#Ay girl help I put so much effort into this

[targwife]

CRUSH - MALACHY GRANGER

summary: getting trapped by a storm over at the boathut leads to a night-in with an older guy working at the jetty. cw: pure filth, age gap, pinv, porn with barely any plot, english isn't my first language! not proof read. wordcount: 4,293

The cold prickled at your skin as you finished tying up the boats to the jetty pegs, saying your goodbyes to the last customers; tourists who were willing to pay a pretty penny to rent a wooden craft and pretend to live the fishing town-local experience. as annoying as they were, they allowed you to get this summer job at the dock while waiting for your last year of school. as you pulled out your blackberry to check the time, 10 pm, rain began to drip down softly, but summer storms never remained light for long.

You ran for the protection of the boat hut in a hurry, going to look for any actual fishermen still working or at least the keys to the little house upstairs, you lived nearby enough to get just fine without a car normally but walking wouldn’t do in this weather.

“Get lost we’re done for the day” A gruff, thickly accented voice sounded from behind a couple of upright boats that were getting fixed up.

You couldn’t help but scoff out a laugh at his terrible attitude “I’m not a tourist” The rain began downpouring outside the posts of the boat hut.

“You’re the girl Arj got renting out the boats?” You finally saw him, a man about 8 or 9 years your senior, his face unshaven with his hair a dark blond, his clothes were dark and baggy and practical for his job, slightly dirtied up by this time after hours of work.

You nodded, focusing involuntarily on the way he rubbed his hands clean on a rag, staining it with the dark motor oil he got on them while working, they looked strong and used, not at all like your last boyfriend’s; All soft and new, if a scratch got on them, it was from football practice.

He extended one of them to you, a smirk tugging on his lips, “Malachy”.

You finally realized who he was when you heard him call his name, Arj had mentioned him a few times, said he usually worked late hours after his shifts at the factory so you wouldn’t see much of him. You told him your name and he repeated it as you shook his hand. “Bit of a situation we got ourselves in, aye?” When he spoke those words you realized the rain wouldn’t stop for hours and you cursed yourself. “Or maybe not, won’t your daddy come pick you up?”

“Dad’s out of town” You should have focused on defending yourself against his mocking before responding but you were so worried about being trapped in there the whole night.

He clicked his tongue “That’s tuff” Malachy spoke nonchalantly as he got done with his job putting his tools away messily. “Don’t look at me all sad, my brother’s got the car tonight, can’t take you ‘ome” He told you when he saw your wide-eyed, distressed face.

“Do you mean for me to sleep on a boat?” You told him slightly bewildered at his lack of care for the situation, you were locked at the edge of town by the rain with no car.

He reached for his back pocket and pulled out a pair of keys, not really bothered by your attitude, when compared with Amy you seemed like a total sweetheart “Go upstairs, I still got to test out this one-” he pointed with the keys to one of the boats behind him “-out on the water so I still have a while left” You took them when he handed them over and smiled extremely thankful “I’ll leave as soon as the rain stops” You assured Malachy, who was already getting the boat down from the suspension, a small sigh of effort escaping his lips as he pulled on the rusty lever “Sleep tight, then”.

You sat on the counter with your legs crossed, one hanging lazily from it, you had put your hair up as soon as you arrived and had changed into a pair of cotton shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt you found in a neat little pile with clothes of a few different sizes and styles, they seemed a mix from friends staying over and «missing items» that would probably end up getting turned into rags anyway. as you sipped on some instant coffee from the only clean mug you could find, not wanting to fall asleep out of self-preservation instincts, you looked around the studio that was the boat hut; A few string lights and neon «cafe» sign illuminated the room in an odd mix of oranges and pinks and reds. Down in front of the small utilitarian kitchen was an old red couch as well as a black leather one by another wall, the bed in the corner behind some string beads and curtains was placed on the floor with a messy array of mismatched bed sheets on top. It was comfortable, you thought, especially as the rain battled against the window right in front of you, mixing with the sound of the CD you had found already in the boombox, music from the late 90s played on it and you could imagine malachy recording it back on his high school days just right.

The door opened and in came Malachy, he had his hood on to protect him from the rain, the off-color fabric darkened to pitch black from it. He looked at you while he kicked out his shoes and searched around his pockets, successfully pulling out a fag from the small box. “Comfortable, are we?”.

You smiled a bit, it’s not that you were shy, but staying the night over at this place with him took away your wits a bit “I thought you weren’t coming by now” You confessed while reaching for one of the upper open cabinets, remembering seeing an ashtray when you looked for the mug, when you found it you got up from the counter and placed it on a small coffee table, he simply nodded at you and lit his cig, sitting down on the red sofa for a smoke after work, his eyes closing softly as he leaned back on it, tired.

“You need a back massage?” You offered amused, staring intently as he stretched his neck after pulling his hood down.

“’M trying to do as many hours as possible” He explained, his fag hanging from his mouth after he blew the smoke “Saving up to leave town one day” You scoffed with a mocking smile, leaning against the counter and setting down your coffee. “What’s so funny?”.

“Everyone says that but no one ever leaves” He looked at you, wanting to deny your words and get angry at your claims, but he just smiled and shook the ash from his cig leaning over to the tray, finding you interesting enough.

“Do you mean to stay here forever?”

“It’s kinda pretty, I think” Malachy listened intently to you and it made you lick your lips before continuing “Being born and dying in the same place, you know? Like a full circle”

“I just find it sad to be honest” As he saw the way you pursed your lips at his answer Mack realized how nice you looked, you were far from the first girl the brothers brought up to the boathouse, but, still, he knew a pretty girl when he saw one and the red glow from that stupid neon sign they got years ago, back when they meant to make the hut a cafe made him stare a few seconds, a smile tugging at his lips.

“That’s because boys can never see the pretty things in life” You retaliated, he liked the irony of your timing, but he just took another breather of his fag before answering.

“I’m not a boy, you know”

You two had been talking for over two hours by now, the rain long one, still, neither of you said anything about it as you spoke about your stupid hopes and dreams or joked about the silliest things, you learned a few things about him; He had been working for ten years and he was 26 now, he had been trying to break up with this girl you went to school with, amy knightly, the boat hut used to be his father’s before him but now Arj ran it mostly and he had a dog back at her mom’s house, a retriever mutt he got at 18.

The more you listened the closer you wanted to be to him, maybe it was the multiple beers you both were having after he asked you to get him one from the fridge, or maybe it was how you just kept noticing how attractive he was, sitting beside him on the couch you could see his reddened eyes, nose and lips and darkened under eyes from being out on his boat, the way he smelled like sea salt and his cigarettes and a sweet woody musk from the wood varnish used on his craft, it was intensely masculine and captivating and you couldn’t get enough.

“If you want me to fuck you just say it” You snapped back realizing in half-drunken embarrassment the lewd way you had been eyeing him since you got up for your fourth beer of the night.

You walked back to the couch, setting the drink on the coffee table with a tight-lipped smile, a mix of embarrassment and a terrible quip brewing up “You realize not every high schooler wants to fuck you, right?” You gave Mack a giddy smile as his fell, throwing a pillow at you while you laughed at his bothered expression.

“Don’t be an arsehole, mhm?” He said, taking a swig of his beer while looking at you right after, his blue eyes were burning your skin and you felt the heat all over you as he bulged his tongue against his cheek still annoyed but slightly amused.

You got up to throw away the bottles as Malachy was trying to ready up the couch to sleep, your mind was just clear enough to perform the simple task but as you were walking back to him the drinks caught up to you, tripping against the coffee table; mack quickly reacted, one hand going to your shoulder as another held onto your waist, keeping you upright before you had time to fall, you felt his breathing coming over you as you lifted your head to look at him, you swallowed thickly at the view, his messed up hair from the zip-up hoodie and tightly closed lips as he breathed through his nose regularly, seemingly unbothered by the closeness, you could feel his rough jeans on your bare legs and his hands didn’t let go of you.

Those seconds felt like ages, the pinning for each other hurt as you both held eye contact, he licked his lips without saying a word, trying to hide his small smirk as his hand snaked from your shoulder to the side of your neck his fingers tangling in the loose hairs from the ponytail, the touch of his hands on bare skin was exactly as you imagined, hot and rough as were his lips when they crashed against yours without needing a word, your hands went up to his waist trying to close any remaining distance between you, pulling him until his pelvis leaned against your body.

Your knees went weak as he kissed you, it was nothing like the sloppy mess you were used to with the boys in your class, Mack seemed so experienced and skilled that it made ideas run wild in your mind, completely ignoring the repercussions this might bring.

He smiled as you both tore apart for air, a breathy chuckle parted his lips in a way that had you gawking at him like a schoolgirl, though you supposed that was indeed what you were. “This is so wrong” You spoke with a slight laugh, getting so red your skin felt warm.

“You wanna stop?” He spoke still a bit breathless just like you, looking into your eyes for any sort of doubt, you saw pure mischief in his face as you shook your head no, his smile seemed so mocking that it made you feel in danger, though the feeling went away as soon as he backed down to the couch, dragging your wrist to make you come onto his lap, which you obeyed without resistance.

As you climbed up his lap his hands came under your shirt, almost giving you goosebumps. “You’re so fucking pretty” He almost whispered as he recalled your words from earlier, his accent making his already gruff voice reverberate in your head, or at least that’s what it felt like to you in your mesmerized, tipsy state.

You kissed his lips again, one hand on the wall behind the couch and another tangled in his short hair, Malachy traced your body with his, aching to get rid of the excess fabric. “You’re so desperate”.

“I don’t like waiting” Satisfied with his response, you raised up, your body still sitting on his crotch, and removed your top in haste. You had piled your bra away with the rest of your clothes and Mack seemed rather happy about it, that smug, intimidatingly handsome smile on his face has he saw you exposed, the palm of his hand cupping your right breast as his thumb teased your nibble with its pad.

“Be fair with me…” You begged, rolling your hips as you sat down with a bit more pressure. The light falling over your face and the back of his neck was blue and silver with moonlight and streetlights while your body and his face were silhouetted in the red neon sign, he looked so perfect to you as he parted his lips when he felt your contact, quickly paying attention to your words as he sat up to remove his zip-up and shirt.

Broad and strong and not overly defined, with a happy trail of light hair that ran from his belly button all the way beneath his denim, his body was just as you expected, as seemingly all of him was; a reliable, traditional man who worked from dusk till dawn and came home to fuck you silly before repeating the routine. You liked that it wasn’t all guessing and assuming like with the boys, it was easy to lose yourself to him.

After an eternity of a soft back and forth on his lap, feeling each sigh he gave you, his eyes never leaving yours, you could tell that he was getting impatient.

“Let’s get you out of those, yeah?” He coddled you in that voice oh his that made thinking difficult, his fingers doing quick work of the tie front of the cotton lounging shorts, you saw him smile to himself as he dragged them down hurriedly, especially when you got up just to remove them, leaning forward to put a supporting hand on his thigh as you stepped out of them.

As much as the way his big eyes looked up at you demanding for you to get on him instantly, you smiled softly as you shimmied out of your day-of-the-week undies, which he noticed with a smiling scoff. His eyes trailed up your legs as these fell to the floor and continued up your whole naked form.

“You’re not Arj’s girl, are you?” He asked as you came back onto him and his hands went up the backs of your thighs to your ass, it’s not that he would stop at this point, but it would be nice to know.

You shook no with a sweet little smile, you could feel him bulge against his jeans in a way that felt delicious as you stirred on his lap. “Just his employee”.

He nodded amused, leaning his head back as he felt you probably staining his work clothes, not that he cared right now “He better don’t find out then, yeah?”

Malachy knew your response as you began to mess with the button on his pants, he was a bit less drunk, so he easily got rid of them enough for you to trace a finger down his hardened but domestic belly. it sent a shiver down his spine and if you weren’t so focused on getting into his pants you would have gotten the same as he left out a low, elongated curse out his lips when you palmed him over his boxer briefs.

Even though he found it quite cute when you almost tripped over yourself trying to get rid of his jeans and briefs, Mack felt a tang of responsibility as he looked at your worried pout; He was bigger than any of the boys you had been with, granted they weren’t huge, but he made it hard not to notice, dizzyingly long and girthy, it wasn’t overly veiny but just enough, he had a few moles on the base and you smiled sheepishly as you took it into your hand and noticed another on its thick tip.

He took your wrist and brought your hand up midway, spitting on it without any need for words. As you kept up eye contact you wrapped your hand around him, the look on his face was electrifying as if the only thing you ever wanted to do was pleasing him.

You started moving your hand up and down with a repetitive rhythm, focusing on his reactions; Sights and small words of praise that almost sounded like whispers, you were thankful for the slickness the spit gave you as you could just be delighted by staring at how he leaned his hand back in sheer pleasure, it was perfect.

He seemed to last more than the boys, too, you noticed how he kept his breathing almost regular and how his focus was on you the entire time, making you crave him even more. You hurried up your movements, trying to get to see him getting that sweet release, instead, he just held your wrist again, not fully stopping you, “Don’t fucking do that” This time his expression was like that of someone scolding a puppy.

“I just want you to feel good, Mack” You didn’t know if it was the nickname or your pathetic tone, but Malachy grabbed your thighs and brought you closer to him, letting go of your arm.

He turned to his jeans that were sprawled on the armrest of the sofa and from his back pocket he pulled out his wallet, you smiled. “Tis back practice to keep condoms in your wallet, you know? Makes them not last as long” He looked at you with a frown on his brow and a slight smile, he found you incredibly attractive, he would risk another thousand arguments with Amy for you if he didn’t.

“If you want me to I could just ditch it” You couldn’t help but give a breathy little laugh at his simplicity, weakened by the way his voice sounded now, all hoarse and already a bit spent.

You took the condom from his hand and made quick work of it, biting the inside of your cheek as you did it, a simple gesture of concentration that made him so impatient for being inside of you.

Not that he had to wait for long, you took him in your hand and rubbed it against your core in a way that made you close your eyes to avoid any moans from escaping you.

Malachy however, wanting so desperately to hear you that it was almost painful, grabbing a handful of the soft part of your hip as he grabbed himself over your soft hand, guiding it inside in a pleasurable slowness.

“Fuck... you’re soaked” You felt the heat on your face at his words that sounded more like a praise, but you couldn’t answer, even if you weren’t yet pressed against him the stretch from his thickness felt incredible, making you hold on with one hand onto his cheek to make him look at your face, wanting him to see how he was making you feel.

He did see it, his lips parted open and his eyebrows frowned, neither even daring to make a sound as you readjusted yourself, sitting flush against him.

It took you a few moments to even try to move, fearing that it would hurt and distract you from the tight knot beginning in your belly. Malachy tore his eyes away from you for the first time since he got inside of you, his gaze went downwards and the embarrassment you felt only made you slicker with the premise of doing something forbidden; this older, lowlife stranger was seeing all of you and was about to fuck you silly for all that’s worth, and for some reason you trusted him all the more, you felt incredibly good just like this.

The hand that had been teasing your tits moved down with confidence, Mack placed it flat against your belly and began rubbing the slowest circles on your clit with his thumb, it was a teasing, torturous pleasure that made you moan softly as you began moving on him, barely at first, drawing delicious moans from him, who let once again his head backward, his eyes closed trying to focus on the tight, warm feeling that drove him crazy.

It wasn’t long until you needed more, supporting yourself on his thick, muscular thighs behind you as you began increasing your movements, malachy looked back up at you and you felt like he would eat you up right there and then, his waterline was reddened by the lack of sleep and it made him look feral, he kept his fingers on you and his lips slightly parted, groaning gruffly rather than moaning by know, especially as you kept increasing the pace, desperately searching for the release you still felt so far away from.

Mack wasn’t one for passionate sex but he wouldn’t keep his free hand from caressing you, his warm, rough hand holding your waist doing a number on your head.

“I need more” You begged him and you were barely given any time to react before you felt him moving his arms around you, you would have complained about the lost stimulation if it wasn't for the way he laid you on your back on the sofa with your head on the armrest and your hips off the fabric, being hoisted up by his strong arms and thighs.

