ranks... or killed yourself. It's one of the two if I'm really honest."

"Sheer talent, agility and knowing it pisses you off," you raffled off and turned to face him, planting your chin in your palm and batting your eyelashes in his direction. "Gives me all the ammo I need."

"You're such a fuckin' liability," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Jesus, this escalated," Bob muttered to no one in particular.

"Shouldn't have let them drive together," Natasha sighed, putting her head in her hands.

"You know, Hangman, you are right," you said, ignoring your friends and looking at Jake as his eyes bulged.

"How am I getting dragged into this, sweet thing? I mean, I'm always right, but..." he asked, not really wanting to get in the middle of your and his wingman's quarrel. Especially since he was enjoying it so much. He preferred being a spectator in this bout.

"Like you told me on day one... Rooster's just sitting there on his perch and I do all the heavy lifting and saving his ass. Younger, faster, better - " you rattled off.

"Oh, you're so fuckin' outta line - " Rooster roared, standing as you grinned up at him.

"hey, hey, hey," Fanboy's chair screeched as he put a hand on Rooster's chest to remind him of his place.

"Tell me all about it, Bradshaw. Just get it out there and make your peace with the fact you don't like me and have gone out of your day since the beginning to try and stop each and every one of my promotions," you rested your chin in your hand and added a sweet bat of your lashes for good luck. You could see the smoke puff from his ears.

"I don't want to look but I can't look away," Coyote tried to bite back his grin but this had been bubbling under the surface for years. And he was going to witness it explode.

“This has to stop, guys,” Bob tried again.

"Peacemakin' ain't gonna work this time, Baby on Board. It's about time you let these two at it," Hangman sipped his beer but there was no denying that smirk that threatened.

“Look, I can swap with Rooster and bunk,” Natasha sighed, always the peacemaker. “I got a room to myself. You two cannot stay together tonight... or ever.”

A cause for a fight in itself, you dared ask, “How’d you keep that to yourself?”

She shrugged. “Frankly, just wanted to see how long it would be before one of you killed the other. It's clearly much closer than I thought,” she sipped her wine, whetting her lips. “I’ll stay with you," she tenderly pet your face, and felt the heat radiating under your skin. You were riotous and she could feel the fever of whatever it was that Rooster under your skin today. She gave you kudos, how you managed to stay to cool while Rooster erupted was commendable. But Natasha knew things about you the team didn't and that included what was hidden behind the ego.

“Think you can keep your hands to yourself?” you teased.

“I think I can hold it together,” she said as you both laughed.

“Just like the old days.”

You toasted each other.

“You’re off the hook, Bradshaw,” Natasha muttered, not bothering to look at him. “But we get the King.”

Rooster’s face lit up. “Phoenix, you’re on a one-way ticket to heaven.”

"I don't know why you guys just don't put up or front up," Hangman joined the party. "Could cut the sexual tension with a knife, if you ask me."

"No one asked you, Bagman," you and Rooster hissed loudly and Hangman actually shrunk in his chair. It didn't stop the smirks from the others at the table, trying to hide their mirth and Hangman knew... he wasn't on his own of this belief.

"I'm just sayin'," he tried as Coyote nodded beside him. Coyote wholeheartedly agreed. Put that sheer frustration with each other to good use: fly with it, fight with it, fuck with it. Two out of three ain't bad. But it could certainly be better.

"Knock it off, Jake..." Natasha told him. But she found it hard to argue with him. He was right, something had to give between you and for the sake of the team, a truce or ceasefire needed to be called somehow, someway. And it needed to be soon. She couldn't trust you to be on your best behaviour for Payback's wedding tomorrow and God knew she didn't want to have to send either of you to the naughty corner for not keeping your emotions in check with the other.

"And on that note," you pushed back your chair. "Goodnight," you said, standing and leaving before anyone could make an excuse to get you to stay.

"Jesus Christ Jake... could you just keep your trap closed this one time?" Mickey mumbled as you wandered away and you heard Jake laugh.

"Yep, it's just me that can't see right through them... ain't it, right Bradshaw?" Jake taunted his wingman. "Just put that frustration to use, brother."

"You know, Jake, you will never have to worry about me punching you in the fucking face, because I won't have to do it. They will," Rooster rolled his eyes and kept sipping his wine.

"You're gonna kill me," Natasha said a few hours later. "I think I had one glass of wine too many," she said, sitting on her bed, drifting a little. She was woozy, her tummy didn't feel great.

"You okay?" you sat up from your spot on the bed, watching her a little concerned. You grabbed her shoulder and tried to stop her from wobbling but she was pretty off-kilter.

"I don't feel so great," she admitted. "I think I'm a little nauseous."

"Oh, no. Can I get you something? Some water?" you started to get out of bed to help.

"No, I'm just going to freshen up in the en suite for a while. Cool water might help. A shower of something," she said, idly on her legs as she stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door after her. Settling back, you had never heard the sound of anyone being ill the way Natasha currently was.

"Oh, shit," you said, bouncing from the bed and going to the door to open it, but she'd locked it. "Natasha, can I come in?"

"No, don't come in here - " she said before interrupting herself to be sick again.

"Oh, wow," you said quietly to yourself. Okay, the helper in your kicked into gear, leaving Pheonix for the moment to go retrieve a bucket, some towels and anything else that might make her feel a bit better... or at least fend off the hangover for tomorrow.

Rooster was on the couch with Bob when they noticed you going through unfamiliar cupbarods.

"Whatcha need?" Bob asked.

"Your frontseater is vomiting all over a different kind of seat..." you muttered.

"Oh, no," Bob sighed. "Can I help you?"

"No, she's locked herself in the bathroom. She's pretty unwell," you continued searching. "Would anyone have packed any Pepto... or something to try and settle her stomach?"

Rooster groaned standing. "I've got a first aid kit in my car. Let me get it."

You bet if roles were reversed, and Natasha was looking for help for you, Rooster would not be volunteering and quietly thanked him anyway. He didn't bother to reply but came back a few minutes later with a small kit and told you to use whatever you need. "Thanks, Rooster," you said meekly. He nodded as he watched you disappear again.

This was not how the night was supposed to go. You were supposed to be up and gossiping with Natasha, not helping her shower her sick out of her hair and tossing her in your bed because she needed to be close to the room with the ensuite. Everyone had shuffled but it still left you in a pickle.

Well, not just you.

You and Rooster, who could swear he was seconds away from actually sleeping in his car. The threat was real.

“Just stay on your side for god’s sake,” you instructed, rolling to face the door.

“This may be the worst thing that has ever happened in the history of time,” Rooster muttered and you flipped back to him, aghast. “Aside from other stuff in my life that has been tragic…” he clarified, embarrassed.

“You’re a terrible person.”

“Just go to sleep,” he rolled his eyes and turned over himself. Within minutes he was snoring soundly. You picked up your pillow and without a doubt, lifted it over his face ready to just end this madness before thrusting it over your face instead and falling back against the bed.

He slept while you stared at the roof, finally giving in and putting your earphones in your ear to try and drone Rooster out. You were going to be a fright tomorrow. You knew you weren't going to sleep tonight.

Rooster was blissfully comfortable sleeping on his back but rolled just enough so that he was on your pillow and legs pressing against yours.

“You’re infuriating,” you tutted. “This bed is too small for both of us."

Sighing, Rooster was woken. "Jesus Christ, what time is it?"

"Dunno, you've been snoring for an hour or something."

“Well, if Phoenix wasn’t vomiting all over our old room with the ensuite, you would be in there together with all the space in the room and I’d be sleeping in here peacefully.”

“Touch me again and I’m pushing you off the bed.”

He snorted. “I’d surely like to see you try. Go to sleep, you fucking brat."

You heard the muttering before you could feel the tossing and turning. Rolling over and preparing yourself to let loose on him, you noticed Rooster was still asleep. He was restless, covered in sweat and the sheets tangled around him before he jolted up to sit, gasping. He took the dim room in, eyes darting around, trying to familiarise himself with his surroundings. “Where am I?” He asked desperately.

“We’re with the squad, it’s Payback’s wedding weekend in Tahoe,” you said softly.

"What?" you could sense that his brain didn't compute.

“You were having a bad dream, but you're okay. You’re safe. Try and breathe,” you instructed as his shoulders sagged and he tried to do what you asked. You explicitly knew this feeling and laid a gentle palm on his clammy shoulder. “Are you okay?” You asked softly. He stared at you, breathing deeply, putting his face in his hands. His PTSD was a good one, compounded by years of trauma.

You crawled a little closer to him and brushed back his wild curls.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” he didn't answer your question, he could barely meet your eyes. Shame washed over him, the last person he wanted to show this part of himself to was right next to him.

“No,” you lied. “Do you need anything? Can I get you some water?”

Pursing his lips, embarrassed, he looked at the glass on his bedside table and reached to take a sip. "I got it."

It was strange, but the muscles on his strong back still engaged and you gently moved and hug him carefully. You felt him stiffen not soften and you told him softly, “You’re okay Rooster. You’re safe here with me.”

“Thanks, huh?” He said softly, sighing, and kind of melting a little, his body's flight or fight reducing as he inhaled sharply.

“You get those kinds of dreams often?” you dared ask. When didn't reply, you told him that you did once in a while but found it hard to go to people and tell them because you were sure no one would understand, hoping to encourage him.

He shrugged, resting his cheek on your shoulder, hiding his eyes. “Sometimes."

You held him tighter. “Does anyone know?”

“No… just you," he admitted and you knew he hated telling you and if you wanted to hold that power over him.

“Okay. I’m not going to preach to you, you know the drill.”

“Yeah, I do. Thank you.”

“I’m always here if you need me, okay?”

He hummed and you knew you were the absolute last person Rooster Bradshaw would come to if he found himself in this situation again. “Sorry I woke you.”

“That’s okay. I’m just glad you weren’t alone,” you gently pushed him back towards his pillows and shuffled over to snuggle up close.

“You’re a furnace,” he muttered.

“You should be so lucky. Am I too close?” You asked, wanting to protect him but also respect you were well and truly overstepping any boundaries you had before bedtime.

“It’s okay, it’s nice,” he admitted, rolling over and taking you with him, curling you into his back and you let out a surprised shriek as you moved with him. "Sorry... that okay?"

"Yeah," you told him. "That's okay," your small hand gripped his hip, drawing tender circles on the strong muscle. “Go back to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow.”

He yawned instinctively, and took your hand to lace with his fingers and draw your closer. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

You shuffled and released the arm you were laying on to drift up and down his back, the muscles and ridges tensing and relaxing to your touch and you'd swear, you heard him moan quietly. “Go to sleep,” you told him again, softly. “I’m right here, I won’t let anything happen to you, Bradshaw.”

Within a few minutes, you felt his breath change and he was asleep again deeply… but you couldn’t release your hand… and you didn’t want to either. Enjoying the peace his slumber brought and his gentle even breathing, it lulled you to sleep too.

