#'you only see it through eyes from the future'

[firehose118]

in sickness

for @bucktommypositivityweek - predict the future

Buck is rooting through their sock drawer when he finds it.

He’s looking for a particular pair of socks: wool, blue and grey striped, soft and warm. They’re the ones that Tommy likes to wear when he’s sick, and right now he is sick. It’s nothing life-threatening, but Tommy is miserable. He hasn’t been able to breathe out of his nose for two days now, his nostrils have been rubbed raw by tissue after tissue, and he’s still shivering under three blankets.

When Buck shoves aside several identical pairs of white socks and sees the little box, he’s confused; almost a little panicked. This isn’t where he hid it. He could have sworn it was still in his locker at work. How did it get here? How did it get to the house, first of all, and how did it end up on Tommy’s side of their sock drawer? Oh god, did Tommy already see it? There goes the surprise.

And then Buck realizes that this is a different box than the one that houses the ring he bought for Tommy. It’s a different color, texture, and it’s from a different store. That means Tommy bought this. Tommy bought a ring. Tommy bought a ring.

Tommy wants to get married. Tommy wants to keep Buck forever. It’s not a surprise—they’ve talked about it, and Tommy has been more than clear that he’s in this relationship for the longhaul; more than clear that he’s deeply in love with Buck and their life together—but it makes Buck’s heart flutter just the same. Tommy is ready to make the commitment.

Buck must have been still and silent for too long, because Tommy raises his head from where he’d been buried under the covers and looks in Buck’s direction.

“Did you find them?” Tommy asks, his voice scratchy and stuffy.

There’s no point in pretending like he didn’t find the ring. This is all he’s going to be able to think about now, and he’s terrible at hiding his thoughts. Tommy would sniff it out in a moment, even this sick.

“Uh,” Buck says, a massive smile taking over his face. “I- I found something.” He holds up the little box.

Tommy looks confused for a moment and then his eyes go wide. “Oh. You weren’t supposed to- I had a plan.” His head hits the pillow with a groan.

Buck walks over to the bed, still smiling, and kneels on the floor by Tommy. “Oh, you had a plan, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tommy sighs. His frown is earnest and adorable. “Big romantic thing. Helicopter and a picnic at sunset. You were gonna love it.”

That does sound like something Buck would love. It’s thoughtful, sweet, intimate—fun. It’s so much better than anything Buck has been able to come up with. Buck has been making and scrapping plans for two months now because they weren’t perfect. Tommy’s plan was perfect.

Still, Buck can’t let Tommy think he was the only one ready for the next step. Who knows how long Tommy has had that ring. Has he been waiting for a sign that Buck was ready? He’s been so good about letting Buck set the pace of this relationship. This would have been the first step that Tommy asked Buck to take since their first kiss, first date. Buck wants Tommy to know he’s ready. They’re moving at the same pace, and Buck thinks that’s a beautiful thing. Well worth ruining the surprise over.

“And what if I told you I bought a ring too?” Buck bites his lip.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, his face lighting up. He tries to sit up but Buck stops him with a hand on his chest, rubbing it back and forth soothingly.

“Yeah. But I hid it somewhere you wouldn’t find it. Not in one of our shared spaces,” Buck teases. “Babe, I wear your clothes all the time.”

Tommy’s eyebrows pull together stubbornly. “Never my socks, though. You hate my socks.”

Buck has never said that out loud but it’s true. He’s a little overwhelmed by the casual intimacy that knowledge betrays. Tommy knows him so well. Tommy pays attention to him so well, and he seems happy to. It’s all Buck has ever wanted. Finally, Buck has the kind of love he’s spent his entire life searching for. He’s never been more sure that Tommy is it for him.

“I do,” Buck says. He sounds utterly besotted even to his own ears. “Your socks are terrible. The toe seams are too thick.”

“I’ve never once noticed the toe seam,” Tommy laughs, equally as besotted. Like the way Buck sees the world is charming and beautiful to him instead of frustrating and in need of correction.

“I have a hard time believing that.” Buck hands Tommy the ring box. “I’ll put this back and wait for your big romantic proposal if you want. The answer will be the same.”

Before he can respond, Tommy sneezes. Buck hands him a fresh tissue from the box on the nightstand. Tommy takes it and looks at Buck consideringly. He smiles fondly and shakes his head.

“No need to wait. Honestly, I think this might be more romantic.” Tommy gestures with the tissue. “In sickness and in health, right?”

The wet sound of him blowing his nose makes it very clear which side of that dichotomy he’s on at the moment.

“That’s right,” Buck smiles.

Tommy smiles back. He’s glassy-eyed and red-nosed, his hair is wild, and his stubble is scruffier than he usually lets it get. Still, in this moment, he’s the most handsome man Buck has ever seen.

Tommy’s hands shake a little as he opens the box. The ring is beautiful: simple gold, wide and rounded, understated and elegant. Timeless. It’s perfect.

“Evan Buckley,” Tommy starts, voice scratchy and congested. He gives Buck a pained look and sighs. “I had a whole speech planned for this, but my brain is so fucking foggy right now I can’t remember it all.” They both laugh. “But I know why I love you, so I’ll start there. You’re kind, and brave, and smart. You keep me on my toes and you make me laugh. You make me feel safe. I don’t think I’ve ever felt held the way I do with your arms around me. You love with your whole heart, and I feel so lucky that someone as incredible as you chose me. You’re the best partner anyone could ask for. Every day with you is better than the last. There were so many times over the years when we almost met that it’s kind of insane we didn’t, but I’m glad it took us so long. You know I don’t really believe in this stuff most of the time, but I think we met when we did for a reason. We weren’t ready for each other before that hurricane. But I’m ready for you now, and I hope you’re ready for me, too. I love you more than I could ever hope to put into words. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Please,” Buck says breathlessly. Tommy’s laugh is filled with affection as Buck hurries to correct himself. “I- I mean of course, yes. Yes, I- I will marry you.”

The tears are coming now. Even through the brainfog that comes with a cold like this, Tommy was able to pull that off. If that wasn’t the rehearsed speech, Buck doesn’t think he would have survived the real one. It makes Buck’s general you flipped my life rightside-up and now I see the world in color and I’ll love you forever feel a little inadequate. He needs to organize his thoughts a little better before he can present them to Tommy.

“I- I have a speech too,” Buck assures him, “but it’s not ready yet.”

“That’s okay,” Tommy says easily. He’s looking at Buck with such naked adoration that it makes Buck’s heart soar. “Neither of us were expecting this today. Give it to me when you give me my ring.”

Buck nods and sniffles. “I will.”

Tommy reaches for him. “Can I have your hand, sweetheart?”

Buck gives Tommy his hand and Tommy slides the ring onto his finger. It fits perfectly. It looks like it’s always been there.

Illness be damned, Buck has to kiss him. They’re long past the point of caring about getting each other’s germs. Tommy’s lips are chapped from days of breathing through his mouth, he tastes stale, and his skin is hot and clammy. It’s one of the best kisses Buck has ever had.

They pull back when Tommy needs to breathe. Buck doesn’t go far. He runs a hand through Tommy’s hair and just admires him. Even like this, he’s gorgeous. Buck is so lucky. This is the person who looked at Buck and saw him for who he is—who looked at Buck and saw Evan. This is the person who has had a front-row seat to all of his flaws and insecurities and bad habits and found something to love about all of them. This is the person who doesn’t love him anyway but loves him because—who loves his jealousy because it makes him feel wanted, loves his clinginess because it makes him feel held, loves his tendency to speak without thinking because it’s honest. This is the person who never makes him feel insecure about wanting or needing anything; about who he is. This is the person he’s going to spend the rest of his life with. His fiancé. His soon-to-be husband. His-

“Baby, can I please have my socks?” Tommy asks in a small voice.

“Oh!” Buck had gotten so sidetracked by the whole proposal thing that he forgot why he was looking through Tommy’s side of the sock drawer in the first place. Buck presses a quick kiss to Tommy’s forehead and jumps up. “Of course, I’m sorry.”

Buck goes back to their dresser. The wool socks are right on top. He doesn’t know how he missed them before. It feels like a sign, like he was supposed to find the ring first.

It feels like the universe saw how stressed he’s been about getting the proposal exactly perfect and decided this was the right way for them to get engaged. No big plans, no rehearsed speeches, no theatrics. Just love and care and the simple intimacy of this life they’ve made together: messy and raw and gross. It’s so imperfect that it’s kind of perfect. It’s them.

This is why none of Buck’s plans had felt right. He’d been so focused on making things perfect and exciting for Tommy that he’d lost sight of what really mattered. The strength of their relationship isn’t in the big, dramatic moments. Sure, they met during a hurricane, but they built their relationship in the quiet, imperfect, domestic moments as they learned how to take care of each other. Their relationship isn’t a fantasy: it’s reality. It works precisely because it’s imperfect and they both want it anyway—because they are imperfect and they both still want each other.

Buck puts the socks on Tommy’s feet for him, then he lays under the covers next to him. He pulls Tommy to snuggle into his chest. Tommy is still sniffly and clammy and, objectively, pretty disgusting. Buck pulls him closer.

Soon, Tommy drifts off. He snores in the loud, startling way he only does when he’s congested. Buck feels lucky to hear it. He runs his hand through Tommy’s hair and feels his ring catch on the strands. Happy, content, at ease; Buck settles in.

{give me kudos!}

[lostbookmark]

Read the original story here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything. 

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments,  Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself,

A/N : Here is a super small teaser for Whispered Vows. I'm hoping in about 2 weeks or so, I'll feel comfortable enough to start posting. Enjoy!

Entering the code to Yoongi's studio, you watch him as he sits at his desk with big headphones draped over his ears. His head was bobbing up and down to music that he was working on, and the clicking sound of his keyboard filled the quiet room. Closing the door, you walk over to him and gently place your hands on his shoulders, massaging them slowly. He groans, and his head falls forward in pleasure. You can feel his stiff shoulders start to relax under your touch. Sighing, he reaches around the back of his chair and pulls you into his lap. Yoongi takes off his headphones, tosses them gently on his desk, and gives you a quick kiss before resting his head on your shoulder. You run your hands through his dark hair, trying to comfort yourself from the stress of the day.

“How was lunch?” he asked, pulling his head away from you to look you in the eyes.

“There was no lunch. There were, however, five different wedding venues,” you tell him, and he furrowed his eyebrows, looking at you questioningly.

“What? I thought you told your mom to stop that,” he said, eyes drifted back to his screen. His slim fingers go back to clicking away on his mouse.

“I did, but you know that she won't listen,” you say, pulling on the black strings of his hoodie. You twist them tightly around one another and let go just to have them unravel. “One of them held 300 people and cost about 20 thousand dollars.”

“Excuse me?” he says, looking at you with wide eyes. You fully have his attention now. “20,000, 300? Who needs 300 people at a wedding? We are not spending 20k on a venue. A beautiful dress that I get to rip off you at the end of the night…sure.... but not the venue.”

You roll your eyes at him and shove him with your shoulder lightly with a small smile on your face. “Yeah I know, but supposedly it's going to be an extravagant event with a lot of important people. With you being all rich and famous….I have to impress people. I was told we need the best champagne, chandeliers, fondues, and the perfect sunset,” you explain.

“Rich and famous,” he said with a laugh. “That’s just stupid. Unless....is that what you want?” He asks you, eyes flicker between you and the screen .

“Of course not. What do you want?” You counter as your fingers continue to twist the strings of his hoodie.

“I want what you want,” he said distractedly, not even looking at you this time. His fingers continued to click away at his mouse. His focus was back on the crowded screen, which was his computer monitor as he watched colorful waves move across the screen.

Yoongi has been busy. Maybe that's why you haven't set a date or had any details figured out yet. He's been pulling long nights in the studio just to come home a couple of nights a week to sleep for a few hours and shower. He was usually gone by the time you woke up on those nights. The last thing that you wanted to do was bother him with questions about your future wedding. You didn't think centerpieces were high on his priority list right now. He promised you that this was only temporary, but honestly, you're not sure. Several artists that they have signed are growing in popularity, and the demand for songs are coming in strong. He's tired. You can see it in his face, and you can't see this stopping anytime soon.

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

[seduzist]

pretty prince.

aemond targaryen x wife! reader.

cw. sub! aemond, lil drabble, smut, creampie, (i thought about put sister! reader but i got scared of the judgement… yk).

no one never sees that side of him. he’s cold, tough, dangerous, rude, he’s not just a prince, but he’s a targaryen, the blood of the dragon run through his veins, he’s dominant and quiet, with everyone, everyone but you. his princess, his wife, the mother of his future children, the only thing shining bright in his dark royal world. oh god, how he loves you, sometimes, he might think he loves you just as much as himself. and that’s why he lets himself be vulnerable with you, weak, even, he lets himself fall under your charms, your beauty, your body, he lets himself submit to it, to the only thing in the world that he judges worthy of his submission.

“my pretty prince…” you mumbled under moans, your hands on his chest as you rode him furiously, searching for relief, the boy under you eying your tits hungrily, in a expression of pure ecstasy as he runs his cold hands on your uncovered thighs, the sound of your voice speaking such kind words to him making the boy almost burst on the spot, but he couldn’t, because the pleasure of his princess comes first.

“oh, please…” suddenly, he caught himself pleading for you to come, for you to reach your high and gives him the proof of how good he can be for you, god, how he wanted to be good for you. you looked pleased at his words, but even more when he brings a hand to your clit, doing the best he could to rub it through your rough movements, bringing you just above the edge, but when he begs again and says your name, clear like water, that’s when you fall over, feeling the wave of pleasure on your belly dripping down your thighs, on his cock, as well with his warm seed filling you up.

as he came, his back get up from the bed, sitting, he hugs your trembling body with force, his strong arms passing through your waist as you catch your breath, putting both hands on his face, his hurt eye, that once he hidden from you, now just in front your face, as he looks up at your expression, your naked bodies in total contact, fitting each other like a puzzle.