“You’re making me mad” He admitted almost smiling, the sight of your naked body underneath his did make him go mad, quickly going back to your rhythm and soon after increasing it, it became a pounding that made you move on the couch, his abdomen crashing against your bud on each stroke of his tight, strong hips, his hand supporting him on your belly as he moved mercilessly by the time all the pain was gone, leaving being the sting of being stretched over and over by him, who kept his brows low as he looked at you almost underneath them, he would’ve been scary any other night on the dock but your luck had you holding on to the red sofa as he rammed into you with an animalistic, repetitive motion.

He wasn’t loud but didn’t care for keeping quiet either while you were sure to be giving him a show with your shaky moans from the constant feeling of him almost leaving you before going all the way back inside, it was maddening and your eyes were about to roll back in your skull when he grabbed hold of your ankle to bend your knee further, opening you even more to him.

Malachy had great endurance while you were still inexperienced, especially when it came to coming while doing it, you were sweating and gasping, begging for him to keep going, while he kept his gaze on you letting gasps and sighs leave his lips with the occasional moan, it only made you even more eager for him as the sounds mixed in the lewdest way with the one coming from your bodies crashing, especially given how wet you were for him, which he noticed in his almost out of breath praisings of you and your body.

It didn’t take long for him to make a mess out of you, barely knowing how to mumble for him to go slower, as he was about to make you come; if he heard you or not was up for debate, but he didn’t pay you any mind, feeling the way you tightened around his cock and groaning in return as you squeezed his arm for any kind of support, your eyes rolling back as you arched on the pillows coming around him.

It didn’t make him stop yet, as he tightened his grip around your ankle for leverage and continued fucking into you for long enough to make you clench around him again and again, overly sensitive and teary-eyed from your release.

He couldn’t keep going for much longer after that, even if he adored towering over your fucked-out form, he came with a deep, gruff moan that had your mouth agape and your hand patting around for his arm just so you could pull on it, bringing him down to your face to kiss him softly, which he answered with a tired smile.

It was raining again outside and the both of you couldn’t help but laugh as he scooped you up to move over to the bed though the sky was already a very light blue.

dividers credits: @cafekitsune taglist: @sadpuffpuff @sidrhds @forgetcakes

this is my first story in a loong time so i'm very nervy. would love some feedback!

[jadeddangel]

The Owl House x Reader

General Headcannons for The Owl House x Reader

Older!Luz Noceda:

Her love language is physical touch and gift giving

She's a cuddle bug

If your sick or not feeling well she'll refuse to leave your side

The kind of girl to write poetry that doesn't make sense

But you can still tell that she does it cause she loves you

She's a horrible cook but don't tell her that

She buys or makes charms for your staffs

She kisses any kind of small wounds that you have

Luz let out a loud gasp "ay! Mi amor! Tu estas bien? Does it hurt?" Luz asked frantically as she held your hand looking at the literal smallest paper cut on your finger before digging in her pocket and pulling out a small bandaid and putting it over the cut and kissing over the band-aid " all better mi amor!"

"Uhm Luz? Why do you just have bandaids?" You asked confused. Luz straightened her lips into a line "uhm.. a good witch is always prepared?" Luz said questioningly

She buys you themed band-aids from the human realm

she tries to teach you Spanish

She's not the best teacher but you can see her effort

Older! Amity Blight:

Her love language is acts of service and words of affirmation

She's really big on arts and crafts

She likes to make you things

She likes to let your palismans play together

She likes to do things like make your laundry and things

Cause in some part of her mind she thinks it'll make you love her more

She's rather shy with PDA at first

She's a touch starved baby

Ghost and your palisman were cuddled up in a little window hammock that amity had made for them

"Hey amity? Do you think our palismans live eachother like we love eachother?" You asked curiously

Amity blushed a bit "oh quiet take your nap you were so adamant on it earlier" amity said defensively

It doesn't matter if you've been dating for years

She still gets flustered if you say anything too sweet

She shows her love with actions rather than words

So she often makes you food

She's an amazing cook btw

Eda The Owl Lady:

Her love language is quality time and gift giving

She likes giving you shiny things

Like rings, jewels, anything that shimmers or shines really

She doesn't particularly like her curse being around you

But after she makes her piece with it she's fine cuddling you

Whether that's in her harpy form or in her full form

She's starting to realize that it won't hurt you

Eda groaned holding her head. "Eda? Dear? Are you ok? Is the owl bothering you again?" You asked sweetly sitting up in edas nest. Eda sighed and nodded "its just getting worse and I don't know what to do it just.. it's like it wants to be with you? If that makes sense?" Eda tried to explain as you nodded along.

"Yknow, eda I don't really mind the owl.. it's rather sweet after you guys had that heart to heart, so how about you just let it put? And if anything goes wrong I'll have elixir on hand" you reassured the older woman

That night was one of the first of many that eda let the owl interact with you

Raine Whispers:

Their love language is the same as Eda's, quality time and gift giving

They can't really cook anything but eggs

They're so sweet

They really like to make little songs/ lullabies for you

but they're willing to learn anything you'd be willing to teach them

They're not really touch starved

But if you so much as lock your pinkys together they're melting in your arms

They loves you with their whole heart so when they're performing or teaching your the only thing on their mind

In all truth the thought of you probably helped with their stage fright

They gets flustered so easy

Raine was playing their fiddle for their class they were playing the song they had made for you.

Raine finished the song after a few moments before bowing and putting their fiddle away gently

They had a smile on their face at the thought of you in the next classroom over listening to them play... just for you

They always sat and ate lunch with you in their classroom

The Collector:

His love language is gift giving and acts of service

Game nights literally every damn night

He likes to hide your things all over your home

He always takes your petty arguments as a joke

He may not be the healthiest but he's definitely always there for you

He's a cuddle bug

Practically clinging to your side where ever you were

He isn't shy about pda in the slightest

The collector was clinging to your sleeve "nooo don't leave!" Collector whined trying to tug yoy back into the house

You sighed "baby please I'm begging you just let go of me I'll be back soon, I've got a class to teach" you bargained

The collector let go of you gently "fine.." he pouted

He's beyond clingy

It's a problem sometimes but you manage

Older!Hunter:

His love language is acts of service, quality time, and gift giving

He makes you little cravings of animals

Especially wolves

Definitely his favorite earthly animal

He's touch starved

Please give him hugs and kisses

Really likes to hold your hand

His hands are rough and calloused after the years of being a golden guard and then his hobby of carving palisman

He likes to visit earth with you for small dates every now and then

Hunter held your hand gently as he led you through a forest on earth, hunter had been planning this small, somewhat simple date over the past month

Hunter had set up some fairy lights and a picnic deep in the woods, he had been quiet and mysterious the whole walk but soon spoke softly. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna kill you or anything" hunter joked

You laughed a bit but paused as you saw the at area "oh hunter.. this is beautiful "

Hunter smiled and helped you sit down "yea.. just like you" he said sweetly

He was sweet and romantic like this alot of the time

He's corny but it's relieving to know that he really cares for you

[yocioon]

𝓑𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 ┊ yang jungwon x reader !

╰ cw : sfw. gn!reader. fluff. tooth rotting cuteness. slightly suggestive. mentions of body parts (not described).

⠀ᥫ✦.⠀⠀NOTE. first post (i hope). erm it took me a while to finally post smthn but here y’all go. hope u enjoy el em ef ay oh !

BOYFRIEND!JUNGWON⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ⠀who’s been your sweetheart since the beginning of junior high. he was the first boy you talked to in your homeroom, let alone the only one you could tolerate out of all of them.

BOYFRIEND!JUNGWON⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ⠀all the way from back in secondary, up til now, he’d bring you your favorite snack. and, it wasn’t like you ever told him it was your favorite. he simply just could never take his eyes off you and always saw you eating the same three, so he made a mental note for it.

BOYFRIEND!JUNGWON⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ⠀that knew what he wanted and was dead set on getting it. from the moment he laid his eyes upon you, a heart-racing, stomach-curling sentiment settled within him. he knew absolutely nothing about you, yet could see a future with only you.

BOYFRIEND!JUNGWON⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ⠀with most guys, they make it their mission to go all out just to snag the girl of their dreams, and then once they finally have her they stop putting in much effort. sometimes none at all. however, jungwon on the other hand; once you officially agreed to be his he only got worse with his princess treatment.

BOYFRIEND!JUNGWON⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ⠀is like the ken to your barbie. he can sense when you’re feeling a negative emotion even if you’re not with each other (which is rare) and he will text you asking what’s wrong until he fixes the problem.

BOYFRIEND!JUNGWON⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ⠀sad? he’ll drop everything to rush to you and have a horror movie marathon. angry? he’ll help you express your anger and calmly dilute the situation at hand. hungry? he already bought the entire store to soothe your craving. nervous? he’ll hold your hand until it settles down.

BOYFRIEND!JUNGWON⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ⠀again, unlike other guys, jungwon is confident in your love for him so he doesn’t bat an eye when you say you’re going to hang out with your guy friends, or just friends in general. and you do likewise. even though he doesn’t have many girl friends, your relationship is beyond healthy for you to trust him.

BOYFRIEND!JUNGWON⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ⠀he’s the type to whisper “more please, baby” in a pouty tone when you break the kiss. it’s subtle. it’s sweet. it drives you absolutely mad. especially with those damn boba tea eyes he has. it make you just wanna shower him in kisses until the end of time.

BOYFRIEND!JUNGWON⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ⠀usually guys like to rest their hand on their girlfriends ass or waist whenever they’re out walking together, but jungwon has this thing where he likes curling his finger through the belt loop on your jeans with his arm wrapped around you lower back. it’s peculiar but you love it.

BOYFRIEND!JUNGWON⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ⠀loves going to sleep not only just cuddling, but having his face buried in your chest. he just likes being near you. but also loves hearing the sound of your heartbeat as it leads him into a peaceful sleep.

𐙚 ⠀ ˖⠀⠀ ۫ 𝓷𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 : hope you enjoyed lols. lmk if you want more or a different member 👐(jazz hands)

© 𝐘𝓞𝐂𝐈𝓞𝓞𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑⠀♱⠀mature discretion advised. all rights reserved. do not plagiarize or steal works.

[myreia]

wip wednesday!

ty for the tag @lilas! 💖

tagging: @thevikingwoman @roguelioness @tsunael @anneapocalypse @bearlytolerant

shadowbringers aaaaaangst + lightsickness, exactly what it says on the tin.

“Put me down,” she says, her voice muffled. Her face is buried in his shoulder. “I said no chirurgeons.”

“Aur, you must see someone—”

“I said no chirurgeons.” She grips his upper arm, fingernails digging into his coat. “Don’t overreact. This is normal.”

“This is not normal, your heart stopped—”

“This is normal for me. It’s just a shame you had to see it. Now put me down.”

From the sound of her voice, it seems her strength is returning—and with it, her Twelve damned obstinance. Deciding it best to keep his mouth shut for now, he does as she asks.

While Aureia mutters something about being tossed around like a sack of popotos, he carries her to her bed. She is unbearably weak and fragile in his arms, as if she could shatter at any moment. It makes him sick to his stomach to see her like this. Biting his tongue, he sets her down and tries not to take note of the way her clothing has twisted around her body. The light in her veins is fading, retreating across her skin to pool in her chest, right above her heart. It glows through the fabric.  

Aureia tugs at her shirt, wrapping an arm protectively around her chest. She raises hand to her lip and gingerly swipes the tip of a finger across it—the skin is torn and haggard, white oozing from the wound and across her chin. She must have bit through it.

“Seven hells,” she whispers. Closing her eyes, her expression relaxes into one of deep concentration and a greenish light spreads from her fingers, knitting the skin back together. Her injured hand glows, and he has no doubt that the cut in her palm is sealing itself beneath the handkerchief. It only takes a moment, but the effort leaves her exhausted and winded. “Funny how that’s easier now… Wonder what X’hrun would say, he gave me hell for being unable to heal. Unwilling, as he put it.”

He nods, barely registering her words as he searches for somewhere to sit. The foot of her bed feels too… personal. Too much. Too close. Leaning against the wall next to her headboard will have to do. “Is that so?” he says absently, folding his arms.

“I have a theory. I was never good with white magic. But when you have an excess of light incubated in your body, you happen to gain a natural talent for it.” She smiles grimly and rubs a finger across the newly grown skin. The white blood still sticks to her skin. “Ironic, isn’t it? Only when I am terminally ill do I finally understand how to heal the body.”

She falls silent, scratching absently at the handkerchief. Her gaze falls across the room, sweeping from the kitchen to the window and back again. Shaking her head, she tugs the bleached fabric from her hand. “Not that it matters now,” she continues, wiping away the mess on her face. “My hypothesis failed. I’m out of ideas.”

“We will think of something, Aur.” He says it automatically. It’s a bit pathetic, perhaps, how quickly he turns to baseless hope the moment she expresses doubt. But it is what Minfilia would say, were she here. “You do not have to do this alone. The others—”

“—are as much in the dark as I am.”

“Aye, but Y’shtola and Urianger—”

“—are knowledgeable in what they do, but believe me when I say there are some things that we do not understand. I have no doubt that together their brilliant minds can find a solution, but solutions take time. And we do not have much of that left.”

He swallows. “Then let me call on Ryne—”

“No.”

“She understands your condition in a way no one else can—”

“And I’ve burdened her enough—”

“She can help!”

“I am not going to put the pressure of keeping me alive on a seventeen-year-old girl!”

“She wants to help—”

“I can handle this!”

He grits his teeth, cursing under his breath. Why must she be so damn headstrong? “Can you?” he hisses, gesturing at the mess on the kitchen floor. “That is not what it looks like to me.”

Aureia rounds on him, red eyes blazing. “Thank you for your concern,” she says coldly. “But frankly, Thancred, I’m a mage. You aren’t. Your aether’s been fucked since Ul’dah. You can’t even charge your own damn cartridges. Don’t pretend you know what you’re talking about.”

[stuffedwriting]

Cold Comfort

The waters of The Crimson Sea turn an icey blue as the ship of an old captain by the name of William Scotch saunters across the freezing air, that is until he crashed into an iceberg. At the sound of this his crewmates Charlotte Peacock and Quinn Mclain came running from the lower hull, the latter speaks first “Wet de feck was dat noise?” Charlotte looked to the front and gave a cheeky smile, “We crashed into an iceberg? We might sink!” She clinged to William, “Hold me Willy! I’ll never let go!” He pushed her off with a begrudging smirk, “Get off me Birdy and help me back up the boat.”

The three of them went down into the hull and came back with a large pole, then they slammed it into the iceberg like a battering ram and eventually the force helped them begin floating backwards. William laughed, “Always works! Now let’s get this girl ashore!” He ran back to the wheel and did just that.

The ship’s front buried into the dirt as it reached land, beaching itself as to not drift away in the meantime. The crew put on as many layers as they could and jumped off onto the snow. After an long time of wandering the frozen wasteland they found themselves overlooking a battle ground, common looking folk tried their damnedest to protect an outpost surrounding the entrance to a mine from what seemed to be military men. Curiosity took its hold on the aging sailor as it had countless times before and he looked over to his cohorts, “What do ya think’s worth all that effort?” Charlotte stared at it and remarked, “Definitely something valuable.” William asked more out of courtesy rather than listening to their response as he had already made up his mind, “Should we have a look?” The two smiled, Charlotte answered first, “Of course.” then Quin, “Aye.”

The trio snuck around looking for a less protected entrance and saw just that, 5 guards protecting a ladder that lowered into the cave, William rushed in, throwing a rapier at one and shooting two with his eight barreled shotgun, Charlotte and Quinn dispatched the other two and they descended into the cave. Unlike the vast maze of stone of the other cave, this was clearly marked with wood and minecart tracks. With their weapons ready they followed the tracks until they heard the agonizing scream of a woman and without a moment’s hesitation they ran in the direction of the cry, squeezing into a crevasse they saw a woman in a warm yet beautiful royal dress on the hardened ground writhing in pain and tears next to a metal processing machine and dead men.

William reached down to help the woman, “Miss are you okay?” But as his hand touched her shoulder it sizzled and boiled causing both of them to let out a cry. He looked to Charlotte with desperation in his eyes, “Shit, Char, we gotta get her out of here.” Despite how much it hurt, he picked the girl up, put her on his shoulder and made their way back to the ladder.

