#CART ABANDONMENT MESSAGES

[verstappenverse]

Home is Where the Heart Is

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: You’re very excited to redecorate, and Max is absolutely smitten.

1k words / Masterlist

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a new message. It’s Max, of course. He had to run out for a few hours, some training before his next race, but he promised he’d be back in time to help with the culmination of your decorating project.

On my way. Ready to hang up those weird plant things you ordered. followed by a laughing emoji.

You can’t help but chuckle. Max had poked fun at your excitement the entire week. You’d been planning this makeover for so long and now that everything was finally coming together you could hardly contain your enthusiasm. You had spent ages scrolling through home decor websites, adding things to your cart with gleeful abandon. Colour swatches were scattered across the floor, paint samples were smeared on the walls. The new shelves, throw pillows, and, yes, the complicated plant hangers he loved to mock, were all waiting in the corner of the living room.

"Okay, well they're not weird, they're aesthetic," you mutter to yourself, smiling as you look at the hanging baskets you’d planned to fill with greenery.

Just as you’re untangling the macrame ropes for the third time, the front door swings open, and Max walks in. He’s wearing that relaxed, post-training glow, one you’ve come to associate with this calm, off-track version of himself.

“Hey you,” he calls out, dropping his keys on the table. His eyes roam the living room, his lips curling into a grin. “So… what are we hanging first?”

You barely register his question as you concentrate on an imaginary layout in your head. "Do you think the sofa should stay in the centre, or should we move it to towards the window?"

Max walks over and stands next to you, pretending to study the space like he’s an expert. "Definitely the centre,” he says after a pause, though it’s clear he hasn’t actually thought about it.

You narrow your eyes at him. "You’re just saying that so we can be done faster."

Max’s grin widens, completely unbothered. "I might not care about throw pillows as much as you do, but I’m here to help. You’ve got my full attention."

“You underestimate the complexity of decorating,” you said with a grin. “It’s an art form.”

He bends down and kisses your cheek, his stubble brushing against your skin as he hovers a second longer than necessary. He walks back and leans back against the wall crossing his arms with a teasing smile. “Promise I’ll bring my A-game."

You shake your head, feigning exasperation, but you’re secretly thrilled to have him here. "I want this room to be perfect," you say, more to yourself than to him.

Max looks at you with soft eyes. "It’s already perfect."

"Max…" you groan, "the couch isn’t even in the right spot!"

"You know what I mean."

Your heart does a funny little flip at his words, but you push it aside for now. "Okay, so this first," you announce, grabbing the ropes and handing them to him.

He takes them reluctantly, staring at the pile in his hands like they might start moving on their own. "Are you sure about these?"

You giggle, reaching for the small hook you bought for the ceiling. "Of course. Plants are a must. Greenery is very calming you know."

Max raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "You’ve seen my old apartment right? No plants there and I was pretty calm."

"You’re calm on the outside, but inside you’re one bad plant decision away from chaos."

He laughs at that, the sound warming the space instantly. “Fine, fine. Where are we putting them?”

You point to the corner near the window, excitedly showing him the exact spot.

As Max climbs up to attach the hook to the ceiling, you sit back on your knees, looking around the half-decorated room. The shelves are still leaning against the wall, the box of candles untouched, and the cushions… well, they’re scattered everywhere. But you can already picture it in your mind, your perfect little sanctuary.

He finally gets the hook in place and hangs the first rope. Stepping back to admire his work and gesturing towards it.

You clap your hands together. “It’s perfect!”

Max shakes his head, chuckling. “You’re way too excited about this.”

"I just love how everything’s coming together," you say, getting up to wrap your arms around his waist from behind. He’s warm, solid, and his familiar scent fills the air, making the room feel even more like home.

The room starts to take shape, and with each new addition Max’s admiration for you grows more than he thought possible. He’d occasionally step back to admire your work, his gaze lingering on you with a look of pure adoration.

Max leans into you from behind, his arms resting over yours. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Happy,” he says.

You smile up at him, “I am happy. Especially now that you’re here.”

He turns you around in your arms, catching you off guard as his eyes meet yours. There’s that familiar spark of mischief. “You know, I never thought I’d spend my afternoon hanging plants or arranging cushions,” he nods vaguely towards the room, “but if it makes you this excited, I guess it’s worth it.”

“You are so cute,” you tease.

He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, “Well, you’ve certainly outdone yourself."

You stand there in the middle of your half-finished living room, surrounded by unpacked decorations and the future plans you’ve been obsessing over. But for a moment, it all fades away as Max leans in and kisses you, soft and slow, like you’re the only thing he wants to focus on.

When he finally pulls back, he cups your face in his hands, his eyes locking with yours. “You’ve made this place beautiful, and it’s all the more special because you’re in it.” Your heart flutters, touched by the sincerity in his voice. His hand gently strokes your cheek. "So, what’s next?" he teases.

You laugh, resting your head against his chest. "Maybe we can take a break… but just for a little while.”

Max pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you. “Take all the time you need. This place already feels like home.”

[randomshyperson]

Old Yellow Bricks - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: The conclusion to the adventures of an international thief and an Avenger witch. Or the one where you stop skipping work, Valentina answers the phone and Wanda does an ultrasound.

Warnings: (+18), smut (wanda taking the lead ‘cause that’s hot), bl*wjob, unprotected s*x, creampie, more shapeshifting stuff, some supervillain drama, minor angst with a happy ending I promise. | Words: 7.094k

A/N-> Hey folks, yes, I know I disappeared for a long time but I was so busy and mentally exhausted that I couldn't keep writing anymore, and I used practically half of my vacation just to get a decent amount of sleep. This story was almost abandoned, but I decided to give it an ending, even if it was a bit hasty, out of affection for the plot and out of consideration for those who have followed it up until now. I hope you aren't too dissatisfied with the ending, I tried to address any loose ends and leave it open to the canon we already know. Good reading.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

It shouldn't come as a surprise that you got caught. But you did, mainly because for the past weeks you've felt so comfortable around Wanda that for a moment, you weren't you. No international bounty for your head, not gangs or supervillains or big schemes. 

Just you and Wanda.

Your small argument with the Black Widow was to blame for your distracted state, but fairly, those men were probably following you for a while now, just waiting for the right opportunity to show themselves.

They weren’t aggressive, despite everything. You're just walking a little further from the hotel and this Van - Strategically hidden with paintings from a pest control service - was parked next to the sidewalk and you immediately knew. The door opened and nobody came out. 

It was an invitation.

You took a deep breath and a last glance at the street before getting in.

The face of one of Valentina's most trustworthy henchmen, Mrs. Cassian Camorra,  came to focus in the poorly lit car. He was not alone, masked guards armed to the teeth took every other seat. The only vacant spot was for you.

With a discreet shift, there was no longer much difference between your muscles and theirs. The change made the white-collar man chuckle at you.

“There's no need for that, reaper.” Says Cassian with a smirk. “We're not here for a fight.”

You stare at him with an indifferent expression, lifting your chin a little. 

“The Guns send a different message.” You say but he smiles again just before nodding to the others, who immediately relax their alarmed posture even though they continue to listen to the conversation. In that small space, it would be impossible to do anything else.

You don't let your guard down but sigh once your eyes meet Cassian’s again.

“I don't go by that name anymore, Cass, you know that.”

He chuckles. “Would you prefer shithead?” He teases but you roll your eyes, wishing this conversation would end soon. He laughs again at your expression. “I still don't understand why you would be ashamed of one of your greatest achievements. The Reaper was a goddamn legend! The name gave people the chills!” He recalls excitedly. 

You swallow, shifting in your seat. “Just tell me what you are here for.” You cut his enthusiasm with a sharp demand, managing to make your voice deeper. The security guard next to him has this immediate reaction of touching his gun, but you offer him a cocky smirk before focusing on Cassian again.

He adjusts his suit, one of his hands moving to his jacket pocket to grab something. A small purple cart is extended to you but you don't move a muscle.

“I'm not looking for a job at the moment.” You tell him but he chuckles, flipping the card to show you the back of it.

You thought it was the traditional mission paper with a coding at the back, for you to find target information but instead of that habitual info, there's a written number there.

“The Countess asks to meet in person.”

You don't grab the card. “If that is what she wants, then why didn't she come here herself?”

The man chuckles, and without giving a damn about the concept of personal space, he moves his hands to find your pocket and shove the card inside.

“The Countess is a clever woman, child. Why on earth would she talk business with your new superhero friends around?”

“They are not my friends.” You mutter, pushing his hands away with a slap before pulling the card out of your pocket. “And if she really wished to see me, her face would be the one to welcome me into this car.”

But when you make mention of getting up, Cassian loses some of the calm facade he kept so far. 

“Sit your spoiled ass back right now, kid.” The bodyguards in the two seats behind you grab you by the shoulders, but their hands move away once you are back at your spot so you don't try to start a new fight. “This is the problem with Valentina's little freaks. You all think you're special. She's too soft with your type, so you grow confident in your insignificance. Let me tell you what's going to happen if you don't take this cordial invitation seriously, Lady Fontaine. Every favor for your protection, every deal, is off. You won't be CIA protégée anymore, you'll be on your own. For once in your life. That might talk some sense into your head.”

The anger is burning in your chest because of the cruel words but it spreads around with shame and guilt. Tears beg their way to your eyes but you keep your cheeks dry.

“I've been alone my whole life, Cass. You don't know shit.”

But he laughs, truly, as if you're joking.

“Alone? You? Hydra's golden egg goose?” He mocked managing some chuckles from his colleagues. “You're the one who doesn't know shit, you brat. You have no idea what people like us would do to have the kind of protection you so proudly display without a second thought. The mansions, the travels, the luxury. All that money. And don’t get me started on the attitude. The rest of us living in the gutter, trying to survive out of crumbs while freaks like you get to walk around like you own the world.” He narrates with a trace of bitterness and contained hatred that makes you shudder.  “How many times have you walked out of prison? Do you think it's the same for the rest of us? That we get those same privileges?”

Some redness escapes to your cheeks but you manage to keep your cool.

“I have no power over how things happen in our line of work, Cass. And I am hardly the one you should be angry at. Those privileges you say, believe me, they came at a very high price.”

But Cassian rolls his eyes, dismissing your words with a hand gesture. “Fragile. You always have been. Crybaby should be your next nickname.”

You sigh impatiently and this time, when you move to open the door and leave the car, they allow it without any fight. Standing on the sidewalk, you hear Cass hold the door open and look at him one last time.

He leans for one last warning. “If you ignore her invitation, she will have her answer. And we will be back, this time, not for a conversation.” He lets you know with a little smile that makes you shallow hard. The possibility of putting Wanda in danger makes your heart miss a beat. And when Cass lets out a small exclamation as if remembering something, you somehow know it's not a good thing. He searches in his other pocket only to take a small photo.

“Almost forgot. She asked me to give you this. A gesture of trust, she said.”