“i hope i gave you my child this time.” he said, breathless as well, adoration in his voice at the thought of you carrying his heir in your belly.

“i hope so, husband.”

[vivwritesfics]

some kind of max fluff?🥺

two gasps rang out, and then the Monaco apartment was silent. two pairs of wide, blue eyes stared up at him, little hands covering their ears.

shit, max thought as he stared down at his kids. "i didn't mean it," he said quickly, stepping towards his children. "i didn't mean it."

his daughter, the oldest of his two children, was the first to pull her hands away from her ears. "you did a swear, daddy," she said, her lip wobbling and eyes beginning to water.

see, if her mother was there, she would have seen right through it, would have seen exactly what she was trying to do. but she had her dad wrapped around her little finger, and so did her brother.

he pulled his hands away from his ears and stared at his father. "yeah, daddy, you did a swear,"

"mummy never swears around us," his daughter said, sniffling. "she says it's a bad word said by bad people."

max's little boy, his mini me (in looks only. his daughter was his true mini me when it came to her personality. she was a future world champion where his son had no interest in racing), looked at his sister. "is daddy a bad person?"

there was nothing worse than your kids thinking you're a bad person. max felt the sweat break out on his forehead as he looked around for something to fix it. his eyes focused on the basket his wife kept on top of the fridge. the basket full of chocolate.

the kids knew the basket was there, they just couldn't get to it. "you guys have to promise not to repeat that word," he said as he reached up and grabbed the basket.

"we promise, daddy," his daughter said as she took the whole basket from his hands. max had meant for them to just have one chocolate each, but now they had the whole basket.

***

"they're passed out on the couch."

max hadn't realised his wife had come home. he spun in his chair to look at her. as soon as he was facing her, she sat herself in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "how about we get them into bed and..." she wiggled her eyebrows.

max let his forehead fall against her own. "I fucked up," he mumbled, and she pulled away from him.

"what did you do, maxie?" she asked and moved her hands through his hair.

he sucked in a breath and stared at her, his blue eyes pulling her in. she couldn't look away if she tried, but she didn't want to. "i swore in front of them," he admitted. "had to bribe them with the chocolate from the top of the fridge to not repeat it."

he couldn't quite believe it when she started laughing. "max, do you know how often i swear in front of them?" she asked. "they know if they repeat it they're in for an ass whooping." her hands moved through his hair. "they played you."

"shit," max mumbled. "we've got some smart kids. wanna make another?"

[piastrisun]

let me go.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader.

summary: when love becomes a battleground of dreams and unfulfilled desires, sometimes letting go is the only way to find yourself.

genre: angst.

word count: 2.6k.

warning: none.

notes: inspired by s1, ep22 of how i met your mother, ‘come on’. no use of y/n or any names at all. enjoy !! (maybe you won’t).

charles is at the desk you two share in your office, casually typing on the laptop you both share from time to time, when his face tightens in confusion. his eyes scan the screen, eyebrows furrowing as he scrolls through an email. the realization hits him like a wave. your name is in the subject line, followed by the words ‘congratulations’ and ‘art program.’ his heart pounds as he reads further: three months, starting this summer, in new york.

you, unaware of the storm about to hit, stand in the kitchen. the hum of the kettle rising to a boil fills the air, and you mindlessly pour yourself a cup of coffee. your fingers absently trace the rim of the cup, lost in thought. you don’t notice him stand up, the air between you shifting with tension.

“did you apply to an art program? in new york?” his voice is controlled, but you can feel the edge to it, like he's trying to stay calm.

you freeze, the water nearly spilling over the rim of the cup. turning slowly, you meet his gaze. “i just wanted to see if i’d get in, that’s all. i wasn’t going to go.”

he shakes his head, pacing towards you. “but... in new york?” his tone is incredulous, staring straight at you.

“i wasn’t going to take it, anyway,” you respond quickly, the words rushing out, as if saying them fast enough will make them true. you set the cup down on the counter, the clink of ceramic sounding louder than it should.

he takes a step closer, voice softening. “that’s always been your dream, and you’re not taking it, mhm.”

“but there’s a lot of things i’ve wanted to do… and i haven’t done any of them, so” you reply, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter as if grounding yourself.

his eyes search yours, frustration laced in his next words. “and now? you decide to do it now? with everything we have lined up in the future? we’re about to get married.” his voice lowers, pausing for a moment. “no, you can’t.”

the mention of the wedding makes your chest tighten, a wave of guilt creeping in. “are you forbidding me from going?” your voice is calm, but the hurt is beginning to break through the surface.

he rubs his hand over his face, exasperation clear in his posture. “i never said that,” he mutters, pacing a little, his footsteps heavy on the floor. “but i don’t know, we have a wedding in a few weeks, and i was hoping you would be free that day."

silence stretches between you, the weight of his words sinking in. you feel the heaviness in your chest, like you're stuck between what you owe yourself and what you owe him. finally, you look up, your voice steady. “i’m not asking you to understand. or to be happy about it. i’m just asking for your support.”

his gaze sharpens, and he shakes his head again, frustration mounting. “support you? how can i support you when it feels like i’m losing you?”

your heart skips a beat, and for a second, you’re unsure of how to respond. “you’re not losing me,” you say quietly, but there’s a tremor in your voice, betraying the uncertainty you feel. “i’m still here.”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running his hands through his hair. “you’re still here? you’ve been accepted into a program in new york, for three months. that’s a whole summer. and you didn’t even tell me. you applied without saying a word.”

you bite your lip, guilt flooding through you. “i didn’t want to say anything because i told you, i wasn’t planning on taking it.”

he looks at you incredulously. “then why apply? why even put yourself through the process if you weren’t going to follow through?”

you look away, feeling the pressure of his gaze on you. “i don’t know. maybe i wanted to see if i was still good enough. if i could still be the person i used to be.”

“the person you used to be?” he repeats, his tone a little softer now, but still confused.

you rub your arms, trying to ease the tension in your muscles. “it means... i feel like i’ve built my life around you. around what we’ve built together. i haven’t chased any of the dreams i had when we first met.”

“i never stood in your way,” he counters, his voice quieter now, almost pleading for you to see things from his side.

you take a deep breath, the truth burning on your tongue. “i know. but i’ve settled for the fact that we have a home, and that i got a stable job—one that’s almost mediocre. it sucks, but that’s what i’ve been going through.”

his brow furrows, his voice strained. “i want to understand. i swear i want to understand. but i don’t.”

your throat tightens. you remember the younger version of yourself, eighteen and full of hopes. “do you remember when we met? i wanted to travel the world, study in different countries, learn everything i could. i wanted to be someone, charles. i haven’t been able to be that person anymore.”

“i love you, no matter what. you know that, right? i’ve always loved you.” his hand finds yours, holding it tightly.

you pull your hand away gently, shaking your head. “it’s not about that. i know you love me. i just— i don’t love myself. and i hate that i haven’t done anything for me.”

the silence is crushing until he speaks, his voice small, vulnerable. “but what if you decide that you want to keep pursuing art? and you realise i don’t fit into that world anymore? what if those three months turn into forever?”

you stare at him, your heart sinking. “charles...”

his gaze hardens as he leans forward. “because if you can’t promise that we’ll still be us after this, then maybe we should end it now. i’m not waiting three months just to have my heart ripped out.”

you feel the sting of tears in your eyes, your breath catching. “charles, i love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking as the tears finally fall.

he’s silent for a moment, his expression softening as he watches you, but the pain is still there, clear in his eyes. “can you promise me that won’t happen?”

you freeze. everything feels like it’s slipping through your fingers. your chest tightens as the words catch in your throat. “pause,” you plead, needing to stop, needing a moment to think.

he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “no.”

“pause!” you cry out, louder this time, desperate to hold onto something, anything.

he looks at you, hurt and frustration etched in his features. “why do you want us to pause?” before you can answer, you pull him in, kissing him with all the desperation, fear, and love you’ve been holding back. for a second, he hesitates, but then his arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close as if he’s afraid to let go. he kisses you back, but there’s a sadness in the way his lips move against yours—like he’s trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers.

as he pulls away from the kiss, your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. you don’t let go of him, your forehead resting against his. his hands stay on your waist, fingers digging in lightly. his eyes are closed, and there’s a tension in his jaw that you can feel, even in this closeness. the silence between you is heavy, filled with things neither of you know how to say.

“unpause,” he whispers, voice rough, his breath warm against your lips. “you can’t just kiss me and expect this to go away,” he murmurs, his voice low but firm, as if he’s forcing himself to break the fragile silence.

you pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. the desperation in them mirrors your own, but beneath it, you see the fear too—the fear of losing what you’ve built together, the life you’ve shared, the future you’ve imagined. the moment feels unbearably fragile.

“okay.” you nod, wiping away a tear that has slipped down your cheek. “what makes this different from your job, charles? you travel every week for training, races, events. you’re gone a lot. and i’m with you almost every single time.”

he opens his mouth to respond but hesitates, the weight of your question settling heavily. “that’s different. that’s my career, i’m chasing my dreams.”

“and i’m not?” you counter, your voice rising with frustration. “you think i’m just working at a kindergarten because i want to? i love kids, yes, and i love teaching. but i have dreams too. art has always been my passion.”

his eyes flash with uncertainty, but he presses on. “but that’s a commitment. you would be living in another country for three months. we have our lives planned together. our wedding.”

“exactly,” you respond, feeling your heart pound. “you’re pursuing your career while i’m stuck here in a job that doesn’t fulfill me. i wasn’t even going to take the program, but now... it feels like i need to.”

he shakes his head, anger flaring again. “so you’re saying you would rather leave everything behind, including us?”

you take a step back, the pain of his words cutting deep. “i’m not leaving you, charles.”

he runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “and if it changes everything between us? what if you decide you want to stay in new york?”

“i wouldn’t know until i try,” you argue, desperation creeping into your voice. “you’re not giving me a chance to explore who i am outside of our life together.”

his expression hardens, and you feel the air thicken with tension. “then maybe we shouldn’t get married,” he says, his voice cold, an edge of betrayal slicing through the words.

the words strike you like a blow, and you stare at him. “maybe we shouldn’t,” you reply in a firm voice, as if you were sure of what you were saying when in reality you are not. both of you realise what you said and fall into a deep silence, staring into each other's eyes for a couple of seconds.

he clenches his jaw, anger burning in his eyes. “you want to throw everything away just like that? when i’m willing to build a life with you?”

“willing? you’re saying it like you’d do it out of pity!” your voice rises. what at first started as confusion had turned into rage. any word made them both burn inside. “you act like you’re doing me a favor, like my dreams don’t matter unless they fit into your plans.”

“it’s not pity! it’s because i fucking love you.” his fists clench at his sides, desperation flickering in his gaze as he tries to bridge the chasm forming between you.

“love shouldn’t feel like a compromise,” you snap, the heat of the moment fueling your anger. “you’re treating this like a transaction instead of what it really is—a partnership.”

“because it feels like you’re choosing this over reality!” he shouts back, the words slicing through the air. “i can’t stand by and watch you run away when we’ve fought so hard for what we have!”

“fought for what? a life where i can’t even be myself?” you retort, tears of frustration welling in your eyes. “we’ve been together for nine years, and we got together when we were eighteen. of course i don’t know anything but you!”

his eyes narrow, hurt mixed with fury. “so because of that you’d rather chase your move kilometres away than build a life with me?”

“building a life with you doesn’t mean i have to give up mine!” your voice rises, the fear and frustration spilling out. “i want both!”

silence hangs between you, charged with emotion, and the reality of your words feels like a dagger in your chest. the weight of what’s unsaid presses heavily on your shoulders. both of you just stand still there.

“you know you can’t,” he says finally, his voice trembling but full of raw intensity. he takes a step back, the hurt in his expression deepening. “and i know i can’t understand how you want to risk everything we’ve built, everything we are.”

“charles, i’m not risking it! i just wanted to reclaim myself before i lose everything, including you!” the desperation in your voice feels palpable, the stakes higher than ever.

he stares at you, pain twisting his features. “you think this is easy for me? seeing how you can’t choose me the one time i’m asking you to. you think i’m just going to accept that?”

“i didn’t choose it over you! i just want a chance to be myself again. is that so wrong?” you’re pleading now, your heart racing as you see his resolve falter.

his expression hardens again, a wall slamming down between you. “maybe you should have thought about that before you applied. you think it’s all just a game?”

the discussion was taking place in every room, until finally you reached yours. the one you cuddled in, slept in, where you told each other your dreams and talked about how wonderful your life would be when you finally got married.

“don’t you dare put this on me!” you shout, your voice breaking. “you’re the one making me feel like i have to choose! i can’t keep living for you while losing myself!”

“if you’re having these doubts, maybe you don’t really want this life with me at all.” he snaps, each word dripping with anger and betrayal.

the words hang in the air, a finality that feels suffocating. your heart shatters at the thought, and you can feel the walls closing in around you. “i didn’t have any trouble with this engagement until now,” you whisper, the weight of the decision crushing you.

he shakes his head, disappointment etched on his face. “i won’t pretend everything will be okay when you’re clearly not sure about us.”

without thinking, you start to gather your things—clothes, sketches, the remnants of a life shared. each item feels heavier in your hands, a tangible reminder of everything you’re about to leave behind.

tears spill down your cheeks as you try to grasp the reality of the situation. “i love you, charles. but come on.” but even as you say it, you know the truth: you need to find out who you are without him. the realization makes each movement feel like a betrayal, yet you can’t stop packing, each item a piece of your heart that you’re reluctantly setting aside.

“i love you, but—” his expression hardens, anger and hurt merging. “but if you walk out of that door, and we’re done. no second chances. you’ll have everything, but not me.”