Waking up the next morning, you found yourself still trapped against the warm body of Rooster, but this time he was facing you and it was his chest before you. His strong golden shoulders, muscular pegs, wide ribs, and incredible abs. Sure you weren't still asleep?

But he was awake, looking at you softly with his chin resting in his palm. “Good morning,” he said quietly. You couldn't get a read on him and that concern you.

“Hi,” you said, surprised you’d stayed so close overnight. It was unlike you, you appreciated your space and even when someone else was in your bed, encouraging your own space. “How are you feeling?” you bit back a yawn.

“Great actually,” he admitted. “Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to… you know. Be there for me,” he gently brushed some hair from your forehead and you knew you must have been a mess.

Not surprisingly, Bradley woke up like he just walked off a runway. He was so handsome and you think that was what you disliked most about him. “Anytime,” your body temperature rose in embarrassment and you shuffled back across the bed. He smiled as he watched you, he knew you were a little uncomfy with the closeness and he didn't blame you... he was the same only minutes earlier.

You felt impossibly under scrutiny under his fair gaze and you wondered if he knew how uneasy it made you feel when you were… clearly so fucking attracted to him. You’d take it to the grave, but Hangman was right. You felt something inexplicable and sharing this bed was only blurring those lines terribly.

“What time is it?” You gazed at the window. Still looked pretty early.

“5am.”

“Our body clocks are pathetic, we’re on a weekender,” you said dismally. You wanted to remember what a sleep-in felt like. You imagined in your previous lives you were really good at sleeping past sunrise but you knew as you watched the colours over Bradley's shoulders that the sun would be soon and bring a beautiful day with it by the lake.

He grinned, and it was the first time he ever smiled at you where it met his eyes, his divine honey-coloured orbs. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ll go for a run and let you have some time alone,” he said, pushing himself from the bed and stretching. His body was glorious, but you couldn’t ogle him like this. He started sifting through this leather weekend bag, looking for his gym clothes and trainers.

“Rooster?”

“Yeah, kid?” He looked up expectedly as you pulled the duvet back up maintaining as much decency your nightshirt allowed. His eyes darted from your thighs to your face, and if you blinked, you'd have missed the way his tongue darted out and wet his lower lip.

“It’s your break too…” you rolled your back away from him and snuggled back into the pillow. You knew he was perplexed but when the bed gently rocked and he got back under the covers and snuggled up behind you, resting his calloused palm on your hip, he breathed, and you heard his lungs shake. The power in the room had changed and you were both confused, but this felt just right.

"You burn hot," he told you softly.

"I've been told," you smiled gently to yourself as he chuckled quietly, and adjusted his hand to rest flush against your belly, his cheek snuggled into your shoulder.

But you knew it implicitly: you wanted Bradley Bradshaw…

And you probably always had.

SEND ME A PROMPT, I’LL WRITE YOU A DRABBLE.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

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corrodedcoughin · 1 year

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just thinking out loud but the Steve going to college because believe it or not he’s finally found a very specific course that catches his interest and it happens to be in Fort Wayne so he can still check in on the kids. It gets even better when Robin and Nancy decide they want to stay local too so they all pack together and get excited (and nervous) about moving.

The time comes and they leave Hawkins and suddenly it’s the first proper day of classes. The three of them are spread over the campus so Steve treks alone to his first class, the reason he chose the college in the first place: Introduction to Folklore.

He’s so ready to learn about something he’s finally interested in. Doesn’t pay attention to the usual seating conventions and social status, just wants to know where they’ll be starting, cliques and popularity contests a long gone part of his life.

The professor is in her stride, painting a picture with her stories of creatures from folklore and the origins, Steve can’t believe it but he’s genuinely excited to learn for once. The pinpoint accuracy focus on the professor is shattered when a voice erupts next to him

‘That’s great and everything but shouldn’t there have been a moth man lover sighting by now? Where is the justice for this noble creature I ask you? I know there’s monster fuckers out there professor.’

The professor slowly engages the guy in conversation but Steve is seething. Who does this guy think he is? Does he think this is a private class just for him? That Steve isn’t paying good money to be here? So pen clenched in a white knuckled hand Steve lets his bitchy temperament get the better of him ‘I thought this was a folklore class? Not a self insert romance lit course’ he clearly says it too loud because the boy next to him. The one who started all this turns to Steve and raises an eyebrow, a smug smile on his face and lets out a ‘huh interesting’ and what’s Steve supposed to do with that? And more importantly what’s Steve supposed to do with the fact that the guy is stupid hot with this long hair, tattoo combo and that the smug look on his face definitely made Steve’s heartbeat thunder in his ears? Out of rage on behalf of his fellow students, of course.

Turns out it doesn’t matter, the class is over and Steve is running out the door, determined not to get caught by those eyes again.

It starts off a Thing between them. Every week the guy, Eddie, will challenge the lecturer with some inane point that Steve refuses to accept he actually believes to the point of Steve firing back an argument at him. Eventually they are full on debates in the middle of the class that the professor has to mediate after eddie decided that standing on the table would be appropriate (of course, not to be outdone, steve followed).

They absolutely do not have a thing for each other and the rest of the class absolutely do have a sweepstakes on when they’ll get together

#listen this could be a huge meandering story about them arguing in class #being teamed up by the lecturer for a project #researching a local folklore story #AND HELLO ITS DEMOGORGANS DEMOBATS UPSIDE DOWN BREAKING FOLKLORE THSTS BEEN SECRET FIR SO LONG #the kids join in Nancy and Robin and jargyle join in #interviewing jopper for more info #Wayne moved AWAY from hawkins when he got Eddie but he knows the stories #it could be such a big fun story #alas I cannot write more than ten words before I lose the plot #nice in theory though #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #enemies (not really) to lovers #Eddie dresses up as mothman because I SAID SO #Steve catches him as mothman with Gareth and Jeff one night shining torches on him to attract moths #’yes this is science /Steve/‘#’GUYS TORCHES BACK ON ME COME ON’#’oh so /this/ is the famous Steve. what do you think Gareth?’#’im just shocked he’s real. maybe monster fucker munson has changed his ways’#’SHUT THE FUCK UP I SWEAR TO CHRIST’#Steve:😲#(sorry I’ll go back in my cave now)

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miguelswifey04 · 10 months

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rivals (miguel x spider! reader)

“miguel let go of me! you don’t know what you’re doing!!” you yelled as you put an arm’s distance between the two of you. he had pounced on you and pushed you against a wall, pining you wrists above your head.

miguel’s grip tightens on your wrists, his nails digging into your flesh. he leans down, his voice dripping with aggression and possessiveness.

“oh, i know exactly what I'm doing. don’t you dare try to stop me," he hisses, his eyes flickering with anger. his grip on you tightens, leaving faint imprints on your skin.

“you think you can just help miles? do you really think that little traitor deserves to be saved?" he sneers, his face inches from yours. you weren’t scared of him. nah, he should be scared of the fact you had a grin on your face. a menacing one.

“you think you can do whatever you think it’s right?!” you scoffed while squinted your eyes up at miguel who’s face was inches away from yours. you he hear him grunt and the way his nostrils flared in anger. you kind of liked seeing him angry like this, but you weren’t gonna tell him that.

miguel's grip on your shoulders tightens even more, his face contorting with anger. he moves his face closer to yours, his breath hot against your skin.

“you don't get it, do you?" he growls, his voice laced with frustration. "i’ve seen what miles is capable of. he’s dangerous, and he needs to be contained. i won’t let you be fooled by him."

his words are harsh, filled with a possessive determination. his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “he’s 15??! what are you? scared of him?” you laughed at his face. you can’t believe he was going ballistic over a 15 year old kid who just wanted to save his own father.

miguel’s grip on your wrists tightens even further, his nails digging into your skin. he leans in closer, his voice low and dangerous.

scared? me? ha! i’m not scared of that little punk. i’m furious. furious that you would throw your lot in with him, betraying everything we had," he seethes, his anger palpable.

the force of his grip makes you wince, but he doesn't let up. his eyes darken with a mix of rage and hurt.

“are you crazy? you must be!” you yelled as he tried to loosen his grip on your wrists but to no avail. his face was super closer and you could feel the way his breath would trickle down to your neck, you gulped thickly.

“you think i’m crazy? maybe i am. but don't you dare underestimate me, darling," he spits, emphasizing the word with venom. "i’ll make sure you understand what it truly means to cross me.”

“i ain’t scared of you.” you laughed as you had just mocked him. oh you definitely shouldn’t have done that.

niguel's grip on your shoulders tightens even more, his fingers digging into your flesh. his face twists with a mixture of anger and frustration, his eyes burning with intensity.

“you should be scared," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you have no idea what I'm capable of."

with a sudden surge of anger, he tightens his grip even further, causing you to wince in pain. but before you can react, he releases you, turning away with a dark chuckle.

“fine, if you're not scared, then prove it. make your move. but remember, I always get what I want," he sneers, his words laced with a possessive edge.

…

a/n: part 2 here

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mtchacffinz · 1 year

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tempestuous temper, kalpas pt. 1

prompt! "Sorry I didn't mean to moan like that my bad" but it worked in your favor 🤭

content! kalpas x fem!reader, manhandling, size kink, Kalpas dense dumbass, REALLY thirsty reader, extremely explicit

note! oh you guys aren't ready for me when I say I'm one of the biggest Kalpas dick rider over here i swear to god. this is pretty self indulgent so it has AFAB pronouns </3 by the way he hasn't shoved his dick in you here yet LMALOO.... yet.....

Kalpas was rude and unapproachable. His malice seeps off his entire body whenever you even show a slight interest in him with those pretty eyes of yours. The Flame-Chaser was dense and quick tempered, easily pissed off, and always looking for trouble.

You, however..

You were usually a sweet girl, a very very sweet girl. The kind of lady who gives flowers every so often to people she cherishes— you know, the kind who praises and pampers her friends every chance she gets. You were reserved, cheerful, polite, keep to yourself, and most of all, you really work hard. As a soldier, you believed that every life must be treated preciously, as if you only have one duty: to help create a sanctuary for humanity free of— or less of Honkai.

These attributes of yours served you tremendously. The Halo Effect never fails to accentuate your genuine kindness and tenderness you give out to others. But alas, such as Kalpas, Mobius, and many nameless others, it's often looked down upon when it's given correspondence to your occupation.

But the itch.. that undeniable itch you get just by letting your mind wander even for a little bit.. It's dangerous. Especially for mind readers in the MOTHS, you're sure to believe the Su himself started to mind his own business when he even catches a glimpse of you drooling. Your height has a big gap in-between the lines of those measuring meters with everybody else— His body could easily tower over you long before he even got his transformative surgery done (even if you had not seen it for yourself, Elysia has told you many times!). You shift your body from where you stand. Those quick glances you give Kalpas every time your paths pass— every stolen gaze would leave him wondering: what the fuck is your problem? Are you looking for a fight?

So one time, Kalpas decides to act upon it. His booming footsteps echoed all throughout the lobby signifying his entrance. His mask didn't manage to make you feel better as his whole tall, and jacked figure loom over yours— back against the wall both figuratively and literally.