But that was nothing trustworthy about Valentina being aware of you and Wanda's relationship, especially for such a long time. The picture is from a security camera and is clear by the poor definition, but still, that day is still fresh in your mind as if it happened yesterday. The Avengers fair you once infiltrate to find Wanda, only for her to end any plan you might had or ever could by kissing you. Inside those tents you were safe but outside, the camera caught the last kiss you stole from her before your departure.

The fact that Valentina knew about this, for so long, makes you feel sick in your stomach.

You don't take the picture - it's a symbol of the false freedom you possessed under Valentina's wigs. You storm off and hear the agents giggling and muttering threats before the car is gone, and so are you when you make a curve that takes you back to the hotel parking lot.

The whole thing made your blood boil. How dare she? What was she even after, what did that photo even mean? Was it a treat? Or it could really be a gesture of trust? Something like, yes she knew and she never did anything about it, so maybe Valentina doesn't want your complete misery.  But then again, you know her well enough to tell that every action she takes is a well-planned one. If she knew about your relationship with Wanda and allowed that with no fuss other than a small bait in the first weeks, telling you to read Avengers files in an attempt to get you away from Wanda, then for sure, Valentina had a bigger plan. 

And for once in your life, you're done with being the pawn.

Wanda's asleep when you're back in your shared motel room so you do your best to keep it quiet on your way to the bathroom.

This will be painful but you're confident you can manage, with your powers help at least.

The small device hidden under your ribs is a high-tech tracker and it's your last physical connection to your old life. It doesn't work unless you want it to, because it answers to a biological stimulation only you can provide. Baron von Strucker gave this to you as a work tool, if you were ever captured, you could call for help without anyone being aware.

You haven't tried to use the device purposefully in years, but sometimes, when being too hurt, it would activate on its own. And because it's quite easy to forget a hidden object behind your ribs, it occurred to you that it has been active since you bled out in Greece, the same day Wanda called to tell you she was pregnant.

The realization that Valentina was aware of your location for so long, Wanda's and her friends especially, rips a sob to your throat. It’s more painful to know you’ve been putting her in danger than the open wound.

You muffle down your crying the second you hear the bed shifting. But luckily Wanda doesn't wake up. Taking a deep breath, your shaky hands keep doing the hard work - to cut open with a medical kit's scalpel your skin so you can remove the tracker.

It's painful of course but it ends quickly. You don't need a badge but it does take a lot of energy to heal on your own so when you're finally back at the bed, after destroying the little device with a squeeze, storing everything else, and getting clean, you're quite exhausted. Stumbling around, you do a poor job of laying down without much noise.

Your girlfriend only grumbles sleepy in return before her magic brings you closer to her body.

-&-

“Wake up.”

It's less gentle than previous attempts, but Wanda had to do it. You were really disturbed in your sleep - mumbling and sweating as if you were running.

Your restlessness and discomfort disturbed her greatly, but she gives you a tender smile as she sees all the tension ease when you meet her eyes.

Sleepily, you close your eyes again the next moment and Wanda takes the opportunity to move the sweaty hair away from your face.

"You were having a nightmare." She mumbles, and she's almost sitting on your lap so you think that it would be a waste to miss the opportunity. Your hands bring her into the position with ease, but Wanda has concern on her face. "Talk to me, detka."

A smile fills your lips, and you remain in a half-asleep state. "I love it when you call me that. You're so lovely, Wanda."

A faint blush fills your cheeks, but Wanda is determined to clarify a few things. "You came back late and as big as a bodyguard. I want to know what happened." She says, and seeing you sigh with your eyes closed, she frowns her heart racing. "Did you find trouble?"

"No, everything's fine." You retort quickly, stubbornly. And Wanda tilts her head incredulously at the clear lie. You finally look her in the eye, and she thinks it's unfair that you're such a pretty liar. Unable to hold her gaze, you look away, the flush on your face more from embarrassment than anything else. "It was nothing." You correct, annoyed, and Wanda sighs at the whole thing. She hopes that one day, your barriers won't have to be so raised all the time and you'll be able to trust her by instinct. But considering the kind of life you've led so far, maybe something like that is just impossible to achieve. 

She moves one of her hands to your face, caressing the skin tenderly. "If you can't put it into words, let me see."

You close your eyes again, nodding, and the invasion is almost immediate. The whole thing happens very quickly - Wanda is getting better at it. Accessing last night's memories is easy, the hard part is dealing with their significance.

When she comes to her senses, the room comes into focus again and so does your turned-away face. Pure guilt and shame in your expression.

"I'm sorry." You say promptly, your voice a bit tearful. " I keep fucking things up. I brought them to us because I forgot the damn tracking, and I got everyone in danger. I understand if you're angry and want to shout at me."

Wanda sighs at the words, shaking her head. "No one's going to be yelling at anyone." She says, her hands moving lower to pull your shirt up a little. She traces the new scar, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders as she sees that, apparently, you've healed fine. 

"Don't ever do anything like this again." She says, and you sniffle.

"That was the only trace I had-"

"Not that." She cuts in seriously, waiting for you to look at her. Wanda looks more hurt than angry and that confuses you. "You can't just self-harm in the bathroom and sew yourself back up in silence. You have to tell me things. You should let me take care of you, all right?"

Aware that the warmth spreading through your chest is quickly creeping up your neck and ears, you give up on putting together a coherent sentence. You nod quickly, and Wanda gives a weak laugh.

"I'm not angry." She continues, adjusting your shirt again, although her hands remain underneath, drawing patterns on your skin as she speaks. "You're always so... jumpy. And you get into trouble like it's second nature. And you're so incredibly stubborn-"

"Thanks." You grumble ironically, but your annoyance turns into a choke when you feel Wanda shift in your lap. It's an intentional fit at your hips, she's probably noticed the bulge you'd forgotten you were even carrying now. And the fit takes the air out of your lungs and makes your body jerk gently, waking you up completely. 

Wanda doesn't pay a second's attention to your reactions as she continues to talk. "You also have this habit of not letting me finish my sentences." She says with a little grin, her eyes dilating as your breathing starts to get heavy. "And I have to admit that you're hard work, but darling, you're worth every second of that effort. I wish I could take all the pain out of your past, but since I can't, I need you to understand that you're no longer dealing with things on your own. That I'm as devoted to you as you are to me."

These are romantic, intense, and considerate words. But Wanda is grinding slowly against your hips as she says them and you can only return a desperate nod, a deep moan tearing its way into your throat.

Wanda won't even let you lead - Your hands grab her barely covered ass through the oversized shirt she's stolen from you in an attempt to intensify the friction, but bright magic threads pull your wrists away in the next second. 

With your hands pinned to the headboard, you can only squirm at the mercy of the woman on top of you.

"You feel bigger than last time, baby." She whispers, almost losing her train of thought during a particularly hard thrust against your hips. You struggle to breathe.

But Wanda stops, and you bite back a sigh of frustration as you stare at her in a mixture of desperation and curiosity. She works with a certain urgency on your underwear, but instead of rewarding you with her warm cunt, she moves away until she's between your legs, her nails scratching your thighs.

"W-wanda, what are you doing?" You ask, suddenly very shy, your eyes slightly wide. She giggles, as her magic removes your underwear completely, and she leans in, planting kisses on your thighs that make you shiver.

Her dominant hand finally grabs your length and it's not very gentle so you let out something between a moan and a whimper and Wanda looks at you with a certain regret.

"Sorry, babe." She says softly, still holding you now more carefully. "I've never done this before."

Your mouth is dry, and your eyes want to close and just enjoy the sensation, but you fight these instincts to speak. "Done what, Wanda?"

She giggles mischievously, and her hand moves slowly, giving a tentative squeeze that makes the muscles in your thigh twitch. "You know what." She says in return, although you both share the strong blush on the cheeks, Wanda seems more confident about what she's about to do. "It can't be that hard. And if I do something wrong, you can just tell me to stop."

"Wanda, you don’t have to-" But she leans in, and unceremoniously takes your member into her mouth. You break down in an aroused sob, arching up on the bed. 

It's heaven, you're sure. Wanda Maximoff decided to wake you up with a blowjob, it’s a gift from the heavens that you must definitely don’t deserve but you won’t complain. You struggle against the magical chains just as you struggle to breathe and not to come immediately when Wanda continues to suck you off. 

It's sloppy at first - as she mentioned, she had never done that before. But the lack of practice doesn't make the act any less deliriously enjoyable. You feel very close very quickly and have to use all your concentration when Wanda meets your gaze, mouth full.

"Jesus." You groan, your whole body vibrating. Wanda pulls back, licking the tip and your eyes roll back. "Fuck."

She revels in your moans as much as she does in the whole thing. She can feel her own core throbbing at seeing you so pathetically at her mercy, but she wants you to finish first. Her hand moves to help and with each lick of the head leaking pre-cum, your body jerks in a way that makes the bed shake.

"Come on, baby, you can cum." She encourages you firmly as she alternates between sucking and licking. "You need this. And I got you."

You cry out the warning, and Wanda takes your whole length so as not to waste a drop. Your back arches on the bed, and the hot shot is deep into her throat. Wanda moans in return, making a mess all around as you try to return to orbit, your chest heaving and your body jerking.

She kisses your now flaccid member, biting back a smile as she watches the final throbs. Taking advantage of your state, Wanda resumes her previous position on your lap. Her magic fades from your wrists.

Just the brief rubbing of her thick thighs against you is enough for Wanda to feel you harden again.

"Are you sure, babe? You're still shaking." She asks teasingly, but all you give in return is an affected chuckle, your hands helping her to settle into you. The invasion happens slowly, and Wanda groans satisfied at the proof that yes, you are bigger. The stretching is gentle, and it's not painful because she's soaked, but it's still there and she has to bite her lips as she slowly sinks down until you bottom up.

Panting together, you watch her adoringly, your hands on her hips helping her move.

Wanda doesn't rush things. She rides you leisurely, feeling every inch of your cock inside her warm walls until the slowness is too overwhelming. 

Her hands rest on your shoulders, and you don't care that her nails are digging into your skin because Wanda feels too good for you to think of any other sensation than that tight pussy wrapping around you.

She holds your gaze, and between the grunts and moans she lets you know; "I love you." You can only nod, trying to gasp the same when Wanda suddenly bounces harder.

One of your hands grips with more strength, enough to mark the skin and she has to grab the headboard for a firmer support.

You groan at her nearly roughness; "Easy, woman." You try, even though she's grinding vigorously and the room has started to spin. "Wanda, damn it. Be more... ah... careful. You're pregnant...slow down… God."

She comes first, which is a surprise because you honestly don't know how you managed to hold it for so long.

You're still coming inside her when she collapses on top of you, falling down against your shoulder. But then there's satisfied laughter filling the room, and a joke about that being a very incredible way to start a day.