“then this is where we end.” you nod slowly, feeling the gravity of his words. “i just needed to figure out who i am outside of our relationship. i’m really sorry you couldn’t even bother to understand it.” you add, voice steady but filled with pain.

as you zip up your suitcase, you turn to take one last look at your flat, your gaze lingering on the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls. smiling faces frozen in time serve as bittersweet reminders of what had just a couple of hours ago.

he doesn’t look at you, unable to meet your gaze, the silence between you heavy with unspoken feelings. you open the door, the cool air rushing in to meet you, a stark contrast to the warmth of what you’re leaving behind. with one last look at the man you thought you’d spend your life with, you step outside, the door closing behind you with a finality that echoes in your heart. as you walk away, the emptiness he leaves behind feels like a gaping wound. you stand in the hallway, your heart heavy, knowing everything has changed in a heartbeat. the future you once envisioned together now hangs by a thread, and all you can do is hope that, in time, both of you will find your way back to each other—or at least to the pieces of yourselves that have been lost along the way.

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[enmi-land]

୨ ❪ THE FAMiLY ALBUM ❫ ୧

💭 LEARN ABOUT THE FUTURE EN- FAMiLY ! POLY!OT⑧ 𓈃 headcanons. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)CONTAiNS. mentions of pregnancy & birth, minor suggestive content. ꒰ FOREWORD ✦ This takes place further into the future, but it is not specified when.

🪽 ୨୧ 𝓂𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇-𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗂𝖾𝗌 . . . in age order; “age gap” indicates age at which next sibling was born.

୨୧ JUNSOO JASON PARK

GENDER: Male FATHER: Jay HANGUL: 박준수 (제이슨) MEANING:  · Jason,  “healer” · Junsoo, “talented”/“universe” AGE GAP: 3yrs

୨୧ KIM BITNA

GENDER: Female FATHER: Sunoo HANGUL: 김빛나 MEANING: “to shine” AGE GAP: 2yrs

୨୧ LEO RAEWOO SIM

GENDER: Male FATHER: Jake HANGUL: 심래우 (레오) MEANING: · Leo, “lion” · Raewoo, “future”/“allow” AGE GAP: 10mths

୨୧ PARK MINKYUNG

GENDER: Male FATHER: Sunghoon HANGUL: 박민경 MEANING: “jade”/“luminous” AGE GAP: 1yr

୨୧ NISHIMURA HARUTO

GENDER: Male FATHER: Riki KANJI: 西村陽翔  MEANING: “sun”/“soar” AGE GAP: 2yrs

୨୧ YANG INHYE

GENDER: Female FATHER: Jungwon HANGUL: 양인혜 MEANING: “kindness”/“gracious” AGE GAP: 1yr

୨୧ LEE SEUNGHYUN

GENDER: Male FATHER: Heeseung HANGUL: 이승현 MEANING: “victory”/“virtuous” AGE GAP: 5mins (Twins)

୨୧ LEE SEUNGJAE

GENDER: Male FATHER: Heeseung HANGUL: 이승재 MEANING: “victory”/“talent”

🪽 ୨୧ 𝑔𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇-𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 . . . and how they got here; headcanons about the future family.

The 02z each wanted to have the oldest kid, and the other members already agreed to let them—it was just a matter of who. Needless to say, Jay was the happiest man alive when he realised Mila was pregnant with his son. But of course, everyone agreed to treat each other’s children as if they were their own—or at the very least, as equally as they possibly can. And seeing as Jason would be the first, that meant it was all hands on deck trying to figure out this whole “parenthood” ordeal.

Mila was constantly being coddled and treated like a porcelain doll by her husbands, she would roll her eye at them. But she of course appreciated the effort, and it was cute to see them fussing over both her and baby Jason. Jay had downloaded an app to track the baby’s growth and would excitedly tell Mila whenever baby Jason (who was nicknamed gummy at this stage, because of Mila’s cravings for gummy worms) grew just a little bit bigger in her womb.

After Jason was born, Mila had been fiercely protective of him, and didn’t want to let him go, not wanting to miss a single second of being with her newborn baby boy. Jay had to coax her to let the nurses take him from her so she could get some well-deserved rest. The others were worried sick since it was the first pregnancy and birth, but knew the work would only get tougher from now.

The next pregnancy had supposed to be one of the 02z, remembering that the group unanimously agreed they could have the oldest children. And after a few years of getting used to parenting, Mila was finally easy for the next baby. Except, it didn’t end up being one of the 02z—it was Sunoo’s baby instead. To this, the explanation is quite simple: Mila had been feeling insecure about all the changes her body had been through since giving birth to Jason, and Sunoo wanted to reassure her. One thing led to another, and well… you get the picture.

To say they were betrayed would be an understatement. But as soon as they heard Mila was having a girl, all of it faded away in an instant. Of course they had been excited for Jason’s birth, as the eldest, but there was something about having a little girl that made all of them melt. Sunghoon, especially, who had been wanting a daughter as well. (Well, until Mila mentioned he would have to let her go when she’s old enough to get married, and decided that, yeah, a son would do just fine.)

After Bitna was born, it took a while for Mila to adjust to having two kids to deal with, but Jason was getting old enough that he was starting to learn some responsibility himself. And just like his father, he became a guardian for his younger sister—as well as all his other siblings in the future. This, of course, only fuelled the baby fever even further, and Jakehoon were ready to get those children they were promised.

The funny thing about Jakehoon’s children is that they’re only 10 months apart—which wasn’t all that funny to Mila, when she realised she was pregnant with Minkyung only a month after giving birth to Leo. But while Sunghoon felt guilty, he was also really excited because he knew his boy and Jake’s would be the best of friends, just like their fathers. And, well, Mila might have found it so cute she forgot she was unimpressed by their competitiveness to se who would have the oldest kid between the two of them. (Sunghoon also gets brownie points for the sheer fact that, unlike Jake, he didn’t collapse in the delivery room, and because he named his son for her Chinese name: “bright jade.”)

Haruto was a bit of a tricky one to give birth to, because there were some complications during his birth. And considering this wasn’t Mila’s first pregnancy, it definitely took her husbands off guard. He was born a month earlier than he was supposed to, meaning that no one was prepared, and a such no one had been there for the delivery. Thankfully, the mother-in-laws pulled through to take care of the other kids while baby Haruto and Mila were recovering and the boys were scrambling to get to the hospital from wherever they were at the time.

This situation made the boys a bit scared and they became very clingy towards Mila for a while afterwards. They also become very careful around baby Haruto, and Mila spent a lot of time with him, earning some jealousy from the other children. But fortunately their kids are as sweet as they are, and understood that their baby brother needed extra attention and care because of health reasons, leading to the babies being extra protective of their mama and Haruto as a result. Thankfully, Haruto grows up to be a cheerful child just like his mother.

Inhye has a more forgiving birth, which was welcomed very gratefully by her parents—as well as for the fact she was the only other girl thus far. She, like Bitna, receives the full princess treatment from her father, and this time around from her olde brothers as well, who have become protective of both Inhye and Bitna under their father’s influence. She, like her older sister, is a daddy’s girl for sure, which is dangerous considering her mother’s sense of mischief and irresistible puppy dog eyes.

At this point, Mila had never been expecting to have twins—most of all during her very last pregnancy, of all things. So of course that’s exactly what happens. The moment Heeseung finds out he’s going to be the father of two children, his mind is blown, but none more than Mila herself. The twin boys are a challenge to birth, naturally, and Mila takes some time to recover, but when she does, the whole family gets to witness the wonder of having two identical babies to care for. The others have managed to get them confused on more than one occasion, but Mila and Heeseung are proud to say they can tell them apart with their eyes closed.

The two, as the babies of the family, are welcome by all their siblings and parents. And with their birth, marks the official beginning of the completed EN-Family. It’s definitely not easy to manage so many children, but like all things they’ve overcome, Mila and her husbands find a way to make it work.

© ENMI-LAND, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, REPOST.

[pyeonghongrie]

Anything You Could Do, I Could Do Better!

Summary: You and your academic rival do what academic rivals do, trying to one-up each other in grades. But the thing is, both of you are teachers.

Characters/Pairing(s): Hongjoong X Reader

Genre: humor

AUs/Trope info: Reverse Academic Rivals,

Word Count: 500+

Warnings: none??????

Rating: 16+

A/N: for @cultofdionysusnet's reverse trope event! Thank you to @kwanisms for helping with this!!!

It’s a new school year, which means, it's a new opportunity to crush your rival, Kim Hongjoong, in a battle of wits. 

You see, that would’ve been much more appropriate if both of you weren’t high school teachers. And if you both weren’t vicariously continuing this feud through which class could get a higher grade point average.

"My God, Hongjoong! You’re delusional if you think your class is going to get the higher GPA this quarter! It’s impossible,” you yell at him from across the faculty parking lot, your anger reaching a boiling point after he provoked you with yet another bet for this school year. “You suck at teaching and everyone knows it!”

“Oh, get over yourself,” he yells back, slamming the door of his car shut. “You’re just salty that my students love my class while they drone over your miserable little classroom that feels more like a prison cell,” he continues, power-walking in your direction. “You won’t even let them bring snacks, you Karen!”

“Oh, please!” you retort, rolling your eyes. “The only reason they like you is because you let them slack off! And Besides,” you continue, narrowing your eyes as he draws closer. “My classroom has these fuck ass linoleum floors that basically adheres food crumbs to it. I don’t want my room to have rats, especially if they look like you.”

He gasps, dramatically so, one hand over his gaped mouth and the other over his chest. “This has to constitute a hate crime, this is rodent discrimination. Everyone knows I’m a squirrel.”

You roll your eyes, “Save the ‘woe is me’ cries for someone who cares, Kim. I’ll see you after this quarter when my class destroys yours!”

Hongjoong’s class was, in fact, not destroyed by yours.

The final results came in and in fact, both your classes had the same GPA down to the decimal point.

Of course, from that confrontation, the both of you stormed over to the guidance counselor, demanding a recount, or at least a reason for this “impossible” tie.

“This is ridiculous!” You said, slapping the flimsy piece of paper over her desk, “There is no way that this guy’s class got the same GPA as mine!”

Hongjoong scoffs, “You act like we weren’t in the same education classes in college. You’re no better off than I am.”

“Well,” The counselor started, “Both of you were being really annoying about this feud, it was funny at first, but both of you need to get over this. You’re adults, not only that, you’re responsible for the education of the future professionals of this country. I’d expect both of you to prioritize the students’ education over this silly competition.”

The counselor clears her throat, “Enough,” she said as she stood up from her chair, “There is no mistake in the transcripts. Both of your classes scored the exact same, down to the decimal.”

Both of you look at each other. “But, how is that possible?” Hongjoong asked, just as confused as you were.

Both of you lower your head in shame.

“Now, this feud ends today. No more trying to live your rivalry through these kids.” She sits down again, waving both of you off.

You stand in front of the door to the driver’s side of your car, as did Hongjoong. With a silent agreement to end this rivalry, and call for peace.

Which only lasted until the next school year, much to the chagrin of everyone else.

[novaursa]

The Fire That Was Promised

- Summary: You burn down King’s Landing in an act of revenge before flying to Shadowlands.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen (one-sided)

- Note: This short story is one of the possible endings to The Broken Crown series, where Y/N takes revenge against her brother.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana @sunset18rose

The wind tears at your hair as Tesaerix’s powerful wings slice through the air, carrying you higher and farther from the place that no longer feels like home. The dark expanse of the Narrow Sea stretches below you, a boundless void that mirrors the one gnawing at your heart. You should be bound for Winterfell, not Essos, wrapped in the furs of the North and preparing to wed Torrhen Stark. Instead, you’re flying away from everything you thought you’d ever wanted. Everything that should have been yours.

Your thoughts twist and turn, darker than the night sky around you. Aegon had taken everything from you. He had called off your betrothal with a cold, ruthless command, casting aside the promise of a life and family that had been within your grasp. Your role as his sister-wife, his conquest, had been his choice, not yours. You were the youngest, the last to be claimed by his insatiable hunger for power—and perhaps something more.

Anger thrums through you, a living thing, and you feel it course through Tesaerix as well. Your bond is deep, your emotions shared. The mighty dragon's blood-red eyes flicker with the same rage that seethes in your veins. You grit your teeth, clutching the reins tighter. The sky blurs as hot tears sting your eyes. Tears of frustration, of loss, of betrayal. You’re fleeing, yes, but there’s no solace to be found in running.

You’ve flown long enough.

Without a word, you guide Tesaerix in a sharp, spiraling turn, your heart hammering as you abandon your course to Essos. The golden dragon roars in response, a sound of confusion, anger—and something else. As if she, too, senses the burning desire that has ignited within you. Revenge.

King’s Landing looms on the horizon, a sprawling city bathed in the eerie glow of the moon. The sight of it fuels your wrath. The seat of your brother’s power, the very heart of his kingdom—and your prison. The memory of Aegon’s face, impassive and unyielding as he broke your betrothal, flashes before you. He had not cared for your happiness, for your wishes. He had seen only what was his to take, to control.

“Dracarys,” you whisper, your voice trembling with fury and resolve.

Tesaerix responds instantly, diving down toward the city like an arrow loosed from a bow. Her massive form eclipses the moon as she descends, her wings unfurling in a terrifying display of strength. You can feel the heat building in her chest, the deep rumble that precedes a dragon’s breath of fire.

The first burst of flame hits the Flea Bottom, a rush of golden fire that spreads like a wave over the ramshackle buildings. Screams rise up from below, a cacophony of panic and pain. You feel no remorse, no hesitation. Aegon took your future; now you’ll take his city.

The Great Sept crumbles beneath the onslaught of dragonfire, the stained glass windows shattering in a shower of molten shards. The bells ring out, a desperate, mournful sound that echoes through the dying city. Tesaerix roars, her own fury mingling with yours, and you feel the bond between you surge, unbreakable, forged in this moment of wrath and ruin.

You leave only the Aegonfort untouched, a twisted gift to your brother, the conqueror who took and took until there was nothing left of you but a vessel for his ambitions. Let him rule over the ashes of his realm, let him see what his greed has wrought.

As the city burns, you turn Tesaerix’s head towards the east. You cast one last glance at the inferno below, the flames painting the sky with a hellish glow. It is done. You have nothing left here but ghosts and memories, and you refuse to be haunted any longer.