His temper was like a ripple in a wave, one swift motion and everything follows through his rage. But you.. you weren't scared at all. In fact, you were terrified. You were panicking! What now? What has he learned? Did he manage to read your mind? Does he know you want him to wrap those big, cold, veiny hands of his on your neck? From the way you're averting your eyes mashed with the way you stumble on your words, Kalpas knew something was wrong. Unaware of your.. well, unorthodox thoughts— he starts to feel excitement himself. After all, a person showing absolutely no signs of a mean bone in their body, looking so small under his eyes, jittering with crossed arms, Kalpas thinks he definitely hit something in your nerves.

Kalpas wants to see you seethe with rage. He needs to get a rise out of you. You're fucking boring! He can't stand being in the same room with someone all smiles and flowers! Sure, he's seen you bathed in blood and dust— but surely you could be more grand than that? With each tick the clock makes, he grows impatient.

"You gonna say something or what?" His voice sultry and low. More often than not, he wonders what even led you here to this treacherous path. Especially where your ideals lie on hopeful visions of image-less salvation— where even the world itself spoke openly of a war neverending. A war where he would become the smoke, the dust, and the blood soaked dirt of the very plane you stand; someone as soft and cute as you.

You, however, couldn't bring yourself to even say a thing. Not one word out of your mouth. You're afraid that if you even say one thing, something else would come out. Kalpas is staring down at you hard. From the way he's eyeing you, you would've thought he's already eating bits and pieces of your soul. Then again, you would've loved to do the same— just not in a way he thinks. Really, looking up at him top to bottom, you're dying to taste him in your mouth this instant. That bitter, wet after taste on your tongue kept plaguing your phantasmic senses; so much so that you unconsciously lick your lips.

Gross.. you're a pervert. And as this whole ordeal prolongs, you're starting to come to terms with it, internally chuckling at the irony of it all. If only you were bold enough like Elysia, even charming enough like Eden— or perhaps as mesmerizing as a Serpent like Mobius, then maybe, just maybe you would bat your eyelashes at him flirtatiously and shoot your shot?

But you're not crazy. Maybe down horrendously bad, but not insane.

But when he started putting those hands of his on your body, that's when you started to get increasingly nervous. Kalpas, without restraint, grabs your collar and pulls your frame closer to his. His forearm rests behind you leaving you nowhere to look but him. Your throat lets out a suppressed yelp. Suddenly, the air was hotter and the colors were a little more indistinguishable. Heat started creeping up on your face, spine tingling with every breath he heaved behind his mask. Oh.. that tickles.. and suddenly, the floor was quite interesting. But that didn't work. You can't see the floor now that his chest is obscuring your vision.

Kalpas could very much sense that something is wrong. First of all, you're not giving the reaction he wants from you. Where's the narrowed eye glare? Or even a seat from your hands now that his fist is curled on your collar? Come to think of it, you're being awfully submissive to his taunts. Even if he came here with a second agenda, isn't hostility a normal reaction? For God's sake. You're insufferable. Your cheeks puffed out in a pout, averting his figure like a goddamn plague— he finds surprise in your hands trailing their way towards his arm, holding onto it gently.

"Kalpas. I don't like telling people what to do."

"So your mouths finally serving you? Good."

You gulp a little, looking up at him while he loosens his hold on your collar. Part of you yearned him to caress your cheek, but he was no sweet man. He's a funny guy. You like his humour. But you can't help but think— what is he here for? Before letting you even have a heave of peace, Kalpas suddenly turns you over, and toss you on his shoulders. His big, warm hands grabbed your waist, and you let out a small noise.

Noise. It was a noise. You swear it was a noise, not a moan or anything.

Kalpas suddenly tenses up, stopping in his tracks with you still in his arms. His grip on you almost loosens, as you limp weakly into his arms. Oh wow. Your face is basically a CPU heating up. You were shaking and quivering from the humiliation that you wished you could just be thrown across the room head first now.

"Don't—... Don't say anything." You could tell he was a little surprised, but he carries on like nothing happened. You can't even focus on your surroundings right now because all you could think was fifteen thousand thoughts about how weird you are and he's never ever going to approach nor talk to you again. In my opinion, that's a little far fetched. He's a weird guy as well! It's not just you who should be at fault ~

Kalpas grumbles under his breath. You didn't quite catch it, but you couldn't care less. Not when his scent was mere centimeters away from your nose.. this is something you will not be forgetting that's for sure.

Oh, you kinda want to bite him. Before you entertain the thought, Kalpas once again grabs you by the waist and tosses you across the couch of the lounge. For a moment, you were stricken with dizziness— your body bouncing a little upon the cushions.

Confused, maybe a little shocked (and definitely turned on) you space out a moment, only being brought back to reality when Kalpas slams the door closed.

He was gone.

What just happened?

"Oh, hi~ you're here!" You quickly turn towards the source of that sweet, cooing voice. Elysia stood just a few meters away from you, a sly smile on his face. "Enjoyed the ride I organized for you?"

"Elysia!"

"Hee-hee, a ride.."

this was a silly thirst i did lmao, it was sitting in my drafts for a while, so here ~

#hi3 #honkai impact #kalpas x reader #kalpas #honkai impact x reader #honkai impact kalpas x reader #i can take him by the way

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hael987 · 1 year

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omg @lutawolf I just watched ep 7 and that scene where Soo-Ho finds out Shi-Eun was hurt and even hospitalised, and goes to find him and the tension in that scene at the door.

The look in his eyes. When he clocks the cast on the hand and he’s trying to keep his cool but he’s seething underneath it all.

The pain 😭 the love 😭 the care 😭 the fact the Shi-Eun probably never even had anyone in his life to ask him that before and actually mean it 😭

The subtle lip tremble and clenching at the end, tamping down on his emotions when he realises Shi-Eun is going to continue to hide it from him to try protect him. He’s trying to keep his cool. He’s so close to losing it. The sadness of knowing he’s hurt. The rage at those who did it and maybe also himself because it happened and he didn’t even know when it’s related to him. The guilt, thinking it’s his fault.

Still taking the time to care about Shi-Eun’s schooling. He knows it’s a thing Shi-Eun values in his life so even amongst all this pain and anguish he makes sure Shi-Eun can still do it because he knows it’s important. And the fact that Shi-Eun even risked it for him in the first place? Devastating. The way it also means "stop avoiding me, I don't want you to hide from me, I’m here with you".

The controlled and calculated manner in which he broke the guy's fingers afterward, the pure fury in that action. He is seething and with one action we all know why. The contrast between this Soo-Ho and the one we see when he’s with Shi-Eun. What happens when you touch his reverse scale.

@maryallenc-tries-to-write you were so right about what you said before, it’s a different flavour but it’s so great to watch Shi-Eun fight to protect him and then him lose it over Shi-Eun (and then I assume we see Shi-Eun lose it next ep but I haven't watched yet) unlike Stephen’s determined but passive forbearance of suffering to protect Gray and keep him out of the loop as he shields him from it all, scoring 100 on the test and everything else he did, and Gray not being able to do anything until after the fact (when he loses it after the loss and goes after Bryce and Oswald's gang) in the webtoon. Both equally moving, but definitely different. That feeling of mutual protection in the series is great to watch.

And the manner of Shi-Eun’s loss (for lack of a better word) of Soo-Ho is equally as devastating as Gray’s loss of Stephen. Shi-Eun still losing his light from his life despite fighting hard to protect him really got me so emotional. That promise of “see you tomorrow” that Soo-Ho’s now not going to be able to keep 😢

#weak hero class 1 #weak hero class 1 ep 7 #yeon shi eun #ahn sooho #please excuse the awful quality gifs but screenshots weren’t doing my emotions justice #had to rely on screen record #using the Korean names for the drama vs English names for the webtoon #I’m not emotionally prepared for ep 8 #weak hero class 1 spoilers #weak hero spoilers #long post

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icey--stars · 5 months

Text

Part 2: 5.2k words, Azriel's POV

Series Index

A story of finding solace in another. Azriel finds himself needing danger in a peaceful world, and what is better than the Autumn Court, ruled by his old nemesis, Eris Vanserra?

a/n: hehehe

WARNINGS: alcohol (not extreme)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Azriel

Eris was wearing his usual jewelry. Three rings per hand, all varying in style and make. The only one that ever caught his attention was the one that was a nice shiny gold and had little black swirls going all over it. A plain, simple ring to anyone with an eye for jewelry, but Azriel liked it. Though the fact it belonged to Eris made him want to burn it with the pointer finger it was attached to. At least today, Eris on his left ear, had a bunch of little pin earrings: a leaf, a tree, and a shield. In his right ear, however, the male had a bright red ruby jutting from the main piercing in his lope, with a thin gold chain going up to the point of his ear, where it was attached with a gold cuff.

Cauldron- why was he being so distracted by Eris’s jewelry of all things? Was he really that bored? Maybe it was that itch making him do it– wanting to ignore Eris for longer than is polite to anger the male. That made sense. Even if he also couldn’t keep his eyes off the wavy, red hair that swept just past Eris’s revealed collarbones.

“The Night Court,” Azriel snapped at last. “Is perfectly fulfilling.”

Eris lifted one of those copper brows, those amber eyes staring directly into his. “Seems unlikely,” he said, tone crawling. With the opening of the High Lord’s mouth, he smelled the familiar aroma of cigarettes. But according to all known sources– Eris didn’t smoke. He must’ve just decided to hang out with someone who was smoking.

Azriel scoffed at his words, blood pumping faster as he felt anger rising in his veins. Just what he was looking for.

“Tell me, shadowsinger, why are you here?” Eris asked.

He felt like snapping back some childish response like ‘because I can be’ or something similar, but he knew he shouldn’t. It’d be too obvious he was looking for a fight then, and it’d leave him feeling unfulfilled in the long run.

“Rhys sent me,” he lied. Rhys didn’t even have a damn clue he was here.

Eris lifted one of those auburn brows, as if skeptical. “Then tell me, what does the High Lord of the Night Court want with me now? Our bargain ended as soon as Beron died, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Azriel curled his hand into a fist. “I don’t have to tell you anything.” Wrong, technically, since Eris had caught him, he could ask all the questions he wanted. Being a high rank from an opposing court, allied or not, he was required to answer some basic questions to keep the peace.

Eris reached a hand over to toy with one of his rings. The one that Azriel liked. He tried not to stare at the pale fingers curling around that gold band. “Hmm,” Eris hummed, a small smirk on his face. “You look a bit uptight, shadowsinger. Care to explain why?”

“No,” Azriel ground out, gritting his teeth.

Eris’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “You’re no fun at all, come on now, won’t you at least try to have a little fun?”

“You aren’t exactly my definition of fun,” Azriel retorted, crossing his arms with his hands still tightly wound as fists. He was seething at Eris’s behavior. Absolutely raging. It was exactly what he wanted.

“Aw,” Eris cooed. “I’m hurt. Honestly, we’ve had so much fun together!”