After making their way up the cold had only gotten worse, the wind cut into their exposed skin but oddly enough the woman didn’t react at all like she did when William touched her. Seeing this but too panicked to do anything about it they ran back to their ship, boarding it and laying the now unconscious woman on a cot.

After a minute of panicking and bickering the woman began to come too, she opened her eyes and whispered in a soft, confused voice, “Chto? Gde? Ugh…” Charlotte tried to get her attention, “Hello? Are you alright,miss?” She answered in turn, “Chto? Oy. Angliyskiy. Hello…” William butted his way into the conversation, “Hey! You didn’t look so good so we took you in.” Then Quinn blurted, “What’s ya name lass?” She answered, “Czarveta dozhd' or Rain in your tongue.” William asked his own question, “You okay? What were you doing in the middle of a mine?” She groaned, trying to remember, “It’s all a blur but I was taken as a hostage, the rebels hoped to trade me for the crown, unfortunately my father refused outright, he considered me not that detrimental of a loss.” Charlotte’s heart sank, “You poor thing.” William put his arm on her shoulder, “Hey, let’s give the lady some space, you two go.” She sighed, “Of course.” Quinn nodded, “Right Capin’.”

They left and William turned his attention back to Czarveta, “Right. So. I’m Wiliam Scotch, captain of this ship, the Frenchie is Charlotte Peacock and the ginger is Quinn Mclain. Anything you need?” Her expression lowered from confusion to grief, “Stal'naya dusha… that’s what I need.” William raised his eyebrow, “Stal-what? What’s that?” She gave an exasperated sigh, Steel Soul. A machine I built to be my companion.” He smirked, “Built ay? Some kinda robot? You know anything else about machines?” Czarveta gave him a tired look, “Yes. It was my main interest, machines are… easier to understand than people.” William smiled widely at her, “Great! What do ya say you the ship’s engineer? Wait-“ his smile disappeared as he steadied himself, “Sorry, I’m being selfish.” She put a hand out, “No, it’s fine, I don’t think I mind. Despite being a princess I’m not really worth anything back home, that place can rot.” His gaze hardened, “You sure? You won’t be able to come back, I mean it, not even to your own world.” Czarveta looked at him, confused, again, "What do you mean?” He answered, “This ship sails a sea that is impossible to navigate, it goes through dimensions, you’ll probably never see your home again.” This only made her more confused, “What? That’s impossible, even if it was-“ she sighed, “Yes, I’m sure.” At this he smiled and took her hand, lifting her off the cot to her feet, “Great! Welcome aboard!” She pulled away her hand in discomfort, “Thank you… I will try to do what’s asked of me.” William’s smile stayed set, “Fantastic! First up, answer this for me, when the crew and I were in that cave we heard you scream and when we found you, you were practically boiling hot, what the hell happened?” Czarveta’s unease only grew at the prospect of answering this, “My… companion tried to save me from the rebels but in the process was smelted in a nearby machine and the molten metal was sprayed on my skin.” She looked to her hand, “I believe it was fused to my skin and burnt my nerves. I can’t feel anything.” She gave a small, scoffing laugh to some joke inside her mind.

William’s smile faded, “Yeah… your skin was really cold. How are you handling this?” She gave him that same, cold, unchanging expression, “I will manage, loss of feelings means loss of hesitation due to fear of pain.” He hid his unease with another smile and tried to change the subject., “Right, let’s get you a room of your own. Maybe a workshop? I’m sure you can make some adjustments to the maintenance room.” She nodded, “That will be just fine, thank you captain.” He gave a short laugh, “Please, just call me William, Czarv.” She gave a slight smile at the nickname, “Alright William, lead the way.”

Soon enough Czarveta turned the haphazard maintenance room into a neat -to her at least- workshop with that same cot moved to the corner. It was calming and all in her control, perfect. Until at least the interruptions came, she had to deal with them eventually she supposed, so she let them in, or rather her. Czarveta opened the door and saw the silently worried visage of Charlotte. Czarveta decided to speak first, “May I help you Ms. Peacock?” The woman answered in turn “I would rather help you, Lady Rain, William told me everything you said, how are you feeling? I can’t imagine how something like that feels.” Czarveta blinked, her expression unmoving, “I’m fine. Nothing to do except move on. I’ve been hurt before, I can manage.” Charlotte nodded, wanting to ask more but not wanting to pry, “Alright, just remember we’re here for you.” Czarveta returned the nod, “Of course” and watched her walk away.

That conversation was draining, as most were for her, so she simply returned back to her work, this felt better than talking to anyone, simple problems and solutions. No small cues to look for, no shame in missing them, just metal and wood.

Now, in the bar of the ship sat William and Quinn, then Charlotte, she opened a bottle of wine and sat next to William, leaning on the table to get as close as she could, after a sip she spoke, “I don’t know what to do with her. She feels so distant.” William took a swig, “Don’t worry about it Lottery, she needs some space, she’ll warm up to everything.” Quinn added to the sentiment, “Yeah! She’ll come tah us when she’s ready.” Charlotte gave a small sign, “I hope you two are right, the only way is to see, I suppose.” Then came footsteps, they all looked over and Quinn spoke, “Guess dat time is now.” Czarveta stood in front of them but looked to William specifically, “William, as well as all of you, thank you, for taking me in, back home didn’t feel like one. I’m happy that you’re trying to give me one.” William gave a happy growl “Aaaah, no problem Czarv! Come here and have a drink.” Another smile crept on her face, “Of course, but I do have one last question.” Charotte answered for him, “What’s that dear?” Czarveta sat down, “Do you have any vodka?”

[sailorshadzter]

Jonsa Abelard and Heloise AU (basically a teacher AU set in medival times)

not gonna lie

this just gave me an excuse to write somethign spicy lol

so thanks anon & sorry this has been in my inbox so very long!!!

send me prompts

The princess is beautiful.

Jon has tutored many noble born girls and boys alike, but never before a young woman nearly grown. In truth, she doesn’t seem to be all that much younger than he is, save a year or two. But there she sits at the table in the solar, with wide blue eyes the color of the sky when it’s just rained and long red hair that she wears loose, a few braids pinned into place to give her a windswept look that steals the breath from his lungs. “Princess,” he finally greets when he finds his voice, offering her a quick bow as a smile curves upon her lips.

“You must be Jon,” she replies with a Northern accent he’s only heard a few times before. It’s not everyday that a Stark comes South, after all. She’s come to seal a marriage treaty between the newly independent North and South, the former King Robert having betrothed his son and heir Joffrey to her before his death. In an effort to secure peace for the kingdoms, the betrothal was confirmed by both the King in the North, her brother, and the newly crowned Jofffey. Jon has grown up alongside Joffrey all of these years, bastard born as he was, a ward of Robert Baratheon from the hands of Rhaegar Targaryen himself. Jon knows well enough that the only reason he’s even alive today is because of the love Robert Baratheon bore both Ned Stark, his uncle, and Lyanna, his mother. They were cousins, in truth, he and this princess. Proving himself from a young age to be intellectual, in both battle and academics, he was put into Joffrey’s household, likely in hopes to make a man out of his heir… But, as most people have learned, there’s no changing Joffrey. Now that they’ve both grown, Jon has become the palace teacher, his usual students the young Prince Tommen and Princess Mrycella, along with a handful of other noble’s children. 

And that was how he found himself where he was now, to tutor the newly arrived Princess of the North, Sansa Stark. He’s been told her education in the North was typical of any noble born girl, but the crown wishes to see for themselves, he assumes to ensure that she’s been as well bred as they claim her to be. “Aye, I am, my lady,” he says, approaching the table to set down the load of books he carries. “They say I am to be your teacher.”

Again she smiles, tilting her head so that her hair cascades across a shoulder. “So I’ve heard,” she replies, though if anyone asked for her opinion, there was little education this man could give her. Anyone that knew her knew she was a lady from three, a perfected curtsy before her fourth nameday could even come to pass. Her courtly manners were above reproach, far superior to even the most senior noble women of this court. Beyond that, her father had believed in education, even for his daughters, and so she had attended all the same lessons as Robb, excelling in all of them beyond even her older brother. “I hope to learn from you, ser.” She says sweetly, knowing better than to dare make a move against anyone in her husband-to-be’s circle. She’s known Joffrey all of a fortnight but she already knows well what she’s up against. 

It’s Jon’s turn to smile as he sinks down across from her, opening the top book.

And so their lessons will begin. 

[ x x x ]

Her breath comes in short, soft gasps, the feel of her grasping hands sending waves of pleasure rushing through him.

Jon can’t really say when this happened, but sometime after her marriage to the King took place, their lessons became anything but lessons. In truth, as he looks down at her, with her powder blue skirts up around her hips, head thrown back so her hair falls down her back, he can’t help but to laugh. Hearing him, she looks up, a perfectly sculpted brow arching with a silent question. “I just wonder who taught you to be so wonton,” he whispers as he leans over her, kissing her, cherishing the taste of her lips against his. He hates to think that she must share a bed with the tyrant King Joffrey, who certainly does not treat her as she deserves to be treated. Not in any sense. 

“Why, I imagine it was you,” she replies breathlessly as he runs a hand across the swell of her breasts, the neck of her gown pulled low to give him access. His other hand is sweeping lower, down past her hips which he cannot even find beneath the folds of her gown, instead to slip between the warmth of her inner thighs. They are in the very same solar they’ve spent many days within, the very same one they met in so many months ago; anyone could walk in and find their queen in such a state- perhaps that’s what made this all the more thrilling. “I believe it to be all you’ve taught me since we met,” she giggles, but a moan follows as he brushes his fingertips along her most sensitive of places. 

“Surely I’ve taught you something else,” he quips back, raising his own brow back at her, a grin on his lips. 

As her hands reach for the laces of his breeches, she’s peering up at him from beneath her lashes, weakening his knees with her lustful gaze. Her lips, swollen from his kisses, are twisting into a mischievous smile as she takes him into her palm. “There’s this,” she reminds him as she begins to move her hand in a way that has him throwing his head back instead, the sound of her given name falling from his lips more like a groan than speech. She loves to hear him say her name more than anything else. Especially like this. 

“That can’t be all,” he gasps when he’s so close to the edge that he must pull away, if only to position himself between her legs. When he’s inside of her, she’s softly crying out, hands in his hair, legs anchoring themselves around his hips, keeping him close. “I don’t remember this lesson,” he says, voice husky, gaze smoldering as he looks down at her, the roll of her hips against his a new move she’s never done before, but it’s one that has him breathless. 

A sly smile perches itself upon her lips, blue eyes dark. “Self taught,” she replies with a laugh and Jon cannot help but to think of her, alone in her chamber, thinking of him while she thinks of new ways to please him. That alone nearly undos him. “Jon!” She must sink her teeth into his shoulder to keep from crying too loudly as he increases his movements, every fluid movement sending shockwaves through her body. How he can do this to her, she’ll never understand, but she hopes it never will end. 

But, as always, it does come to an end, leaving them both panting, grinning, hands tangled together between them as he helps her to straighten her skirts. “I fear you’ve learned nothing,” he says when she’s standing on her own two feet, hands in her hair, pinning pieces back together, hoping it will look as it did when she left her rooms that morning. Her grin is his trophy and he leans in, slinging his arms around her hips so he can draw her in close. “Your lessons will simply have to continue.” 

“I apologize for being such an unfitting student,” she says, tilting her head back so his lips can find hers in a long, sweet kiss, one quite unlike all of the others they’ve been sharing this past hour. “I did try to warn you I was a slow learner.” He laughs, because she’s anything but, he tips his forehead against hers, breathing her in, realizing right then that what he felt for her went beyond what he’s ever felt for a woman in all of his life. “Perhaps we even must meet more often… So the lessons really… Sink in.” Her words bring a chuckle to his lips and he gives her a tender squeeze.

“I think I can arrange that,” he murmurs back, thinking of how little the King minds what his queen does, so long as she’s there on his arm for state dinners and on her throne beside him when he calls upon her to be there. His mistresses keep his bed warm enough that his once regular visits to her bed have dwindled to nothing, save for the once or twice a month to try and put a new heir in the royal cradle. Though, he’s yet to sire even a bastard, making many wonder if their king was not as potent as he thought himself to be. A worrisome thought, depending on who you asked. 

When the knock sounds on the door a short while later, they’re settled next to one another in an appropriate manner, a book open between them. It’s not a book of lessons, but rather a book he’d read and enjoyed, which she was now reading herself- despite the nature of their growing relationship, they do often find themselves holding delightful conversations over texts they’ve read, sometimes agreeing, sometimes not. “Your grace,” it’s her handmaiden Shae, who comes to fetch her back to her room, as she always does at the end of her hour with Jon. If anyone knows about the two of them, it’s Shae, who has often fixed her queen’s hair or helped her into a fresh gown before the evening meal. “My lord,” she nods at the man sitting beside her queen, though he stands up alongside her, as he should when the queen rises up. 

“Thank you for the lesson, as always, ser.” Sansa says with a pleasant smile, her blue eyes flashing as she steps around the table, the borrowed book tucked beneath her arm. “I look forward to our next one.” They share a single glance and then she’s gone, turning away so she can slip from the room, Shae on her heels.

When she’s gone, Jon sinks back into his chair and smiles, his hands still glowing with the warmth of her skin beneath his touch.

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @ironcladrhett @magmahearts & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Rhett can sense there's a fae nearby and ends up following Cass towards the Magmacave where she's meeting Alex for date night. Having met Rhett before, Cass is friendly... Rhett? Not so much. CONTENT: Eye trauma, unsanitary (blood)

Date night was something Cass took pretty seriously now that she had a designated date night partner. There were so many things Alex hadn’t experienced throughout her life — an unfortunate side effect of her upbringing and her parents, the oread knew. It made her angry to think about, sometimes, made her upset to know that her girlfriend had suffered so much under the ‘care’ of people who made an active effort not to understand her… but it also meant she got to be the one to help rectify that. And that wasn’t all bad. She could show Alex the best movies, introduce her to the coolest comics. She got to be there to see the way the other girl’s face lit up when she experienced all of that for the first time, and that was a good thing.

It also meant that Cass was bound and determined to make everything as special as she could. She knew what Alex liked now, and she always made an effort to make sure she had as much of it as possible. Everything in the Magmacave was ready for a new kind of movie night. A projector she’d ‘acquired’ from Walmart that worked with her phone, a bunch of snacks she’d stored away just for this moment, blankets and pillows of every shape and size… It was bound to be one for the history books, she thought. She was just finishing up her very last snack run before Alex’s arrival, grocery bags slung over her arms as she made her way back to the cave with the less ‘nonperishable’ of movie night snacks. It was perfect. It was going to be perfect. 

She walked towards the cave with a spring in her step, pausing momentarily at the sound of something rustling behind her. If this was a monster that was going to ruin movie night — or worse, try to steal her carefully acquired snacks — she was going to be mad. Cass turned around, putting a hand to her hip as she prepared to scare off whatever animal was there, only to come face to face with a man instead. He looked familiar, though it took her a moment to place him. “Hey, I know you. You were at Alan’s that one time, right? With the pool!” She offered him a bright smile. “You probably shouldn’t be out here at night time. There’s animals and stuff in the woods, you know? You don’t wanna get eaten!”

—

It had been happenstance, really, that he saw the fae girl at the store. He’d not even been inside, but walking past outside when he felt that familiar, horrible feeling that accompanied the presence of fae. Diverting his path and forgoing whatever plans he’d had in mind, Rhett followed the sensation until the girl was in his sights, then tailed her at a respectable distance. She seemed distracted, which was good, or she might’ve noticed sooner that she had a shadow that was following her out of town and towards the Flat. He dropped back even further as their location became more and more remote, careful to just use his senses to keep track of her, even when he couldn’t see her. Not like his eyes were much fucking good, anyway.

She stopped, he stopped. Must have reached her destination, then. Or—oh. No. She’d spotted him. But she wasn’t scared, she was smiling. She recognized him. 