With a sharp command, you urge Tesaerix onward, her powerful wings carrying you away from the smoking ruin of King’s Landing. The air is heavy with the scent of destruction, the cries of the dying fading into the distance as you climb higher, breaking through the veil of smoke and cloud.

You imagine Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya scrambling in confusion, rushing to their dragons. But you are already beyond their reach, the skies your domain, your dragon faster and fiercer than they could ever hope to match. By the time they take to the air, King’s Landing is a smoldering ruin, the night sky painted with the orange glow of the burning city.

And you do not look back again. You set your sights on the Shadowlands, on the mysteries and dangers that await you beyond the known world. You are no longer Aegon’s sister, no longer the bride denied. You are the dragon unleashed, and the world will remember this night as the first of many that you will carve your own fate into the very bones of history.

You leave the Aegonfort standing alone, a silent monument in a city of the dead, for him to find in the cold light of dawn. Let him see the ruin you have wrought, the empire of ash he has earned.

[im-just-a-boy-guys]

Expanding on an idea I had, I'll link the post :3

(MULTIMONSTER/GLORYHOLE/AFAB/FTM/ANY BODY TYPE/WERE-TIGER/ORC)

(3.8k words)

(CNC/FREE-USE/MONSTERKINK/GLORYHOLE/ANAL/ORAL/VAGANAL)

SCROLL DOWN TO THE BOTTOM TO SEE THE REFERENCES OF THE CREATURES!<3

(Heads up, pink text is just for unassorted side characters, they might make an appearance in future parts of the fic, and might have their own colors then.)

You walk into the facility excitedly. You had passed the screening, background check, drug test, lab work, and numerous other loops to fill the position you had applied for. You knew it was a sex-working job, but didn't have much more information than that, which you didn't mind.

You walked up to the front desk with your paperwork to greet the busty woman sitting there, her bright green eyes darting up at you from beneath her bangs. Her long black hair draped over her shoulders and the coils, along with her breasts bounced lightly as she moved. A flush of red swam across your cheeks and you tried to avert your gaze, pushing your view back up to her eyes.

"Hello!, I'm (y/n)! I'm here to see-", By the time you'd gotten past your name, she'd already found you on the list.

"Ah! (y/n), Spelled like this right?", She showed you the clipboard and smiled, pointing to your name with a pen. You nodded and returned her cheery expression.

"Yep! That's me!", She nodded and stood, you could now see her red, partially unbuttoned blouse and tight, black, knee-length skirt. As your eyes traveled down her body, they fell on her lovely bright red heels. All of these colors complemented her Olive skin delightfully, so much so that it was very difficult not to stare.

"Come on, hun. Follow me.", I wandered closely behind her and she led me into a large warehouse-type hallway, with many different doors leading into different hallways or rooms. We walked down the hallway and into a blue door on the left. She scanned her keycard and the door buzzed open.

"Once you've been here for a couple of days and decide that you'd like to continue, we will give you a keycard. Until then, I will come let you in."

The door opened into a large waiting area, The flooring was a beautiful dark wood, leading up to the furniture. All of the furniture was luxurious, the arms swirling elegantly. The couches and chairs were a red fabric with black flowers strewn across them, little whisps of swirls against the flower pattern. There was a Traditional Gold Damask on Bright Red Wallpaper lining the walls, all the way to a front desk with another woman with red hair and blue eyes looking up from her paperwork through her glasses.

"Oh! Is this the new hire? They're gorgeous!"

"Yes isn't he? I just know the clientele is going to love him. Alright, Cassandra, I'm going to take him back. Don't send in anyone too rough until his third day please."

She smiled and Cassandra nodded, "Of course Andromeda. As always."

She returned to her paperwork and the dark-haired woman led me into a room with an "Employees only" Sign.

"Alright, and If you just strip down, You'll be led to your room for the night. Oh, I almost forgot to ask, would you prefer human clients or monsters-", You'd almost forgotten monsters would be an option, but you felt your heart race at the idea. You'd never been with a monster before and the very thought put slick between your thighs.

"Monsters- please.", You said politely. She nodded and left you in the room by yourself. You looked into the body-length mirror as you undressed, hearing Cassandra's words in your head, calling you gorgeous. You were feeling super confident.

You heard a soft rap on your door, "May I come in, (y/n)?"

"Yes, I'm ready...", You bashfully covered yourself but only slightly. Andromeda smiled at you and gave you a soft look up and down.

"You look beautiful, come with me this way to your room.", You nodded and walked slowly behind her as she opened the door and led you down the red hallway, Along the wall, there were dark, red cushioned lifts that hung about 3 feet above the ground. The same wallpaper as the waiting room shines softly in the dim lighting. The woman opened a door with her keycard, another "Employees only" sign hanging from it.

As you entered, the hallway wrapped around as if to mirror the one you were just in, full of box-like rooms that were slightly elevated. She opened one of the secure doors, as you looked inside, the room was filled with that same, cushioned material, a pillow built into a table in the middle, and a red button hung next to the door.

"I'm going to open the door and you will put your rear end and your knees on the other side of the wall. It will secure your hips in place, and you will put your abdomen on this table. when your lower half is secured, this wall will open a small hole in front of you and the table will adjust you fowars slightly, or this wall will get closer to you."

You tried to keep up with what she was saying as you looked all over the room, figuring out how the mechanisms functioned so well. There must've been a lot of science, engineering, and thought put into these rooms. Andromeda scanned her card on the button pad, which helped adjust the walls and seating.

Once your hips were through the wall, and your knees were comfortable; you adjusted the closeness of the wall, and a hole opened up. The hole was right up next to your mouth and you couldn't help but daydream. Just thinking about the randomly colored cocks that would be in your face, how they might taste, and how thick they might be. More slick dripped down your thigh and you prayed no one would notice.

"Alright, are you comfortable?"

"Yes, Ma'am", She looked over her clipboard at how you addressed her as she checked off boxes, you almost wished she would play with you herself, now shamelessly staring at her chest, or at least what you could see under her clipboard.

"Would you like an aphrodisiac?", You looked at her confused and blushed.

"What- is that?", Andromeda put her clipboard to her hip and smiled,

"It's a drug, more spasifically a gass for us as a compsany, that makes you feel extra- in the mood."

She winked and chuckled. You nodded and looked down shamefully, "Yes please-"

"Alright hun, I'll be sure to set you up before we open. I'm going to ho around to the other side and make sure your legs are as open as they need to be, Ill close the wall once you're adjusted and we'll help all the other girls in. While you're waiting well hit you with the drugs okay?"

"Mhm"

You answered softly and let yourself relax, resting your arms on the rectangular table, your back arching softly as you adjusted. You were happy to find there was another armrest and a small lift button for the table. You messed with it, raising the table slightly and lowering it. You rested your arms on the wall, armrest, practicing how you would suck on the monsters that offered their cocks to you. Andromeda could be heard behind you,

"Oh, my~", she giggled softly as she examined you.

"Someone's exited huh? Alright, do you mind if I touch your legs and thighs? Make you look presentable?"

"No, I dont mind."

She hummed softly as her soft hands wrapped around your calves, pulling your legs carefully apart and gently spreading your pussy lips but making sure not to touch your aching hole. You wished she would, you imagined her acrylics gently rubbing at your insides, her fingertips rubbing your G-spot. You gasped softly when you felt her spread you, and she heard.

"Alright, you're all set up and look monster-ready", She chuckled and made her way back to the front hallway.

"Ok sweety, I'm going to close the holes around you and obviously the one in front of you will just close. The room will fill with a light gass, but it shouldn't feel suffocating. If it does, or anything hurts or goes wrong, press that red button to your left. Am I understood?"

You nodded and looked into her bright green eyes. You wanted to make her proud and prove you deserved to stay and that you could do the best at your job. Maybe you'd get a reward for doing well.

The hole closed and the wall behind you clenched tightly around your hips. This made you feel secure and the squeeze made you feel secure. A robotic voice sounded in a speaker,

"Is your waist secured too tightly?", I sat there for a moment and I answered out loud not sure what else I could do.

"No."

"Good. Prepare for Aphrodisiac.", As the voice went silent, you heard a soft hissing, and quiet music began to play. You took a few purposeful deep breaths as you let your mind wander to the various creatures that might violate you.

You hadn't realized how much time had gone by and soon the hole in front of you opened up and the hole around your hip loosened slightly. You could hear talking behind you, a deep gruff voice sounding out.

"Good- gods... Look at this one-", Another voice soon to follow.

"Damn, I wonder how good his mouth is...(y/n) huh? Cute name. I'll take the mouth first then we can swap out."

You looked down to see the drool pooled against your chin and your face flushed in embarrassment. You sat upright, trying to ready yourself for the fun.

"Ooh. You're really exited for this huh?", A harsh slap fell across your ass, causing you to moan out. The creature laughed and you felt a pointed tip against your sloppy hole.

Soon a thick, green cock was pushed through the hole in front of you, the pre-cum-covered tip pressed lightly against your cheek. The feeling of it was amazing, the drugs filling your head with so much glee. You rested your weight on your elbows and took hold of; what you were assuming was an orc's cock with both hands and rubbed the leaking, pink-tinted tip all over your face.

A soft groan could be heard from the other side of the wall and the creature began to thrust into the hole and against your face.

"Fuuck yes.. god whatever you're doing, pretty boy- keep going-", This excited you, and you happily obliged, and began to softly kiss against his soft tip. You smeared his leaking cum against your lips like salty lipgloss.

The animal behind you thrusted into your cunt roughly, causing you to pull the Orc just into your lips and moan out around him.

"Mmm!", You pushed your hips back against the man behind you.

"Very eager arent you, Sweetheart... I'm going to make you into a delightful little cum-mutt.", he growled as he began to push his hips forward into you, filling you and letting your walls stretch around him, all the way down to his inflating knot.

You were praying it was a Were-Tiger, you loved how handsome they were, their enticing colors, a Lion, or maybe a panther- the daydreams swam around in your head as you began to throat the Orc without much thought, swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip.

"Oh my god, that's so fucking good- yes- Good boy. I might become a regular if you keep this up...", this was encouragement, and you began to suck him into your throat deeper, bobbing your head faster.

You felt a set of claws sink into your hips deeply, but not breaking skin as the creature behind you pounded into you and pressed his knot as hard as he could against you. It was obvious how much he wanted to force it in.

The hole in front of you was big enough to fit the orc's balls through and you used one hand to steady his cock in your mouth, the other reaching down to fondle and squeeze them teasingly. Another soft hissing noise filled the space next to you and a little of the gas spilled out of the holes, encouraging the monsters to be more aggressive with you.

Your holes were getting violently fucked from both ends now and you could feel their lengths pulsing and throbbing against your walls and esophagus. You moaned loudly over the orc's cock, the vibrations sending him into a thrusting frenzy as he forced himself as deeply into your mouth as he could, cum filling your throat quicker than you could swallow, the warmth flooding your chest as you tried not to gag and choke.

Soon after, you felt the man behind you shove his knot into you as he came, his sharp tip pressing against your sensitive cervix. You squirted against him and pressed back against him, trying to ride out your orgasm on his knot. As your pussy clenched and grabbed at his cock, he made sure to grind with you, milking himself as much as he could. The orc pulled out of the hole in front of you and you could hear his heavy breathing as he leaned on the wall.

"Oh my- fuck that was so good.."

You moaned even louder, now that your mouth wasn't full as the man began to fuck you with his knot, popping it in and out as he continued to drain himself. He pulled out and groped your ass affectionately. You happily spaced out and arched your back, laying down and breathing for a moment. After about two minutes you felt a set of two giant fingers rub up and down your pussy and asshole.

The orc was using both you and the man's juices to lubricate both of your holes. You pushed your hips back against his fingers needily.

"Hold on sweet boy. I'll be inside of you soon.", This made you let out a soft pathetic whine, and then a thick, red, textured cock entered the hole in front of you. You immediately wrapped your mouth and hand around him excitedly, circling your tongue around his length.

A roar sounded from the other side, and he immediately began to fuck your mouth, which you were practically begging for. One of the orc's fingers slipped into your pussy, filling it even more than the other creature's cock did.

You drooled more around the man's length and rubbed him vigorously as you finally got to see the knot that filled you. You reached up with your free hand and treated him as you did the orc, massaging his knot and squeezing it tightly.

The orc pushed his fingers into you, into both stretching your holes. He eased them into you and your walls clenched hungrily around them. He chuckled and removed his finger from your pussy, keeping one in your virgin asshole. He moved his finger gently in and out and you could feel his tip against your cunt. The idea of his pretty tip against you made you clench more, just to squeeze out any of your slicks that you could. You'd spend all day sucking it if you could.

"Good boy~ Keep up like that and I'm going to cum down your delicious- feeling throat. God yes- right there-", The man in front of you cooed at you and you moaned around his tip louder as the orc entered you. You swirled your tongue aggressively around his tip and flicked your tongue over the small crease and hole.

His hips spasmed, forcing his cock into your mouth as his throbbing cock spewed warm, sticky cum into your mouth. You pushed your head forward to get the rest of him into your mouth, even trying to fit his knot into your mouth. You felt like your jaw was going to unhinge, but were almost excited to suck on it.

"Ugh- F-God!!", He milked himself into your mouth and tried to help shove himself into your hungry jaws, almost getting off to the feeling of your teeth scraping against his large knot.

The orc pushed himself into you deeply, enough to tease himself by rubbing against the hole of your cervix.

"Mmm, you're so tight-", He chuckled deeply and pulled his finger out of your ass and took your hips into his hands, gripping you securely as he began to thrust in and out.

The man in front of you pulled out of your mouth, allowing you to gasp and cough softly. You wiped your mouth and giggled dazedly, happily arching your back for the monster behind you.

It wasn't long before he couldn't help himself and began to greedily move faster. A soft tapping could be heard as his balls slapped softly against your clit, providing extra stimulation for yourself. You moaned loudly and cursed softly.