Absolutely Cauldron-awful meetings more like it. Eris had enjoyed toying with him, and reaching out to curl a finger along his shadows or smirking when Azriel attempted to gauge his reaction to something. Eris was just irritating. The siphons on his hands were glowing slightly from that anger and pent up energy and anxiety.

“Sure,” He replied at last.

Eris rolled his eyes dramatically. “Tell me, shadowsinger, why are you here? So uptight, and angry.”

“You don’t know that,” Azriel retorted.

“Do you honestly think I’m dumb enough to not see your fists and glowing rocks? I was a general of the army, Azriel. I know exactly what work you do, and exactly how to do it myself.”

“Doubtful, and they’re called siphons,” Azriel retorted, growling out his response like it was a piece of rotten meat.

Eris chuckled, but the smile on his face didn’t crinkle up at his eyes, showing the fakeness of the entire gesture. “You certainly can avoid a question like the plague, I’ll give you that. But, I’m growing bored of your games. Tell me why you’re entering the Autumn Court.”

“You think you can order me around?” Azriel taunted. “I only listen to Rhys.”

“Clearly,” Eris said, rolling those amber eyes. “Perhaps I should tell him about your idiotic behavior at dinner then.”

Dinner? Was Eris really going to plan a dinner with Rhysand just to complain about him? What a wasted effort. Eris would be better off putting effort into planning dinner with some continental kingdom rather than Rhys. Azriel had suffered enough dinners in Hewn City for “keeping allies close” enough to last his entire immortal life. Rhys had insisted he be there of course, and Azriel technically had gleaned a lot of information from them, but he could go without another.

“Put your effort somewhere else,” Azriel replied. “If you hate me that much, perhaps I should come here more often.”

Eris scoffed, eyes going up like he was exasperated. “Oh yes, you’d be so pleasant to have around. An absolute joy with all your brooding, sulking looks and glares. I would just be overjoyed to have you around.” Eris sounded so incredibly sarcastic that he almost wanted to laugh at the emphasis he put on particular words. But he wouldn’t because it was Eris.

“Anyway, shadowsinger,” Eris drawled, voice a lot more serious now. “I suggest you run along instead of tormenting my guards.”

“I didn’t even talk to them,” Azriel said, rolling his eyes.

“And that is the exact problem,” Eris stated as if it was obvious and Azriel was the fool. Oh, Eris got under his skin. “Next time you decide to spontaneously visit the Autumn Court, at least make sure to declare you mean no harm or my guards will bother me when I’m in the middle of a council meeting out of fear of the notorious spymaster and shadowsinger of the Night Court. You should know by now that your reputation sparks fear by now.”

Azriel knew it all too well. “Very well, Eris.”

A side of Eris’s lips tilted up. “Have a good day, shadowsinger. See you soon.”

Azriel winnowed back to the Night Court without another word. How pretentious of Eris to assume he’d return. His skin felt like it was crawling still, with that damned itch for danger. So he opened up his alcohol cabinet in his apartment and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

He chucked back two shots before he felt some sort of effect from the alcohol. The itch was suppressed just enough that he could think somewhat properly.

But Rhys’s claws around his shields and then his voice echoing through his mind set him on edge. Azriel, are you busy? I just realized I forgot to tell you something.

What is it? Azriel asked.

I’d rather tell you in person since it’s so short notice.

Fine, give me a moment.

See you in a few.

Azriel felt Rhys leave his mind and sighed, checking he had Truth-Teller on him before winnowing to the River House. He found Rhys through the winding hallways in his office, the top of a pen being chewed on slightly and his wings laying more relaxed behind him.

“What is it?” Azriel asked. “Is there some danger?”

Rhys’s brows furrowed. “What? No. I just forgot to tell you about a formal dinner we’re having this evening here.”

“Who’s it with?” Azriel asked, settling into a low-backed chair in front of Rhys’s desk. His shadows swirled around him calmly.

“Helion, the Lady of Autumn, and then Eris Vanserra-”

Azriel stopped listening to Rhys at the last name. Even the whispers constantly coming from his shadows stopped. Eris Vanserra. Of all people.

“You think you can order me around?” Azriel taunted. “I only listen to Rhys.”

“Clearly,” Eris said, rolling those amber eyes. “Perhaps I should tell him about your idiotic behavior at dinner then.”

Eris wasn’t going to plan dinner. No, he already had a plan and Rhys had forgotten to tell him so he sounded like a dumbass.

“Az?” Rhys snapped in front of his face and he jerked his attention back to his High Lord.

“What?” Azriel asked.

“I asked you a question.”

“What was it? I wasn’t entirely listening. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was wondering if you were alright. You zoned out.”

“I’m fine,” Azriel dismissed. “So tonight? Hewn City?”

“No. The River House,” Rhys said. “I figured I should try to ally with the Autumn Court and seeing as Helion tends to keep the mood light, I figured I could talk trade and be friendly with them all here in Velaris.”

“Ah,” Azriel hummed, looking down at his own feet that were planted on the floor. “Did you forget to tell everyone, or just me?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell Cass too, don’t worry. Mor and Amren only knew because they helped me deal with it. I’m sorry for the short notice, though, brother. I know you like to be better prepared.”

“It’s fine,” Azriel responded. “So you want to do this for trade?”

“Alliances too. With Eris on the throne of Autumn, we have a much better chance at achieving that.”

“I suppose so,” Azriel agreed. “So I need to pull out some formal suit from my closet or what? What time are they arriving?”

“I planned for them to arrive around six. Since it’s winter, it also happens to be night at that point and we could show off the Night Court’s skies. You can dress however you want, but I’ll have my wings out if that helps at all.”

Much more casual then, Azriel deduced. If it had been formal, they’d likely have the dinner at the House of Wind and Rhys’s wings would be hidden all night long.

“Alright,” Azriel said. “I won’t wear my leathers then.”

Rhys smiled slightly. “Thank you, Az. I think this will help the Night Court greatly. And Prythian, to finally be allied.”

Azriel nodded in agreement mutely. “I’ll see you later, Rhys,” he murmured before disappearing in a burst of shadows.

Of all times for Rhys to forget to tell him about something. It happened every once in a while that he initially wasn’t too surprised. His brother was a busy, busy male for being High Lord, just like he was normally busy with Spymaster work.

Groaning, he went toward his closet and opened the door with a sigh. He passed his various leathers from over the years and found his formal wear section. He pulled out a black button-up dress shirt with a black pair of dress pants.

However, it seemed bland and for some reason, Azriel decided to care this evening. Perhaps he wanted to seem unaffected to Eris since he’d been warned on such short notice. Looking all dressed up and nice was a version of defense, just one he employed much less often. He preferred a knife.

He glanced around his closet but his shadows pulled his attention towards a piece of clothing he only wore once or twice over the centuries. A black vest with silver threading that had overlapping cross-sections of fabric in the front to create an interesting pattern on his front and easy latching on the back for his wings.

He rubbed his forehead slightly before giving in to the choice of his shadows. Cassian would probably tease him for it, but he could care less right now.

Master, get dressed!

“It is not anywhere close to dinner yet,” Azriel snapped back. “I’ll arrive late, I don’t care.”

You do, they pointed out.

Azriel rolled his eyes and set the folded pants, vest, and shirt on his bed. “I have a better idea.”

And what is that, Master?

“A bath,” Azriel pointed out while walking toward the bathroom. “Get the damned scent of Autumn off me.”

Very well, Master.

“Keep an eye out on the River House and tell me when our guests arrive,” Azriel directed as he turned on the bath to let the water begin to fill the tub.

A few shadows disappeared to obey while he undressed to slide into a warm tub of water. At least he could semi-relax here. It was pleasant to have the warm water splashing up against his wings slightly when he shifted.

His thoughts trailed back to Eris Vanserra against his will, however. The red-haired male always got under his skin in some of the best and worst ways imaginable. With him as High Lord of Autumn now as well as of quite recently, it seemed inevitable that the male would continue to annoy him.

Mostly in the ways that he had changed since becoming High Lord. With Beron Vanserra dead, all of the Vanserra brothers, even the most cruel of them all, seemed to take a deep sigh of relief and relaxed. Eris was no longer the infinitely cruel male who did his father’s bidding, but he was a male who was trying to make a positive change in the world.

After all, the Autumn Court had never looked better. The leaves were brighter than the last time Azriel had seen them and the entire atmosphere of the Autumn Court had changed. It seemed… less, somehow. Less cruel. Less mysterious. And more friendly. The people were happier. Calmer. Eris was making positive changes in the court and nobody could deny that.

However, that only annoyed Azriel even more because there wasn’t even a reason to be angry at the male anymore. It was just… Eris seemed a lot like Rhysand. A mask of cruelty until freed from their father’s expectations and finally able to make changes. Sure, Eris’s changes seemed a bit more radical than Rhys’s, but they were still good changes.

He’d even been working to provide social equality to the lesser fae in Autumn. He’d been working to lessen poverty and reduce the rich in Autumn to create a healthier economy and society. Azriel had even heard rumors of Eris building playgrounds and funding orphanages since they were overcrowded since the war against Koschei and Hybern.

Azriel groaned and tugged on his hair to try and focus his thoughts off the Autumn Court and Eris Vanserra. He didn’t need the male to get any more full of himself. That was about the only thing that didn’t change when he became High Lord. Luckily, his shadows seemed to interrupt at the perfect moment.

Master, Helion, and the Lady of Autumn have arrived at the River House.

Azriel groaned. “Fine,” he muttered and stood quickly from the bath to dry off, shaking off his wings briefly before pulling on some boxers and then moving to put on the dress pants.

He stretched his wings wide before pulling on the black dress shirt, clipping it behind his back around his wings, and then pulling the vest over his arms, over his wings, and then securing it by buttons on both his front and back.

He felt familiar dark claws brushing against his mental shield and opened a crack for Rhys to slip through.

Brother, Helion is here.

I know, he thought back. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m flying over.

Eris just arrived. Don’t be too late, Az.

I’m about to fly over as we speak, Rhys. I can be fashionably late.

He heard a slight chuckle from Rhys before his High Lord slid out of his mind and Azriel resealed the crack in his shield.

He briefly looked in the mirror and sighed, using a comb to tackle his hair the best he could. It would dry and hopefully settle into something reasonable on the flight over.

His wings were still somewhat wet as he stepped outside of his apartment and leaped into the air. He pumped his wings hard against the wind, a strong headwind blowing against him. The fading light was beautiful at this time of evening.

“Is there anyone else with Eris?” Azriel asked his shadows.

Yes, Master. The Autumn Lord’s other brothers. Jax, Hue, and Kuhn. Lucien is hiding in his room.

Azriel scoffed, chuckling a little bit at the extra bit of information he didn’t ask for. “Well, hopefully, he’ll come out then. I’m sure someone could coax it out of him.”

Doubtful, Master. He is shaking.

“Stop spying on the Heir of Day,” he told them. “Give him some privacy. If he wants to panic about his half-brothers being nearby, then I don’t want to know.

Very well, Master.