He managed to mirror the emotion, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Aye, with the pool,” he confirmed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “That so? Well, don’t worry, I think I can handle any ol’ animal what wants to tango with me,” the warden chuckled. He glanced past her at the cave, brow raised. “You live in there?” he asked. “No judgment… live out the van, myself. Cool cave.”

—

What was he doing out here, she wondered? Had he seen her and grown concerned? It wasn’t entirely unheard of for people to worry when they saw someone Cass’s age walking alone into the woods at night, and he had met her at Alan’s, so maybe he felt some… silly sense of responsibility. It might have been exciting if she didn’t know it would likely be a temporary thing. Most adults only cared about a kid until it stopped being convenient for them to do so, and she doubted Alan’s boyfriend was any different in that regard. 

She glanced back to the cave with a shrug, opting not to answer the question verbally. He said he wouldn’t judge, but… Wait. He lived in a van? Cass squinted at him. Hadn’t Aria said the man who’d put her in his van had long gray hair, too? Uneasiness crept down the oread’s spine, but she was quick to shove it away. Alan trusted this guy, and Alex trusted Alan. It was probably just a coincidence, wasn’t it? “What are you doing out here, anyway? Just walking around? It’s kind of late for a hike, moke.” She let her tone take on a teasing lilt in spite of her uneasiness. It wasn’t fair to be suspicious of him, not really. Driving a van and having long hair wasn’t a crime or anything.

—

“Oh, night time walks are pretty much the only thing keepin' me sane these days,” Rhett laughed, though the gesture of friendliness didn't quite meet his eyes. It never seemed to, these days. He thought about how he needed to get in closer without spooking her off, and decided to lean into the misinterpretation she and Alex had had regarding his relationship with Alan. Or lack thereof, if you were the type that cared about semantics. Rhett was not one of those people. 

“Anyway, Alan says it's good fer me, so here I am. Walkin' out all the ol' troubles.” He was doing a pretty good job of being convincing, or so he thought. “Spotted you not far back... sorry I didn't call out sooner. Didn't wanna scare you. Guess followin' you ain't a much better choice, eh? Whoops.” He shrugged. “Say, Alex ain't around, is she? Been meanin' to ask her for a wee favor in regards to the grumpy ol' man back home, but ah... if she's here, could just get it outta the way now. You know how it is, I ain't great with the technology.” Now he was just lying, but it didn't really matter if this fae was going to die in the next ten minutes, did it? Besides, he felt this was a pretty decent way of making sure she was alone before moving in for the kill. Or... kidnapping. Again? Couldn't rightly kill her here, what if someone else did show up? What then? No, there'd have to be a secondary location. Didn't matter much where, just not here.

—

Old people did like night time walks, actually. Cass was pretty sure she’d seen commercials featuring old people walking at night while a disembodied voice read off a list of potential side effects, so it made sense that Rhett would rely on them. They probably kept him feeling young, or whatever. 

The oread softened a little at the mention of Alan, too, thinking of the two of them at Alex’s mentor’s house the night with the pink pool. Most of it was a little hazy — in retrospect, she so should have recognized the whole ‘high on mushrooms’ thing way before she had — but she remembered thinking they seemed good together. Balanced each other out, in a way, with Alan’s seriousness and Rhett’s willingness to join in on her and Alex’s little game.

“Yeeeaaah,” she said with a small laugh, “following a girl alone in the woods at night isn’t the best way to avoid scaring her, dude. But that’s okay.” At the mention of her girlfriend, she perked up a little. “Oh, she’s not here right now, but we’re meeting up later. I could pass along the message for you? No offense, but I don’t really want you crashing date night with my girl.” She wrinkled her nose at him, a teasing glint in her eye. 

—

“Ah! Of course, totally get that, no problem. Here, ah…” He patted his pockets for a second before fishing out a scrap of paper and a pen. “I’ll write it down just in case, howzat?” Not giving her much time to respond, the warden scribbled… well, nothing. It was just scribbles. Clicking the pen shut, he pocketed it again before folding the paper and closing the distance to hand it to Cass. “‘Preciate it, kid.” 

As he held out his hand, waiting for her to accept the paper, his heartbeat quickened. And when she mirrored the motion to take it, he struck out like a viper. The paper was dropped as that hand came to circle her wrist instead, the other jumping to her throat. He wasted no time with words, simply twisting them both around until he stood behind her, pinning her arms to her own torso while the other jumped to cover her mouth and stop her screaming. Alex was coming, and there was no telling when she’d arrive. Couldn’t stay here. Rhett began to back away from the cave entrance, dragging the nymph into the brush with some difficulty but not too much, thanks to his superior strength.

—

“Oh, that’s a really good idea!” If he wrote it down, they wouldn’t have to play the telephone game and whatever it was he needed to say wouldn’t have to go through Cass before getting to Alex. She’d probably have a hard time remembering it; when Alex was around, most of Cass’s thoughts were reduced to the gay kind. Rhett writing his thing down was a relief, and she waited patiently as he scribbled. It looked like it was probably going to be messy — she hoped Alex would be able to read it.

When he held out the page, she flashed him a quick grin and reached for it. But before her fingers could close against the paper, he grabbed her. His hand around her wrist was like a vice grip, too tight and bruising. The way he twisted her arm behind her hurt, too; she felt something snap under the pressure, but the resulting scream was muffled by the sudden presence of a second hand covering her mouth. The pain was momentarily blinding, and she checked out for half a second. When she was back to herself, she was already moving. Already being moved. He was dragging her away from the cave, and that was bad. She needed to be in the cave. She didn’t understand what he was doing or why, but she knew she didn’t want it, so she fought back. She kicked at his knees as best she could, tried to bite the hand over her mouth. Her glamour dropped, and she kept screaming throughout even though it was muffled. What was this? Why was he doing this? She didn’t understand.

—

Nearly the whole trek to the magmacave, Alex found herself wishing that she could convince Cass to stay at the cabin with her. She wasn't under some illusion that anywhere in Wicked's Rest was safe, but she at least knew there was no goo at the cabin for the time being. Every time she saw one of the faces around town, entrapped in the sludge that hardened around them, Alex couldn't help but see Cass. The pure black of the sludge was different from the obsidian and magma that made up her girlfriend. Light didn't catch the abnormality or the sludge in quite the same way. It was like there was only darkness there and it scared the hell out of her. She supposed that was part of the problem now. Her heart was too full. There were too many who's single misstep into the goo could break her. She didn't want to keep being a broken thing, not when she was only starting to piece together what she looked like as whole. 

Still, Alex wasn't going to let her own worries ruin date night. She was dating a superhero, a little bit of danger came with the territory. If she stopped Cass from protecting her cave, she'd be asking for her to give up some fundamental to who she was. It was part of her. That bravery and dedication to protecting her little piece of nature was something Alex loved about Cass. She found her cheeks grew flush at the thought and she held the little pouch of rocks she'd collected close to her chest. 

Her feet followed the familiar path to the cave and Alex smiled at the way she knew the way like the back of her own hand now. It was a pretty thought that was rudely interrupted as she heard what sounded like a whisper of a scream, as if it had been stamped or drowned out, and she felt something shift in her. All of her senses went into overdrive and she followed the sound of footsteps and dragging ahead past the cave. 

Part of her wanted to call out, but Alex didn't dare alert anyone to her presence. She could hear sounds and while there was no scream that followed, something heavy was dragging against the forest floor along with the footsteps and she had to follow it. She could smell Cass and something else vaguely familiar. 

She ran past the cave with careful steps. Alex moved as quickly as she could, avoiding patches of dead leaves that would crumble under her steps and alert someone to her presence. It had been a good move because when she rounded a tree, she was taken aback by what she saw. Cass's glamour was off and she could see a charred mark around her wrist. 

Then there was Rhett, holding her by the throat with hand over her mouth and Alex felt sick. What was this? She knew. Part of her knew right away, but it couldn't be right. Cass wasn't a monster to be hunted. It didn't compute in her mind despite what her eyes were showing her. Her eyes had to be betraying her. 

“Cass,” she called, “Rhett.” She looked between the two, begging for the picture to adjust and show her anything else, but it never did. Her fists clenched at her side and her features hardened as she found herself glaring at the warden. “Let go of her,” she demanded coldly, “Now.“ 

—

Rhett paid the screams no mind, determined to get Cass away from the cave mouth before someone came along. Someone like Alex. But, as was typical of late, the universe had other ideas, and those ideas consisted of throwing as massive a wrench in his plans as possible. 

Goddamnit.

“Doin’ you a favor, kid.” There was no surprise in Alex’s voice to see the nymph looking the way it did now, glamour dropped. That didn’t make things easier. She was a fae sympathizer. Fuck. Well, there was no point in trying to haul it off somewhere else before killing it, now. The thought that it might traumatize Alex to see her friend be killed crossed his mind but he didn’t care—just like he didn’t care about the fact that this would certainly… complicate things. He’d be alienating himself again. From Alex, which was no great loss, but then also probably from Alan, who he had a feeling she’d tattle on him to. That one hurt a little, but there was nothing to be done about it. The fae had to go. He’d wanted to see if it knew of anyone in the area named Ophelia, but that wasn’t gonna happen now. No, all he could do was draw his iron dagger and press it to Cass’ temple, his battle-hardened gaze fixed on Alex.

“Go on, nymph. Tell yer girl here how you’ve definitely never ever hurt someone. Definitely never killed anyone with yer promise binds.” It was literally a shot in the dark, but honestly, Rhett had met more fae that had killed with their words than he’d met ones that hadn’t. Not that it mattered, not that it’d stop him from burying that blade in the creature’s skull. But maybe, just maybe, it’d give Alex some clarity on the situation.

—

She was afraid, and she hated that. She hated the way her heart was pounding, the fact that she couldn’t think straight. She was a superhero. She was supposed to be a superhero. And what good was a superhero if she was trembling? What was a terrified hero worth? 

(About as much as a dead one, she thought, and if the hand around her throat was any indication, she’d be that soon, too.)

She kicked and struggled and screamed against the hand still pressed over her mouth, but Rhett was strong. It was like he didn’t notice her struggles at all, like she was a fly pounding against a glass someone had trapped her in. Her arm hurt where he’d twisted it; she thought she could feel bones grinding together in a way they really shouldn’t have been, like maybe something had broken. And the only thought her half-hysterical mind could come up with was that she’d never had an x-ray before. She’d only ever seen them on TV.

There was a quiet vibration of approaching footsteps, muted by her panic. She screamed against Rhett’s hand again, as loud as she could, and it was shameful. She wasn’t someone who needed saving. She was supposed to be the one who did the saving, supposed to be brave and fearless and invincible. But she saw a flash of red hair cutting through the brush, and all she could feel was a crushing relief because Alex was here. Alex was here, and Cass would be safe because Alex wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

The hand covering her mouth vanished, but Cass had only a moment to bask in the relief of it before something cold pressed against her temple. Even without the sharpness actually being driven in, the mere presence of the metal against her skin hurt. She didn’t understand it for a moment. Not until she remembered what Alex and Teagan had told her about fae and iron, about how there were metals made to kill her. Cass froze all at once, terrified that any continued struggle might make that blade find its home in her skull.

Rhett spoke; she felt the vibration of his voice rise up from his chest, like a dragon growling into the darkness. Her heart stuttered, because how had he known about that? How did he know about Kuma? Her eyes darted to Alex, fear suffocating her just as much as the hand gripping her throat. If Alex knew, would she leave Cass here? Would she walk away the same way everyone always had? 

“How many people have you killed?” She ground out, her voice distorted by the lack of glamour and strained by the hand around her throat. “You want to — want to talk about hurting people? You’re the one with the knife.”

Avoidance. It was a good way to lie without lying. Cass had always been so good at that.

—

There was a breath of a second where Alex found herself unable to move. She didn't trust herself to move. Every muscle in her body was already tensed as she watched the pained, contorted expression on Cass's face and the way Rhett seemed almost amused by it. Her arrival seemed to be more an annoyance than anything else and she wasn't sure she had ever felt so much anger coursing through her. It took everything in her to not snarl and pounce the moment she saw him, but maybe he didn't know. 

How could Rhett know that Cass was a superhero? How could he know that she spent her nights looking for people to help? She was good, maybe if he knew that, it'd make a difference. She wanted so badly for it to make a difference.

It was naive. Alex knew as much. Without the beard, there was no hiding the determined look on his face. There was a stubbornness in the tightness of his jaw that she recognized too well and even his touch was hurting Cass. “You're not doing anyone any favors here,” she spat, “Cass is good. She saves people and picks up litter... Doesn't look like you bothered to ask that though.” 

Because Alex knew that when he happened upon her, Cass hadn't been doing anything out of the ordinary. She was at the cave, probably about to get it all set up for their date night. She wasn't hurting anybody and here he was, holding her tightly in his grip like she was a thing that needed to be put down. He wouldn't even say her name. Her fists curled into balls at her side. “I don't need a man to tell me anything about my girl,” she barked out, “I know everything I need to know about Cass and she's good.” 

'Unlike you,' she thought bitterly. 

But then the iron blade was pressing into Cass's temple and Alex knew this was useless. That look in Rhett's eyes reminded her too much of her father's. There was no reasoning with that look and suddenly all the anger she had finally allowed herself to feel towards her parents had a convenient outlet. 

Alex let the green backpack slide off her shoulder and into the mess of fallen leaves on the ground. She thought of warning the warden this was his last chance to get away unscathed, but a warning was more kindness than Rhett deserved. Even with her true face, stony as it was, Alex could see the fear in her glowing eyes and her voice was so strained. He did that. 

She didn't let her eyes leave Rhett as she focused on the shift. Alex had been practicing and even had some success when it came to tracking down Gael with Ren, but she always closed her eyes when she pictured her own shift. She found she couldn't do that now and her glare remained trained on Rhett as she focused on the feelings in her body. She felt the ground beneath her boots and concentrated on how it felt when it was the forest floor beneath her paws. She imagined Rhett as the moose, muscles and sinew pulling apart beneath her claws and teeth. She remembered that feeling of connection that came with being part of a pack and how she felt more connected to Cass than any of the werewolves she knew. 

Alex tuned into how the werewolf in her felt when it was protecting Alan and she felt the claws emerging from her fingers. It stung lightly in the way they ripped from her skin, but it felt almost natural now, like slipping out of her sports bra at the end of a long day. Her bones creaked under her and red tufts of fur emerged from her skin, but icy blue eyes stayed trained on the warden, as if she could pounce mid shift if he so much as moved another inch to hurt Cass. 

She stood taller once her bones all shifted into place and drool was already hanging from angry jowls as she snarled at the warden. One last chance, the wolf thought. If her mark moved a muscle, she would tear out his gut and leave him there on the forest floor. 

—

“I don’t kill people, I kill abominations. I kill killers. S’what I was made for.” Rhett’s expression was callous, his heart unsympathetic to the claims that the nymph in his grasp had done good things in its life. That didn’t matter, that didn’t make up for the bad. Hell, it didn’t even make up for the potential bad, as far as he was concerned. That was what he’d been taught. They’d all do bad, given enough time. It wasn't their fault, not entirely. It was just in their nature. But that didn’t mean he had to sit by and let it happen. And he wouldn’t, not if he could help it. Not ever. 

There was something about Alex’s body language that felt threatening, and soon enough, the warden was made to see why. Ah. Well… that was… a surprise. His eyes narrowed, his grip on the fae tightening. He didn’t have a lot of experience fighting werewolves, or at least… not shifted ones. He knew a bite from one would be his undoing, if it didn’t kill him. Which it seemed like Alex kind of wanted to do. Couldn’t blame her. Didn’t change anything, except that he’d have to try and kill her as well. 

Hey, at least then maybe the news wouldn’t make it back to Alan. Silver linings. 

The werewolf was staring him down like he’d be an easy meal, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what he looked like to the supernatural things he killed. Hm. Wasn’t really food for thought. To the matter at hand��Rhett wrenched his arm up beneath the oread’s chin to hold its head in place so he could drive the blade into its temple, but he’d barely pierced the soft, thin space between rocky plates when the werewolf adjacent to him leaped forward, claws reaching out and slashing across his face, massive digits hooking around his head and ripping him away from the nymph. His blade did find purchase, but it was in the top of the fae’s shoulder, digging deep before his grip on it yanked it back out as he was thrown to the forest floor. He screamed, not out of fear but out of anger, feeling the adrenaline dump in his system as he wrestled with the beast atop him, trying to avoid a bite from those slobbering jaws.