You began to grope your tits, pinching at your nipples with one hand and ducking on your fingers with the other, missing the feeling of something in your mouth. Your tongue felt lonely, but your pussy was being very well taken care of. The orc was shaped so wonderfully, his cock was slightly thicker in the middle, rubbing every single weak spot you had. You wanted to hold in your orgasm for as long as possible but were not successful, squirting against him and pushing your hips back into him to encourage your orgasm.

He happily moved his hips slower, guiding you through the rest of your orgasm. After you'd finished, he pulled out of you and pressed himself against you asshole.

"Now, I get to treat you like a real boy-", He laughed and pushed himself roughly into your ass and moved aggressively. The orc was needy for your tightness, huffing and grunting like an animal as he took you. You could feel his big hands wrapping around your whole waist as he used you like a fleshlight.

A heavy fog settled over you as you lay down against the table, happily just trying to relax your body for the other. You could hear the other creature talking to the orc behind you.

"God he looks so good when he's full, and his pussy is leaking cum.", The orc laughed as he thrusted.

"Isn't he? and his ass is so fucking tight- I can't get enough. We'll- UIgh- definitely have to come back-", The orc leaned forward and rested some of his weight against your back, you could feel the warmth and sweat on his chest. Your whines and whimpers subsided to quiet breaths of foggy salvation.

"We should request a private room with him, if he ended up a perma-hire." You could sense the other monster's eyes on you. You imagined him looking down at you like a steak and drooling against the soft fabric beneath you.

"God- I'm so close-", The orc grunted as he drove himself as hard as he could into you, groaning and laughing as he fucked you into a happy stupor. You felt a hot liquid burst into you and you screamed out, your tongue hanging out like a dog.

He panted and held himself inside of you for a moment before carefully pulling out. They both laughed softly and ran their hands and paws over your thighs and waist.

"You did so good for us pretty boy, we'll be back to see you again if we can. Maybe we'll have the pleasure of seeing your gorgeous face. It has to be as beautiful as your body."

They both gave your ass a good slap before you heard them leave. After a moment, you heard mechanisms wiring and the door around your hips was opened as well as the door in front of you. Your eyes drifted up to see the busty secretary who led you back here.

"Hiii Andromedaaa...", You slurred softly and giggled, absolutely fucked out of your mind. She smiled down at you and moved the hair out of your face.

"Did you have fun darling?", Her voice was soft and she held her clipboard up with her pen ready.

"It was very wonderful, I had so much fun.", She nodded and wrote something down.

"Mhm. Did they treat you well?", Her eyes didn't leave her paper.

"Yes, Ma'am.", She once more wrote something down and helped you out of the machine after tucking the clipboard under her arm. You smiled and wobbled slightly.

"Would you like some help? We have some really strong staff who can hold you up or carry you to your room to rest.", You nodded and looked around, trying to find something for you to steady yourself. Andromeda pulled a small walkie-talkie from her pocket and spoke into it.

"Hey, Can you send a carrier here, to hall 3-A please?", Within mere moments, a woman walked into the hall, she must've been at least 5ft 11'. You gawked at her, she was built very strongly, her breasts blending with muscle.

"Hello, I'll be your Carrior for the night. May I?", She smiled and opened her arms, taking a step closer. You nodded and replied softly. She had a soft Southern accent that made me swoon.

"Mhm- Please-", You reached out for her and did your best to stumble over to her. She picked you up carefully, bridal style. You looked up and studied her features. She had Darker skin than Andromeda's olive tint, a delightful, deep caramel color. Her hair was up in a ponytail or a messy bun, you couldn't tell very well. It looked to be a box dyed red but over her already dark hair.

She carried you to the room you had undressed in and into a side room you hadn't noticed. It was a bathroom with a luxurious bath and she gently laid you in it.

"Would you like me to turn on the water for you?", Her face tinted slightly darker as she looked you over.

"Yes please", You smiled up at her, blushing as well. She turned the water on to a nice hot temperature used a small picture and filled it with warm water, gently rinsing you off. The bath was then plugged and she pulled another pitcher off of the counter that was full of a creme-colored liquid and what looked like flower petals.

"If you dont mind my sayin' so- you look very pretty, uhm-", She gingerly poured the milk bath mixture into the water and over your body.

"(Y/N)", You added and giggled at her bashfullness.

"Got it. Well, I'm gonna let you clean up alright? Sure you can manage?", She stood, folding her arms in front of her like a bouncer at a club.

"Yes, I think I'll be alright.", You giggled more and smiled big. She nodded and opened the door to leave.

"You just uh- Let me know if you need me alright?"

"Alright.", You watched as she left and waited until hearing the second door to your room close before squealing happily, the night had gone amazingly and you'd been carried back to your room by the most attractive woman you thought you'd ever seen. You'd definitely be staying.

(Not my art, found on google :3)

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

“Rings of Power” 2x07 - Speculation and Clues 

Now that we established the “leaks” are fake, let’s get down to business and speculate next episode, for real this time.  

What’s confirmed for Episode 7? 

According to the director, it will be an Elrond-centered episode 

Battle of Eregion: Orcs (lead by Adar) vs. Elven army (lead by Elrond) 

Adar and Elrond share a chat (“You cannot defeat me in battle” Adar warns Elrond)

Arondir joins the battle 

Annatar and Celebrimbor ("what have you done to me?"/“finish the Nine, and I’ll spare your city” )

Elrond at Khazad-dûm with Prince Durin (asking the Dwarves to help in the Battle of Eregion)

Galadriel and Celebrimbor emotional exchange

Want leaks? These are the real leaks.

My guess is this dynamic (Battle of Eregion/Elrond and Annatar/Celebrimbor) will be the core of Episode 7, with Arondir side plot. Maybe Isildur and Theo, as well.

Annatar & Celebrimbor - "Who are you, truly?"

From the preview teaser, we know the “what have you done to me?” scene will take place in 2x07. So, it’s almost certain that Celebrimbor will discover Annatar’s true identity in this episode. He also finds out that Eregion is under attack, while Sauron/Annatar promises he can spare the city if Celebrimbor completes the Nine rings of power. 

Two possible scenarios here: 

Celebrimbor finishes the Nine, and only then he discovers Annatar is actually Sauron. This would mean that Annatar/Sauron would still pretend to be an emissary of the Valar when Celebrimbor finds out Eregion is under seige; 

Celebrimbor discovers Annatar is actually Sauron. Then, Sauron blackmails him into finishing the Nine rings of power.  

I'm betting on the second option.

Mostly because we, the audience, have yet to find out that the “miraculous mithril powder” Sauron gave to Celebrimbor in 2x06 isn’t mithril at all. My guess it’s Sauron’s blood (we saw him performing blood magic in 2x06), to mix into the alloy of the Nine rings of power, to bind and enslave the future ring-bearers to his will and create the Nazgûl (the “Ringwraiths”). And thus explaining why the Nine work differently from the Seven (the Dwarves’ rings of power won’t bind them to Sauron’s will, but create greed and lust for gold).  

I think Celebrimbor will discover this, and that's why he tries to destroy the Nine (to stop Sauron). And, when we see Celebrimbor crying on the trailer, I think it’s after he realizes what he has done; not only at being deceived, or Eregion being under attack, but mainly because he gave Sauron the means through which he’ll conquer and enslave all of Middle-earth.  

Celebrimbor will finish the Nine, and he will try to destroy them, only to find out he can’t.

Will Sauron take a hold of the Nine in 2x07 or 2x08? 

I'm betting late 2x07, because 2x08 has a lot to deal with and many plots to close, and prep-up for Season 3.

This might be a wild guess, but I think Sauron is talking about Mirdania here, and she might be the one who gives him the Nine, bringing full circle as to why Sauron has been earning her trust and loyalty all season: for her to do his bidding, no matter what (causing fraction between the smiths, preventing Celebrimbor from finding out about the attack on Eregion, etc.). Will she leave with Sauron? I don't think so; his eye is set on another prize. She’s R.I.P. for sure, and probably won’t even survive this episode. 

And this scene might actually be Sauron peacing out of Eregion with the rings of power, at the end of 2x07.

Elrond/Adar - Battle of Eregion

From the preview teaser and the trailers, we already know how this will go down (somewhat). In some teasers we’ve seen Elrond with a wound on his face, I think this will only happen in 2x08, and not in 2x07. 

We also know Elrond will go to Khazad-dûm, and ask Prince Durin to provide aid in the Battle of Eregion. I think he’ll see Durin giving a speech to the Dwarves in 2x07, and King Durin III being against helping Eregion, but they won’t show up on the battle just yet (more on that later).

This will probably happen before the Elven army faces the Orc army, because logic.  

This attack somehow stops (probably because Adar will flaunt Galadriel in a cage), and Elrond and Adar will have a chat (as we’ve seen in Episode 7 preview). 

Adar will warn Elrond that his small Elven army can’t stop the Orc legions. My guess is he’ll use Galadriel as bargain here. As I’ve speculated before, Adar already expressed to Galadriel, in 2x06, his desire in knowing what comes after Sauron is defeated and the fate of the Orcs, seeking out a truce between Elves and Orcs, which would allow him and his “children” to live in peace, in Mordor. I believe he will propose this to Elrond, too. 

However, there might be a plot twist in this scene, because every character wants Sauron destroyed: and in 2x07 Elrond might have to choose between saving Galadriel or stopping Sauron.  

Elrond & Galadriel - Elrond's Choice

As I’ve already speculated in Part 1 of my “Last Temptation” megathread, and with 2x07 being an Elrond-centered episode, it makes perfect sense for this to be the moment when he has to uphold the promise he made to Galadriel, in 2x04. And this is exactly what I’m guessing will happen, and the majority of the people on my "People's Choice" Poll are way off mark here. (Or I am, we'll see).

This scene from the trailer is, indeed, Elrond touching Galadriel’s face, at the Orc camp. And it will mirror the first time they were introduced to us in 1x01, but on reverse and sorrowful, because instead of greeting each other, they are saying farewell.

My bet is Elrond will allow Galadriel to remain as Adar’s prisoner, probably to lure Sauron out, in the hope they might save Eregion still, and stop the Orc attack on the city. Plot twist: it won't. Adar is so consumed by his desire for revenge against Sauron, he won’t stop the battle.

Ironically, the clue is in the actual trailer. 

My guess is this scene will play out like an actual goodbye between Elrond and Galadriel, because they believe they both can/will die (we, as the audience, know they won’t, but we can’t look at things that way). And no, there won’t be any kissing on the lips, for f*ck sake. Anyway, it will be a very emotional scene, nonetheless.

And this is why the showrunners decided to throw the Galadriel/Celebrimbor scene in Episode 7 preview, to make it seem it’s Elrond who frees Galadriel from Adar and the Orcs.  But now you’re asking: if we see her in Eregion with Celebrimbor, who lets her out from Adar’s captivity?  

The answer is: Ghûl, the Orc and Adar's wingman, wingorc? Winguruk? The Orc from whom Adar practically rips the war horn from at the end of Episode 6, to give out the signal to the Orc legions, to attack Eregion.

And now you’re thinking I’m out of my mind here, but stay with me. 

Throughout the season, this Orc is the most fleshed out, and has a lot of screentime for him not to do anything relevant to the plot. He’s terrified of Sauron’s return, doesn’t want to go to war, and he’s the one with a family (meaning he has motivation and an character arc).  

He has already shown interest in Galadriel, in Episode 5; he’s the one who tries to cut out a lock of her hair, when she arrived at the Orc camp.

Ghûl's gaze also lingers on Galadriel as she’s being dragged away from Adar at the end of Episode 6, warning Adar that an attack on Eregion is what Sauron truly wants, and that he’s taking his bait. And she’s completely right here, because we saw Sauron planting the seeds of this battle into Adar’s mind in 2x01.  

So, yes, this is my guess, and I've seen other fans have picked out on this as well.

And why an Orc being the one to set Galadriel free is also important to the story? Last season, we saw Galadriel expressing some weird and genocidal views on the Orcs, going as far as vowing to Adar she wouldn’t rest until every single one of his offsprings were dead. Now, we know this won’t happen, and even after Sauron’s defeat in “The Last Alliance” war, there are Orcs on Middle-earth and Mordor (their kingdom) still exists. Galadriel will remain a central part in all of this, throughout the entire story. So, being released by an Orc would certainty contribute for her to broad her horizons and dilute her “black and white” views, and might come into play later on in the story itself.

Galadriel & Celebrimbor

From Episode 7 preview, we know that Galadriel will reach Eregion and reunite with Celebrimbor. Some could argue this scene is actually another one of Sauron’s deceptions, but I don’t think so. My guess is this scene will happen near or at the end of the episode, and Sauron/Annatar has already left the city by then. Sauron and Galadriel won’t reunite in Episode 7 (this will only happen in 2x08 because it’s one of the climaxes of the season).

Charles Edwards (Celebrimbor) has confirmed "Rings of Powers” isn’t following the canon where Celebrimbor was in love with Galadriel, and there is no build up or any foreshadowing for this, so we can scratch the eventuality of any “romantic” undertones happening in this scene.

By the time this scene takes place, I'm 99,9% sure that Celebrimbor already knows the truth of Annatar’ identity. What will these two talk about? Sauron, his plans and the rings of power. Galadriel promises Celebrimbor: “I won’t let you face him alone”. 

There are several possible scenarios here: 

Sauron fled Eregion after Celebrimbor discovered his true identify, but will return to collect the rings of power (like in the books);

Sauron is still somewhere at Eregion when this scene happens (or they believe he is);

Galadriel is talking future here (“Sauron already left with the rings, but if he eventually returns”/"We'll get the rings back and stop him", etc.);

Galadriel is talking about the effects of Sauron’s deceptions and corruption on Celebrimbor’s mind.

This scene will also be important to give extra motivation for Galadriel to go seek out Sauron by herself at the finale. By witnessing first-hand the extend of Sauron’s plans and what he did to Celebrimbor, she’ll go on a hunt for Sauron with a mindset of killing him, next episode.