Azriel rolled his eyes and pumped his wings a little harder to fight the headwind and make it over to the River House. When he finally made it, he spotted a group standing outside. Rhys with Feyre, Amren standing off to the side and Mor nowhere to be seen. Cassian was there, leaning against a pillar with Nesta who seemed entirely too happy to glare at the High Lord of Autumn and his brothers who were standing in a loose arrow formation.

He landed smoothly beside Rhys and Feyre, letting his shadows roll out in groves on the floor.

Eris spared a glance at him. “So nice to see you again so soon, shadowsinger,” he taunted.

Azriel raised an unimpressed brow. “Eris,” he acknowledged.

Rhys glanced at him but opened his arms in greeting. “How are you, Eris? Your mother and Helion are already inside. It seems I inadvertently planned a Vanserra family reunion in the Night Court.”

Eris smirked and seemed to force a small chuckle out. “I assure you, our family reunions these days are quite calm.”

The side of Rhys’s lip twitched up. “Then let's head inside. Dinner won’t be for a little bit, but I have a comfortable sitting room with alcohol that I’m sure we can all enjoy.”

Azriel perked up at the mention of alcohol, his wings getting held just slightly higher. If he wanted to deal with more of Eris’s smirking, he needed to be an inch closer to shit-faced drunk. Rhys might not want him that drunk, but he was still pretty damn good at being intimidating in any state.

As Rhys and everyone turned to walk inside the River House, Azriel waited patiently, making sure none of the brothers were armed with anything that was meant to be threatening. He had Truth-Teller, of course, but he always had Truth-Teller and it was at least hidden at these types of events, normally accessible through his pant’s pocket slit.

“You clean up well, shadowsinger.” Eris’s voice startled him slightly and he realized Eris had stopped as his brothers followed his family inside.

Azriel narrowed his eyes, casting a small glance down Eris’s own body to examine the clothing he wore. It wasn’t any different than what he was wearing before when Azriel was in the Autumn Court, but it was slightly nicer. The male was still wearing his rings and earrings. Gold and a single silver ring on his thumb, Azriel noticed. He wondered if it meant anything.

“And you look the same,” Azriel replied finally, raising his gaze back up to meet the redhead’s. That amber gaze seemed to tear him apart and gave him an odd feeling of safety at the same time. Probably because he was in control on his turf now, Azriel determined.

Eris sighed, rolling his eyes. “That was a compliment, shadowsinger, if you’ve never managed to get one before.”

“Thank you,” Azriel replied curtly. “Shall we head inside?”

Eris scoffed as if annoyed at Azriel’s lack of reaction. “Very well, shadowsinger.”

Eris walked into the River House and Azriel followed, shutting the door to keep out the cold. Eris turned to glare at the door for a moment before seemingly settling himself and following Rhys straight under the stairs to the main sitting room.

“Eris!” Helion’s booming voice greeted. “How are you?”

“I’m well, Helion. And you?” Eris replied, going to sit down in an armchair near the couch where his brothers were sitting. Azriel, seeing no seats not by anyone, pulled a stool from the corner to sit on and fan his wings slightly.

There was more polite wording exchanged between the three High Lords and a couple of hugs given by the Lady of Autumn, but nothing too interesting.

“Can I ask where exactly my son is hiding away?” Helion asked. “He seems to be missing.”

Rhys chuckled. “I’m sure he’s around, Helion.”

“Is he in his room?” Lady Merle of Autumn asked. “I can go get him.”

Azriel glanced at his shadows in a silent order. A few whisked away stealthily. Within moments, they were reporting Lucien leaning against the hallway wall, banging his head against it. He fought back a smile and merely said to the group, “Lucien will be along in a few minutes.”

Rhys shot him a look and Azriel opened his mind.

Lucien is currently banging his head against a wall, Azriel stated plainly.

There was a chuckle aloud from Rhys and he shot a small grin toward Azriel.

Oh, how wonderful. Should Lady Merle go to retrieve her son or shall we leave him to his misery? With Elain in Vallahan for a month, he seems to have lost his mind.

He’s been in a similar state for quite some time, so I suggest having someone lead her to poor Lucien’s location outside his room.

How about you do it, Rhys suggested.

Azriel shot him a look but let out a breath and dipped his head. “Lady Merle, I can show you to Lucien.”

She immediately stood. “Thank you, spymaster.”

Azriel dipped his head in acknowledgment and held the door to the sitting room open for her as they walked out.

“Your son is currently a tad stressed,” Azriel explained.

“How so? How do you know?”

“My shadows have told me many things, but your son is currently banging his head against a wall.”

Lady Merle put a hand to her face, hiding a very obvious smile going by the way her eyes were crinkling up. “Oh dear,” she said, schooling her expression. “Is he alright?”

“I have a feeling he merely needs a confidence boost,” Azriel replied.

She nodded. “Lead the way, shadowsinger.”

“You may call me Azriel if you wish,” he murmured, leading the way confidently down the hallways to Lucien’s location.

“Azriel,” Lady Merle repeated with a smile. “Apologies.”

“No offense taken. I am called much worse,” Azriel replied. He had been called much, much worse. He paused at a corner. “Your son is just around the corner. I have a feeling that I will not be of any assistance, so I will leave you here.”

Lady Merle dipped her head. “Thank you Azriel,” she whispered before walking around the corner.

Azriel winnowed back to the sitting room, right back onto his stool. Eris cast him a glance but refocused on whatever conversation was going on quite quickly. Rhys offered him a glass of whiskey and he dipped his head in thanks.

Azriel stopped listening actively, just kind of zoning out and only deigning to listen when he heard some word that sounded interesting or might be useful later. He just mindlessly sipped on his whiskey. Lucien and Lady Merle soon appeared, but Lucien sat noticeably as far as he physically could from Eris and his other half-brothers.

The Vanserra brothers, surprisingly, were quite… relaxed though. Besides Jax, they were actively talking and being friendly. But of course, the second Vanserra brother was known as one of the favorites of Beron for a reason. He was not friendly and was hard-headed with a taste for violence.

“Shall we go to dinner?” Rhys suggested. “The wraiths likely have it prepared.”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Helion exclaimed. “I’m starving!”

Azriel stood, placing his stool back and drinking the rest of his whiskey to refill later. They’d likely get wine with their dinner anyway.

Cassian put a hand on his shoulder before he could walk out though. Nesta cast them both an odd glance before walking out.

“So, brother, care to tell me why Eris Vanserra kept glancing at you all evening?” Cassian asked.

Azriel narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“He just kept looking. I’m surprised you didn’t notice and comment on it. He must really like your outfit tonight.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Cassian, we both know that Eris has absolutely no interest in the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. He doesn’t have an interest in males.”

“And how do you know that?” Cassian asked, a teasing smile on his face.

“He asked to marry Nesta,” Azriel pointed out. “And had an arranged marriage with Mor. I’m pretty certain he’s into females, Cass.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Ruining all my fun. But keep your eye out for his glances. Maybe you can glean more with all those wispy shadows of yours.”

Azriel raised his brow, unimpressed. “I think if anyone is going to ruin your fun tonight, it’s probably going to be Nesta.”

Cassian scoffed. “Alright you hunk of meat, I’m hungry.”

Azriel chuckled and followed his brother into the dining room not too far away. He glanced at Rhys for any specific instructions on where to sit considering that Rhys and Feyre had taken the odd two seats at the head of the table together.

Eris and Helion both sat beside them. Lady Merle sat beside Helion, her mate. Hue Vanserra and Kuhn Vanserra took the seats beside their mother while Jax sat with a seat in between him and Kuhn.

Rhys glanced at the seat beside Eris quickly and then back up to Azriel’s gaze. Internally, he sighed in annoyance but sat in the low-backed seat for wings beside Eris. Cassian slid into the seat beside him with Nesta, Mor, and Amren sitting down the line. Lucien sat at the very end, ignoring Jax across from him who was doing the same thing.

Once everyone sat down, Cerridwen and Nuala floated smoothly into the room carrying silver platters and revealing them as pork, a bowl of mashed potatoes, a bowl of peas, and a gravy sauce. There was also a side soup offered.

A plate and an empty bowl were placed in front of each of them with silverware.

“Thank you Cerridwen, Nuala,” Rhys said. “This looks delicious.”

“It’s no trouble at all, High Lord,” they responded together. “We are here to serve.”

There was an awkward moment as everyone cast a look at the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. Rhys raised a brow. “Go ahead and eat. I’m not being that formal tonight.”

Cassian chuckled from beside him. “Good. I was worried, Rhys. Can’t have you getting too pretentious.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Cass, I think that’s impossible at this point. Feyre humbles me greatly every day.”

Azriel smiled as Rhys mentioned Feyre, but internally, his heart winced. Oh, how he wished for something as great as either of his brothers had. A mate. A lover. A partner. A soulmate. But he was fine, he told himself strictly.

Cassian was the first to reach for the pork, cutting himself a healthy portion and then pouring on the sides. Azriel gratefully took the offered bowl of mashed potatoes before glancing to his left side toward Eris whose gaze seemed to linger a little as he took the mashed potatoes.

Or he was just seeing things, which was much more likely.

Dinner went smoothly. The talk of trade began over dinner, however, and Azriel was soon bored out of his mind, especially when Eris began talking about supply and demand. His wings slumped a little more and he dove into the wine that Nuala handed him after he requested it.

His mind was a bit foggier than it should be with two foreign High Lords present, but he was fine. He trusted Cassian to pull him out if he started being a drunk dumbass.

“Shall we head back to the sitting room?” Rhys suggested. “It’s a bunch more comfortable than the dining room.”

“Agreed,” Helion said. Eris nodded as well.

“Let’s go then,” Rhys said, offering a hand down to Feyre who also looked bored out of her mind to walk to the sitting room. Cassian patted his shoulder and Azriel stood, casting a confused glance at Cassian.

“How much have you had to drink today, Az?” Cassian asked.

“Not that much,” Azriel replied. “I’m fine.”

Cassian sighed. “Alright, brother. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

Azriel scoffed. “I could never.”

“You have before,” Cassian pointed out with a little snicker as he put a hand around Nesta’s waist to walk out.

Once he made it back to the sitting room, he sat himself on the stool again and let his wings droop a little bit more as he leaned forward, slumping his posture. His energy was quickly depleting and the alcohol was quickly affecting him.

“Well, while I hate to cut this short, I’m sure we can talk more later on,” Rhys spoke up. Azriel perked up at that. “But it is getting late and we all have a court rule. If either of you really would like to continue, I’m sure I can make arrangements for you to stay the night and make time in the morning.”

“No, I agree,” Eris replied. “It is getting quite late. This visit was pleasant, Rhysand. I said everything I needed to. How about you, Helion?”

“I’m perfectly fine with leaving it at this. I confess I’m getting quite sleepy as well.”

As if at the mention, Feyre yawned and put a hand to her mouth. “I should go feed Nyx,” she said, standing and walking out. Azriel did notice that the little Heir was missing, but he supposed they didn’t want the young boy in the presence of some people they didn’t entirely trust just yet. Even if any of his aunts and uncles and his parents would kill anyone who dared to even make him cry.