-&-

It's decided that you guys need to move as soon as you and Wanda are properly dressed and Wanda has encouraged you to be honest with the other Avengers.

And she also doesn't need to be a mind reader to know that there's something wrong with Natasha, who doesn't offer more than a mumble of agreement and doesn't say anything about you keeping a tracker jammed in your ribs all this time. 

While Wanda goes out to buy breakfast for the team, you stay behind and busy yourself packing the bags. But she is recognized at the grocery store near the motel when she tries to buy breakfast. It's just a child and her older sister, wanting photos with an Avenger, but it still causes her so much anxiety that she goes back to the bedroom with something more than food: a box of hair dye.

"I thought I'd follow Natasha's idea." That's what she gives as an explanation, and you laugh confusedly but end up believing it until Wanda has bleached spots and ends up confessing what really made her late. 

You're standing in the doorway, and she's focused on painting her hair, her eyes meeting yours through the reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"I'm sorry for not saying it right away. I just didn't want to worry you." 

You let out a sigh before offering her a small smile. "No problem, love." You assure her, reaching over to pick up the empty box of the product and read some of the labeling on the back. "I'm more concerned about whether pregnant women can dye their hair."

Your comment makes Wanda giggle. Her magic continues the process of coloring the spots, and she busies herself with washing her hands at the sink. 

"Well, most pregnant women can't manipulate energy and move things with their minds. I think I'll survive." She jokes back, sticking her tongue out at you when you smile. It ends up being a small grimace battle before you return the empty box to the garbage can and lean in to steal a kiss from her.

Wanda smiles through it, but her cold, wet hands reach under your blouse and make you jump. She laughs at the reaction, and you can barely notice the time passing as you play with each other and wait for the dye to finish settling on your locks.

When Wanda disappears back into the bathroom for a while, you wait for her to finish washing her hair and nothing really prepares you for the new look. Your girlfriend is slightly shy as she reappears, the towel still slung over her shoulders.

"So, what do you think?" She asks about the red hair and you swallow dry, speechless. Wanda blushes immediately, a nervous giggle escaping her lips. "What?"

"You look..." Your voice fails you and you have to clear your throat. "Really beautiful."

Wanda smiles, but then raises an eyebrow, gesturing gently in your direction. "It does seem that you truly like it, dear, I'm flattered."

You blink in confusion, before following her gaze and noticing your own body, and the bulge in your pants. Grinning in embarrassment, you quickly cover yourself with the nearest pillow. "Sorry." You mumble with your ears burning, but Wanda giggles, glancing quickly at the ajar door.

"I wonder if we still have time before we leave." She comments, scarlet threads appearing through the wood with the thought of closing it, but as if guessing the intentions of a delay, the door suddenly opens and Captain Rogers is practically pushed inside by Natasha.

"Nice change, Maximoff. But I hope your suitcases are ready." That's what the widow said, and she looked stressed, most likely because of all the stories about her adventures the night before. If your embarrassment over the tracker story wasn't enough, there was the other one you were trying to hide under your pillow. Wanda disguised it better than you, nodding quickly to the widow and gesturing toward the ready backpacks. "Steve can you take these to the quinjet please, I want to have a word with Romeo and Juliet."

The Captain sighed, trying to ignore being made a baggage handler - Muscles must be good for something - and offered you and Natasha a sympathetic look before leaving the room.

The widow closed the door but you spoke first. “Listen Nat, if this is a second scolding for the tracker, I've already made sure it can't be retraced and-"

"That's not it." She interrupts you with a certain determination, then a forced smile. "I've found a doctor for you. For Wanda, to be more exact."

The now red-haired woman gives Nat a surprised look and it's you who asks; "Are you sure it's safe? Risking a medical appointment in the situation we're in."

"You underestimate me."

"I didn't mean it like that."

But Nat smiles genuinely, shrugging. She checks her watch.

"We're actually going to meet her. Apart from Banner, she's the only doctor I trust."

You and Wanda exchange a look before nodding to Natasha in thanks. Your girlfriend then asks; "That's not all you wanted to talk about, is it Nat?"

The widow nods, seeming to get upset for a moment.

"I'm not saying this for the tracker story, I swear I'm not, but... maybe it's better if Y/N doesn't stay with us anymore."

Wanda snorts indignantly, ready to protest, especially as you lower your head. 

"We stay together-"

"I know." Natasha cuts off Wanda's defensiveness with a sigh. "I wouldn't expect otherwise." She mutters, taking a deep breath to gather her courage. "Rogers doesn't agree, you know how protective he is over you. I mean, he was pretty indignant when Tony tried to ground you in the Tower. Anyway, that's not the point. Clint left. He accepted a decent deal until things settle down, and yes, they will settle down. I know it feels like our world has turned upside down overnight, but we need to remember why the Avengers were created in the first place. It's only a matter of time before they need us, all of us again, and maybe it's experience talking, but I've seen so many governments collapse and rise again. I have seen this movie before."

The widow vents and you and Wanda don't have the heart to interrupt her. 

"What I mean is that Clint can make a deal for his family, and maybe you can do the same."

Wanda thinks for a moment until she swallows. "I'm not an agent with years of military service to my credit. General Ross would never offer me a deal."

"Not him. And not to you." Natasha retorts, turning her face towards you.

You sigh deeply as you understand exactly what she's implying. " Is there really no other option?"

Natasha gives you a sympathetic smile. "That's not an ultimatum, mercenary. Just think about it. None of us wants a pregnant woman in the life of a fugitive, and don't make that face Wanda, I know you don't want the baby to be in danger either." Your girlfriend begrudgingly shuts up, knowing that the widow is right. "Just give it a thought. Melina has agreed to do the prenatal care, so you have all this time to make a decision."

Natasha nods in farewell before heading out the door, and you turn to Wanda.

"Do you have any idea who Melina is?"

-&-

In the safety of the Quinjet and the untraceable lines of the Avengers, you call Contessa Fontaine.

The first thing Valentina says when she sees your face in the high-definition hologram is a scolding; "That tracker was worth a billion dollars."

You have to laugh, your back resting on the cold metal of the ship. "Can't say I'm sorry, boss. Having a tracker in the middle of your ribs doesn't scream work ethic."

She gives a short laugh, and you realize from the surroundings that she's in the private room of the Fontaine Mansion, a place you've been to countless times before.

"What can I do for you, my dear child?" She asks, slightly impatient. You swallow dry.

"Your people said you wanted to see me." You comment. 

Valentina laughs wryly. "Oh, yes, in person. Not talking through an Avengers line. You must have lost your mind."

"There are no more Avengers, Val, you know that." You retort, and she smiles in satisfaction.

"Touche." She mutters before raising her bright eyes to you. "But let me guess, they're listening to this conversation."

You sigh impatiently. "What difference does it make? I've been with them for weeks. I could have told them all the secrets I know about your work, but I didn't. Just as you didn't inform General Ross of their location. So how about we stop playing games?"

Valentina gives another evil little laugh, nodding. "Oh, dear, I miss our conversations, you're always so direct and attentive. Yes, I didn't hand over Team America to Ross, because unlike that arrogant fool, I have no interest in seeing our heroes trapped in the Raft. Only someone like Ross and his ballistics background would think of something as stupid as taking out Earth's main line of defense for threats we have no means of dealing with." You remain silent at Val's words, and she takes a breath to continue. "You know me, Y/N. I like my... enhanced ones. I understand the grandeur of this new world, men like Ross, impressionable with colored rifles, don't."

"So... you've been trying to help the Avengers?"

She breaks into a laugh. "Help? Don't go that far." She retorts grinning. "Let's say we had allied objectives up to the present moment. And I have no reason to put them out of work, you know? In any case, perhaps a little time out of the spotlight and struggling will lower some of their egos. It's a shame that Mr. Stark always seems to shrug off the consequences of his actions, he could learn something without having billions to spare."

You sigh without patience for the speech, adjusting your body. "Val, speaking of money-"

"Oh, it's about time."

With a short laugh, you continue; "I need mine."

She looks at you for a moment, before smiling. "Your money has always been yours to use. Nothing has changed."

But you force a smile, not quite believing it. "Everything has changed, Val. I don't want Lady Fontaine's money. I don't want to be one of your pawns. I want a new account, a new life. With everything I've worked to earn."

"And what makes you think I can give it to you?"

You snort, rubbing a stress point on your forehead. "Please, Val, don't take me for someone naïve, who doesn't know the extent of your influence."

But Valentina sighs deeply, resting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, to look at you intently.

"In fact, I'm beginning to think that your naivety is indeed remarkable and, unfortunately, my responsibility." She comments, and you chuckle ironically and indignantly, but she doesn't let you question it. "There is no new beginning for you, Y/N. Not the way you're asking me, not the way you really want. You're deluding yourself if you think I can bring in false documents and billions of dollars without anyone ever finding out the truth. That's not how things work. The bill always comes, and a past so stained with red always catches up with people like us." She says and you swallow, not having the heart to interrupt when you know deep down that she's not lying. Despite her seriousness, Valentina's gaze softens: "I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but all is not lost. You've been walking around for weeks with someone who committed as many atrocities as you did, and yet have been allowed to experience the greatest version of freedom a criminal can get."

It takes a moment for you to realize that she's talking about Natasha. You glance quickly at the main area of the quinjet through the glass of the private room they got you to call Val, and your former boss uses this time to light a cigarette.

"I'm not a black widow."

Val chuckles. "Of course not, they fight much better." She comments and you grimace. Val takes a slow drag, blowing smoke against the camera before continuing to talk; "Speaking of them, you should thank your new friend sometime. The amount of black widows she's put on the market looking for work is what's given you so much time off. I'm not short-staffed, thanks to that."

"I'm glad the rescue of trafficked women has given you new employees, Contessa." You sneer in annoyance, stepping out of the way of the video and ignoring her confusion to tap lightly on the glass. The Avengers outside look up at the same time, but you wave for Natasha and Wanda to come inside. 

"Where'd you go, little bird?" Val asks the wall, and ends up choking on her smoke as the faces of the two Avengers come into focus next to you. "Oh, hello. What an honor-"

"Cut it, Val." You interrupt annoyedly, squeezed between Natasha and Wanda on the seat in the room. "Make your proposal. I want Romanoff to tell me if it's true, because she's the only one with any real experience of these things, and well, Wanda's my partner and she should be up to speed."

Your former boss smiles impressed. "What a lovely thing, a thief and an Avenger, my eyes can hardly believe it." 

You snort impatiently, but Valentina doesn't keep up the teasing. She nods, before turning her attention to the personal computer next to her phone. As she types, she repeats her earlier proposal. "I need to work on it first, dear. But I understand it will be something very similar to the agreements Miss Romanoff signed with Shield when she was hired as an Agent. Serving the American government entirely in exchange for freedom."

Natasha looks at you. "Is that what you want to do? Be an Agent?"