I’ve already talked about this several times, but it’s always important to remember: in the finale, Galadriel’s plan will be to kill Sauron (probably using Morgoth’s crown + Nenya, as I've speculated before), and there is no doubt in her mind.

Hence the plot twist in “The Last Temptation” scene, and I already shared my theory on the most likely scenario to happen to make her snap her out of her murderous spree (and, as I’ve already said several times, I’m not a huge fan of this myself, but it's what seems most likely to happen giving the foreshadowing and clues so far).

What they will leave out for "next time"?

Celebrimbor's fate. *Spoiler alert*: I'm sure everyone in the fandom knows, but Celebrimbor will most probably die in 2x08.

I can be wrong, but I have the feeling we’ll only see the Dwarves joining the Battle of Eregion in Episode 8. Either way, my bet it’s the showrunners will “deus ex machina” them, and have them arriving when everything seems to be lost and that all Elves are going to die (pretty much like the Knights of Rohan in Battle of Helm's Deep in “The Two Towers”).

I don’t think we’ll see Númenor again this Season. Only if it’s Isildur plot, but it’s almost certain he’ll not join the Battle of Eregion, and just “hang out” with the human Southlanders.

The Stranger arc will be in Episode 8: when when he’ll earn his wizard staff and be finally revealed as Gandalf (because, let's face it, everyone saw that coming from a mile away). And I’m kind of disappointed, because I was hoping for him to turn out to be one of the Blue Wizards.

Unsure if the “Dark Wizard" identity will be revealed. And, no, he’s not Saruman, for f*ck sake, Saruman is one of the Istari and a member of the “White Council”, and he only joins Sauron after “The Hobbit” timeline. I can be wrong, but I’m guessing they’ll leave that “mystery box” for next season, and, most likely, only reveal who the "guys in the masks" are, and why they serve him.

I’m betting we’ll only see the Balrog of Moria in Episode 8, too, and it will kill King Durin III (like in the books, earning its nickname of “Durin’s Bane”). There will be no Balrog in the Battle of Eregion, because Sauron can’t control the Balrogs (they are the same kind, both corrupted Maiar by Morgoth, so he can’t command them, and that's why the Balrog of Moria never joined Sauron's forces).

Just a warning: all comments concerning the fake leaks will be deleted, because we are doing serious speculation in here.  

[candycandy00]

Finding Love in a Zombie Apocalypse - A JJK Interactive Romance Fanfic Round 2

Read the details about this event here!

During a zombie apocalypse, you meet a group of seven handsome men. Which one will you choose to be your survival/romantic partner?

Vote for the man you want to be eliminated! The man with the most votes will not be killed off in the story, but he will be removed from all future polls and his branching story will be closed off!

Reminder: Vote for the man you DO NOT want to survive with! You are voting someone OUT!

For the first two rounds, I’m not naming the men. You can probably figure out who is who, but that’s part of the fun! I’m doing it this way to encourage readers to vote based on the scenario rather than just automatically voting out their least fave character. Feel free to make guesses about who each man is!

In Round 1, Man #1, Choso, was eliminated!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

You’ve decided to stick with this group for the time being. They’re a nice mix of strong, smart, and caring. None of them come across as creepy or make you uncomfortable, which is saying a lot considering it’s a group made up entirely of men relatively close to your age. 

You spend the evening gathering what supplies you need into a duffel bag you found in the store’s rather scant sporting goods section. At night, one of them insisted you sleep in the stock room and keep the key until morning. He really was very considerate, and none of the others objected. 

The next day, someone makes coffee in the break room. You don’t know which one did it, but it’s the first cup you’ve had in over a week and tastes delicious. With foam cup in hand, you walk over to the front entrance to check the situation outside, only to find the man who called out to you yesterday keeping watch.

Man #1: Choso (Eliminated in Round 1)

He’s standing near the door, slightly to the side, still as a statue until you approach. 

“Want me to bring you some coffee?” you ask, taking a sip from your cup. 

He smiles at you. “Thanks, but I had some already.”

You gesture toward the entrance. “Anything new going on out there?”

“No, just a dozen or so zombies roaming around,” he replies. “They come close to the door sometimes, but with these tinted windows they can’t see much of what’s inside.”

You hadn’t realized they were tinted until he mentioned it, but you suppose that’s why everything looks so dreary outside. 

As you stare out the window, you notice something in the distance. You squint your eyes, trying to make out if it’s just another zombie or something else. As you watch, the figure picks up speed, breaking into a run. 

“Look! There’s someone out there!” you shout, pointing to the figure fleeing toward the store. 

The man beside you looks out through the glass door. “It’s definitely a living person!”

Behind the figure, a large group of zombies, perhaps the biggest group you’ve seen, is slowly giving chase. The figure stumbles, hits the ground, and you feel your heart race. You’ve witnessed zombie attacks before, but it’s always disturbing. And you can’t help thinking that this could easily have been you yesterday. 

You want to open the door and beckon the figure, but that’s not your call to make. You’re a guest with this group, and you don’t have the right to put their safety at risk. 

Thankfully, the kind hearted man beside you makes that choice. He flings the door open and calls out, “Hey! Run this way! To the grocery store!” 

The figure looks up, and from this distance they appear to be a young man. He scrambles to his feet and breaks into another run, a desperate dash for the store. 

You and the man both yell out to him, encouraging him to hurry and keep going. Just as he runs through the door, two zombies that must have been close to the entrance follow him in, shambling into the store.

Man #2:

Before anyone else can react, the large, imposing man who tore the zombies off you yesterday runs by you. With his bare hands he picks up the first zombie by the neck and literally throws it outside. Then he delivers a devastating punch to the second zombie’s head, knocking it clean off its shoulders. 

You yelp in surprise, having never seen someone kill a zombie in such a way before. Someone closes the door and locks it, but the herd of zombies definitely saw the young man run inside, because they’re heading straight for the store. 

Backing away from the door, you glance at the man who took care of the two zombies. “Do you think the glass will hold?”

He doesn’t seem the least bit scared. “Probably not against a horde like that.”

“What should we do?” you ask, trying not to sound panicked as the zombies close in. 

He grins. “You should run when they break in. I’ll tear the fuckers apart.”

Uncertain whether that statement is comforting or alarming, you turn to look at the newcomer. He’s a teenager, probably around sixteen, and he’s panting to catch his breath. 

You walk over to him. “Are you alright?”

He looks up at you, and his face is twisted in horror. “I’m so sorry!” he yells, tears in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have come in here!”

“It’s alright,” you tell him, reaching your hand out to pat his shoulder. “We’ll figure something out. We’ll-“

He swats your hand away. “Don’t! I… I’ve been…” his voice dies in his throat, and he pulls up the sleeve of his shirt, displaying a messy bite wound.

You inhale sharply, your heart sinking at the sight. He’s just a kid! “How long ago?” you ask. You’ve heard rumors that severing a limb with a bite will stop the spread of the virus, but it has to be done quickly. 

“Yesterday,” he answers. 

The man who fought the zombies steps up beside you. “Too long,” he says, his eyes narrowed as he looks at the wound. “We should probably throw him out. He’s no good to us.”

You look at him incredulously. “We can’t do that!”

Man #3:

The man you spoke to yesterday who seemed like a leader, who was clearly a planner, walks over. He looks at the boy, then at you. “We’ll need to discuss this,” he says. 

“Discuss what? What are the options here?” you ask him. “Let him stay or toss him out there to be eaten alive?!”

The man’s smooth expression doesn’t change. “Those aren’t the only options. We could tie him up, lock him in the break room, or even give him a quick and painless death.”

You feel your outrage subsiding. Those sound much more reasonable. You’re surprised he can think so rationally in this situation. “Okay. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

He smiles that same charming, not-quite-genuine smile he gave you yesterday. “Don’t be. Tensions are running high, so it’s understandable. I’d worry more if you were the type to want to throw him out immediately.”

You sigh in relief, then turn toward the boy, who is still muttering apologies. “What would you like for us to do? Restrain you? Or… or make it so you don’t turn?”

The boy looks up at you. “I don’t want to turn! Please, don’t let me end up like them! I’d do it myself but I’m too scared!”

Hearing such a young man say that is heartbreaking. But you understand. If you ever get bitten, you hope someone will kill you before letting you become a zombie, doomed to roam the earth, rotting and attacking others. 

The man pulls a blade from a holster on his hip and approaches the boy. “Are you ready? Or do you need more time?”

The boy hesitates for a moment, then nods. “I’m ready. Please make it quick!”

The man pats him on the back affectionately. “You’re very brave. You can rest easy now. I’ll make sure you don’t suffer.”

The boy is staring at him, and seems comforted. “Thanks,” he says with teary eyes. 

You turn your head, unable to watch. You don’t hear a sound. No scream, not even a grunt. It really must have been painless. When you look back, the man is easing the boy’s body to the floor. He looks thoughtful, maybe a little sad. 

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” you say. 

He’s wiping his blade off on a handkerchief. “Someone has to make the tough decisions, and then carry them out.”

You start to ask why that had to be him, but you remain silent. You don’t like the way he seems to be taking all the darkness and sadness onto himself. But you have bigger things to worry about right now.

Man #4: 

The man you saw standing guard yesterday, who said he wanted to go back to the city, is staring out the windows of the store, watching the growing horde approach. He doesn’t seem scared, only annoyed, as if this is no more than a minor obstacle to his plans. 

“I’m gonna get out of here,” he says, loud enough for the others to hear. “I don’t have time to get held up.”

You look at him in shock. “You’re just going to leave the rest of us?”

He looks at you dispassionately. “A group will draw their attention a lot more than a single person. I’m not getting stuck with these guys.”

You look him up and down, at his sturdy physique. “But, we need you.”

“You ever stop to think that maybe someone else needs me?”

The question takes you aback. You have no answer for him. If he’s that desperate, if he’s willing to wade through countless zombies to get to the city, there must be someone very important to him there. 

“Can you at least wait a little while?” you ask him. “The zombies might give up and wander off if they can’t see us through the tinted windows.”

The man sighs. “Fine. I’ll see what happens.”

You look out at the horde. The first few zombies have reached the front of the store and are clawing at the windows and doors. You shudder as you watch them. You’ve never seen so many before, or so close up in a situation where you can actually get a good look at them. If one is close, you’re usually fleeing or trying to kill it. 

They’re all staring straight ahead, seemingly at nothing. Can they see their own reflections in the glass? Can they even perceive themselves? Seeing them just leaves you feeling empty and sad. 

“Do me a favor,” the man says. “If I ever get bitten, put a bullet in my fucking brain.”

You nod. “Same,” you say.

Man #5: 

The man who gave you the tip yesterday about using duck tape on your arms steps over to the windows to survey the situation. He already has his arms wrapped in a layer of the tape, over top of his sleeves. A few of the others notice, and begin wrapping their own limbs in tape or thick fabric, so you do the same. 

He steps closer to you and takes the roll of tape from your hand, then begins wrapping your forearm for you. 

“Thanks,” you tell him, hoping he can’t hear how nervous the growing horde outside is making you. 

He seems as calm as the more physically imposing men, despite having a more slender frame. “Our best option would be to bang on the glass and draw their attention to the front, then all of us slip out the back way,” he says. 

You glance toward the back of the store. “Should we check to see if they’ve circled around?”

He nods, and the two if you make your way back, through the storage area and to a large drop down gate. You assume trucks come in this way to unload merchandise. But it’s locked up tight and you can’t see anything on the other side. 

“There’s a window up there,” the man says, pointing. You have to use a step ladder to reach it, but you both climb up to look out. 

There aren’t nearly as many zombies roaming around behind the store, but there are definitely enough to be a problem. 

“I think we can make it through, but it’s going to be a challenge,” he tells you. 

You feel fear creeping up your spine. So far you’ve been able to evade most large groups of zombies, but with the store being surrounded, it’s looking like you’re going to have to wade into them. 

As the two of you return to the front, you feel your spirits sinking.

Man #6:

The man with the bright smile comes up beside you as you stare out hopelessly at the zombies gathered at the windows. 

“I’ve seen bigger hordes,” he says. 

You look up at him. “You have?”

He grins. “Sure. They’re not so bad when you realize how slow and uncoordinated they are.”

You appreciate his optimism. But you realize it’s more than that. His confidence rings true, and it makes you feel a little more hopeful. 

“So you think we can get out?” you ask. 

He nods, still smiling, then gestures to where a few of the men are standing in a small circle. “They’re planning our escape right now. We’ve got some real smart guys here, so don’t worry.”

You finally return his smile. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he replies. 

Just then you hear something, like tinkling glass. Both you and the man look around for the source of the noise. After a few minutes, you spot a tiny crack in the glass, right where over a dozen zombies are pressing against the windows. 

“They’re breaking the glass!” you cry, backing away. 

The man calls over to his friends, “Guys, put a rush on that brilliant plan!”

They look up and rush over to check the crack.

Man #7:

The man you met in the stock room yesterday is the first to crouch down and examine the crack in the glass. His brow is furrowed as he watches the zombies shove themselves against the window, then he turns to face the others. 

“Everyone, get whatever you need and be ready to go in ten minutes. We’ll take our chances going out the back.”

You already had your backpack ready, so you pull it onto your shoulders as the other men begin doing the same. You feel your heart racing as you prepare for the fight of your life. 

The man is securing his own pack with a strap around his waist and checking the heavy denim sleeves of the jacket he’s wearing. He seems uncomfortable in the fabric, as if it’s not something he’d normally wear, but protection is the most important thing right now. 

“What do you think our chances are?” you ask him. 

He looks around the room. “With this group? Pretty good. If we all stick to the plan,” he adds, glancing at a couple of guys in particular. Then he looks back at you. “Try to stay in the middle of us. We can protect you.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. “I guess I lucked out when I stumbled upon you guys.”

He gives you a warm smile. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

Just then, you hear glass breaking, another crack at first, and then a shattering that startles everyone in the store. Right beside you, the first zombie crashes inside, and the man grabs your arm, pulling you back behind him. 

As the zombie horde begins shambling into the store, the men around you take defensive positions and get ready to fight their way to the back.