Eris stood and ran a hand through his hair. The other Vanserra brothers followed suit. “Thank you for the dinner, Rhys. I dearly hope we can have a repeat someday.”

“Of course, Eris,” Rhys agreed. “It would be beneficial for our courts to get closer anyway.”

Eris grinned and then cast a glance in Azriel’s direction. “Goodbye, everyone. And goodbye, shadowsinger.” Azriel jerked his gaze up, meeting Eris’s amber eyes for a split moment before the High Lord of Autumn looked away. Most of the Vanserra family walked out and then Helion and Lady Merle soon followed. Lucien seemed to take a sigh of relief, as did most people in the room.

“I’m off,” Azriel announced, standing. “See you later.”

“See you at training, Az!” Cassian shouted back as he walked out. As soon as he was outside, he took to the skies and headed back to his apartment.

He sighed as he landed and went to change into sleepwear. Cauldron boil him alive, he needed to stop Eris from getting under his skin. What even was that goodbye? Why single him out?

He cut his thoughts short and sighed, grumbling in annoyance as he attempted to get to sleep.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468, @acotargiftexchange

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Ask in the comments to be added! Remember, daily updates until the end of the week and then weekly updates until I finish.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #azriel #eris vanserra #eris acotar #azris #azris fanfiction #acotar fic #mywriting #acotar gift exchange

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cinamun · 26 days

Note

Former DV victim anon clocking in again to answer that last nonny, hello friends (I need a new nickname omg) but… I really think we may be doing Mercy a disservice to just act like Jackson was merely cheating.

Almost every time Jackson speaks to Mercy, there’s an air of condescension that just makes my skin curl. He’s clearly mentally controlling, and it’s easy to see why Mercy would end up seeking/falling into something with someone like Bishop - she’s been controlled before, and in some ways victims will often find that… safe because they know what to expect. In our eyes, everyone can turn into a monster so it’s easier to be with someone that’s predictable to you type shit. So I do think it’s worth pointing out that not only are we talking about an affair, but there is definitely an air of mental abuse/control. While to some people that might not change things, I do think that’s important to note.

However…. I do think that means we’ve also underestimated Mercy, and so has Bishop. If the way Jackson’s death has been depicted is the way Mercy killed him, then she’s done so out of strategic planning and not in a moment of passion or rage. I feel like that often changes how people view it, and it’s interesting to think about if she could’ve just left instead and planned her great escape. On top of that, I’ve never been comfortable with the way it feels Mercy sometimes holds Jackson being dead over Jayce’s head, and if she’s the one responsible for that…Chile, that does make me look at her a lil different. Even if we look past the…um, murder… because that’s a lot more nuanced, the way she’s been dismissing of Jayce at times now seems a little more sinister. Girls, I don’t fucking know. This is some nuanced shit! Some of us have been saying Mercy seems like she’s walking a tightrope and will snap one day, but I think it’s a very different thing when you murdered your husband and have played the sad, grieving widow to your son all these years. In some ways, I’m sure Mercy has grieved. The husband she married is not the husband she buried, but… I think I always come back to some of the conversations between Mercy and Jayce, and that’s where there’s a nagging feeling about Mercy. Once again, you’ve really done such justice to a complicated situation that has nuances and layers!

First and foremost, you are a SURVIVOR. Periodt.

So here's my theory on Jackson: I don't think he was physically controlling at all. I do think his age made him quite authoritative so that dynamic was present. However I think Mercy was enamored by that! When she said she was tired of "every man she's ever known" controlling her, I believe for Jackson, he wasn't physically controlling her but the fact that she felt like she had to keep quiet about the affair probably felt like control to her. He said "the bullshit that comes out of that woman's mouth is none of your concern" In other words, lying to her. Having to keep up a lie is control. Idk, I feel like he made a stupid, drunk mistake and felt like shit so tried to save face by gaslighting his wife (which is bad, don't get me wrong).

As for the alleged crime, I think it does change how people view it based on how it was carried out. If Mercy was methodical and did this (allegedly) over the course of several months that's different than poisoning his cognac after seething with rage all night!! Stay tuned for that tho.

If we have nothing else, friend, we have nuance.

#good morning survivor!#story stuff

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lemmetreatya · 2 years

Note

I have never requested anything so I have no idea where to do that and stuff, i hope you dont mind me writing it here.. I was thinking if you could write about platonic relationship between Polnareff and reader? like, them being siblings and after Sherry's death reader would disappear for some years, they would reunite while stardust crusaders is happening. they would meet between fight with Anubis and after that they would talk about how they've missed each other.. hurt/comfort type of thing with some fluff in it. oh and also reader has a healing stand perhaps? they could help Polpol and Joot with their wounds. I hope its ok with you! if not, feel free to ignore it

That’s fine! Your request was lovely but you’re also my first imagine request so we’re in this doing firsts together 🥺💕 Hope you enjoy <3

Everything, Everything for You, My Darling

Polnareff x Reader

Count: 4.1k+

‘For as long as you could remember, it had always been the three of you’

Contains: Angsts, Character death, Hurt, Comfort, Strong Language, Happy Ending, Not Beta Read

For as long as you could remember, it had always been the three of you.

“Sst!”

Looking up towards the younger girl, you softly mouthed an apology. Her leg was still brushed red, tinged with small specks of blood and razor like streaks but you tried to clean up her graze as lightly as you could.

Apart from this one injury, Sherry was fine. Maybe a slightly bruised ego but she was holding her own, unlike the other addition to your trio.

Within your peripheral, you could see Jean Pierre marching up and down the paved field edge you were all currently situated on, his footing light but his clomps loud nonetheless. He was currently seething, hot with anger; something that wasn’t a regular occurrence but definitely felt once present.

“I swear — I fucking swear — I’ll get them back for that. Those sleazy bastards…. think, think they can just get away with hurting my sister, huh?! Fuck, they so have what’s coming for them.”

The collection of red stained cotton buds that sat besides your leg stacked up in a small pyramid. You added another one to the pile before addressing the boy, a sigh in your voice.

“There’s nothing you can do about it, Jean Pierre. They’ve already run off and there’s about seven of them and three of us. We just gotta cut our losses as it is, you know?”

Sherry nodded in agreeal to your comment although flinched afterwards as you lightly stuck a plaster above her knee.

“Yeah, don’t work yourself up blaming them. It’s not like they did it on purpose. I just happened to be in the way is all.” Her voice was as soft as ever.

Visibly you could see Jean Pierre start to calm down, his feet finally stuck in one singular place and his box shoulders sagging, although you knew the fire of rage still bubbled deep within his gut.

“Mon coeur, still!” He exclaimed towards you before switching his attention to Sherry, “They should have minded you or something. At least turned back and apologise…”

A lumpy silence fell over the three of you; no one had much else to comment but everyone knew someone needed to say something to fill the gap. Something that didn’t seem like a topic divert or talking just for talks sake. But as always, you knew what to say.

“It’s okay, Jean Pierre. The fact no one’s seriously injured is more than fine. We got lucky.” You encouraged.

With a pout, Sherry aimlessly reached a finger down to lightly smooth over her plaster. You mundanely rubbed the uninjured part of her leg before adding: “It just means you’ll have to be Sherry’s personal chauffeur.”

A soft laugh left Sherry’s mouth at Jean Pierre’s bewildered expression, the boy seemingly offended at the task he was now endowed with.

“What?! No fair! That’s even more reason to get them back!” He boomed.

You weren’t related by blood like Sherry and Jean Pierre were, but the two were the closest thing you had to family. Sherry was soft spoken and as pretty as she spoke. Jean Pierre was boisterous and forever daring in his outlook. You all complimented each other’s personalities but you looked up to Jean Pierre with a different austere air.

The way the older conducted life about him — care-free but never too lenient — it always inspired you to fulfil life in the same manor. It always gave you that edge to be watchful over the Sherry. You liked to think that you and Jean Pierre aided her under a wing each. If only you had known that instead, Jean Pierre was protectively holding his wings over the both of you.

However, despite his disposition, you would never have known the hollowing loneliness he constantly carried with him. Sherry hadn’t much memory of their parents but Jean Pierre did. He had tasted warmth and protection before, he knew how secure it’d make one feel. Jean Pierre even believes he would be better off having never experienced it. Maybe at least that way he wouldn’t daily feel that he was concaving — rotting, from the inside out.

Instead, he used the previous love he’d once received on the both of you.

Not once had the thought that the three of you could ever be apart cross your mind. Even if it did, there was no need to dwell on it as life was already as harsh as it was; why would you dream or even prepare yourself to be away from your only life sources? However, only naivety could fool you that deep.

When Sherry was killed the brutally dehumanising way she was, the only thing you could think to do was pull apart from your rootings.

Pull apart from everything that once made you happy, starve yourself of knowing what Home meant and felt like because why should you?

Sherry had lost her life; never again to see how burnt orange would tickle the vineyard horizons at early dawn or how the stars would wink goodnight under the heavy smell of olives in the evening. The sweet song of rushing brookes! How the clear current could surprise you with its strength if you were to comb your hand against it. No longer was Sherry here to experience those beautiful parries of life so how could you possibly live in the very vicinities she once did and constantly feel like you weren’t dying yourself?

You had fled from the town not even seventy-two hours after her death. It honestly had felt longer by then, but there was no sound voice of reason to warn you against that, and so you had acted on the fleeting decision once you thought it.

It was selfish of you really to not think of everyone else involved — especially concerning how much it would have affected Jean Pierre, how the burden of losing both of you would solely fall on him. You know you could never fear Jean Pierre, with utmost certainty you knew he wouldn’t even dare think about harming you.

But it's when you saw the rage, how the always lit but never boiling flame suddenly unleashed within the older boy towards Sherry’s killer, a part of you feared that you had lost him to an overdue battle.

Running never worked for anyone and to be honest, you’re not sure why it seemed right.

The grief, the pain, the hate all still remained. Everything you tried to run from, stayed. Your dear Family that you wanted to protect, gone. The only thing you had left of them was the faint shadow of their silhouettes that were engraved into the flesh of your eyelids, haunting you for as long as you drew breath.

Still yet, life went on and in due time of being a wanderer, you found yourself in places you could only have dreamt of visiting.

Currently, you were situated in Edfu, a small city that sat on the west bank of the Nile. Cairo had been a bit busy for you, even though you’d spent about a week or so there, and so you ventured more of the country to see what it offered.

You’re not quite sure what drew you to the ancient settlement of Edfu but from the moment you got here, you knew you were there for a reason.

It was just approaching noon when you were sat in the outside seating of the small cafe. It was also then that you heard a loud crashing bang.

When you looked, the trouble seemed to be coming from the barbershop that was placed just four doors down from where you sat. Most of the locals who were around you turned or gravitated towards the source of commotion, surprised at the sudden disturbance in their mostly quiet dwelling. You on the other hand turned the other way in your seat.