But you shake your head, offering her a sad smile. "There's no more Shield to recruit me. And I don't think I'm fit to be an Avenger anyway. But Val is director of the CIA. She could offer me something perfectly legal. And I could have an almost normal life."

"But what about the Sokovia agreements?" Wanda asks in concern. "You're an enhanced one."

Before you can answer, Val hums and grins. "Oh, I can see why you like that one, she's clever." You roll your eyes at the provocation, wishing you'd gone to see Val in person and could pull a gun on her to make her behave. Your boss stops typing and turns her full attention to the three of you. "Miss Maximoff has a very good point. If you wish to work with me at the moment, a CIA Agent contract, you would be legally obliged to sign the Sokovia Agreements."

You snort impatiently. "I'm not signing something that would force me to become a lab rat again! And certainly not something that says Wanda should be behind bars or-"

"Relax, I didn't say I was going to make you sign it." She cuts in. "And you're the one in a hurry for a new job after all. I don't understand the hesitation to do something that could be entirely bureaucratic if you stay out of the spotlight."

You hesitate, and exchange a quick glance with the two women next to you. Natasha shakes her head in the negative, but Wanda sighs.

"I'm pregnant."

Valentina chokes on her cigarette again, and Natasha covers her face with her hands. You don't know how to react, and Wanda keeps talking.

"Y/N is doing this for us, and if your partnership has meant anything other than work all these years, I know you'll help her."

But Valentina shakes her head, chuckling incredulously to herself. Wanda begins to worry. 

"I don't want to appeal to sentimentality, I'm just asking you to be considerate. Job or not, no one is going to put my family at risk. I won't take it lightly if your people follow and threaten her again."

But Val gestures quickly. "A child, little bird? How can you keep this a secret from me?"

You sigh tiredly. "It wasn't exactly any of your business."

But Val leans over to pick something up from the table, and you frown as you recognize your old research file. "Except, well, it's entirely my business." Val retorts seriously, her eyes running over the pages she's leafing through. Until she lets out a small exclamation. "Yes, here it is. Strucker specifically wrote that you were infertile. And that was a disappointment of course, because everyone who gets an enhanced one, would love to make more of them."

Wanda looks at you with confusion, but you stand up as if you're going to choke on the attention, taking the cell phone with you to the other corner of the room.

"I know exactly what those pages say, you don't have to read them to me." You retort angrily. "Strucker had to believe that he couldn't have more of me, okay? I couldn't..." Your voice falters, but you control your emotions by swallowing hard. "I did what I had to do. The changes to my body so that he would never find out. So that no one would find out. But when I'm with Wanda, I just... I don't think about the past. I can breathe, Val. And it happened. And I'm asking you, if your mentoring has meant anything all these years, to give me a chance to be more than a goddamn puppet. Please."

Your boss remains silent, thoughtful, before sighing and offering you something like a sincere smile, however small.

"Ten years, little bird."

You frown in confusion. "What?"

"Ten years." She repeats. "That's the most I can offer you. Your money, a new identity, a fresh start. Think of it as extended maternity leave. The child will be old enough for boarding schools, and I'll charge you for the services."

"I-I..." You hesitate, looking at Wanda who has an expression that says she can't make this decision for you.

Valentina stands up, taking the phone with her. "I'll work on your contract carefully. Nick Fury is not a foolish man, little bird. He sees the world as I do, the dangers that surround us and that must come from the outside. I like the idea of a team working on my behalf, but it's too early for anything like that. Especially with everything that's happening with the first team." Val continues, and you swallow. She gives you a genuine smile. "And of course, all those years have meant something to me. You're the first person I'd trust with the job."

You want to tell her that this isn't the kind of meaning you'd like, but you think that work reliability is all Valentina can offer you. You nod and thank her and she says goodbye before hanging up.

Natasha thinks it best to leave you and Wanda alone for a moment, and when you sit down on the floor, Wanda sits down next to you. Silently, she holds your hand and rests her head on your shoulder.

"A lot can change in ten years." You murmur, and you don't need to explain for Wanda to understand your hope that you won't have to fulfill any contracts. She squeezes your hand tighter because the decision has already been made. 

Your cell phone vibrates again, not with the CIA contract, but with your new documents and bank account filled with all the money you've earned as a mercenary. It makes your stomach turn with the feeling that you've just sold yourself again, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Wanda turns away to look at you and waits for you to do the same. Once your gazes are connected, she raises her hand to your face and pulls you in to kiss you softly on the lips.

"I'll always love you. Nothing will ever change that." She whispers against your lips, her forehead resting against yours. "I need you to promise that you'll always remember it."

You caress the wrist of the hand she holds to your cheek, and continue with your eyes closed. "I won't remember anything else."

She smiles, ending the distance again.

You kiss for a moment before you pull away to press your lips to her forehead and squeeze her hand. 

"We'll be fine, Wanda. It's me and you, and just one baby. We can manage."

She smiles tenderly, nodding before hiding her face in the crook of your neck and sighing as she repeats the words. "You're right. Two of us, and a whole team of grumpy superheroes to handle one little baby. How hard can it be?"

Six hours later, Melina Vostokoff carried out Wanda's first ultrasound, which would reveal not one, but two little boys growing inside her womb. Both of them had a natural inclination towards superpowers. 

But that's another story.

[ohmtoff]

Creep

Nick Sturniolo x OC smut

Summary: Nick tried to take a picture of a hot stranger in the grocery store, but when his flash went off, Ethan, the hot man in question, used Nick’s clumsiness for his own advantage

Contains: Anal sex, bottom!nick, top!oc, oral sex, spanking (very minor, not explicit), unsafe sex, barebacking, unconsensual photo taking, fingering, rimming, hair pulling, light dom/sub, dirty talk, slight crying during sex, overstimulation

Word count: 5,078 words

Disclaimers: minors dni. will contain grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language. this is FICTION, always use protection during sex, never take a pic of a stranger without their consent.

a/n: this was partly made bc i cant get over the idea of larray tara and nick as a trio like IM GNA LOSE IT. the tiktok talked about was (https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSF8YxXn6/) its so funny i need to include it.

——————————————————————————

Nick laughs, reading Larray’s last message about a tiktok he found of a guy pretending to be called gay in middle school and his friend defending him, both of them relating to that video strongly.

He tries to reign in his grin, as he’s on a supermarket trying to buy groceries, and laughing to yourself is just plain weird, so he forces himself to press his lips together as Larray and Tara sent jokes that make his belly hurt. He briefly takes his eyes off the string of messages, hearing a loud cough, and clocks grey sweatpants on strong thighs. He’s interested, immediately, checking out the rest of the tall boy who is standing next to him by the snack aisle, holding onto his cart. A black short sleeved compression shirt defining his strong chest and bicep, complimenting bouncy and slightly curly brown hair, a face adorning deep brown eyes that could pass for both handsome or pretty, and veiny hands that make Nick’s mind wander. He texts the group.

jacob elordi brainrot

Nick: hottest. guy. ever. in the grocery store

Larray: ???? not possible, I’m at home 

Tara: ew

Larray: rude

Tara: anyways

Tara: PHOTO

Larray: how hot?

Nick: grey sweats and compression shirt hot

Larray: PHOTO

Tara: PHOTO

Nick: I can’t take a pic guys that’s creepy

Larray: PHOTO

Tara: PHOTO

Nick: No

Tara: come oooonnnn PHOTO

Nick: ugh fine

It didn’t take much for them to convince Nick because he knows he actually really wants to take a picture of the hottie to his right, for scientific purposes of course. Nick makes sure his phone is on silent before he angles it, tipping it back a little as he hopes he captures most of the guy. He tries to look at others on the store, rather than focus on what he’s doing, thumb moving around where he thinks the snapshot button is until – flash – the bright white light of his camera lights up the entire back case of his phone. 

Nick feels his heart catch in the back of his throat, and he’s slow in moving his hand, the immediate humiliation making him freeze. He can’t help but look at the stranger, and he sees how he takes in Nick’s obvious creeper shot, Nick feeling the anxiety coarse through him at lightning speed.

He’s fearful as the stranger frowns, stepping over to him, and Nick slightly backs up immediately.

“I’m - ”

“Did you just take a photo of me?” the stranger asks, and Nick thinks his face may melt, the shame of his actions making him lie, shaking his head silently.

“You didn’t?” the stranger asks, even more handsome, prettier, up close, but he’s clearly unimpressed by Nick’s rudeness, and Nick is panicking, brain drawing blanks.

“I…” Nick gapes, looking for the words, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” the stranger demands forcefully, grabbing Nick’s phone, Nick gasping at that, but too embarrassed to fight it. The boy doesn’t look through Nick’s phone, just holds it and stares at Nick accusingly, Nick having to shrug, truly embarrassed and he feels pairs of eyes on his back judging him. 

“Come with me,” the stranger demands, still holding Nick’s phone, making his way to ut of the store, both of their carts abandoned. Nick doesn’t have much of a choice if he values his phone, and he follows, ashamed.

“I am sorry,” he pants, keeping up with the other boy’s pace, “can I have it back?”

The stranger slows down slightly, starting to look through the phone. Nick realises with horror that his phone isn’t locked, as he kept the camera open, and he reaches to grab his phone back, but the stranger is tall, holding it higher as he clicks on the incoming messages.

Larray: PHOTO!!! What’s with the silence girl? You better be sucking his dick!

Tara: PHOTO

The stranger scrolls up, Nick groaning in embarrassment, watching him read Nick’s earlier messages about how hot he is.

“Seriously creepy,” he shakes his head, deep voice just making it even worse as Nick cringes, “you’re perving on me in the store and taking my photo without my consent?”

“I’m genuinely sorry,” Nick said, his voice tinged with guilt, “I’ll delete it immediately and leave.”

The boy is doing something on his phone and Nick attempts to grab it back, but still, he’s too slow, still not tall enough.

“Ah ah,” the stranger tuts, “don’t worry. I was just sending your friends the creepy photo.” Nick starts to feel a little sick with anxiety, just wanting this to be over. He is never, ever listening to both his friends again. He’s frustrated and desperate, and in a fit of anger, he flounces off, “keep the fucking phone,” he rages, regretting it instantly, but he has no choice but to continue walking, leaving his very badly needed phone in the hands of another man. You idiot, you’re a public figure, what if he does something to your socials, he screams internally

“Hey!” Nick hears, “come back here.” He stops, and looks at the stranger with anxiety, his face hot from the embarrassment as he awkwardly walks back. Nick is confident that now his phone will be given back to him and he is secretly relieved, knowing he can’t afford to walk away and leave his public image in the hands of a stranger. He isn’t sure how he’d explain that to his brothers.

“You could make it up to me,” the boy suggests, and Nick looks at him properly, the smirk on his mouth and the way his eyes move, seemingly resting on Nick’s crotch.

“W – what?” Nick stammers, blushing, and the guy shrugs.

“You think I’m hot,” he states, “I think you’re hot, too.”