—

Abominations. Killers. The words were hurled out in a way that was so matter of fact, not even spoken to Cass. Like she wasn’t worth speaking to at all, like she was nothing. She thought of the nymphs back on the island who’d never seen her as anything more than an inconvenience, of the kids she’d met throughout her ‘adventures’ as a homeless teen who were lost and traumatized just like she was and didn’t know how to get away from that without using someone else as a stepping stone. She thought of Kuma, of the look on her face when she’d finally seen Cass in her true form, of the fear in her eyes when she spat out the word monster instead of her name and told her never to come back. 

So many people, throughout her life, had treated her like she was nothing at all. She’d been a problem in the making in Hawai’i, a ticking timebomb whose eruption no one had wanted to be in the blast zone of. After, when she’d found herself alone on the mainland, she’d been largely ignored. Homeless kids were hard to look at, after all. They made people feel ways they didn’t like feeling, and it was so much easier for someone to avert their gaze than it was to do anything to help. Kuma hadn’t been a bad person, either, not really. She’d been afraid, but not malicious. Cass had just been a little too much for her, the same way she was a little too much for everyone. 

But she wasn’t too much for Alex. 

Alex didn’t look at her like she was nothing, didn’t avert her eyes. In fact, Alex looked at her like she was everything. She looked angry right now, but not at Cass. Never at Cass. Instead, she was angry for Cass. She was furious on the oread’s behalf, and how many people had ever been that? How many people would have stood up for her against a man with a knife and a terrible certainty that what he was doing was right? 

It didn’t remove the blade from where it rested against her skull. It didn’t ease the grip holding her in place. But if that knife found its home in her head, if she died on the forest floor just feet away from the cave where she would have been safe, at least she’d die seen. She’d never thought she’d have that before.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked out. Not to Rhett. She wasn’t sorry to him at all. But to Alex. That she was here, that she had to see this even if Cass was grateful for it. There was more she wanted to say, too, but it seemed cruel, almost. To say the only other thing in her head and die right after would be terrible. Alex would never be the same.

But… hope sprung up in her chest as Alex’s skin began to ripple. Cass knew she’d been working with Alan, training to shift without the moon, but she hadn’t known how far she’d come with it. She never would have blamed Alex if the shift hadn’t come, of course, never would have held it against her. But her bones were cracking and her body was changing and maybe things would be all right after all.

Or maybe they wouldn’t.

One hand moved under her chin, holding her in place. Cass struggled anyway, letting out a scream as she kicked and swung her elbows and did anything she could to make the target harder to hit. She felt the knife pierce her head, and she closed her eyes and waited for it to go the rest of the way through, but it didn’t. Alex was there. 

There was only a heartbeat of relief before the pain hit. For a moment, she hadn’t even realized that the knife landed someplace else. She was so happy to be alive that it took her a moment to process the knife in her shoulder, buried to the hilt. The moment her mind caught up, the pain hit. With the hands holding her in place gone, there was nothing holding her upright, either, and Cass staggered forward, falling down to her knees. 

The knife had been yanked messily from her shoulder when Rhett fell backwards, leaving nothing to staunch the bleeding. The blood had followed the knife like a fountain when it was removed, and was gushing pretty heavily now. Cass moved to put a hand on top of it, because wasn’t that what they always did in the movies? But her arm hurt from where it had been wrenched, and any pressure applied made it so much worse. The blood seeped through her rocky fingers, staining stone. 

She felt cold. And that was funny, wasn’t it? She didn’t think she’d ever been cold before. How could she? There was magma running through her veins, lava pumping through her. Volcanoes didn’t get cold, and neither did Cass. So why was she shivering now?

“Alex,” she gasped out, looking for the wolf. There was blood on the ground. Not all of it was hers. Fear gripped her by the throat. “Alex. I — Alex, are you hurt?”

—

The furious gaze of icy blue eyes never left the warden. They couldn't—- not while Cass was so firmly in his grip. Alex felt a low growl rumble through her. He regarded Cass like she was nothing and it all clicked into place. Nothing was ever black and white and men like Rhett, like her father, were too stubborn to see anything else. It was its own form of evil and she knew he wouldn't let Cass go. As the warden's arm began to move, the werewolf sprung forward claws first toward him. 

Alex dug her claws firmly into the side of his head and dragged down his face, clinging onto him as her momentum sent them tumbling to the ground. Too much of the blood she smelled in the air wasn't his and it sent a guttural snarl through the wolf as jowls hung over the warden's face. Some part of her wanted to let go of control and tear into his throat. It'd be so easy even as Rhett wrestled beneath her. Both the wolf and person in her understood one thing, this man threatened the pack— her family. 

The warden wrestled beneath her and Alex rustled atop of him keeping sharp claws at the ready. Several blows were delivered to her sides before the warden managed a shove that sent her stumbling back with her claws dragging as he pushed her away from his head, leaving shallow claw marks down his chest. It ignited more of a fighting instinct in her, more feral than anything trained, and the pulsing in his throat was something of a temptation. The coppery scent of his blood already coated the air and he was beginning to look like more of a meal. And some instinct in her knew that he deserved it. 

But then the sound of her name came out as a gasp and Alex was pulled back to what was important. Cass. The werewolf bellowed and put all her strength into a swipe at the warden's upper leg. More blood splattered onto the werewolf's coat and she knew the warden wouldn't be moving for a while. Some bitter part of her hoped he bled out there. 

The werewolf dashed towards Cass and stood in front of her protectively. Alex grabbed the fallen iron knife with her still clawed hand and waited a beat, panting heavily as she watched the warden to make sure they were safe to run. 

As her breathing slowed, Alex relaxed back into feeling like herself. She needed to help Cass now, she was bleeding and it was pooling all around her. The sight made her sick but her bones shifted back into place and her form turned back into something more human. The air was chilly against her skin, but she still felt like she was on fire. 

“Cass,” she murmured, “I'm fine— I'm...“ Alex looked over Cass and there was so much blood. Fuck. She needed to get help. “He hurt you,” she said solemnly, grabbing for the bag that had fallen to the ground and throwing on an oversized t-shirt. They needed to get far away from Rhett.

She knelt down beside Cass eyes still watching the fallen warden. Alex extended her arm and braced herself to take on Cass's weight. ”Come on,“ she said, “We have to get out of here— I'll take care of you, ok? You're going to be ok.“ She had to be ok. 

—

For the briefest of moments, there was a flash of fear in the warden’s eyes. For a moment, terror gripped him, plunging him into an proverbial ice bath and delivering a shock to his system that woke parts of him that’d been dormant for decades. He didn’t beg, though, no—he only grit his teeth, set his jaw, and closed those useless eyes as he hiked his legs up to his chest and delivered a two-footed kick that knocked the werewolf away from him. The claws that raked across his chest and stomach pulled a groan from him, but he quickly tensed again as he waited for the beast to return. He couldn’t muster the strength to rise from the forest floor, and just as quickly as that instinctual drive to stay alive had descended upon him, it fled and left him empty once more. He coughed, blood staining the backs of his teeth, and then he felt the thing tearing into his leg. It ripped through denim, muscle, and bone with ease, and the pain was blinding. Truly blinding. What little sight remained in his right eye flashed with white and all he could do was inhale sharply, feeling that he might die. Was this it? At the mercy of a werewolf? Motherfucker. 

But then the monster was gone, retreating to aid the fae he’d stabbed, and Rhett let out a low, miserable moan. He tried to pick himself up, but his leg was ripped apart and the wounds on his face were bleeding into his eyes and everything hurt. All he could do was lay there, listening to them speak, promising to take care of one another. It made him sick to his stomach, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He was down, and unless someone came to get him like the werewolf was there to aid the fae, he’d probably bleed out. 

He waited until their uneven footsteps retreated before he dared move again, lifting his ass off the dirt with a pained grunt and digging his phone out of his back pocket. Holding the device between his teeth, the warden summoned the last of his strength to drag himself over to the nearest tree and prop his back against it, spitting out the phone and retching from the pain along the way. Once he was as settled as he was going to get, he reached for the phone and unlocked it, staring at the screen with exceptionally blurry, reddened vision. His thoughts were disjointed and growing more so by the minute—the clock was ticking, he knew. He thought about contacting Emilio, but… no.

His thumb found Parker’s name instead, and he pressed the call button. There was only a brief wait before the other warden picked up, and Rhett wasted no time with pleasantries. 

“Werewolf got me. Probably got ‘bout twenty minutes afore I bleed out. Bring supplies. It’s safe now. Send you the coordinates in a sec. Somewhere near the edge of the Flat.” He didn’t even wait for the other man to respond before hanging up, looking up his longitude and latitude and sending the number his friend’s way. If he made it out of this alive, he was definitely going to have to spring for that eyepatch. He was pretty sure lefty was toast based on feeling alone, but didn’t have the stomach to reach up and touch it. The phone slipped from his hand then, head leaning back against the trunk of the skinny tree, eyes closing again as he focused on keeping his heart rate down. 

Hellfire, that hadn’t gone to plan.

—

Black spots danced around the edge of her vision, and wasn’t it strange how everything hurt when she’d only been stabbed in one place? There was just that — bleeding more than she’d thought it would — and the broken arm, but wasn’t it silly for those two things to knock her down this hard? She thought of the comics she’d read, the movies she’d seen. In media, this kind of thing would have never been enough to keep someone down. People on TV got stabbed and finished the fight before they realized it had happened at all. People in comics lost limbs and stayed on their feet. It was misleading, she thought; none of it ever told you how much things hurt.

Alex’s face was blurry in front of her, those black spots trying as hard as they could to blot it out entirely. Cass squinted around them, letting out a small sigh when she came into focus. Alex didn’t look hurt. There was blood on her, but Cass couldn’t trace it back to any injuries. More likely, the blood wasn’t hers. She wondered how much of it was Rhett and how much of it had come from her. If she weren’t so out of it, she might have asked, might have said something about how it was almost romantic to see so much of her on her girlfriend’s skin. “You’re so beautiful,” she said instead, the words a quiet breath of air.

“I’m okay,” she murmured softly, reaching up to twist a strand of Alex’s hair around her finger absently. It hurt, but it was worth it, anyway. Alex’s hair was always so pretty, and Cass hadn’t touched it enough. She should have always had it twisted around her finger like this, should have kept it there. “I’m just kind of tired.” She knew you weren’t really supposed to sleep at a time like this, because that was always a dramatic point in every show, too. Someone was bleeding, someone closed their eyes. The episode faded to black, the words to be continued flashed across the screen. The audience waited weeks or months to find out if those eyes would open again, or the show was canceled and they never found out at all. Either way, it was simpler to experience it from your sofa than it was to live it. When this screen faded to black, Cass thought, she might never even see the words.

Alex reached down and helped her up, and it hurt, but Alex wanted her to walk so she walked. Or… maybe walked was a generous term. She was dragged, she was half-carried, she was draped over Alex and guilty for making her girlfriend do the majority of the work here when she’d done so much already. She stared at her feet, tried to get them to move. One foot in front of the other. One foot. The other. God, had her feet always been so heavy? Had it always been so cold here?

She faltered, tripped, would have fallen long ago if not for Alex holding her up. The black spots were bigger now, the world felt darker than it ought to. One foot stopped in front of the other, and she couldn’t lift it again. Her knees buckled. 

The screen faded to black, and she was right — she couldn’t read the words there.

[siriusisntcis]

A Trans James Potter Story

Chapter 1

James Potter was a confident young man. At the age of 5 he told his parents that there was something wrong with him. They assured him there was nothing wrong with him and that they would love him no matter what until he finally told them that he felt like a boy. James had always been a boy but he was born into the wrong body, a girl's body. 

Since James had told his parents they were trying their best to make their son feel like himself. They figured out that a person who felt like they were born in the wrong body was called a transsexual. Although they didn’t enjoy that term they still researched. 

They helped cut his hair and picked him out a new wardrobe. His father had actually been the one to cut his hair since he came out. Fleamont had been cutting his own hair for a while because he didn’t trust barbers to not mess up his “look”. They even managed to change his name on his birth certificate, which was a process. But finding a gender changing spell that would last and change with him through puberty was a bit harder. 

It wasn’t until before his first year at Hogwarts in 1971 that the term transgender was coined. That felt more like him. He was transgender. But he wanted a fresh start. He didn’t want anyone at Hogwarts to know.

Him, his mother, and his father were all at platform 9 ¾. Euphemia was smothering him telling James how much she would miss him and how she was sure he would do great. His father simply ruffled his hair and told him he was excited to hear stories when he got back. His mother got off him with tears in her eyes. 

James excitedly ran off after his goodbyes. He was excited to make new friends as he was homeschooled and always around the same people. He put his trunk in the storage compartment below the train. He fluffed up his hair before he walked onto the train. He had his hair in a quiff right now, but when unstyled it was a fringe that went right above his eyes. His hair was slightly wavy and a nice chocolate brown. 

He walked through looking in every compartment trying to find someone to sit with. He spotted a red haired girl with a greasy black haired boy, a blonde girl, a girl with braids down to her back, a girl with black curly hair, and finally at the last compartment a black haired boy with a tear stained face. He walked in. “Oi can I sit with you?” He asked, he always had to make a conscious effort to lower his voice, he had to always be aware of every little thing he was doing to make sure he was being as masculine as possible.

The boy simply nodded at James. His hair was long and shiny, it almost went down to his shoulders. His eyes were blue and bloodshot making them even more piercing. He had another distinctive feature which was that his cheek bones were so strong and pronounced. “I’m James, James Potter,” He introduced. The boy let out a laugh.

“A Potter aye? My father told me to stay away from your Gryffindor ass,” He said in a very posh voice, the word ass sounded wrong coming out of his mouth. It felt like he should be saying buttocks. “I’m Sirius Black,” He said, a sly smirk coming onto his face. His last name was recognizable and he knew it.

“A Black aye?” James copied, “My dad told me your family was no good,” Which was true. He said the Blacks were a bunch of no good Slytherins who only cared about power. Sirius didn’t seem that way though, there was a certain sadness in his eyes that James was able to see.

“Can I sit with you lads?” A squeaky voice James recognized asked. It was Peter Pettigrew. He had grown up with him as they were both home schooled. Luckily they didn’t meet when James looked like a girl. So his mission to keep it a secret at Hogwarts wasn’t compromised. Sirius nodded and James said of course. He plopped himself down right next to James. Shortly after the last call horn rang and they heard someone quickly run onto the train. 

“Sorry all the others are full,” A boy with a grown out buzz cut said, shuffling himself in. He sat next to Sirius putting his beat up suitcase between his legs. He must’ve not noticed the compartment to put his stuff in while he was rushing. “I’m Remus by the way,” He said in a bit of a rough accent. He sounded the opposite of Sirius’ posh voice. “Remus Lupin,” He told them.

“I’m James Potter, and this is Peter Pettigrew,” James introduced both of them because he knew Peter got a bit shy around new people. Sirius introduced himself to Remus and they shook hands. That’s when the train started to roll. It all started to feel so real.

[honorhearted]

Ben chuckled, stooping to unfasten his knee bands so that he could unroll his soaked stockings. "Brewster's a regular ol' softy," he assured her. "Don't let the harrowing beard fool you. I've seen him woo plenty of women in his day...in fact, he's helped me woo girls on many an occasion." Sparing his friend a sly glance, he shrugged before unrolling his left stocking. "I assuredly did not receive any courting for his efforts, but they were still valiant ones all the same."

Caleb huffed, though an unmistakable grin lit up his face. "Who says I haven't been in love, eh?" he countered. "The sea is the greatest lass of all...though she's got nothin' on flesh, if y'know what I mean."

"I wish I didn't," Ben replied, moving on to his other stocking. "The day you go one afternoon without speaking of carnal relations is surely the day the Rapture will befall us."