“Khan! Khan! Is everything okay?!”

You could only make out the few phrases of Arabic being used around you but you still chose to disengage and move away from the noise. Without even a look at who was involved, you quickly got up and slinked into the inside of the cafe.

Don’t get it wrong, it’s not like you didn’t care nor wanted to help. It’s just… everywhere you went, trouble seemed to follow you. The first few times, you engaged and tried to help out but after awhile, you realised it was always you who the attackers turned on.

This is one of the major reasons why you found yourself becoming a traveller. No matter where you landed yourself, bizarre occurrences always seemed to happen whilst you were in the vicinity.

In your opinion, you saw this as a curse — Sherry’s Curse. This was your judgement on earth already being served to you, this is what you got for running away.

As you sat by the peeling bar, you could only sigh with your head in your hands, the ruckus outside continuing on. The bartender had the same disposition as you. Whether they were used to the noise or just too dully complacent with their job to move from their position, you wouldn’t know. They didn’t mind you for the duration of the time you were there. They only gave you a nod once you entered and that was it. The rest of the time they spent quietly polishing away at the crockery.

A few minutes had passed and the sound of fighting continued crashing throughout the streets. At one point you wondered if it’d ever stop. You were willing to try and leave, slip out in the other direction of the commotion and find yourself somewhere else to occupy. That was until you heard the sharp sound of barking.

Looking down at your feet, you noted a small boston terrier yapping for your attention. With a warm smile, you got down from your barstool to pat it on the head.

“Why, hello. Hey, who’s a good baby?”

The dog basked in your petting for a few seconds, clearly enjoying the attention before unexpectedly bolting towards the entrance of the cafe.

With a surprised face, you took it as the dog just being wryly but when you realised it was still watching you from it’s place you, frowned.

“What’s wrong, buddy? You lost?”

The dog barked once, twice and then turned in a circle a few times. You weren’t entirely sure what drew you to follow after it as it dashed out into the street, but you realised whatever it was felt urgent.

Meanwhile, having just come back to his senses, Polnareff was in distress.

With a sigh, the Frenchman crouched himself down next to the currently winded Jotaro. Never again does he ever want to be controlled to do something against his will like that. Anubis was tough but he believes he knew he was winning that fight anyways.

The Frenchman wasn’t as hurt as the younger male but he definitely did feel like he’d been in a hefty battle. Polnareff shuffled within his pockets, pulling out an old malted plaster before offering it to Jotaro.

“Here, I’ve got a plaster.”

Jotaro didn’t even look at what he was being offered, only grumbled out:

“No, I don’t want it.”

Polnareff didn’t take it to heart. He knew the male could be acute with the words he used and so he only shrugged before getting up to observe the area damage behind him. Before he knew it, he was met with the familiar flash of tuffed black and white fur.

“Oh, it’s Iggy! Where did you come from?” He couldn’t even be relieved for long as he grimaced over at the bull terrier, unaware of the figure who followed him.

“Beurk! Eating candy now are we? And right off the floor too, you disgusting…dog.”

As Polnareff’s words faltered, your feet came to a sudden stop, no longer allowing you to follow the small animal. Your mind went completely blank seeing the now older boy, no, man in front of you. With a dry gulp, you quietly called out his name.

“J-Jean Pierre…?”

There was a tense flicker of eye contact the both of you shared.

The facial expression the silver haired man wore was crushed into that of hurt and rage. Maybe it was because of your presence, maybe it’s because of the previous battle he just had. Either way, the smithereens of the anger you could smell on him at the day of Sherry’s death was the same smell you were smelling now.

Your heart raced with utmost speed, so much so you thought it’d explode right there, spray guts and blood down your chest and all over the man in front of you. After years of suppressing whatever you were trying to bury, suddenly it had all come to the surface. Forget that this was one of the most bizarre places to meet, the fact that the boy you had abandoned was here — right in front of you — was daunting.

You took a faulty step back, your footing wobbly as it almost failed you. Polnareff on the other hand desperately reached his hand out towards you.

“No, no it’s okay.” He cooed. I’m not mad at you, is what he wanted to say but for the record of their current company, he held his words.

You gulped, unsure of whether to stay or not. However, once he saw you weren’t going to fleetingly run away from him, Polnareff tasted the name he thought he’d never be able to use come the rest of his days.

“Mon coeur...”

The familiarity of the name churned your heart with nostalgia. Your breathing was still hitched but you were able to break through a reply.

“Hey…” You could barely whisper back, your facial expression twisted between final joy and sorrow.

Polnareff took a tentative step forwards, his arms opening in that welcoming way it always did once he knew you were unsettled. Without a second thought, you found yourself moulding into his chest —like the prodigal child finding Home again. Eyes peppery with tears, your arms dug into the man with an action that could only be described as desperation.

Whether he was in pain or not you wouldn’t have known, as Polnareff made no move to adjust you or place you where he wasn’t sore. He only engulfed you, no questions asked or uttered.

You both stayed like that for a good several seconds although it felt fleeting and short. The only reason why you let go was because Polnareff had suddenly switched and pulled his attention towards the Nile situated several yards behind you.

“Regardè! That cow is freaking out about something…” He pointed, almost childishly to the disturbed cattle and rocking boat.

Feeling slightly disorientatated, you didn’t even have time to reply or pay proper attention to his observation as it seemed that his shared company had more words to say about it than you did.

“Gimme a break, Polnareff. Who the fuck cares? Just go find Avdol and Gramps…”

As you looked towards the grimacing black haired man, you realised why Polnareff may have been reluctant to say much to you. Was this his friend?

“I’ll look for them, don’t worry.” Polnareff gave you a look to wordlessly excuse himself as he trotted back towards the other man who was still crouched.

The black haired man was definitely aware of your presence, well, you think he was. But he didn’t seem to acknowledge you as he spoke to Polnareff. You looked at him closely, unsure why he seemed so defensive but either way you weren’t phased.

All of a sudden, an inward fizzing sound occured and it was like you were looking at him with a different set of eyes.

Your vision was suddenly tinted purple, your surroundings all tinted in that very colour. The crouching man’s body highlighted yellow and orange in various places in the shape and size of incisions and cuts. One orange on his cheek and a yellow dotted around other places. However, his lower stomach seemed to blare an alarming colour of red. Even without the changed vision you could tell there was a pool of blood dripping from the very same place.

Your vision quickly changed back to normal but you lightly gasped before also crouching down by his side.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?! That wound looks pretty deep.”

The black haired man didn’t look offended at your now invasive presence but he definitely watched you closely from underneath his hat.

“Ah, Jotaro will be alright. We just gotta find the others and then Avdol’ll be able to patch him up or something.” Polnareff chirped in.

Your brows furrowed between your eyes. Who were all these people Polnareff suddenly knew?

“Others?” You turned your head to hushly asked.

“Long story, I’ll explain later.” Polnareff answered.

“Yeah, but that’s only if we can find them in time.” The black haired man, (You’re guessing whose name was Jotaro?) grunted his piece as he finally sat down onto the dusty side road. His legs were spread out infront of him as his hand pressed painfully onto the crimson wound that stained just below his stomach.

“Fuck, I’m never going out with you alone ever again.”

Even though he directed that comment towards Polnareff, you could feel the bothered annoyance emitting from Jotaro. However, your concern was still towards his heavy gnash that didn’t seem to stop flowing red.

“I don’t know who this Avdol guy is but I’m sure I could help heal your wounds in the meantime.” You blurted.

Both Jotaro and Polnareff looked to you with questioning stances. Without much explanation, you tentatively laid your hands onto the bleeding area of Jotaro’s stomach.

Unexpectedly, the same purple tint that shaded your vision earlier glowed around your hand. Even though the healing wasn’t obvious due to the covering of his clothes, Jotaro’s visible discomfort started to ease.

With a dry laugh, Polnareff rubbed the side of his palm across his forehead.

“I never knew you had a stand?!”

As you continued to concentrate on the man’s wounds, you briefly uttered your reply.

“Oh. Is that what it’s called?”

Polnareff laughed again, yet this time it was full of bright colour.

“Now that I think about it, it makes sense. You were always the healing type. Whether it be a soothing word or just a plaster. You always knew how to make people feel better.”

You briefly looked up at your Home, smile warm as it radiated off of your face.

“Thanks.” You looked back down to where your hands hovered over the other man’s stomach. “I guess I needed to hear that.”

“You two know each other.”

Jotaro gruffly stated more than asked. His voice didn’t sound as pained but he was definitely worn out. Rolling his eyes, Polnareff answered for the two of you.

“Yeah, well, no shit.”

The black haired man didn’t scoff but he might as well have concerning how he lowered his cap further over his eyes.

Even though you weren’t familiar with their dynamic, you felt like you could figure it out quite quickly. If anything, it reminded you of the one you used to share with Polnareff all those years back. With a soft laugh, you shook your head.

“We all grew up together. Me, him and…”

You felt Polnareff freeze besides you. The distraught that was briefly dormant finally came back in a flow of cracked nostalgia. A pained expression dressed your face before you begrudgingly finished your sentence.

“…and Sherry.”

“The dead sister.” Jotaro stated.

Polnareff seemed distant now that the girl’s name was brought up. He nodded dutifully before heavily answering.

“Yeah. The one I avenged.”

You took heed of the older’s words.

Avengement.

Long gone were the days where you daily thought about reclaiming back power from Sherry’s killer. You found the task hopeless, time consuming and no use. Not because you didn’t care but because what use would it do you?

For ages, the guilt of Sherry simply being a victim haunted your psyche. It was only through suppression of feelings in which you could even bear to stand yourself, live on with your choices.

Maybe now it was finally time to face just one of your many demons.

“Let me help you.” You blurted out.

With a wild expression, Polnareff looked in your direction.

“What?”

A flurry of small tiny ants could have crawled along the inside of your chest with how it was seeming to burn. You cleared your throat once before explaining further.

“With whatever you’re doing out here. Fighting, avenging, I don’t know but just let me help.”

Conflict plagued Polnareff’s face. Even though it’d been so long, even though he’d grown a lot taller, older and even in a sense, more mature — that same expression he would wear as a child decorated his features.

For a split second you recond, to a certain extent, that Polnareff still counted as a child.

Polnareff searched his eyes over your face.

“No, mon coeur. It’s too dangerous.”

“Says who? I’ve survived long enough on my own and I turned out fine. You won’t need to look out for me and I won’t get in your way just…” You couldn’t even meet his eyes. “Just let me make it up to you.” You finished with a murmur.

With sagging shoulders, Polnareff stretched his hand down to you.

“You don’t owe me anything—“ is what he started with but as you moved your shoulder out of his arms reach, you seemed to unexpectedly burst.

“Jean Pierre! For the sake of finally being able to sleep easy. For the idea that I can finally say I’ve done something worthwhile with my life and stop running away — for me to avenge Sherry in my own way, let me help.”

Too stunned to speak, the older man simply didn’t. His mouth left agape at the sudden chagrin you spilt. The sudden realisation why life after Sherry’s death panned out the way it did for the both of you.