Nick chuckles nervously, unsure, a little scared this is some bizarre prank, but the boy is so sincere, nothing about him suggesting this is a joke. Nick has seen the look he has in his eyes in many boys and men, who Nick has flirted with and fucked before, but this is the first time Nick’s ever felt so drawn to another.

“I live near here,” the boy gestures, “I can think of a few things you can do for me to make up for your lack of manners.”

Nick wants to tell him to fuck off, wipe the slightly arrogant smirk off his face, but the confident way the guy stands, waiting on Nick’s response, his certainty, is making Nick’s dick twitch in interest, in want.

“Whatever,” the man smiles, casually slipping the phone back into Nick’s pocket before shrugging again, sauntering off, leaving Nick stood in the middle of the parking lot, torn between walking away – and he knows, he knows, kicking himself for it ��� or running after this guy desperately, letting him know how badly he wants him to make good on his promises.

He’s about to disappear when Nick makes a snap decision and runs after him, panting as he catches up, the boy turning to look at him from his car as he hears footsteps, bursting out in a laughter, his grin taking up his entire face. Nick readjusts his sweater.

“I’m horny, don’t – don’t get cocky,” he mutters, but the other boy doesn’t say a word, just makes Nick feel dizzy with a long look as he opens the passenger seat of his car and motion for Nick to get inside. 

“Nick, right?” he asks, as he hops in and shut the door of the drivers seat, and Nick nods, assuming he saw his name on the messages, “I’m Ethan.”

Nick was going to respond but his eyes catches the way Ethan’s seatbelt tightens on his pecs and Nick almost drooled. His eyes traveled upward to see this adonis-like man smirking and Nick swiftly turned his head towards the road. The drive to the apartment was short and thankfully not awkward due to the music playing, but Nick was still sweating even with the air conditioner on because oh my god he’s so fucking hot, is that his huge dick print on his sweatpants? Fuck, his veins are so visible why are his fingers so LONG? that shit can reach my tonsi-

His thoughts were interrupted by the car finally parked at the other man’s house. Both of them walked towards the door with haste and no words exchanged, eyes focused on going inside.

Ethan unlocked the door and let Nick in, the latter unable to get a word out before Ethan’s mouth flew towards his, and he’s harsh and fast and demanding, so Nick matches it, kissing Ethan like he needs it, and maybe he does. Ethan is shoving him into what Nick assumes is his bedroom, pulling off Nick’s sweater, as Nick yanks that heavenly tight shirt, until they meet Ethan’s bed and Ethan throws him down on it. He watches, heart racing, as Ethan pulls down his jeans, pulling at them forcefully, yanking them off as Nick helps him, pulling him back down for a kiss. Nick’s never known someone kiss this way; unyielding and demanding as he grabs Nick’s head and devours him, Nick pulling back at Ethan’s tangled hair, until Ethan grabs him wrists and pins them down.

Nick can’t help but moan, his dick hard in his briefs, because Ethan is pressing all his buttons right now. He hates the self-satisfied grin on Ethan’s smug, pretty face, but there’s no denying Nick loves it rough, which Ethan clearly does too.

“Like that, sweetheart?” Ethan asks, tongue running over his bottom lip, Nick watching it’s every moment, groaning in response, Ethan’s large hands still wrapped around delicate wrists, still pinning Nick down. Nick is fully hard and needy now, Ethan letting go of his wrists to grip each side of his face and bruise him with a kiss, Nick making the most of his new found freedom by gripping Ethan’s shoulders, nails digging in.

He’s a mess already, the curly haired man moving harsh kisses to his neck and chest as he moves down, the kisses becoming wetter, sloppier, Nick whimpering as Ethan ghosts over his clothed dick, mouthing at him teasingly.

“Please,” Nick whispers, but Ethan either doesn’t hear or ignores it, pressing feather light kisses across him, Nick beginning to peel his briefs off only to have his hands batted away.

“Do that again and I’ll tie you up,” Ethan warns, and Nick’s cock jumps at the tone in his voice, obeying, hands grabbing fistfuls of Ethan’s duvet instead to stop them from straying. Ethan stops, pushing Nick encouraging so his head is propped up, and he has little choice except to look at Ethan as he mercifully begins to strip him off his briefs. Nick’s toes curl as they’re discarded and Ethan is back between his legs, Nick waiting for the inevitable lick, looking down at Ethan as he’s forced to wait.

“What?” he asks, knowing his face is pink and he’s far gone, Ethan looking at him with playful eyes as he spreads Nick’s legs even further apart, leaning down, finally, Nick thinks, to touch his dick, but Ethan presses wet kisses and soft bites to the inside of Nick’s right thigh, moving up as he gets closer to Nick’s dick, nudging his balls with his nose and Nick is going to pass out from the feel of Ethan’s skin right there, from feeling his tongue and his little huffs of breath, whimpering embarrassingly loud as Ethan finally licks a long stripe up his dick to the tip, suckling the pre-cum collected there before he stops.

“Ethan,” Nick begs, and Ethan does the same to his left, Nick sure he’s intent on leaving bite marks on his fleshy thighs where there’s plenty for Ethan to sink his teeth into, Nick wondering if it’s possible to come from this. He’s obeying Ethan’s no touching rule, for now, and it is torture, before Ethan repeats this special form of hell – licking from Nick’s balls up to the tip of his cock, in one long, slow lick – flicking his tongue over the head, and pulling away. “This – I can’t do this,” Nick moans, “please just, give me…”

Ethan shakes his head, and Nick falls quiet, until he feels the blessed tight heat of Ethan’s mouth around his cock, Ethan sucking his dick perfectly, swirling his tongue around the head as he comes up, Nick crying out, trying his best to hold off, to wait.

“Ethan, I’m – I - ” he whines, Ethan stopping, quick and elegant as he leans up and kisses Nick’s mouth, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“Let me,” Nick gasps, trying to push Ethan down, “I want to do it to you.”

He does, too, because Ethan’s sweatpants are still on and he needs them off, wants to see Ethan’s dick and taste it in his mouth. Nick loves sucking cock, loves the feel of it in his mouth and the taste of come, and he’s good at it, wants to make Ethan whimper in the way Ethan’s made him shake.

“Yeah? You like sucking dick?” Ethan asks, unyielding, sadly, still looming over Nick and Nick gives up on trying to change their positions, not exactly hating this one, Ethan grabbing his bitten thighs as he attacks Nick’s mouth and neck with his soft lips.

“Yeah,” Nick grins, “of course.”

“Why should I let you suck me off?” Ethan asks, letting Nick’s thighs drop as he keeps Nick pinned down, kissing parts of Nick’s face that Nick doesn’t think anyone has ever kissed, always coming back to his mouth, his neck, moving to his collarbone, shoulder, biting. Nick is going to look like he’s been in a fight. Matt and Chris will have a field day when he finally turns up at home.

“Um, because – I’m great?” Nick asks, frowning, wondering what kind of weirdo turns down a blowjob, and Ethan stops so he can look at Nick, Nick continuing to be bowled over by the way Ethan’s eyes seem to burn into his skin.

“What makes you so great, pretty boy?” Ethan rasps, and Nick brings his nails down Ethan’s back.

“I look good with a cock in my mouth,” Nick teases, “and, after all, you did say I need to make it up to you.”

“You need to, don’t you?” Ethan grins, then moving so that he straddles Nick’s waist, Nick helping him pull down his sweats, Ethan standing briefly to get the fabric off his feet and boxers off before he’s shuffling up, Nick still propped up nicely by the large pillows. Nick attempts to not given Ethan the satisfaction of his astonishment at how large Ethan’s dick is, but he fails.              

“Still feeling confident, baby?” Ethan asks, hand wrapping around his cock as he plays with himself, jerking off, and Nick can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation, nodding, while he’s nervous he’s excited, knowing Ethan’s dick is going to fill him up properly, that he’ll feel the thick head knock at the back of his throat and makes his eyes water. He’s hungry for it. Ethan moves closer, knees over Nick’s shoulder as his big hand plants against the wall and his other hand hangs onto his headboard. Nick opens his mouth, ready for it, desperate for it, but he’s patient, waiting for Ethan’s say so, and Ethan makes slow, deliberate movements, wiping the leaking tip of his cock on Nick’s mouth and his cupid’s bow.

“Good boy for waiting,” Ethan praises, and Nick’s dick jumps, “you can suck it now, baby.”

Nick takes as much as he can, which is over half, but not all of it, and sucks in a hollow motion, moving back up before he forces himself to take every inch, down to Ethan’s balls, and pulls back, spluttering.

“Hey,” Ethan says, taking Nick by the chin, “take it easy, baby, don’t choke.”

“M’sorry,” Nick whispers, embarrassed, wanting to be good, to hear Ethan’s praises once more, and he’s easier with it this time, taking Ethan into his mouth and sucking him properly, rather than racing to get the entire dick inside him, and he can enjoy this, sucking Ethan at a nice, fast pace, but not too fast, getting off to the weight of Ethan’s dick and the smell of him, Ethan silent but present, running his thumbs over Nick’s cheekbones as Nick sucks his dick, happy and contented.

He mewls in protest when Ethan grabs his hair and pulls him off, trying to follow Ethan’s dick, not ready to stop, but Ethan isn’t interested, easily flipping Nick over so he’s face down on the bed. Nick waits as the pillows are wrenched from him, Ethan lifting him like a ragdoll as he puts them under Nick’s hips, Nick’s ass higher than before. Nick’s feels like he’s on fire, his skin aflame, pale but also pink with the heat, and he braces himself for Ethan’s fingers, surprised when Ethan covers him with his own body, kissing his neck.

“You’re so hot,” Ethan growls, mouth on Nick’s jaw, and Nick is sure Ethan is trying to actually eat him, “as soon as I saw you get on that aisle, the first thing I thought was, I want to fuck that boy,” Ethan smiles, Nick moaning as Ethan continues licking him, “saw your ass and thought, I bet he loves riding dick.”

Nick all but whimpers, pushing back, needy, and Ethan shows compassion, bringing his hand past Nick’s waist to curve over Nick’s ass, gripping at his hip.

“Do you? Love riding cock?” Ethan pants.

“Yeah,” Nick says, pushing his ass back to feel Ethan’s dick against it, “want me to ride you?”

“Patience, baby,” Ethan demands, pulling Nick over to kiss him, Nick moving with Ethan, not expecting the disappointed moan when Ethan leaves him, moving down and spreading Nick’s legs further apart. Nick keeps his hands up, mouth open and wet on his left hand, gripping the duvet with his other hand, and he trembles as Ethan spreads his ass open, crying out as he feels Ethan’s thumb tease over his rim, pressing down and ever so slightly inwards, teasing, always.

“I’m not a virgin,” Nick says throatily, hoping Ethan will speed up at that, the way he’s playing with Nick’s ass slow and gentle but mind melting at the same time, and Ethan just laughs at that, slapping Nick’s ass playfully with his other hand.