Tag List:

@tadabzzzbee @babysoo-meu @atomicweaselpaperapricot

[lostloveletters]

This Must Be The Place (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Home is a place, and a person, and a strange thing to navigate when Brady’s been away from his for so long, and Woody’s never quite had one.

Note: I really missed writing for Brady and Woody, I'm sorry it's been so long! I was thinking I'd have this done like a week ago, but then I got stuck on a scene and had to rewrite some things. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Some angst.

‘I’m coming home. Woody will be with me. We’re getting married.’ 

John’s letter home, sent just before their departure from England, hadn’t been that short, but the message was clear enough that by the time they were Stateside, his mother had called—paid the long distance charges and all—just to speak to him after years of anxious writing. He choked up when he heard his mother’s voice again after so long, handing the phone to Woody so he could compose himself when he felt the conversation getting away from him.

Woody’s semi-frequent correspondence with his mother, particularly after his father died, put her in her good graces, as she found the letters odd yet charming. She especially appreciated the photo of the two of them that Woody included in one of her letters—which must have been from the party for Dye’s crew when they completed their 25th mission, since she was actually wearing her WAC uniform instead of her typical coveralls in it. ‘I thought it was from a movie magazine!’ his mother gushed to him in the letter that followed.

Looking at that photo, framed and displayed on the slightly yellowing floral-patterned wall along with decades’ worth of memories, from his parents’ wedding to his childhood with his brother, made him more certain of his future with Woody than ever. 

He pulled his pipe from his mouth and sighed. Being home without his father around made him feel a bit unsettled, even though he had been greeted with hugs and kisses from just about every one of his relatives at the door. His father had been their rock, the one who kept it all together, the kind of husband and father he aspired to be someday. Turning around to look at his fiance, he tried to see her through his father’s eyes, and quickly determined he would have liked her, there was no way he couldn’t have.

Woody cleaned up damn well when she wanted to, her blonde hair had been in hot rollers and then painstakingly styled early in the morning, before they took the train into town, his brother Gene waiting at the station to drive them to Victor. She scrounged up the money to buy a new dress from a department store for the occasion—midnight blue, loose-fitting, ‘Something I can move in,’ she had told him. John wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to seeing her legs like that. Throughout the evening, his eyes drifted to the soft, flowing hem around her knees as each of his relatives fawned over her.

It wasn’t necessarily eavesdropping, not when aunts and uncles and cousins clamored over each other to speak to his future bride, who bashfully accepted their compliments and patiently entertained their questions.

“You’re from San Diego, aren’t you?”

“San Francisco, actually, but I’ve been all over.”

“San Francisco! It must be so sleepy up here to you!”

“Oh, I’m just glad to be wherever John is,” she said, glancing over at him almost shyly. “We could end up in Alaska for all I care.”

Her story of how they met won them over. The twinkle in her eye when his relatives gasped and crossed themselves when she told them of his crash landing upon arrival at Thorpe Abbotts—a detail he omitted in his letters home, it only would have been a source of unnecessary anxiety back then, but humorous and exciting in hindsight.

She’d ridden up to the wreckage of a well-executed emergency belly-landing in the truck with Ken Lemmons and the rest of the available ground crew, ready to get to work once he examined the damage. In the middle of Ken’s quick and astoundingly accurate assessment—’It really wasn’t that bad,’ she assured his enraptured family—she introduced herself to the fort’s pilot, mentioning to them how handsome she found then-Lieutenant John Brady when she first saw him.

“Love at first sight,” one of his younger cousins gasped.

“Something like that.” Woody said, light laughter in her voice. “After a while, I realized the progress on the plane wasn’t all he was interested in when he came around the hangar to watch me work.”

Their eyes met from across the modest living room’s threshold, sharing private smiles as if the dozens of people crammed inside all disappeared. 

“Can you blame me?” he finally said.

Everyone had something to say after that, all clamoring to get their two-cents in. One of his uncles patted his shoulder, "You picked a good one."

He grinned—he sure did.

The sentiment was reiterated as the larger group dispersed throughout the house. He managed to slip into the dining room to make a plate of what was left of the hors d'oeuvres his mother had set out. Cheese and crackers, some cold cuts, too. Didn't realize how much he missed things like that, savoring each bite as he stood near the kitchen, watching Woody with one of his aunts.

She slouched a bit, withered compared to how she had been entertaining everyone in the living room. 

“A lady mechanic,” his aunt marveled, “you know I can hardly believe it, but I’m sure you showed those boys a thing or two.”

“I was just glad I could do my part,” Woody said, the canned answer acceptably modest.

“Your family must be so proud of you.”

Her strained smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “My parents are, um—“

“Aunt Del, I think I heard my mother asking for you,” John interrupted, setting his plate down.

“Oh, I better go see, then. Lovely talking to you, dear,” she said, patting Woody’s arm before departing the kitchen.

Woody leaned against the counter, audibly sighing in relief. She fought to blink away her exhaustion, traveling into town in the morning to keep up a facade through the evening, wanting so desperately to make a good first impression on his family, the agreeable, lovely future in-law they all wanted.

He moved in front of her, shielding her from any nosy relatives who might poke their heads in, looking for her. 

“You saved me,” she said.

“She shouldn’t be bringing it up anyway," he said. "I know my mother told them—"

"It’s a practice run for the wedding.”

“We could elope. Go to the courthouse first thing in the morning…”

She chewed on her bottom lip, eyes darting all over the room before bringing her attention back to him. "No, we couldn't," she said with finality. "It wouldn't be fair to them."

But it'd be nice. Shorten the list of things they had to worry about, though it'd just as quickly put her on his family's shit list as she managed to get in their good graces over the course of an afternoon. It almost felt too easy. Maybe that was what everyone wanted after everything that happened over the past few years, glad to finally have John home and willing to overlook any reservations about the woman he brought home with him.

“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look?” he asked, gently tugging on the hem of her dress and pulling her from her thoughts.

“I feel naked without trousers on.”

“I wish you were.”

She tapped his chest with the back of her hand. “Watch it, Johnny.”

“I’m sorry we have to stay here.”

“Why?”

He nodded toward the crowded living room. “Lack of privacy, for starters.”

She shook her head, echoing her earlier sentiment. “I’m just glad to be with you.”

“As soon as we’re both working, we’ll start looking for a place. Maybe an apartment to start.”

“Your family would be okay with that?” she asked. “Us living together?”

“Probably not, but we’re engaged at least, and after the past two years, I don’t want to be without you again.”

“Me either.”

They spent the following half hour or so hiding in the kitchen before his relatives began filtering out, leaving them with hugs and well-wishes and promises to invite them over for lunch or dinner sometime. 

"Woody, it was great meeting you," Gene said, giving her a hug. "Keep an eye on this one, he might not look it, but he can be trouble."

"I'm enough trouble for the both of us, believe me," she said, retreating back to John's side.

The house was soon empty, save for the three of them, sitting in the living room with the radio playing softly in the background of the conversation between John and his mother.

Even though she brewed some coffee for them, Woody could hardly keep her eyes open. She nodded off for a moment, her mug nearly slipping from her hands.

"John, the poor thing is exhausted. Why don't you show her upstairs while I clean up? I made up your brother's old room for her."

"Thank you," Woody said. "Really, for letting me stay here. I can pay you rent, or—"

"Please, you're almost family now. And I trust you both to…" his mother struggled to find the words, almost flustered, and Woody tried her best to contain a snicker, "mind yourselves."

"Woody keeps me honest," he lied.

"Alright," she conceded with a smile. "Good night you two."

As soon as they were upstairs, they wasted no time in shoving into the bathroom together—a tight squeeze, but more than fine by them. Their respective nighttime routines peppered with kisses and soft touches while teeth were brushed and faces were washed, practically pressed against one another while sharing the limited sink space. 

They paused to look at themselves in the mirror on the wall, a domestic portrait staring back at them. He pressed his lips just below her ear, settling his chin on her shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist from behind. 

Whenever she blinked, she expected it to be a dream she would wake up from, back in the barracks at Thorpe Abbotts, waiting for him to come back, worrying incessantly. But she put her hands over his and squeezed gently. Real, warm, loving. Always loving.

"I wish we didn't have to sleep in separate rooms," she mumbled.

"We'll be fine," he said. "It won't be for too long, anyway."

She wanted to say something—that it was ridiculous, they were adults for crying out loud. And after everything he especially had been through, couldn't there have been some grace, some wiggle room, all things considered? But it'd been clear through the way his family interacted with him throughout the day that they didn't know nearly as much about it as she did. Even then, there were things he kept to himself, things she'd probably never know.

Feeling almost useless, she turned around, pressing her lips to his, hoping he knew everything she couldn't say was in that kiss, in the way her blunt nails tenderly scratched his jaw. "I'll see you in the morning."

The hallway was short, the room easy enough to find with Woody's two suitcases sitting neatly next to the door, Gene having brought them up for her once they got to the house, encouraging her to unpack after the party, 'Make yourself at home.' She hesitated, more than used to living out of the two suitcases and not having much to her name anyway. She was careful when she set one of them on the bed, digging through for pajamas, a satin set consisting of an olive green camisole, matching robe, and loose, flowy pants with lace detailing around the cuffs. John bought it for her when they were in Manhattan, insisting his family would think he wasn't taking good care of her if she puttered around in her old PT shirt and men's pajama bottoms. Felt like they spent half the money they had on hand to buy new clothes, so they'd be real people and blend in with all the rest. 

His mother made up the room beautifully for Woody—the soft, worn linens smelled faintly of detergent, but mostly of home, something she heard plenty of people refer to when the scent of a certain blend of tobacco or freshly cut grass was in the air, but never quite understood until she got under the covers and immediately thought of John.

Settling on her side, she stared at the wall between them, like if she looked at it long enough, she'd be able to see through it, see him. One measly wall, nothing compared to two years and thousands of miles, but she still missed him terribly.

She wrapped her arms around her middle in a weak attempt to comfort herself and closed her eyes. She couldn't find sleep behind them despite her earlier exhaustion, her racing thoughts keeping her awake.

The door creaked open, and she sat up on her elbows, brows furrowed in confusion until John closed the door behind him.

“Are you out of your mind? Your mother could come up here any minute and—“

“It’s not that…I can’t sleep without you,” he mumbled, almost embarrassed. They’d spent the past few weeks practically attached at the hip, from the time he arrived back at Thorpe Abbotts, on the ship from England to New York, to the guilty weekend in a Manhattan hotel room. Even in the familiar walls of his childhood bedroom, he tossed and turned when left to face the night alone.

“Oh, Johnny,” she cooed, extending her arms to him. “Come here.”

He curled up into her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She silently cradled him until she felt hot tears on her skin.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly.

“‘m sorry."

“Don’t ever apologize. I love you.”

“I love you.” He held her tighter, the way he would cling to a teddy bear when he was a boy, too young to face his fears on his own but too old to seek the comfort of his parents for it. “I love you so much.”

In an attempt to calm him down, she stroked his hair. It wouldn’t look great, his mother finding them entangled in bed together or catching him sneaking out of her room. She didn’t seem like an unreasonable woman, though. Surely she would understand that seeking comfort wasn’t a sin—nothing they did was, not when there was love at the root of it all.

“Go to sleep,” Woody whispered, though she could tell by his steady breathing he already was. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

[timesomewhere]

in honour of the West End's next to normal closing today I've finally proof-read my 'things I noticed/general thoughts' post that's been sitting in my drafts since I saw it earlier this month. it's very long I'm very sorry.

Act One:

it was really fun watching this show in September given that there's two references to it in the first song

I adore the monologue about the pills that Dr. Fine gives during 'Who's Crazy'. it's rhythmic and funny yet also unnerving. It's such a quick and impactful way to summarise what Diana has been through for the past 16 years

Gabe does a 'one of your French girls' pose on the kitchen counter under the cabinets during 'My Psychopharmacologist and I'

Jamie Parker made direct eye contact with me during the last part of 'Who's Crazy' and it was one of the most intense experiences of my life

I might just be dense but I don't get the point of the neon sign that says 'Fine' which drops down during the Dr. Fine scene. Initially I thought that then one would drop down saying 'Madden' during his scenes to help people differentiate between the doctors but then it didn't so it just feels like a weird extra prop

speaking of random props, shout out to the iPad on the table in the opening scene which Gabe pretty much instantly takes away after telling Diana that she shouldn't obsess over tragic news stories and is then never seen again as far as I remember

Dan in the flashback scene being such an optimist about Diana's pregnancy and the future they're gonna have together... soul-crushing

Caissie Levy's 'I Miss The Mountains.' Holy Shit.