When Francesca seated herself, Ben was finally bare enough to join her and he set his wool stockings into the sand, hoping the sunlight was sufficient enough to dry them. Caleb followed suit, and then the three sat basking within the warm glow, the vibrant golden hues alighting Francesca like a beacon -- one Ben very much wished to capture within the palm of his hand.

Startled out of his reverie by her question, his expression turned sheepish and he nodded. "Yes. We'll be celebrating the harvest," he said. "Residents gather up as much as they can before the winter, and we of course feel the need to tout our accomplishments and sell our wares."

"Lots o' games and the time to put that so-called wooing into action, too," Caleb agreed with a wink. "How do ya feel about bobbin' for apples? We play that one a lot."

Ben made a face. "I'm not fond of it," he said. "Ever since you said that sharing a drink is like an indirect kiss, the idea of putting my mouth on anything anyone else has has totally lost its appeal."

Caleb snorted. "Aye? Well if that's the case, you've kissed just about every slag here in Setauket." Avoiding his friend's swipe, the whaler continued, "We've got games for couples too. You both are too damn competitive for your own good, so that probably won't be the best way to introduce yourselves."

Ben grinned. "I don't know...maybe it'd be the absolute best way," he countered. "It's not like we'll have to be here more than a few times a year, so I think it'd be all right if Frannie makes a couple enemies."

"I was actually thinkin' o' you," Caleb countered, sneering. "You're the biggest pain in the arse on this 'ere side of the Hudson." Nudging Francesca with his boot, he asked, "Are you sure you won't regret bein' tied to this lout for the rest o' your days?"

"Whose side are you on?" Ben asked, chuckling under his breath. "It sounds to me like you're trying to sabotage our happiness."

"Aye, well my stomach's gettin' a bit weak from all this gushy nonsense," he said. "It'll get even worse once the reverend gets wind o' this, 'cause he's been gettin' on Benny for years about findin' a girl. In fact, I'm shocked he didn't somehow learn about it already. I keep expectin' to turn my head and see him headin' some big ol' bannered parade."

Francesca could only laugh at Caleb’s admonishment, cheeks flushing slightly as though scolded. She had made similar japes when she was younger upon seeing public affection, remembering fondly the raspberries blown when her parents kissed in front of the children. It had not truly been disgusting to see - No, Edmund and Violet had been so very much in love - but Francesca revelled in the fake revulsion, giggling as her father pulled a face of mock-sheepishness in response.

"I take it that you are not the sentimental type then?” she asked the whaler, squinting up at him through the harsh sunlight as she bent to wring out the hem of her dress. “I think that there is a hidden romantic in you, Mr Brewster – Just wait until you fall in love.”

Ben’s sudden concern earned a firm shake of the head, errant tendrils of hair sticking to her cheeks as she did so. “I’m fine,” came her assurance, and she was. She was more than fine, truth be told – Cold, yes, but the warmth that radiated from her inherent happiness served as a fine distraction. “I think I just need to sit in the sun for a while.”

As if to punctuate her suggestion, Francesca turned to move slightly further from the surf and set herself down on the soft sand, gesturing for the others to follow suit. The chill in the air was beginning to recede, lending the pleasant warmth that replaced it to act as a blanket.

“A coop is marginally better, I suppose.” Suddenly remembering Nathaniel’s reminder from the day before, Francesca brightened as she turned to Ben and Caleb. “Your father mentioned that there would be a festival next week, did he not?”

[starfall-spirit]

A Court of Twisted Wisdom

Summary: See ACOTW Masterlist

Chapter VI: Storytime

Ayla I woke to rays of sunshine dancing through my curtains and soft whistling at my bedside. I tried to roll and winced. "Ayla?"

"Hmm?" I groaned, peeling my eyes open to see my cousin's face hovering over mine. "Honestly, you oaf, can't you learn what a personal bubble is?"

He chuckled, but didn't move away. Instead he trapped me in a firm hug. "You scared us, Ayla. You and Rox." He jerked his chin towards the second bed that had been moved into the room. "When they carried you in, barely conscious... I saw your wings. I could smell those males on you two. Ayla, never before have I wanted blood as much as I did at that moment."

My wings. They were folded as they usually were when I slept. I couldn't bring myself to spread them a second time. To try to. I sobbed, my cousin's awkward rocking doing nothing to help me. The wings were the spark of the waterworks. Then everything else piled on and I was inconsolable. "They threw her off of the mountain. We were a hundred feet from the top. We were going to make it together. They killed her without a thought. Just to hurt us before—before hurting us. It was sick. So sick I just—" I sobbed, gripping his shirt and burying my face there.

"Lyra," he murmured. She was a friend to him as well, though some part of me assumed each of them wanted a little more. "I'm so sorry, Ayla."

"I made it to the top and it still means nothing. Lyra didn't make it, my wings are worthless, and I humiliated myself coming back to the camp like that. So much for Carynthian."

"The fact you made it says something, Ay. Wings or no wings you deserve the title you earned. You deserve the title and the ink and everything else."

"I don't want a pity party. I want to be worth something. I want to be more than a bastard's daughter. I want to make a difference." He hummed. "What?"

"I was just thinking, have you actually tried stretching your wings yet? You know, just to feel the difference."

As soft as his words were, their finality stung. I'd hardly put much effort in on the mountain. Seeing the difference at home now...I'm too scared to. I suppose as an immortal I had to at some point. I grimaced, shutting my eyes as I braced myself for the inevitable. But I felt no resistance. Nothing more than a slight ache as they stretched and stretched. They stretched some more. I let out a laugh of disbelief, carefully snapping them in and out.

"Thesan popped in. When your worry-wart of a father came barreling in with you half-dead in his arms, Thesan decided you were worth helping."

I scowled at the mischief dancing in his eyes, punching his shoulder. "You had to let me have a whole sob fest over not flying before telling me I was fine?"

He smiled. "You might be a little slower and need to rest more frequently than others but otherwise you've got no more trouble than a pair of nasty scars." His smile wavered. "You fought like hell, didn't you?"

"I had to get to Rox. I didn't care if holding still hurt less. I didn't care if I'd have no chance at flying. She should." I sighed. "Those males... It was organized. They were extracted and dropped in near the top. Devlon ordered one of them to kill us. A quick strike before we reached the top. He gathered a few allies who decided the best message to send their general and High Lord was to clip their daughters' wings."

His eyes went wide. "Devlon?" I nodded. "Shit."

He bolted for the bedroom door, flinging it open and calling for our parents. "What is it? Are the girls alright?" my father asked.

"It wasn't a few people trying to take a jab at you. One of them had orders and picked up three friends to help him out."

"Orders?" My parents' eyes settled on me and they crossed the room quickly. "What's this Nyx is talking about?" my mother asked.

"Devlon told a warrior to take us out. Somewhere no evidence could be traced. The Blood Rite was the perfect opportunity. There are no special exceptions for royals in the Rite. If I were to be killed it could look like any of the other deaths this year. Luckily they got distracted from their original assignment."

"I've been waiting for an excuse to kill that slimy bastard."

I raised a brow at my father's enthusiasm and dramatic exit. My uncle shook his head. "Devlon's always had an issue with females training. That's why I've always preferred to keep training at home. Better atmosphere."

I let out a long breath. "What is it?" my mother asked.

"I met Lyra first during the Rite. She was with us, trying to take the first step and they killed her for it."

So I told my story once again.

Previous | Next

[mystilotls]

Tokyo Soul AU: Chapter Three

Song: The Mind Electric

Tw: Electrocution, Main character in peril, innuendo (only one), 

Sorry I didn’t update yesterday, I was heavily unmotivated

Reblog > lIkes

Asks for the characters are open in @ask-mystis-aus (Please leave an ask :<)

Also Taurtis speaks Japanese at one point and there is the translation at the end of the story in the Keep reading cut off

“..k. .p” “Wake up.”

“Hey, Wake up!”

Taurtis groaned as he tried to analyze his surroundings with what blurred vision he had. He saw the demon from before and wasn’t sure if his eyesight returned or if the shadow demon’s features just faded into the dark abyss of its body. 

He looked down to see himself in a kneeling position surrounded by some type of ritual circle painted with what he hoped was a red hair dye, candles of different variants, and ancient language Taurtis couldn’t read for the life of him. He was sure that if Sam was here, he’d make him translate, thinking it was Japanese. 

He looked up to see Cthuhlu and Grian, look directly down at him, Cthuhlu had a facial mixture of apologetic but determined meanwhile Grian stared daggers at Taurtis.

 Just as he was able to see what the shadow demon looked like, Grian grabbed the lock of what little hair he had before bringing his face to look directly at him.

Taurtis shook as he was faced to face with someone he no longer recognizes. 

“What do you think you’re doing here?!” Grian said sternly. Taurtis stared blankly at the brit before clearing his throat.  

“Ok, to be honest with you. You were creeping me out bud and I just wanted to see why you were avoiding us...avoiding me. If it was something I did, I promise I’ll make it up to you”  Oftentimes, Taurtis thinks that talking will be the solution to all of their issues but he couldn’t hide the panic in his voice when Grian’s red eyes glared. 

“The hell are you talki- oh,” Grian let go of his hair before whispering something to Cthuhlu who just sighed and nodded.

“We have good news and bad news” Grian spoke before continuing “The good news is, you have been promoted to this shiny necklace!” Taurtis watched in confusion as Grian flashed some sort of amulet in his face before shoving it inside his jacket. Taurtis heard the shadow demon chuckle and walk into view before standing next to Grian. 

“The bad news is Inanis here, will take your place” Grian backed away before Inanis walked into view, looking at his detail before whispering something that sounded like “Not bad, Necro. We can have matching humans!” 

“And what prevents me from getting up and walking out of this circle” Just as Taurtis attempted to get up, he was stopped and pulled back to the ground. He looked down at his arms to see them in chains, similar to what this “Inanis” guy is wearing on one of his wrists. He hissed when he felt the metal cut into his flesh then he turned his head back to Grian. 

“That, and this” and with a snap of Grian’s hands, red electricity surged into Taurtis. He screamed as he was being electrified, sure he had been electrocuted before but this was much more painful. As if he was burning as well, yet he didn’t see any damage on him, only the pain. 

When Grian snapped again, the electricity stopped and Taurtis almost collapsed but the chains held him in his kneeling position. He panted and looked down, refusing to make eye contact with the demons no matter how much they yelled at him. When Grian threatened to snap again, he shot his head up, glaring at them. 

“So, do we have a deal,” Grian walked up to Taurtis, only for Taurtis to spit at him, almost hitting his eye. Inanis growled and lifted up his claw, Taurtis flinched and looked away, expecting that this was how he died. Grian waved his hand in the shadow demon’s face before he reached into his pocket and dangled the amulet from before and waved the screen. 

Taurtis felt his eyes tear up at what he just saw.

Inside the glass of the amulet, Grian was there, not this Grian, The one Taurtis knew and loved. The real Grian noticed his headphoned wearing friend and banged on the glass, screaming for him to help before the fake waved his hand, and Grian was gone from view. 

Taurtis, not caring about the chains cutting into him, lunged and screamed at them, with tears of anger and sorrow streaming down his cheeks. 

“ *Sorera no utsukushī-me wa anata no monode wa arimasen!” He shouted before gasping and going back into his kneeling position. He hates it when his native tongue slips out. 

He only speaks Japanese when he mistranslates something to spite Sam, get free snacks from Pufferfish Pete when he left his wallet at home, or when he slips up by being very emotional. It slips up when he is very angry, very sad, or just very happy. He wants the choice to hide his emotions so he likes using Japanese only on his terms. 

These freaks ruined his streak.  

Taurtis sniffled as his tears fell down on the ritual circle, hoping to at least smear it but to no avail.  

“I know we may seem useless to you, but please-” Taurtis looked back to them with tears streaming down and a pleading look. 

“Take my body all you want, but let me see him again! He was my best friend! My...world…” Taurtis said and hoped that the real Grian heard that last part. He choked out a sob before screaming. “HE AND SAM WERE MY FIRST REAL FAMILY, DON’T TAKE HIM FROM ME!” 

“Grian” looked at Cthuhlu and Inanis before Inanis reached his hand out Taurtis. 

“So it’s a deal then?” ‘Grian’ asked as Inanis’ tail swayed back and forth, Cthuhlu had his hands behind his back and stayed silent but he had a serious look. 

“Just let me see him again, I don’t care,” Taurtis said in a deadpan voice before Inanis and Grian chuckled, Cthuhlu had a small smile hidden on his face. 

“Pleasure doing business with you mortal,” Inanis chuckled before turning complete shadow and rushing into Taurtis, causing him to breathe in the foreign dust which surrounded him. He panicked and tried to hold his breath which was to no avail when it flew into his airways. When it faded away, Taurtis slumped over, panting and wheezing before coughing. 

Taurtis then slowly lifted his head and opened his eyes, they were pure white before his pupils returned, with a bright red just like Grian’s.

“You going to unchain me or what, Necro” Taurtis spoke with an unfamiliar tone. 

“I don’t know Inanis, chains are a good look for you” Grian responded and as the words left his mouth Cthuhlu howled with laughter and “Taurtis” turned bright red. He screamed a swear before Grian chuckled and unchained him. Taurtis rubbed his new wrists in pain before punching Grian in the shoulder.  

“I hate to be the third wheel and interrupt your flirting but look at your amulet, Necro” Grian brought the amulet to his face and saw the amulet change color to a purple, he waved his hand across the glass and saw the real Grian and the real Taurtis hugging each other in fear and crying. He looked away before waving his hand across again. He didn’t know if it was pity or guilt but he really didn’t want to see that. He put the amulet back on his neck before walking out of the warehouse with his arm wrapped around Taurtis. 

“Come with me, by the way, Inanis, there is this mortal that is very clingy to who you possessed but don’t worry, he was talking shit and I gave him a curse” Grian spoke but rolled his eyes when he heard his boyfriend whine

“But I wanna change my outfit!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *Translation: Those beautiful eyes are not yours

[sainzfilm]

another request… a mclaren girl who was brought to the team by danny x carlos sainz!!!!!!!!!!

pairing: carlos sainz x mclaren pr!reader

a/n: sometimes i just wish i could work in the f1 world. and by sometimes i mean all the time <3 i hope you like this bb! 💝

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

“And for the first time in Formula 1, Carlos Sainz is victorious, he wins the British Grand Prix!”

Chills went all over your body as you cheered for Carlos’ first victory in his career. He finally fucking did it.

Making your way through the crowd, you stood near the barricade as Carlos took the podium, looking proud of his achievement. Despite being in a sea of people, he smiled at you and sent you a wink, which caused you to blush.

As you walked back to find Daniel to accompany him for his post-race interviews, Carlos followed shortly after and couldn’t help but look at you as you stood beside his friend. Butterflies erupting in his stomach– how could you stand amongst people and still be the most beautiful woman ever?

When Daniel finished his interview, you gave him a quick hug and congratulated him for his efforts on the race, “Good job, Daniel, today was tough.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” He smiled as he patted your back, “Looks like a certain someone wants your attention.”

Turning around with a frown that was immediately replaced with the biggest smile when you spotted a smiling Carlos, you walked towards him and gave him a hug, “I’m so proud of you! Congratulations, smooth operator.”

“Thank you, cariño,” He grinned as he hugged you back, “It feels crazy. I don’t know how I did it!”

“I always knew you could do it,” You smiled as you patted his shoulder gently, “Carlos Sainz, winner of the British Grand Prix. First of many, huh?”

“I could only hope,” He smiled as he put his hand on your back while walking out the paddock, “I really missed you, you know? Feels like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“I miss you too,” You sighed as you put your hands in your pockets, “I’ve been thinking about leaving though.”

“Leaving? What do you mean?”

“McLaren. I like my job, but Daniel’s leaving next year,” You frowned as you rambled, “I just- I don’t know. Lando’s got his own PR, so where do I go?”

Carlos stopped walking, turning to you and putting his hands on your shoulders, “To me, cariño.”

“Yeah, obviously, you’re my friend. I really appreciate the support.”

“No, not like that,” He chuckled as he smiled at you, a sparkle in his eye, “Come be my PR. Mine’s about to take off next season for God knows what reason. It’s perfect timing.

“You’re not kidding me, right?”