“I didn’t think you were,” Ethan says, voice loud in the silence of the apartment, “I still wanna take my sweet time.”

Nick whines as Ethan continues to give him something but not everything, loud as Ethan slips and pushes a finger inside of him, Nick stretching his legs, his toes, in a heavenly trance as the man explores him. He feels Ethan move, and then hears the squirt of lube, feels another finger join the first, and he gasps as Ethan scissors them, pulling them to the rim, almost fully out, as his thumb makes the gentlest of scrapes on his perineum, to his balls. Nick moans out on his hand, practically drooling.

He panics as he feels Ethan’s fingers disappear, not wanting this to be over, throwing his head back as he searches for an answer.

“Turn back around, baby,” Ethan insists, not looking at Nick, transfixed on his ass. He immediately obliges, feeling his brain mush and fill with Ethan Ethan Ethan. He feels like it’s been hours but he knows that’s untrue, and he’s ready to beg for it, for Ethan to open him again and slide his big cock inside him, but he doesn’t have to say anything as Ethan spreads him before dipping down. Nick all but screams as Ethan’s tongue licks across the rim of his hole, wet and rough. Nick instinctively tries to move forward, but he can’t; he’s facedown and Ethan’s hands are alternate from his hips to his asscheeks, spreading them again, as he eats Nick out. The rough texture of Ethan’s tongue, the way he presses his big, puffy lips on Nick’s rim is almost enough to make Nick sob. He’s holding it together, just thrusting as much as he can with the pillows underneath him and when he moves his forehead, he notices how sweaty he is, the back of his hands shining.

He yelps as Ethan pushes his tongue inside his hole and brings his hand up to the base of Nick’s spine, pressing his thumb inside of Nick to keep him slightly open. Nick is lost, utterly ruined, shook by how this stranger knows his body better than he does, whining as Ethan keeps his face buried in his ass; not for one-minute hesitating or slowing down as he eats Nick out as passionately as he kisses his mouth.

“I’m – Ethan - ,” he begs, knowing he’s a few well timed thrusts from Ethan’s tongue and fingers away from coming on the pillows beneath him, Ethan pulling his fingers out with a clear, wet pop, removing his tongue too, not before he sinks his teeth into one of Nick’s asscheeks. Nick is wrecked, his body tingling, his thighs burning from Ethan’s sharp teeth, a wetness between his legs like he’s never felt and an ache in his balls that is begging for release.

“You’re perfect,” Ethan assures him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Nick looking at him longingly over his shoulder, “what do you want, baby?”

“You,” Nick moans, pushing himself back, wanting Ethan’s cock in him, “please, Ethan.”

“Mmm,” Ethan muses, and Nick is pleased to see he’s also hot, pink, sweat linging on his forehead from exertion, Nick yelping as Ethan brings his hand down on Nick’s ass, playful but enough to tan it, “turn around.”

Nick does, fairly weak now and desperate, beyond desperate, for his orgasm to tear through him and leave him blind and gasping. Ethan throws away the pillows carelessly, grabbing Nick’s hips and bringing him down, as he lubes up his dick and presses the head against Nick’s hole. Nick nods, and Ethan begins to push, Nick inhaling, mouth open, as he feels the familiar burn of a nice, thick cock pressing inside of him. Ethan is slow but intense, forcing Nick’s thighs up as he makes his way in, Nick groaning, a little high pitched towards the end when he feels Ethan is fully in. He lets one of Nick’s legs drop, apparently unable to leave Nick’s face or hair alone, before he begins to fuck Nick, gently at first.

“You naughty boy,” Ethan whispers, “is this what you wanted, huh?”

“Yeah,” Nick begs, voice broken, “god, please, give it to me.”

Ethan doesn’t waste time. Nick lets go of any dignity he was hoping to keep, moaning and whimpering with every single thrust Ethan makes. Ethan takes Nick like Nick belongs to him, like this is his right, to spread Nick wide and to fuck him, hips snapping into hips as Ethan clings to him tightly, Nick feeling Ethan’s dick so deep inside him, touching places he’s never felt anyone touch, his vision clouding over.

“Ethan,” Nick sobs, overwhelmed, Ethan slowing down, holding Nick open by his thighs as he pulls his cock out, Nick horrified.

“Ethan! Please! No! I’m sorry, I’m fine, I’m ok, please give it to me,” Nick begs, now losing his self-respect along with his long-gone dignity, feeling on the edge of tears. Ethan can’t leave him like this, can’t bring him to the brink of such pleasure to stop, it’s too cruel, Ethan once again flipping him over so now Nick is on his stomach. He cries out as Ethan slides straight back in, pulling Nick so Nick is on his knees, his upper body stretched out, Ethan’s big hands on both hips, slamming into him, the wet sound of slapping skin obscene alongside Nick’s enthusiastic cries and Ethan’s panting.

Nick is dripping with sweat, sliding off his own arms every time he tries to rest his head, yelping as Ethan yanks him up by his hair.

“Yeah? This what you need, Nick?” he asks, grunting, and Nick moans his agreement, unable to do much else. The forced stretch of his neck is delicious, Ethan not letting his pace drop for a moment, setting a punishing and perfect speed, Nick’s leaking cock a mess as he feels his balls tighten, knowing he’s finally, finally going to lose control and feel that blissful high.

“Want you to come like this,” Ethan says, slapping his ass again, “want you to come from getting fucked.” Nick can’t say anything, can’t even nod, because Ethan’s still pulling his hair as he slams in, quickening his almost reckless pace, Nick only concentrating on that one thing, that one feeling. Ethan is hitting his spot, perfect and fast and desperate and with one last yank of Nick’s hair, he is coming, begging and groaning, babbling a mixture of Ethan and God, blacking out as he does. 

He’s beyond over-stimulated, debauched and destroyed as Ethan follows him, letting go of Nick’s hair to cling onto his hips and fuck him with a few last, sprinting thrusts, Nick gasping as he feels Ethan fill him with come, warm and thick, Ethan crying out loudly as well, collapsing on top of Nick.

“Fuck,” Ethan groans into Nick’s hair, “holy fuck.”

“Yeah,” Nick agrees, still too weak to open his eyes or speak.

Ethan kisses the back of his neck before he pulls out his dick, Nick cringing as he hears the wet sounds, feeling Ethan fall out of him, and he’s mildly disgusted when Ethan rocks back onto his knees, opening Nick’s ass again, looking down at his wet, come filled ass.

“Ethan,” Nick accuses, feeling his face heat up Ethan further, Ethan just smirking, proud of the mess he’s created, Nick sore and sensitive as Ethan plays with him a little, whimpering as he feels some come drip out. Ethan laughs at Nick's embarrassment, leaning over and scrambling around some bedside drawers. Nick gasps as he feels coolness on his ass, Ethan clearly wiping him clean.

Ethan flips back down next to Nick, Nick still curled into the pillow, not shy but very aware of his sweaty, exhausted, fucked-out look. Ethan runs his fingers through red hair, not tugging this time, and he leans in, kissing Nick in a way that betrays his previous rough and ready treatment. Nick responds softly, kissing back.

“You ruined me,” Nick gasps, still numb, and Ethan stifles a giggle, “you ruined me,” he retorts. They lie like this for a few precious minutes, Ethan still excited as he sits up, ruffling his hair before he fishes around for something, Nick half watching out of the corner of his eye when he sees Ethan hold out Nick’s phone like he’s won a prize.

“Unlock it,” Ethan says, handing it to Nick, who does it without question. Ethan scrolls, finding the groupchat

The chat after Ethan sent a photo of himself went into a frenzy, a long conversation between his two friends going about how hot he is.

Ethan giggles at it, and Nick thinks he’s quite beautiful, pretty brown eyes and that sinful mouth and a tongue that Nick wants to feel a thousand times more.

Nick frowns as Ethan types, lazily trying to grab it back but missing entirely.

“What are you typing? Ethan?”

“I’m saying… ‘he’s just been balls deep inside me’,” Ethan cackles, and Nick shoots up at that, grabbing his phone, seeing the exact words sent by ‘Nick’ in the chat.

“Fuck!” he says, “Ethan!”

He settles back down, cringing as he sees the messages from Ethan's first text fly in, making Ethan laugh loudly and Nick cringe but smile all the same.

jacob elordi brainrot

Tara: HOLY FUCKKKK

Larray: u little SLUT

Larray: how big is he?

Tara: NICK FINALLY GOT DICK GUYS IM SO PROUD OF HIMM 😭😭😭

Larray: ANSWER ME RN

Ethan snatches it back, taking Nick by surprised then takes a snap of them, Nick hiding half his face under the duvet, Ethan looking far too pleased with himself.

“You look so cute,” Ethan says, and Nick’s stomach summersaults again, watching Ethan send the picture, waiting for the instant replies.

His phone pinged constantly after the photo was sent, Nick can imagine what kinds of debauchery his two friends are yapping about the situation.

“Your friends are funny,” Ethan laughs, putting the phone aside, and Nick is over his initial embarrassment, especially as Ethan cuddles into him, letting Nick rest in the crook of his neck. He feels Ethan’s arm around him and kisses into his hair so he sneaks an arm around the other, hugging his waist close, enjoying the feel of a smile against his forehead.

“They got me laid, so, yeah, they’re ok,” Nick says into Ethan’s chest, Ethan playing with his hair as he mutters, “they got you completely fucked – ruined – I think you said.”

“Shit, let it go,” Nick teases.

“You’ve had better, baby?” Ethan checks, and Nick wants to lie, to tease, to flirt, but he has no energy and it’s preposterous to think he's had better than this. The sex was magnificent, electric, and Nick is still buzzing from it, wondering if he’ll ever come down from it.

“No,” he says shyly, honestly, “you?”

“No, shit. I thought so, but you were something else,” Ethan praises, and Nick preens under his compliments and praise, flushing from pride rather than embarrassment this time around.

“You’re gonna stay, yeah?” Ethan asks, and Nick assumed he was. It feels natural, being here, like this, with Ethan. Nick nods into Ethan’s chest, and Ethan hugs him tighter, promising they’ll chill and order food later, Nick can stay and they’ll watch films.

“Maybe you can make good on your word later,” Ethan growls, “and ride me, bounce on my dick, huh?”

“I can’t even think about any physical activity right now,” Nick sighs dramatically, Ethan tickling his ear. Nick has his eyes closed but he can feel Ethan’s huge, beautiful smile, the visual of it imprinted in his brain. He’s already thinking about it though, climbing on top of Ethan and sitting back on his dick, rolling his hips.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Ethan said, and Nick snuggles into him, making a mental note to thank his friends when he next sees them. He’s sore but satisfied. All he needs is a nap, some food, and then he thinks he’ll enjoy showing Ethan exactly how good he is.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (6)

The Funeral

As the Targaryen and Velaryon households gather on Driftmark to mourn the late Lady Laena, Arianwyn is anxious about meeting not only her half-sisters, but her father for the very first time.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: 😬

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Emrys let out a primal roar, the sound reverberating over the waters of Blackwater Bay. He huffed with agitation as he flew his rider toward Driftmark. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre flew ahead of them, the king’s ship sailing below. As dissatisfied as he was with their slow pace – a necessity to prevent them from arriving at their destination hours before the ship – it was the roiling emotions he sensed from his bond with Arianwyn driving him mad.