I love how Diana and Gabe are the only characters who sing on/stand on the table. it's as though it's this extra dimension of the house that only they have access to and it's a really neat and subtle way to show that they relate to each other in ways other characters don't

'It's Gonna Be Good' is so underrated. Jamie Parker's somewhat genuine optimism becoming optimism-through-gritted-teeth is incredibly acted

The way Jamie delivers the first line of 'He's Not Here' is devastating. the heaviness of that moment as you feel the audience around you realising what's just happened is something I'll remember forever

Gabe body-blocking Dan from Diana during 'I Am the One' is such good staging. People talk about how Jack Wolfe plays Gabe with a lot of layers and a lot of simultaneous contradiction and this song is one of the best examples of that. how Jack manages to project a character who is goading his father and protecting his mother at the same time is beyond me

also Jack has maybe half-an-inch on Jamie which obviously isn't something the actors control but it does makes Gabe seem just that bit more threatening when he's getting in Dan's face

for the first part of Superboy and the Invisible Girl when it's just Natalie singing, Gabe is actively laughing. He's totally unperturbed by her efforts to make herself seen to her mother. it's only when Diana replies, particularly when she says "you're our little pride and joy, our perfect plan" that you see his face drop and you see him trying to figure out a way to stop her from getting Diana's attention which then results in him kicking her off the melody in her own song

"I'll hurt you" being directed at Dan and "I'll heal you" being directed at Diana as Gabe gently touches her face gets me so bad. but the most painful part of 'I'm Alive' for me is when Gabe looks at Dan as he says "I'm the perfect stranger who knows you too well." that's the first time you realise that perhaps Gabe doesn't just impact Diana, and there's something much larger at play

Caissie and Jack W's voices harmonising on 'Catch Me I'm Falling' was one of my favourite parts of the whole show. Their voices are so magical together and their mother/son chemistry is incredible

The 'I Dreamed A Dance' into 'There's a World' sequence is one of the most tragically beautiful things I've ever witnessed. I went into the show knowing what Gabe was trying to achieve during 'There's A World' and yet Jack's voice is so beautifully haunting you totally forget you're supposed to root against Gabe in that moment

Jamie Parker's 'I've Been' is some of the best acting through song out there. Interestingly my friend and I had very different interpretation's of what Gabe's horrified reaction to the blood meant. I viewed it as him being upset about what he convinced Diana to do - he doesn't like seeing her hurt. Whereas my friend saw it as him being angry at himself that she didn't manage to follow through, meaning that he has failed to regain control over her life

'I'm no sociopath, I'm no Sylvia Plath. I ain't no Frances Farmer kind of find for you' is one of the best musical theatre lyrics of all time. I genuinely don't know why I Miss The Mountains is the 'big song' known from N2N over 'Didn't I See This Movie?', it's just so good

Natalie's 'She trusts you!' line is heartbreaking, I was basically watching that entire scene through my fingers because of how high the emotion was

Act Two:

'Pfizer's woman of the year' will in fact be peak comedy every time. Eleanor's delivery is *chef's kiss*

Gabe having just one line in 'Wish I Were Here', and that line being 'Wish I were here.' Yeah. I feel very normal about that.

Natalie's line of "Can I hide my stupid hunger, fake some confidence and cheer?" being pretty much exactly what Gabe has done throughout the entirety of act 1

"And you're not a scary rockstar anymore" got one of the biggest laughs at both of the shows I went to

Dan's desperation during 'Better Than Before.' He is simultaneously trying to cajole Diana into remembering and get Natalie to be more positive. This one song really highlights how he's being pulled in a million different directions while trying to hold it all together and Jamie portrays that so well

Aftershocks. Wow. The way the last word of each line echoes throughout the theatre is great sound design. I've been in exam halls louder than the audience during that song. Holding a room that captive as a silhouette is quite the feat Jack Wolfe you will always be famous

"I don't know where the fucking pieces go" as Diana pushes things off the table as if there's a real jigsaw there that she's rage quitting and choosing to give up on is such a nice detail

"Have you talked of your depression, your delusions and your son?" The gasp in the theatre both times was sickening

the response of "good' in reply to "name?" when technically that was part of his name as they are the "Goodmans". I don't really have a point here I just think it's neat

The 'It's Gonna Be Good" reprise was one of my favourite Dan/Diana moments. Caissie and Jamie are really pushing each other to their emotional limits and they handle it so well

The first "Why stay?" is so fragile as Diana sits against the kitchen island. Also interesting given that Dan and Gabe will also sit against there later when they are at their lowest point in the story. The idea of the characters crawling to the 'centre/heart' of the home when they are at their weakest

"This is one old game that I can play so well" is the line that has stuck the most with me throughout the show. Jack's delivery of it while striding across the kitchen table - seemingly totally invincible - is crazy.

how Caissie manages to deliver "you shrugged and said that no one really knows" with humour and desperation at the same time is amazing

When Gabe and Diana stand on the table and if they let go of one another they'll fall. yeahhhhh.....

Gabe's realisation that Diana isn't going to give up on getting better. Totally collapsing in on himself and beginning to cry. How you manage to feel bad for him after all the destruction he's caused is wild

Diana's "maybe I'm tired of the game" relating back to Gabe's "this is one old game that I can play so well"

the lyrics in 'Hey #3' clearly reflecting things Diana has done, Henry cutting Natalie off at "bleeding in the bathtub"

"I am the one who'll heal you" being said to Dan not Diana this time

"Why didn't you go with her?" is the most devastating line in the whole musical I said what I said. Jamie's delivery of it is heart wrenching

the drums and bass kicking in for the loud part of I Am The One as Gabe becomes desperate to be seen once again

Jack and Jamie's acting in this moment is so intense. there's a moment where it's genuinely feels as though only one of them can make it out of the interaction alive

Jack's emphasis on the word 'loved' in the line "I am the one who loved you" nearly killed me on the spot. how somebody can deliver a line so desperately while remaining pitch perfect is unfair

Natalie coming in to kiss Dan's head at the start of 'Light' like Gabe kisses Diana's in the first scene. I'm such a sucker for a gut punching

the "And are they real?" line about Diana's parent's from Henry gets such a loud reaction from the audience. Some people laugh immediately, some people clearly get shocked out of their sobs. so good

In conclusion, this is my favourite musical of all time and I'm going to be so annoying waiting for the pro-shot to come out

[iamgonnagetyouback]

insecure Jess Mariano trying to rub his relationship with fem!reader in every guys face every chance he gets because he wants to prove that he’s the one for her and doesn’t want her to think there’s a better guy out there for her . She notices his behavior and later reassures him that he’s enough and that he’s the only one for her (+ her saying I love you for the first time 🤭)

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Jess is insecure about you leaving him for someone better.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Insecure Jess

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Jess Mariano x Reader

Jess’s hand tightens around yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles, but there’s tension in the way his fingers grip yours. You glance up at him, catching the way his eyes are fixed across the courtyard, narrowed with barely concealed irritation.

You follow his gaze and sigh softly when you see the source of his mood: Tristan. He’s lounging on one of the benches, smirking in your direction as if he’s waiting for you to acknowledge him. Jess notices it every time, and lately, it's been getting under his skin more than usual.

Jess doesn’t waste any time. “Hey, babe,” he says, louder than necessary as he pulls you closer to his side. “You cold? I’ve got your jacket in my bag. Want me to grab it?”

You raise a brow at him. “I’m fine, Jess.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want my girl catching a cold.” He practically spits out the last two words, glaring pointedly at Tristan, who’s pretending not to notice, though you see the twitch of a smirk playing on his lips.

You stifle a sigh, feeling the familiar heat of frustration rising in your chest. This isn’t the first time Jess has done this, and you’ve started to notice a pattern: every time a guy so much as glances your way, Jess is quick to claim you like you might slip through his fingers at any moment.

You tug gently at his hand, pulling him away from the courtyard and out of Tristan’s line of sight. He follows, but the stiffness in his shoulders doesn’t ease up. You walk in silence for a few moments, waiting for him to speak, but when he doesn’t, you stop and turn to face him.

“Jess, what’s going on?”

He shifts, running a hand through his hair, avoiding your eyes. “Nothing,” he mutters, but you can see the tightness in his jaw, the way his foot taps impatiently on the pavement.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me,” you say softly. “You’ve been acting like this every time we’re around other guys. Like you’re trying to prove something.”

He huffs, looking anywhere but at you. “What do you want me to say? That I don’t like the way they look at you? That I know every guy in this place would line up for a shot if you weren’t with me?”

You blink, taken aback by the frustration lacing his voice. “Jess…”

“Look, I get it, okay?” he cuts in, voice rougher now. “I’m not like them. I’m not some rich kid from Chilton or some golden boy with a perfect future. I’m the guy everyone warns you to stay away from. So, yeah, maybe I’m insecure. Maybe I’m scared you’ll wake up one day and realize you could do better.”

His words hit you hard, and your heart clenches at the vulnerability he’s showing, even if he’s trying to hide it behind his usual tough exterior. You take a step closer, placing a hand on his chest.

“Jess,” you say softly, waiting until he finally meets your gaze. His brown eyes are clouded with doubt, and you can feel the weight of all the things he doesn’t say pressing between you.

“I don’t want anyone else,” you say firmly, holding his gaze. “I want you. Not Tristan. Not anyone else. Just you.”

He doesn’t say anything, his lips pressing into a thin line like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“And if you think for one second that there’s a ‘better’ guy out there for me, you’re wrong. You’re it, Jess. You’re enough. More than enough.”

You reach up, cupping his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “I love you, Jess. No one else. You.”

His breath hitches, eyes widening as your words sink in. For a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s not sure he heard you right. Then, before you can say anything else, he pulls you into his arms, holding you so tightly it feels like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“You… you love me?” he murmurs, voice uncharacteristically soft against your hair.

You smile into his chest, squeezing him just as tightly. “Yes, I love you. How many times do I have to say it?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and the vulnerability in his eyes is replaced by something softer—relief, maybe, and something else that looks like wonder.

“I love you too,” he whispers, his voice almost reverent, like he can’t quite believe it. Then he kisses you, slow and tender, like he’s pouring all the things he’s too scared to say into that one moment.

When you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, and for the first time all day, he seems relaxed. “Sorry for being a jealous idiot.”

You chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “It’s okay. Just… try to remember that you don’t have to prove anything. I’m not going anywhere.”

He smirks, though there’s still a softness in his eyes. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

taglist: @anawritez-posts

[desmonddemesne]

Gravity Falls Tarot - Part 3 of 3

Assignment of every Major Arcana to someone/something in the Gravity Falls Universe! Broken into parts for coherence.

In this section we cover the final seven cards from The Devil to The World.

Part 1 | Part 2

15.) The Devil - Bill Cipher

Keywords: Obsession, addiction, dependence, excess, and selfish

Through The Devil we find Baphomet ruling over his dominion, the greedy and unfulfilled. Bill Cipher is an ancient evil, a demon from another dimension who has long attempted to conscript humanity into fulfilling his ambitions. From a young age Bill had yearned for more, for the stars themselves. Eventually, he liberated himself at the cost of his world and his family.

Despite his immense power Bill was lonely and collected others willing to trade it all for a chance at the stars. In comes one Stanford Pines, the human who will, after eons of failures, succeed at constructing the device Bill has sought.

Even after Weirdmaggedon, after usurping control of time itself, Bill was stifled, and turned on by the humans he'd attempted to enslave. Bill sat atop a throne of lies, bringing chaos to the world, but even he could not control the fire he started.

16.) The Tower - The Portal

Keywords: Upheaval, destruction, trauma, chaos, and punishment

The Tower crumbles under the weight of natural forces...or is the lighting divine retribution? The Portal in Gravity Falls contributes to much of the mystery and misery of the narrative. In reverse we learn; Stan gathers the journals to start the portal, Ford constructs the portal alongside McGucket with the latter deeming it too dangerous, and Bill Cipher yearns for the portals completion.

For Stan the portal is atonement, amends made for pushing his brother into it thirty years ago. For Ford the portal is ascension, a manifestation of his genius and dedication towards discovering the truth. For Bill the portal is escape, release from his 2D confines and the power to exert his will across the cosmos.

Whether its through its construction, activation, or destruction the Portal embodies facing the truth that truth changes, and not all thats revealed is glamorous.

17.) The Star - Mabel Pines

Keywords: Hope, inspiration, rejuvanation, renewal, and blessing

The Star stands in the wake of The Towers collapse both fragile and faithful. Mabel, the shooting star herself, is the second half of our dynamic duo with Dipper - his equal and opposite. Mabel is a force of passion, comedy, and optimism embodying all the frivolities of childhood we grow to miss.

When Weirdmaggedon strikes Mabel is at her lowest, reckoning with the end of summer and the threat of abandonment by her other half. Consumed by these fears she falls to Bills temptations and withdraws into a world of bliss constructed to guard her heart. Only Dipper, earnest and resolute, could provide his sister the push needed to face reality head on.

Mabel is inspiring to many and the love she carries is integral to restoring Stan's memories after his great sacrifice. When her cup runs dry Dipper will be there to fill it for her, and that bond will carry both twins into the future.

18.) The Moon - Robbie Valentino

Keywords: Confusion, illusion, clarity, darkness, and phases

The Moon fortells a parting of the clouds, an opportunity to see through the shroud of night. Robbie is Gravity Falls' resident angsty teen, wrapped in black clothing and sour expressions. As a teenager he is naturally in transition with childhood behind him and adulthood on the horizon.

After breaking up with Wendy, brought about by his own insecurities leading him to rely on hypnotism, Robbie is seen listless and forlorn. It's not until Robbie himself is exposed to magical forces that he begins a relationship with Tambry. Through the Love God's potion his eyes are opened to a chance at happiness he'd otherwise overlooked.

"But you were right, just needed to move on. I'm...happy. Weird, huh?"

19.) The Sun - The Stan Twins

Keywords: Happiness, vitality, success, radiance, and energy

The Sun is the rediscovery of ones fervor, looking through the world with fresh eyes and zeal. The Stan twins did not have a perfect childhood, but in one another they found comradery able to weather the toughest storm.

As the boys grew their relationship strained, burdened by insecurities thrust upon them by their surroundings. At a critical moment everything collapsed and for decades the pieces lay untouched. By the end of Gravity Falls the brothers have taken the pieces of their relationship and reconstructed the boat from their childhood, the Stan O' War II.

Things won't be the same, but that doesn't mean they'll be worse - The Sun will rise again.

20.) Judgement - Time Baby

Keywords: Awakening, purpose, reckoning, finality, and responsibility

Judgement signals the curtain call. The last of his kind Time Baby rules over the dominion of time, leading officers who maintain the stability of our universe. When a criminal or rogue agent enters our world Time Baby provides them warning if possible and destruction if required.

At multiple points Time Baby confronts Bill Cipher, the most pressing threat to time and space. In their final encounter Time Baby is overpowered, granting Bill control over Time.

There is always a judge and we can only hope they are merciful.

21.) The World - The Axolotl

Keywords: Completion, achievement, belonging, unity, and closure

The World. To swim amongst the waters of creation and know that you are both byproduct and origin - that with every breath you take the world breathes with you. The Axolotl is a divine entity, benevolent and wise in its ministrations.

The World has come full circle, dancing with the same whimsy of The Fool. It carries the lessons of all Arcana before it, allowing it to impart those lessons on all who will encounter it going forward.