“Ay, of course not,” He replied while clicking his tongue, “You know how much I missed having you around. Besides, if you were with me so often, I think I could win more.”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, “You know you don’t have to sugarcoat just so I could take the position.”

“I’m not!” Carlos frowned as he crossed his arms like a kid, “I’m telling the truth.”

Before you could respond, Lando runs up to the two of you and puts his arms around your shoulders and Carlos’, “Hey, hey! What’s up with my two friends?”

“Nothing, just persuading Y/N to come to Ferrari as my PR next year,” Carlos groaned as he stood up straighter.

“What?!” Lando exclaimed as he took his arms away and stood in front of the two of you, “No! She’s a McLaren girl through and through!”

“Please, mate,” Carlos snickered as he shook his head, “Red suits her so much better!”

“You’re wrong,” Lando frowned as he crossed his arms, “She’s gonna be my PR.”

“In your dreams, Lando.”

“Oh god, will the two of you stop it?” You laughed as you brushed your hair back with your fingers, “I’ll go wherever my heart decides for the next season. Okay?”

The two boys grumbled an agreement and nodded before Lando bid his farewell to catch up to George, who passed by.

“So,” Carlos trailed off as he smiled sheepishly, “Can I win your heart?”

Damn it, Carlos. Always so vague with his statements.

“Maybe, red would suit me,” You shrugged as you crossed your arms, “Who knows?”

“Mhm, red would definitely suit you,” Carlos smirked as he took his jacket off and placed it around your shoulders, “See?”

You couldn’t fight the blush that spread on your cheeks as you took in a deep breath of his cologne, “I guess it does.”

“You know what else would suit you?”

Frowning in confusion, you tilted your head and looked at Carlos, “What?”

Carlos smiled as he tapped your nose, “Me.”

bonus scene!

“God, mate, do you always have to be this cheesy?” Charles groaned as he entered Carlos’ driver’s room, “Can’t believe it took you so long to make a move.”

“Ay, shut up, cabrón,” Carlos frowned as he playfully pinched his teammate’s hip quickly before going back to decorating, “It’s her first day here and I want to make sure my girl gets the best welcome.”

Charles laughed as he shook his head, “I’m happy for the two of you, though. New beginnings in both your lives.”

“Hey Car- oh, sorry to interrupt,” You froze in your spot as you held onto your clipboard, “What is all this?”

Carlos and Charles looked at you wide-eyed and smiled awkwardly before throwing confetti over you, “Welcome to Ferrari!”

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Five: This Will Be The Day (Finale)

Warning: this series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader pairing.

Summary: Everyone has returned but the battle for humanity against Thanos wages on.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You wake in a coughing fit, the rubble surrounding you sears your lungs. “Natasha.” You call into the rocks and flickering lights. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Natasha!”

“Here, I’m here.” Her voice is rough, pained.

You push yourself toward the sound, through the dust you can make out her hair. “You ok?”

“Mostly.” She’s laying face up, a few scratches visible.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I can’t move.” She nods at the piece of collapsed cement. “My leg is broken, you should go.” Nat says, staring up at the sky.

“I should’ve never let you go to Vormir. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You try uselessly to budge the blockage over her leg.

“What is Vormir?” She asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “How much do you remember?”

“The red room.”

“Do you remember getting out?”

“No one gets out.” She shakes her head.

“We did.” You inform her. “Yelena did.”

“Yelena?” Her gaze finds yours. “You know Yelena? Is she here?”

“Yes, I know her.” You press your lips together. “She’s not here though.”

“The rest of this building is coming down. If you were really trained in the red room you have to know that.” Natasha frowns. “You need to leave.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Don’t be a hero.” She whispers. “Let me go, it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not.” You argue. “I won’t do it again.”

“What about Yelena?” Natasha gives you a pointed look.

“She’ll understand.” This is what she would do.

“Hey,” Natasha pushes herself up on her elbows. “Would it be a good thing or a bad thing if a giant man in a metal suit carrying a smaller man and a raccoon appeared behind your head?”

You turn toward the man in question. Scott Lang. “It would be a good thing.”

———————————————————————

Natasha is taken somewhere safe. She can’t fight.

As the strange doctor and his disciples start opening portals you see that you’re not alone. Through one comes Alexei, Melina and Yelena.

Her white suit is pristine, dirty blonde hair held away from her face in ponytails.

On shaky legs you move toward her, taking your rightful place at her side. Facing what lies ahead together.

Yelena catches your hand, “this isn’t much of a welcome home.”

You can’t help but laugh, “pretty cool way to die though.”

“Very,” she agrees. “Natasha?”

“She is a little worse for wear.” You warn her, “but alive…and safe.”

Yelena gives you a watery smile, squeezing your fingers. “And you?”

“A tower fell on me.”

“Of course it did.”

Thanos’ army is nothing to scoff at. Giant airborne creatures hover over his troops. Larger monsters stand in their ranks, space ship overhead ready to destroy.

Steve is almost unrecognizable, covered in dirt, his shield battered and broken. But you know it is time when he gives the order. “Avengers, assemble.”

Fighting is easy, it’s what you know. What you were trained to do. Fight to stay alive, fight for what you believe in, fight with Yelena; for Yelena.

The two of you move together like a well oiled machine. Like riding a bike, even after all this time you could never forget.

“We’ve got company to the left.” Yelena says through gritted teeth, kicking at the alien creature beside her. Dropping an empty cartridge to the ground and reloading her gun seamlessly, firing several shots.

Despite everyone’s best efforts they just keep coming. “Do we have a plan here?”

“Getting there,” Steve replies. “Anybody have eyes on the gauntlet?”

“Yeah!” Clint rushes past you with the glove in hand. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Get it out of here!” Tony insists.

“What’s happening?” Alexei shouts over the chaos. “I still don’t have ear piece.”

“Just keep their army away from that guy in the tank top.” You grunt, falling backwards from the force of one of Thanos’ soldiers colliding with you.

“We have to get the stones back where they came from.” Rhodey reminds everyone.

“The time space tunnel is completely collapsed.” Tony points out.

“That isn’t our only time machine.” Lang cuts in.

“Does anyone see an ugly brown van out there?” Captain America’s voice hums through the ear bud.

“I do,” a female voice chimes in. “But you’re not going to like where it’s parked.”

After grappling for far too long, you manage to knock the creature from you. Using your knife to dismember it.

“Next time, we get the cool laser guns.” Yelena yells loud enough to be heard by everyone on the network, as she hauls you to your feet.

“Friday, please add laser guns for the ballerinas to my grocery list.” Stark gives his smart ass remark.

“What’s the word on the van?” Rhodey wonders.

“Working on it now.”

The ship at Thanos’ disposal begins raining fire, no regard for their own troops.

“We’ve got people going down!” Rocket hollers.

“Clint,” you call into the microphone. “How’s that gauntlet?”

“Moving down the field.” The archer replies, “I’m alright too, thanks for asking.”

“Good.” You bite back a smile.

Hell continues breaking loose around you. Glowing circular orbs unfold in the air above, providing coverage from the missiles. You’re not sure if this is winning or losing. It feels like a bit of both.

———————————————————————- Thanos and his army are dusted away. Leaving you surprised and still swinging as the shock wears off.

You won. You. Won.

And you lost.

You lost Tony Stark. The man you’d barely known, but offered you clarity that will stay with you forever.

You lost the Natasha you’d come to know over the five years that Yelena was gone. Some parts of the redhead stripped away for the price of the stone.

But she’s still here. Waiting in the wings to be greeted by Yelena and their little makeshift family. You share a look of understanding when your eyes meet over the blonde’s shoulder.

Others come, Banner refuses to leave her side. Despite the fact that Natasha doesn’t remember him.

Clint falls to the ground at her feet. Breaking down at the sight of his friend, his family alive and well. She doesn’t remember him either, but welcomes him into her arms somewhat awkwardly.

Her expressions flicker from happy to overwhelmed. Hesitant to open herself up to the possibility that she is wanted, needed and loved.

Too confusing for the girl who only remembers the red room. Adjusting to this life will take time.

Everyone begins clearing out, their jobs finished. Rushing home to reunite with their loved ones. Tomorrow will bring about new challenges. The world is in shambles, and so are you.

Steve decides that he should be the one to return the stones. His goodbye tells you that he has a bit more in mind. But this is his life. His choices, not yours.

“Well, I guess we should head out too.” You say after a while. Your car is gone, lost in the wreckage from the explosion.

The setting sun is eclipsed, causing all of you to turn your gaze upwards just in time to see the ship’s door open.

“Is that a raccoon?” Melina asks, pointing toward Rocket.

“Do you want a ride or not?” Rocket shoots back.

“Not the avenger’s super jet, but it will do huh?” Alexei smiles, this is his dream.

“This is better!” A man’s voice carries down from the interior.

“Well,” Yelena shrugs, “if you say so.” She leads the pack up the ramp and onto the ship.

“Fanny and the pigs will be expecting dinner soon.”

“How are they?” Melina asks, “have you been taking care of them.”

“That was me!” Alexei says proudly, bending at the waist to gather Natasha into his arms. “Aye honey,” he grunts, hoisting her up. “You are only little girl in my heart.”

Nat pushes against his chest in retaliation.

“Do you mind if I hitch a ride too?” Clint asks.

“The extra stop will cost you,” Nebula stares blankly at him from her seat.

“They always do.” He remarks, trotting up the ramp.

Bruce paces at the foot of the metal grate, watching the rest of you load up. “I gotta hang back, make sure Steve gets there in one piece.”

“After what happened with Scott the first time I’d say that’s probably the best bet.” You agree, standing near the entrance.

“Yeah,” he smiles, kindly. “Keep me posted on Nat, will ya?”

“I will,” you return the smile.

“I’ll see you around.”

You nod, “I’ll see you.”

The captain of the ship introduces himself as Star-lord, and after a moment without response, Quill.

“Any requests?” He asks, finger hovering over the control panel.

Alexei creeps over to the younger man, quietly relaying a message.

“Alright,” Quill nods. Stroking the keys until a familiar set of notes ring out.

“A long, long time ago-“ The singer croons.

You let out a chuckle.

“I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance. And maybe they'd be happy for a while.”

“We’re really doing this?” Yelena puts a hand to her head, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

“But February made me shiver, with every paper I'd deliver. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more step.” The melody carries on.

“It’s your song.” Natasha turns to her sister.

“I can't remember if I cried. When I read about his widowed bride.” Melina’s eyes are far away, carried back to their years in Ohio. Before the world had been so cruel.

“Something touched me deep inside, the day the music-“

“Died.” Yelena joins in, lulling her head to the side to gage your reaction.

You sigh, all of this beyond surreal. But you allow yourself to live in this moment, because you might not get another. “So bye, bye Miss American Pie…”

“Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.” The roaring chorus of voices fills the silence you’ve grown used to. Fills the parts of you that were empty for so long. “And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye. Singin', “this’ll be the day that I die.”

“This’ll be the day that I die.” Yelena sings, her face alight with a childlike glee.

——————————————————————-

Melina, Natasha and Alexei stay with you for a while. A few weeks as Natasha heals and becomes acclimated to her life.

She claims to hate the attention, but deep down you know she’s full of it.

The Ohio house is bursting at the seams with five adults, nine pigs and one dog.

That isn’t enough to keep visitors at bay. Namely Clint, his wife Laura and their three children.

Things feel a bit off when everyone begins moving out. Alexei, Melina, and their pigs return to the farm outside of Saint Petersburg.

Natasha finds herself drawn to New York, with Bruce and the makeshift building he’s using as a lab.

You adjust to the steady thrum that is daily life, with Fanny and Yelena.

After dinner you load the dishwasher, drying your hands on the nearby tea towel before selecting a cycle.

“So how does it feel?” Yelena asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hmm?” You turn to face her.

“Being a hero.” She clarifies, a smile playing at her lips.

“I’m not-“

“Oh cut the crap, Y/N. You saved the world.” Yelena narrows her eyes at you.

“I did it for you.” You say simply, because it’s true.

Yelena closes the space between you, “why?”

“You know why.” You whisper as she cups your face in her hands, gently stroking her thumb over your cheek. “It’s ok if you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I’d do more for you, and worse.” She assures you. “But do you really want to spend the rest of your life fumbling around feelings in the dark when you could have someone who-“

“I want you. I only ever want you.” You beckon her closer. “Anyway I can have you, that will be enough for me.”

Sometimes wires get crossed and you want things you never have before. And she provides them before you have a chance to ask. You give back to her tenfold, so that neither glass is ever empty. That is love. True love, the only way you’ve ever known it.

“I am yours…in every way a person can belong to another.” Yelena breathes, “and then some.”

Series taglist: @jeyramarie @freeshavocadoooo @ilovewinter101 @3and30aresoultwins @yelenabelovv @miphas-trident @1800-fight-me

If you loved this series as much as I did, you can check out the prequel here!

[softyoongiionly]

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness. 

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops. 

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u. 

Corruption.  

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.  

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.  

But the need to win was still present.  

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.  

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.  

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.  

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.  

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.  

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

It’s said to be the home a monster.  

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.  

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.  

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.  

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.  

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.  

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.  

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.  

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.  

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.  

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.  

It always has.  

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.  

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.  

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.  

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.  

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.  

Exhaustion was palpable.  

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.  

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.  

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.  

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.  

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.  

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.  

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.  

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.  

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.  

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.  

And there it is: the tower.  

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.  

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.  

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.  

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.  

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.  

The layout doesn’t make sense.  

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.  

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.  

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.  

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.  

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”  

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.  

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”  

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”  

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”  

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.  

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”  

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.  

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.  

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”  

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”  

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.  

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is-  what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.  

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.  

Beautiful.  

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.  

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.  

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”  

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.  

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.  

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.  

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”  

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.  

And this is what has kept you frozen.  

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.  

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”  

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”  

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.  

But he had vanished.  

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.  

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.  

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.  

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.  

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.  

You know you should be terrified.  

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.  

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.  

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.  

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.  

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.  

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.  

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.  

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.  

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.  

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.  

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”  

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.  

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”  

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.  

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.  

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.  

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.  

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.  

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.  

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.  

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.  

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.  

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.  

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.  

“She’s awake!”  

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.  

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.  

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.  

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.  

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.  

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.  

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.  

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.  

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.  

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”  

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”  

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.  

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.  

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.  

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.  

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.  

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.  

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.  

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.  

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”  

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.  

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.  

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”  

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.  

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

[chronic-claire-universe]

Oh oh oh can may i join your event~?