Arianwyn had not slept the night before, her mind and heart racing with anxiety about the coming day. Today, after more than ten years of total absence on his part, she would meet her father – Prince Daemon Targaryen.

As she tossed and turned in her bed, she considered each story she had ever been told about the man��the picture painted by one was often immediately contradicted by the next.

The man who rebuilt the city guard of King’s Landing, at last raising the capital from lawlessness. But he achieved this through unprecedented brutality; rumor claimed that on his first night as Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks, multiple carts were required to haul away dismembered limbs and extremities.

The man who defeated the Crabfeeder almost single-handedly, restoring Westerosi rule to the long-besieged region. But his triumphant victory came mere hours after he beat a young squire to death, apparently without remorse, for the crime of delivering a message from King Viserys.

The man who, according to most, heroically swept into the Vale to rescue his helpless damsel of a wife. Whose heroics were so great that his wife could not help but finally succumb to him, eschewing nine years of barren marriage.

But Arianwyn knew the truth.

Daemon had not saved his wife – he killed her.

For beneath all his outward charms, the Rogue Prince was a man of selfishness and cruelty. A man who all but abandoned his firstborn before she was even born when he refused the Dragonkeepers offer of an egg for her cradle. Only weeks after Rhea’s death, he flew across the sea to start a new family with a new wife. Years later, he sent grand proclamations back to Westeros announcing the births of Baela and Rhaena, along with formal requests that dragon eggs be sent for their cradles.

Arianwyn’s heart clenched painfully as she remembered another story she’d been told. Just after Rhaenyra was named King Viserys’ heir, Daemon fled King’s Landing for Dragonstone. Six months later, he snuck into the Dragonpit to steal an egg for the child his mistress – some whore from the Street of Silk – supposedly carried. Fortunately, the princess was able to retrieve the egg safely. And in the process, discovered that the purported pregnancy had never been real.

Daemon had done more for the theoretical bastard of a whore than he ever had for his real daughter.

For Arianwyn, his only act of fatherhood was the rape of her mother.

In the days preceding their departure for Driftmark, her Septa had instructed her on what to say and how to act when she met Daemon.

She would do none of it, she decided.

The man never once spared a thought for her. She would happily return the sentiment. Let him defame her as he did her mother or beg her forgiveness for all his sins. She would not care. She would give him naught but the same cold indifference he had shown her for ten years.

But despite her determination, Arianwyn had still shaken with trepidation when she went to mount Emrys that morning. The trip across the Blackwater would be long, leaving her alone with her anxious thoughts.

She tried to have Aemond ride with her so he could keep her mind on other things. Emrys even seemed excited when the prince climbed aboard the saddle. But alas, the queen moved hastily to forbid it, and Aemond was forced to sail with his parents aboard the ship. He was likely being sick at this very moment.

So Arianwyn rode alone, almost thankful for Emrys’ restlessness – guiding him in circles around the ship helped divert her mind from what would happen when they finally landed on the island that was coming into view.

Driftmark had no Dragonpit nor caves or tunnels for the beasts to nest in. Instead, Aegon, Helaena, and Arianwyn landed their dragons half a mile from the castle High Tide on a rocky cliff overlooking a beach. Moondancer, Caraxes, and Meleys were already there, perched on some of the larger boulders as they lay in the sun.

The dragonriders were met by a small number of Velaryon guards, who quickly escorted them to a carriage sent to take them to the castle itself. The path they took was treacherous, winding uncomfortably close to the edge of the island’s cliffs. Each time the horses came too close to the sheer drops, Helaena would gasp, squeezing her eyes shut as she turned from the carriage windows.

Aegon scoffed, “You are a dragonrider, sister. Surely, a mere cliff should not scare you.” In the days since their betrothal was announced, his attitude toward his sister had soured. He no longer ignored her more peculiar tendencies, but seemed to take each as a personal insult.

Arianwyn was utterly exhausted by him. “The drop may be short, cousin,” she said, “but you forget that our carriage does not have wings.”

The prince huffed, blustering to find a witty response, but neither of the girls in the carriage paid any mind to his grumbling as they continued on to the castle.

By the time they arrived in the courtyard, the party from the ship had disembarked. Viserys, already visibly tired from the trip, sat in a cushioned chair servants had brought out for him. Lord Corlys stood before him, deep in hushed conversation with the king. Alicent and Rhaenys stood to the side, engrossed in their own discussion. Aemond stood by himself, leaning against a stone wall.

Daemon was nowhere to be seen. Neither were Baela, Rhaena, or Princess Rhaenyra and her children. But it wasn’t the idea of meeting them that had Arianwyn’s heart racing.

Reminding herself again that she did not care about her father, Arianwyn walked with her cousins as they joined the rest of her family.

At the funeral, Arianwyn stood not with her father and half-sisters, but with the King and Queen.

It made sense, she told herself. She had never met Lady Laena. It was not her place to mourn the woman alongside those who had known and loved her. But still, she noted the stares from the gathered nobility on the cliffs above them, and their questioning whispers about why she was not with her father or sisters.

She took comfort in the fact that those whispers were quiet. At least, they were compared to those of Rhaenyra’s children.

They, too, had never met Laena. But still, they wept. It had only been days since Harwin Strong’s gruesome demise. Their tears were interpreted by many as those of sons mourning their father, serving only to confirm their long-held suspicions of their parentage.

Arianwyn pitied them. Ser Harwin had always been kind to them, bringing them gifts from the docks of King’s Landing and training with them in the castle’s yard. He would be dearly missed. Besides, she would have happily switched places with them, exchanging a loving bastard father for an absent, true one.

As the Maester spoke, Arianwyn watched her father. She could find nothing of herself in his face. She had always been praised for the softness of her features; Daemon was all sharp angles and straight lines. His mouth was small, whereas hers was plump. His nose was large and straight, while hers was small and curved upward slightly. The only similarity lay in the color of their hair, but where his fell straight as bone, hers curled in wild, elegant wisps around her face.

She, at last, turned away when the Maester finished his prayers. Vaemond Velaryon stepped toward the coffin as soldiers of his house began to fasten ropes to the steel anchors embedded in the stone.

He spoke in High Valyrian. “Tubī Velario Lentro Ābrāzme Laene iēdrarta mōrqittot, māzīlarē tubirri Elēdrion ziry umīsilza luo dāriot, hannagon Embrurliot gierūlti.”

Arianwyn looked at her half-sisters. Baela leaned against her grandmother, Rhaenys, while Rhaena stood beside them, fists clenched at her sides. They, too, looked little like their father. From the sweetness of their faces, Arianwyn imagined that her stepmother had been very beautiful indeed.

Vaemond continued. “Solion tolijor zijosy pradarose, Ābrāzma Laena rāeniot hen eglio ilvot lanto taloti hembis. Pōja muña hen zȳho solio āmāzīlus daor, yn ānogrosa gierī ozletaksi humbilza. Velario ānogro rȳ lopor ojāris. Īlvon qumblī iāris. Īlvon drējī iāris. Se dōrī vajiñagon īlvon bēvilis.”

Daemon laughed then. A light, blithe chuckle – wholly out a place at such a solemn occasion. All in attendance turned their attention to him, even those who had been closely watching Princess Rhaenyra.

Arianwyn’s blood ran cold. As Vaemond had said those pointed words, “Īlvon qumblī iāris. Īlvon drējī iāris. Se dōrī vajiñagon īlvon bēvilis,” Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin. Daemon had not been looking at Rhaenyra. Nor his wife’s coffin, nor even his daughters by his side. As those words were spoken, he laid his eyes on Arianwyn for the first time in her life.

And he laughed.

That afternoon, amongst the solemnity of the funeral reception, Arianwyn was seething with unquenchable rage. She knew she might face indifference from her father but had also entertained other possibilities. He may have taunted her as he did her mother or insisted she was a bastard. She had even thought that he might seek forgiveness for his years of neglect, repentant now that he had lost another wife.

Never once had she considered that he might find her laughable. Indeed, as he walked past her after the coffin had been lowered into the sea, an amused grin quirked on his face, though he did not turn his eyes to her. Nor had he approached her since.

Instead, Arianwyn sat with Helaena on the far end of the balcony, watching her cousin gently turn over a large spider in her hands as she recited words that seemed to have no meaning. She wanted to grab the spider and crush it in her hands just so she could make something hurt in the same way she did.

But she did not. Doing so would hurt not only the spider but Helaena as well. Arianwyn could never do that. So, she sat on the cool stone, anger crackling through her veins like lightning.

She knew Aemond was a few feet away, watching Helaena as well. But he did not approach, not even after Aegon left to chase after one of the servant girls. She wished he would. That he would say something – anything to make her feel better. But silence was his way. He would simply remain by her side as long as she needed him, as she had done for him countless times.

It was Princess Rhaenys who finally rescued her from her thoughts – and the presence of the spider. “Come, girl,” she said, her voice raw from days of weeping for her daughter. “It is high time you meet your sisters.” The Queen Who Never Was led Arianwyn carefully through the crowd, Aemond following discreetly behind them.

Baela and Rhaena sat on the other side of the balcony, hands entwined, on a stone bench and talked with Jace. Arianwyn instinctively dropped her gaze as they approached.

“Girls,” Rhaenys whispered, kneeling before her granddaughters, “I would like you to meet Arianwyn, your sister.”

Both girls’ eyes, brimming with tears, lifted to look at Arianwyn. She stood still and silent as they examined her, searching for familiarity in her face. Finding none, they mustered what smiles they could and murmured a greeting.

Arianwyn returned the smile, “You have my sympathies for the loss of your mother. I regret that I was never able to meet her.”

Rhaena nodded. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.”

“Me too,” Arianwyn answered.

Baela tried to respond but only gave in to her tears, her sister following swiftly behind. She and Rhaena fell into their grandmother’s arms, sobbing. “I don’t want Mother to be gone,” she cried.

Sensing that pressing the introduction further would only be unkind to the girls, Arianwyn dipped her head in place of a farewell and walked away, mourning that her first meeting with her sisters required such a tragedy.

When she turned, she saw Aemond standing across a brazier from Jace. The corner of his mouth turned up as if he were about to speak, but he said nothing. Rather he nodded and turned away from his nephew.

“What did he say to you?” Arianwyn whispered as she took his arm and led him away, her protective instincts rising like the hackles of a threatened beast. Before he had left the Red Keep, Jace had begun to taunt Aemond even without Aegon present to egg him on.