Having not been an active part of the conversation, Jotaro found himself being the one to keep the train of conversation going. God, Polnareff really did put him in the most awkward of situations.

“I don’t see why not.” Jotaro directed towards you. “Your stand will be useful anyways.”

Blinking over at the man, you realised that this was the first time you got a proper look at him. At first you presumed him to be at least Polnareff’s age or even older. But now that you saw his face, you realised that he was probably around the same age as you.

With a mild scoff, Polnareff wildly pointed his fingers in Jotaro’s direction, accusatory and boisterous air finally pumped back into him.

“And since when did you make the rules?” He fired.

Jotaro only sighed loudly.

“Gimme a break.”

As the six of you walked to your hotel destination for the night, you and Polnareff lagged behind the others.

It’d been a lot, taking in the story and journey Polnareff’s life had taken him on. Even the whole explanation of stands, stand users and the nefarious DIO seemed light in comparison to the eventual opening up of how the older man had barely been coping.

It was natural that you still felt bad about leaving all that time ago but Polnareff was adamant in affirming you that he understood — That he wasn’t angry.

“I won’t lie and say it was easy. I still struggle with coming to terms with her death, even after avenging her.”

As you kicked a lone stone, a flurry of dust followed its path. Polnareff continued.

“Avenging doesn’t do much for the dead. It’s only a way for the living to cope.”

Your shoulders raised and descended in a defensive shrug, your head held high.

“Doesn’t matter, I still want to help.”

Shaking his head, Polnareff disagreed. One of the guys walking in front of you, the one who you learnt went by the name of Avdol, glanced back towards the both of you. You watched as Polnareff shared a knowing glance with him before he continued speaking to you.

“I’m not trying to talk you out of it. Like you’d stand down if I said no, anyways. It’s just… Don’t think it’ll solve or heal anything. It just widens the hole.”

Sighing out of your nose, you shrugged once again only this time it was more of a mutual action.

“Jean Pierre, I know. And I guess— Well, thank you for looking out for me first of all. I do appreciate it, don’t get me wrong. But it’s okay. I’ve come to terms with whatever happens, what has happened.” With a soft smile, you directed Polnareff a warm gaze. “I know she’ll be proud that we kept on moving.”

Polnareff could only hazily smile back, a small nod in agreeal.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess she would.”

#polnareff x reader #jean pierre polnareff #polnareff x gn reader #polnareff x gender neutral reader #sherry polnareff #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #anime #jotaro kujo #angst #comfort #fluff #happy ending #jjba fanfic #jjba imagine #jjba scenarios

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devil-in-the-details-ay · 7 months

Text

“If one of those issues is a divorce, I can guarantee you that I will not be giving one. I’m sorry, Astaroth, you are stuck with her.” Lucifer grinned. His daughter might have on a mask of indifference and smugness, but he knew the insecurity that lay within.

“Oh, now THAT is NOT one of the issues. In fact, I do have thank you for what I assume was to be some kind of punishment for one or both of us. We are both extremely happy with this arrangement and have no desire to seek a divorce now, or anytime in the foreseeable future.” Astaroth gave his father-in-law a cocky grin and brought Yara’s hand up to kiss the back of it before placing it back on his arm. His eyes never left Lucifer’s and the seething rage within the King’s gave him joy. “So let me make one thing clear to YOU, Lord Lucifer. If you, or any of your cronies, try to come between us, I will have no qualms in expeditiously ending your life with great satisfaction. You wanted this marriage, now *I* do.” He felt Yara’s hand tighten on his arm, his hand atop hers gently squeezing reassuringly. As he had thought, her smug exterior was just a mask of her true feelings. She wanted him to stay calm, which he had no inclination to do. Lucifer was about to learn his place, one way or another. “I will remind you, Lord Astaroth,” Lucifer’s voice dripped venom as he said the other male’s name with derision, “that your, so called, wife is still my daughter and I will treat her as I see fit, as shall my staff. You reside in MY kingdom, sir, and therefore will not dictate to me how I will behave.” The condescension was so heavy in Lucifer’s voice and demeanor it hung in the air like a blanket on the entire room. He was grinning with a bit of smug satisfaction, something that was about to change.

“I’ll remind you Lord Lucifer,” Astaroth matched his condescending tone and smug visage, “that unlike YOU, I do not have to live in Hell.” Yara saw her father’s jaw clench and wondered what her husband meant, something that he quickly clarified. “Remember that I am NOT on our father’s bad side like you and some of the other Lords here are. I left of my own accord because I had more friends here than there. I can choose where I live. Here, there, or even Earth. You, Lucifer, have NO power over me. None.” Astaroth’s smirk became cocky and condescending, he was enjoying this. “And, dear brother, now this is true of my wife. She is not my “so called wife”, she is my WIFE. Full stop. No further clarifications required. So, your daughter or not, my WIFE will be respected in Hell or there will be consequences. I will not tolerate anything otherwise”

“Maybe you should move out of Hell then, Lord Astaroth.” Lucifer was barely containing his temper now and Yara actually took a step back from her husband. He knew why and did not take offense. “I do hope that you fulfilled all the fine print of your contract though, or your marriage to Yara will be nullified. Then she is back to being MINE and I have many ideas on how to welcome her home.”

The grin on her father’s face sent icewater coursing through Yara’s veins, yet she did not move and her smug expression did not falter. It was a mask she’d perfected over centuries. It was not hard to keep in place now. She had read that damned document several times and her mind was racing over what could have been left out, she would figure it out. There was no way she was going to give up Astaroth, not after just a taste of his affections. The thought of more developing and her father trying to destroy it was almost enough to drive HER to violence.

Astaroth wondered what he’d missed in the contract. He didn’t know, but he’d damn sure find out when this was over. There was no way in Heaven, Hell, or Earth that he was letting Yara go, and definitely not so her father could toy with her. “I assure you, that will not happen. Touch her and you will regret it. Your minions touch her, YOU will regret it. She gets a papercut, and I will blame you.” He took a step forward. “Your priest ruined our wedding for no reason other than to be an asshole at your order. He barely left with his life. Know that next time I will not be so merciful to one who disrespects her. You thought that you were sending her to me to die, but you were wrong. Just accept it. You don’t have that power.” By the end of his statement, there was a growl undercutting his voice. He was barely restraining himself.

“You can kill her or I will,” now Lucifer showed his hand and for one split second Yara’s mask faltered before it was back in place. While Yara was in shock, the sound that came from Astaroth was one of pure, unadulterated rage. The look on Lucifer’s face said he had not anticipated that reaction, and he took a step back. Yara could not see the look on her husband’s face, but she had to imagine that his demonic visage was coming through for her father to even show the slightest modicum of respect and possibly fear.

“No one, not you or any of your people, will lay a hand on MY WIFE.” Astaroth started to stalk toward Lucifer who was standing his ground. It was clear in Astaroth’s voice that he was barely containing himself and speaking through clenched teeth. “I don’t care what you WANT, it is NOT going to happen. I will eliminate any threat that comes near her, including you and the consequences of that can be damned. You cannot kill her, Lucifer. You forget one thing. I. AM. DEATH. *I* decide if she can die and I said NO!” The air began to literally vibrate and hum in the room, one of the powerful men was about to unleash literal Hell and Yara was not sure which one of them it was.

Lucifer and Astaroth were almost nose to nose, the anger rolling off the two males was almost palpable in the air around them. Yara watched from a few feet away, feeling more and more ill as the seconds passed. Which one of them would blink first, she wasn’t sure. Very few had stood up to her father, but she’d never seen anyone as enraged at him as her husband currently was. That Astaroth's anger was over her touched a part of her deep inside that no one ever had before. Why he was being like this confused her, other than their discussion yesterday regarding how they would make the best of what they had been forced into, and that meant taking care of one another.

Just then she caught movement to the side out of her peripheral vision. Eyes snapping in that direction, she saw one of her father’s minions with a cursed blade heading to the two males who were currently facing off. There was no way that this was a good thing. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” Her voice came out almost a purr, but it was full of warning as well. Astaroth was facing off with her father, she wasn’t going to allow some minor demon of her father’s to threaten in him in any way. Not that she doubted that he could defend himself, but his attention was otherwise occupied. The minion demon scoffed and rolled his eyes at her warning. Of course he would blow her off, she was Yara, Lucifer’s daughter. In her father’s world she was of no consequence. She wasn’t of that world anymore though, as her husband kept reminding her, she was now the Mistress of Death. It seemed like a good time to make that clear.

Reaching out her hand, she waved it rather dismissively with the intent to end the demon's life. She wasn't sure how the whole command over life and death worked, but she surmised it had to be something like her other demonic powers. It was worth a shot. If it didn't work, she'd just have to kill him another way.

The demon with the blade suddenly made a choking sound then dropped mid-stride. “I told you not to…” Yara smirked and watched as both her father and husband’s heads snapped to look at the dead minion that she’d just dropped. She lifted her chin with a smug smile, hiding the fact she was actually completely stunned it had worked. If it hadn’t, she would have had to do it manually, which she WAS ready to do.

It seemed like it was just a blink till Lucifer was now in her face. “Just who do you think you are to come into my office and kill one of my demons? Explain yourself!” He demanded, his hot sulfuric breath caressing her face as she saw Astaroth approaching them slowly over his shoulder. The look on her husband's face was malevolent, ready to strike if Lucifer made a wrong move. It emboldened Yara to address her father as she had never before.

“Daddy dearest, you should know.” Her grin was nothing short of malevolent as well, no warmth in it whatsoever. “You arranged the marriage after all.” Her head tipped to the side as she regarded him. “I’m the Mistress of Death now thanks to you,” Yara leaned her head forward towards him slightly, “and if you ever have one of your minions threaten my husband again, I’ll drop you, not him. Capiche?” She winked, leaned back, and crossed her arms over her chest with a cocky smile. One thing her father hadn’t taken into account was that she was the oldest of his children, which meant if he died…she’d be Queen. She knew it, she feared it, but at the moment, she had literal DEATH ready to defend her. No matter how scared she was, it did give her strength.

“I think you two need to leave, NOW.” Lucifer had reached the end of his ability to control his rage. He was sure that if he unleashed it on Yara, as he wished to, that Astaroth would make him suffer for it. Why the Lord of Death was so enamored with his daughter, he could not understand. There were none of his own demons who could even stand her. What he wished to happen would, just later than he had anticipated.

"We will." Astaroth answered as he walked around Lucifer to the side to come up next to Yara. "Don't forget my warning. I will not give it again, nor will I be lenient. And it appears you now also have a warning from my wife, which if I were you, Lucifer, I would not take lightly. I fear you have no clue what you've done, which delights me greatly." Stepping next to his wife, he wrapped his arm around her waist and gently guided her to the door of Lucifer’s office. As firm and hard as her expression might seem, he knew the emotions beneath were neither. The tears and the ache she had shown him the night before were fresh in his memory, and when they were alone once more he would ease them once more.

@saltysupercomputer - and here it is!!

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