Winter, she/her, 21. ISTP, 9w2, i don't give a fuck (personality in a few words). Really don't have any preference , but they gotta be male. Love me some lemonade 🥰 And some kinks hmm, size&breeding, predator&prey, mask kink and praising. JJK fandom preferably~

Congrats once again on 1k, Claire!! You deserve each one of us <33

Bonsoir mademoiselle Winter, many girls, boys and people in the spectrum work here in the Savant Claire Brothel, your shift starts tonight and your customer is waiting for you:

Warnings: Smut, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Food Play, Praise Kink, Slight Breeding Kink, 18+, Minors DNI

Jujutsu Kaisen: Satoru Gojo

"Snowy-head!" you say when you see the tall me crossing the corridor to come for you and bearing you in a hug, he says "Winter, my pretty little girl! I missed you!" and holding you in his arms, he goes to an open corner and without wasting times, he manspread saying "Something to drink, hurry up pretty! I missed you too much!" "Ay ay sir, just wait a moment!" you say smiling and as soon as you run to the bar to bring your lemonade and his parfait. Looking you from the distance, his smile grows wide seeing the sweet drink and food you bring to pleasure him, quick pace follows cause you can't wait to meet your favourite man of your work. Suddenly you hear a baby and turnin you see a boy commenting your sailor suit and tails, "Watch your mouth baby, bet your still sucking the milk if you could do it!" you say while Gojo comes by and laughs loudly seeing your bratty attitude, "Cmon pretty, don't wanna be punished later?" he says smiling and completely ignoring the fuss the boy is making, "No daddy please, I've been good only for you!" "Seems that we will have fun" he says while spreading his legs again and seeing you childishly teasing him, he takes out his girth and says "Mind to blow that pretty dessert on my cock? You can do it, right baby?" his fingers shoving in the creamy dessert, taking some whipped cream on his tip, he hisses. "Cmon now suck" he says meanspreading almost like to show his huge cock to the crowd, especially the guy who teased before. The mentioned is looking at you and Gojo smirks as soon as you give kitten licks to his cock, his hands caress your cheek, silently encouraging you to take it all in your mouth, sky eyes staring at you, you can't help but give all your effort to pleasure and let the beautiful man tremble under your work. It takes you a while to put all his lenght in your mouth, tears and smeared make up adorne your cheeks, moans and gag leave your mouth as the tip, easily reaches your throat, "Doing so good pretty girl, might take you then and there" and taking your tails, he stands up putting your panties to the side. Gojo stands tall and proud, just like his cock, and as soon as he lifts you mid air he notices your blushes, "What? Cat lost his tongue?" he says as you look to the guy who annoyed you before, "S-satoru everyone is looking us" you say while trying to escape from his grip. This doesn't stop the man, who easily catches you, and taking your legs again he shoves his cock inside you. "Shhh, you're doing so good, just another inch and it will be all inside the way you want it" he says while giving caress to your clit, "Ahh- ahh Sat- ngh- please" the sorcerer waste no time, and taking your legs he starts to pound into you giving you the first orgasm of the night. Thrusts after thrusts, Gojo felt the coil on his stomach tighten, and when he saw heard your loud moans fill the local, and the guy leaving annoyed, he knew he got his ego fed up and he says "Wanna reward my pretty girl, where do you want my cum?" he says while rubbing your clit again for the night, and feeling your walls clenching down on him, you say "Inside! Inside!", "Greedy girl, wanna fill you up and get you knocked up!", images roams your minds, swollen belly and innocent eyes all for him to enjoy. The fantasy flows on and grunting your name he spills his load inside chuckling, "Might take you in word next time Satoru, it was fun!" you say adjusting your panties and going away with cum leaking on your thigs, this man couldn't fall harder on you,

[waveypedia]

The Family We Make

Companion piece to Leaving the Nest (can be read in any order)

Ao3

After Bradford is defeated, it takes hours for the adrenaline of the day to wear off.

Fenton calls his mother, who brings half of Duckburg’s police force over much sooner than should be humanly possible. Any questioning stares are met with amused shrugs and Gyro’s passionate declaration to never get between Officer M.A.M.A. Cabrera and her son. Spoken from experience, of course. Officer Cabrera’s officers and the superheroes present arrest FOWL’s goons. (Pepper gives May and June goodbye hugs.) 

The villains are gone, of course, having split with the help of Magica’s sorcery and a harmless raven on her shoulder. They’d left with winks and playful smiles tossed over their shoulders. Almost friendly, but not quite. Familiar. The promises of future tussles and battles left unsaid in the desert air. No one says anything outright, but the villains’ smooth departure puts a smile on everyone’s faces. It’s the promise of a next time. Of countless adventures to come. Bradford, for all his meticulous and careful planning, lost.

Goldie steals Manny away to ride into the nearest town and comes back with a cooler of snacks. Uncle Scrooge - Dad (Dad!) - and Granny level their fiercest glares at her and pointedly ask if she paid for them. Goldie giggles behind her hand and avoids the question, dropping a packaged ice cream cone in Dewey’s hands. He lights up, and Dad melts just like the ice cream under the hot desert sun.

Webby, sitting blissfully between Dad and Granny, has a perfect view of their conversation with Goldie. She keeps shooting Webby weird looks, like she isn’t quite sure what to make of her. Honestly, Webby doesn’t really blame her. Webby has always been Granny’s granddaughter through and through, and she inherited Granny’s disdain for Goldie and protectiveness of Dad. 

Webby leans against Dad, and he puts an arm around her. Steady and protective, although she can feel his heart fluttering in his chest. He’s exhausted too - he went through perhaps the most today, at least physically. They’re both too tired to speak, at least right now, but they’re content enough to be in each others’ presence. 

Dewey leads the other kids to the ice cream, and they wave her over. Gosalyn passes a cone to her, and Huey hands her a napkin. She sits sandwiched between Boyd and June, eating ice cream on the ramp of the plane. Violet is holding Lena’s cone because Lena is busy weaving friendship bracelets for May and June.

Webby glances back to where Dad and Granny have set up camp. Members of their family are filtering through, offering assistance and comfort. Donald’s leading a team to fix the plane, and Ludwig is bringing a group through FOWL’s headquarters like a tour guide, to pick up any evidence and missing mysteries. Gyro is off to the side, painstakingly fixing Boyd’s body and the Gizmosuit, with Della hovering over his shoulder and making snarky remarks he pretends to be bothered by.

Soon they’ll be in the air, and she still hasn’t talked to Dad. Really talked to him.

Fear starts to pool in Webby’s gut. He seemed to take it well enough, but that was in the middle of the fight. What if he doesn’t want to be her father? What if this changes her relationship with her other family members?

Webby squeezes her cone so hard it cracks and melted ice cream spills onto her hand.

Why should a piece of parchment, magic or not, decide her family, when she’s spent years cultivating and choosing the perfect family of her own? For better or for worse?

A familiar hand waves in front of her face, green sleeves flapping in the slight breeze, and Webby jumps, startled. Her family, no longer contentedly eating their ice cream, are all staring at her with varying degrees of worry.

“Hey, Webs?” Louie blinks at her and shoves his hands back in the pocket. “You were kinda spacing out there.”

Webby shakes herself back into the present and grins sheepishly at him. “Sorry. What’s up?”

Louie jerks a thumb inside the plane. “Mom just came by. We’re about ready to start heading back. Reinforcements just got here, and they’re going to take everyone else home.”

Webby blinks and casts a quick glance around the desert, cultivated by years of spy training and adventuring. Della is indeed a few paces away, talking to Launchpad, next to the broken plane wing looking as good as new. On the other side of the plane, Amunet and D’jinn are talking to Goldie and Storkules as they enter Gladstone’s blimp. The desert is clearing out, and those who haven’t already left are busy packing up any supplies. 

Dad and Granny amble over with the rest of the adults into the plane. Dad stops in front of them, placing his cane on the ground with a clink and folding his hands over it. He’s smiling, tired but fond. His eyes rest on Webby for a moment longer than everyone else before moving on. 

“All ready, kids?” Dad asks, his beak quirking up in a familiar cocky smirk, and something fond settles in Webby’s gut.

“Ready,” she replies firmly with the rest of them, smiling, and enters the plane, ignoring her growing nervousness. She’s with her family now. She’s safe.

--

When they’re all safe and settled in the belly of the Sunchaser once again,  after Launchpad’s little snafu with the emergency hatch release, Webby seeks Dad out.

He’s sitting in the seat closest to the cockpit, talking with Aunt Daisy. Webby’s full to bursting with nervous energy, but, as she knows, it’s all for naught. His face lights up when he sees Webby coming. Aunt Daisy, as savvy and clever as she is, gives Webby a fond, knowing smile and slips away with a pat on Dad’s knee and a ruffle of Webby’s hair.

Hesitantly, Webby jumps into Aunt Daisy’s chair and maneuvers herself to face Dad. She busies herself for a few moments by fidgeting with her friendship bracelet.

Dad rearranges himself to face Webby, too. “What can I do for you, lass?” he asks, but she can tell from his tone he already knows where this conversation is going.

“So. Um.” Webby tugs at the hem of her skirt, bunching it up in her fists and hurriedly smoothing it out again. “Dad.”

“Dad,” he repeats, his voice full of wonder and amazement. A small smile tugs at his grin, threatening to burst and split his face.

“Can we talk?” Webby asks nervously. Her voice breaks a little on the word talk, and Dad noticeably winces.

“Of course,” he replies, awkward and stilted. “Go ahead.”

“Well…” Webby stares down at her skirt, then back up at Dad with glassy eyes. “Do you love me?”

Dad jerks, shocked. It’s clear that of all her questions, he certainly wasn’t expecting that one.

“Like a daughter,” Webby clarifies. “Do you love me like a daughter?”

Dad’s face changes, softens. It’s unreadable, but not unkind. 

“Of course,” he replies softly.

Webby flinches and glances to the side, at the wall of the plane. Anywhere but Dad’s face. She tries to hide her discomfort, but it’s clear he notices.

“Do you… not want me to?” he tries.

Webby shakes her head. “Of course I do,” she replies softly.

“Then why…” he trails off. He has a million clauses he could finish the sentence with, but they all hang heavy in the air between them, unsaid.

Webby can’t look at him. “I… I don’t want you to only love me because I’m your daughter,” she replies. Her voice breaks on the word daughter. “I want you to love me because I’m me.”

“Webbigail Vanderquack.” Dad stares at her incredulously. “I paid full price for your birthday party. And it was only a front! How can you think I don’t love you?!”

A shocked giggle bursts out of Webby. After a moment, Dad joins her in his own giggling fit.

“I know you love me,” Webby replies quietly after their giggles have died down. Dad’s smile sags, and his expression turns serious and forlorn. “But it’s not the same. I- I know I’ve always been Granny’s granddaughter. It’s a little different. I love you, but I hate that we’re family because a missing mystery said so, and not because we love each other.”

Dad’s expression softens. “Oh, lassie.” He opens his arms, and Webby crawls into his embrace without a second thought.

Dad smooths her hair and tucks his chin onto her head. “Did you know,” he says, his voice muffled by the embrace, “that technically, May and June are my daughters too?”

Webby’s eyes burn. “Hmm?”

“Aye,” Dad continues. “If you were made from my DNA, and May and June were made from yours, then they’re a part of me too. Maybe they’re more like my granddaughters, but the point stands.”

Webby buries her face further into Dad’s coat and doesn’t respond. She’s not sure how too.

“Point being, May and June are my family, and I will treat them as such. I’m sure they’re marvelous young girls, and lovely sisters for you, my dear.”

Dad shifts his embrace so he can see her face. He holds her gaze with a steady and serious look.

“But they’re not my daughters. You, Webby darlin’, are. Do you know why?”

Webby shakes her head.

Dad hugs her tighter. “Because you always have been,” he replies, his voice thick, and oh. “Maybe not with that exact label, but, as Lena would say, labels are weird. You’re my family. You’re one of my kids. I know you, and I love you, Webby darlin’.”

“I… I know I didn’t make the effort to get to know you when you were young,” Dad continues. “I will be the first to admit I regret that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to family. But I’ve had the honor of watching you grow these past years, and of being your family. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”

Webby nods. She knows they’re both thinking of earlier that day, when Scrooge’s declaration was put to the test, and won, but only narrowly. He doesn’t make that statement lightly.

Dad shifts, and his embrace loosens. His expression turns troubled and almost… nervous? It scares Webby by osmosis, but a part of her that she hasn’t processed yet thinks it’s comforting that he’s just as scared as she is. It’s new territory for both of them, but they’ll conquer it together.

“Webby, lass,” Dad begins, hesitantly. “Do you… not want me to be your father?”

Webby hums thoughtfully. Out of all the questions that had arisen in the wake of the Papyrus’ reveal, she hadn’t directly considered this one. It had been at the back of her mind, waiting, lingering.

Despite the lack of deliberation time, Webby knows the answer. She’s always known it, from the moment Bradford had confirmed her ancestry.

“Yes,” she says confidently, so firmly that it startles Dad. “It’s like you said. You’re my family, and that didn’t change.”

Dad’s face softens, and his shoulders slump with relief, and his grin threatens to split his face. Webby grins back, a mirror of his own.

“But,” she continues. “I… I like calling you Uncle Scrooge, too. It feels right to call myself your daughter, but it also feels right to call myself your niece. Does… is that okay? Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Dad replies, shifting his arms. “I think I know how you feel. You are my daughter, and my niece. You’re one of my kids, and that will never change.”

He smiles wryly. “I do like having this special connection to you, though, lass. I have many heirs, but you’re the heir of Clan McDuck. That’s not something to take lightly. I’m proud of you.”

“I’ve never had a father,” she says after a minute. “Granny told me about a father, and a mother, too, but I never really knew them. But I’ve always had you.”

“Aye, Blaise,” Dad replies. “Your so-called ‘mother’ was your grandmother’s niece, if I remember correctly. Arianna. She and Blaise were sweet, if a bit airheaded, from what your grandmother’s told me. They were in a car crash shortly before you were bo- before your grandmother brought you home.”

Webby hums. “I didn’t know they were real.”

“Aye, they were very real,” Dad confirms. “As I’m sure Louie or Goldie will tell you, the best lies are closest to the truth. I’m sure they would love you, dear.”

“I don’t know them,” Webby counters softly. She tilts her head back to look Dad in the eyes. “I never will. But I know you.”

He beams at her. “Exactly, lassie.”

Webby shifts back into his embrace, and they sit together for a minute, the plane’s rumblings shaking them both slightly. 

“Does this mean Goldie is my mom now?” Webby asks suddenly, her beak quirking into a grin.

Dad startles and squawks. “Ack, no! I know Louie calls her Aunt Goldie, for all the blasted- but now. Er, I suppose, that’s up to you, lassie,” he finishes somewhat awkwardly.

Webby smiles contentedly and leans her cheek against the fabric of his coat. “That’s okay,” she replies. “It’s my family and I get to choose the members.”

Dad grins proudly, and they lapse back into silence for another few minutes. The adrenaline, both from the harrowing events of the day and the nerve-wracking yet highly anticipated conversation with dad, slips out of her veins, and the heaviness of sleep tugs at Webby’s eyes.

Dad eventually breaks the drowsy, comfortable silence. “I’m proud to call you my daughter.” he murmurs into her hair, and Webby beams. “I’m proud you’re my family, not because that blasted Papyrus says so, but because you chose me. That means more to me than all the money in my Money Bin.”

Webby snuggles deeper into his embrace, her eyelids drifting closed. “Likewise, Dad. I love you.”

He smooths her hair down. The last thing she hears before she falls asleep, blissful and safe, is: “I love you too, Webby darlin’.”

~

god i. finale came out today and anyone who’s talked to me can verify that i’ve been in constant Duck Mode all day. head full only ducks. i’ve been struggling with motivation lately (as always lmao) but it struck today in the form of my absolute favorite dynamic in the entire show.

if you were in my circles back in 2018, around when confidential casefiles aired, you might remember that i talked a lot about webby and scrooge. i remember requesting them in almost every writing prompt request i was offered. i don’t talk about them much nowaways, and i’m not sure why, because i still love them. regardless of how you feel about the twist in the finale, the pure, unconditional love that webby and scrooge show each other makes me so, so happy. I almost added a section with beakley, because she's an important part of webby's family as well and they need to have a conversation, but webby and scrooge needed their moment. i'll write it later.

this is a bit of trying to make sense of how the theme of found and chosen family fits in with webby’s new biological relation to scrooge and a bit closure. scrooge isn’t the best at having these important conversations, but webby’s pretty good at sticking up for herself when need be.

arianna and blaise are actually based on my OC versions of webby’s parents i made a long, long time ago! arianna was a shush-turned-fowl agent, and blaise was a fowl technician. my plan for them was that they were working for fowl (which was, at the time, based on darkwing duck’s fowl) and eventually, they both cut ties and became freelance villains in st. canard and duckburg. the duck family would fight them, they’d recognize webby and beakley, and the truth would come out. the arianna and blaise mentioned here aren’t my old versions of them, but i wanted to pay tribute to that little picture webby had on her board of her parents. i figured they had to be someone, especially since the woman looked a lot like beakley. my headcanon is that they really were a librarian and an artist, and that beakley raised webby in their images as a tribute to the family she’d lost. also, it didn’t come up in the fic, but blaise is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns!

when watching and rewatching the finale and watching gifs of it, something that struck me was how awestruck and euphoric scrooge acted when he found out. i think most of us focused on webby’s reaction, and beakley’s, but man, scrooge gets so quietly emotional and it means everything to me. this is basically a love letter to that quiet joy, scrooge and webby’s relationship, webby’s beautiful relationship with family, the finale, and ducktales as a whole. i love this goddamn show, and i’m going to miss it so much. see you, space cowboy.