Aemond shook his head. “He said nothing. I was going to offer my condolences for Ser Harwin, but I couldn’t think of how to say it without… you know.”

Arianwyn smiled, at last feeling her anger begin to subside. “That was very kind of you.”

Aemond had only just squeezed her arm when Alicent approached them. Her face was grave.

“Come with me, Aria,” the Queen said, her hand extended. “Your father is waiting to meet you.”

[tossawary]

Ended up thinking about "Dragon Age" again, specifically mostly DA2 and time travel fics. I think Hawke is the second-easiest DA protagonist for an author to throw backwards in time or into another dimension (the first is the Inquisitor, whose game has canonical time travel), because Hawke potentially getting abandoned in the Fade in DAI is an excuse for anything to happen.

More importantly, I think Hawke is the FUNNIEST protagonist to throw back in time for a redo, because they're not put in charge of Solving The Apocalypse for the majority of their game. The Warden and the Inquisitor are dealing with kingdoms, with the Blight and the Breach, whereas Hawke is "just" dealing with a city state and spends most of their initial time there fucking around trying to support their family. But WHAT a city. Hawke would have to go back and deal with fucking Kirkwall again in all its early, awful glory, a real powder keg waiting to blow.

The amount of time spent in Kirkwall and its incredibly violent game missions isolated to this one location across nearly a decade gives it so much character that, to me, it's perhaps the most entertaining DA location to explore as a place where ordinary people actually live (though, admittedly, many places in Thedas are fucking terrible), and Hawke's tragic relationship with that place as its hero is fascinating to think about. Hawke would have a lot to feel sad about, coming back to this strange place, with both good things and bad things undone, but I find it amusing to imagine that Hawke also actually missed this terrible place and its peculiar version of normal.

Here's a 400 word ficlet of how I imagine Hawke's reunion with Kirkwall going. I don't intend to write a full fic, it's just a scene that came to me with surprising clarity while out on a walk, despite how long it's been since I played a DA game.

KIRKWALL (AGAIN)

Garrett looked over the dark streets of Kirkwall and had to wipe a tear away from his eye. "This place is a shit hole," he said, in the same tone of awe others used for incomparable beauty. 

In front of them, a drunken sailor holding a bottle of whiskey and singing a terrible rendition of the already terrible song "What Do You Do With A Tranquil Blood Mage?" wobbled into a vegetable cart. This caused several turnips to bounce across the cobblestones. The cursing grocer picked one of them up, yelled, "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE WALKING, YOU DOG-FUCKING BLIGHTER," and threw it at the drunken sailor, whose head was saved by the fact that he lurched over to throw up in an alleyway, and the vegetable smashed into the side of a house instead. 

Inside the house, there was a crash, and then the shutters of an upper window flew open, revealing a naked man holding a crossbow. He yelled, "I'LL HAVE YOUR BALLS FOR A NECKLACE, YOU POINTY-EARED COCKSUCKERS," despite the fact that no one nearby was an elf, and then fired at the street below him. His crossbow bolt lodged into a wooden message board, which was mostly covered in old, vandalized paper posters for the Blooming Rose and other like-minded establishments, and the quivering "crossbow bolt" was revealed to be a rusty fork tied to a butter knife with string, covered in sparkly white and blue powder that glowed slightly. It matched the other mismatched cutlery already embedded in the wood there. 

The naked man with the crossbow slammed his shutters closed again. The people on the streets had ducked or raised a shield, but now easily went back to their business, apparently unsurprised and unworried. An old woman crouched down to the ground and stuffed the thrown turnip into the basket over her arm, then hastily walked away with her free loot. 

"I missed this city so much," Garrett said, and even he was a little horrified that he meant it so sincerely. There was no need for Carver to look at him like that. 

[spadesolace]

the idea of yoo - 0.4. the horrible date (half-written)

previous | next

moments prior, you were simply helping yeonjun in whatever mundane household chores he had. one of which involved taking the trash out for his family’s small teokbokki shop. 

“i’ll ask her out.” this made you stop entirely and look at the boy next to you. if he asked jimin out then this could either make or break it.

“no.”

“i’ve been waiting long enough, i’ll ask if she wants to get ice cream and a cider date.” you wanted to stop him, hold him back, but you don’t have the rights. so, you watched him type away and once it was read; the panic kicked in.

immediately taking his phone away, muttering how it was his little brother that sent it and ask if she could message you on bubble with username van_gone.

“great, she’s not replying anymore.” yeonjun grunted as he covered his face with his hands and screamed into it. both accepting defeat that they probably ruined their chances, your phone had a notification from bubble. from, katarinabluu

“SHE SAID YES!” that was all it took for yeonjun to realize that he was actually going on a date with jimin. one reply was all it took for you to realize, you’re not the one going out with her.

“jimin thinks you’re into art, music, and just overall a-” you look at yeonjun sighing as you continue your sentence. “sophisticated guy which is not your personality.”

“it could be! i’ll learn how to compose, i dance doesn’t that count for something?”

“there are no points for effort.”

yeonjun sighed, walking around the abandoned train cart that was set aside near their homes. one that is filled with thin sheets of papers as window covers, seats that have collected dust bunnies, and a bit of a rusty roof.

“isn’t that what love is? like the effort you put onto someone?” how would you know? when you’ve had the faintest idea of what love is aside from the movies your sister watches or the way your dad had believed everything has a best part.

“whatever love is, we blew it with yoo jimin.” a few seconds of silence, both have given signs of defeat only to hear a notification coming from your phone. a message from yoo jimin.

taglist [CLOSED]:

@1luvkarina @beawolfbealionbeyou @pandafuriosa60 @txtbrainrot @rinapomu @limbforalimb @yoontoonwhs @noascats @thefckghost @petruchiosstuff

[bakerstreethound]

Single Dad Corinthian - New Beginnings | Chapter 2: Simple Joys

Chapter 1: A Walk in the Park

Relationship: Single Father!Corinthian x OC Aspen Reeves

Warnings: brief mention of losing a child, absent parents, flirty Corinthian, pining, sensual undertones, mentions of past abusive relationship for Aspen, and supportive Corinthian

Summary: A week after Aspen meets the mysterious Corinthian and his son Levi at the park, they take a chance and start talking to Corinthian. Soon enough a kinship and something more unfolds. How will it go and can Aspen tread through the waters of flirting all while tending to some still fresh wounds of loss from their younger years? How will they possibly get through a first date? Corinthian has his doubts and he finds himself falling for Aspen, been if he's not actively trying. How can he not? What happens if Aspen sees him for who he truly is? A monster on the inside and out?

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 4.4k+

A/N: It has been months, but I am so excited to present chapter 2 of this little snapshot mosaic series of single dad Corinthian and my OC Aspen Reeves. Both of them deserve a hug and Levi is adorable. Many thanks to @novaracer for beta reading and cheering me on as I wrote. I hope you enjoy! Graphic by @firefly-graphics Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

It had been a week since your run-in with the man who called himself Corinthian, but you shortened his name to Cori in your contacts (you would be lying if it didn’t make you smile). The park meeting had been one of the most unexpected adventures in your life the past year. 

You fiddled with the card he left you on the bench that fateful afternoon and it pestered you for days until you gave in and said hello. You felt so stupid reaching out. Would he think you were a creep? A lonely creep was not much harm unless you became a stalker. You blanched at the thought. 

When you did text him, you realized the appointments you had to keep and he had the same, with his work and needing to take care of Levi. You did not mind waiting, but you found yourself looking forward to life, looking forward to seeing him and Levi sometime. If a week had to pass for the outcome to be that way, you would take it.

Having someone to talk to was nice and you were eager each time you heard the ping of your phone, instead of the dreaded pit of worry and anxiety that accompanied them. 

Ever since your child Sam had been admitted to the hospital two years prior in the months before his passing, the messages, texts, and emails had caused nothing but sickness and heartbreak for you and your partner.

You cringed at the thought of your partner Kai, who had all but abandoned you, leaving Sam’s care and bills up to you. You loved your child, you did, you missed going to the parks, and taking him to school. You often wondered what he would have become if he decided to go to college or learn a trade. 

You wondered a lot of things, then, but now you grasped at the possibility of wanting to be with someone new, at least entertaining the company. Your heart was not perfectly mended, albeit bruised after the divorce, but it did not matter in the slightest. You had left the apartment and donated a majority of Kai and Sam’s things except for the minimal keepsakes.

Your new place faired better for you with large windows to filter in the sun and wash your darkness away on those days when it felt nigh impossible to get out of bed, bundled in copious amounts of blankets. 

Regardless, you found solace these days between texting Corinthian through errands and hobbies like cooking, writing, and your art. The easel in your studio apartment held a blank canvas, and your cart was full of acrylics and watercolors stashed away in your art box.

Looking at them brought up memories of Kai and Sam, making your heart twinge. The passion, though, that did not fade, but your irrationality had overridden it. That was months ago, but you felt ready enough for it, but it would wait for another day. 

Your phone pings, the smile crossing your face of its own accord. 

Found this new shiny beauty at the pawn shop today, though it is not as bright as your smile. He sends accompanied by the attachment of a shiny knife. Though dull, it’ll be quite the beauty when sharpened and polished.  

I don’t have many reasons to smile, you know. 

Well, perhaps I might have to be one of them. 

You roll your eyes . Perhaps you might. I have been debating trying that new pizza shop down the street. Have you had it, yet? You breathe a sigh of relief, having dodged the flirt. You are still new to it all.

Oh, darling, I have not had enough of you. But I would like more

Is that so?

I’d kill to see that smile again, the one you flashed to Levi in the park before we officially met.

Your heart thumps faster as you send another text. Would you now?

Only if you asked nicely. 

What, do I have to be nice about it?

There are ways I could make you behave if you prefer. 

You pause. Are you certain about that? I might bite.

I like it when they bite (: 

******

The remaining weeks fly by at a steady pace, much of your interactions with Corinthian brief and flirty, with debates about the best restaurants in between. You bickered about the best brick oven pizza, thin or stuffed crust, iced or hot coffee and tea, and the most random nonsense.

You voted for the regular homestyle crust while he vies for the thin crust when it comes to a Margherita pizza. Regular crust he likes for pepperoni or meat lovers, you find out. 

This easy back and forth becomes the normal and your darker more dreary days turn brighter with the chime of a text and call. Those sounds that once spelled doom now ring with a brighter tune. 

The tune of hope. 

You do not want it to disappear but approach it with caution.

That is the day he asks you out on a date, your first official date together. You remember the confidence he exuded on the phone. 

“Aspen, darling, he drawled. “Would you like to join me on a picnic at the park? It would be me and you only, under that nice shade tree.” 

Your name on his lips sounded utterly delightful and you did not hesitate to tell him yes. 

******

You have not made a trip to the park in some time, but the memories of meeting Levi instantly hit you on the stroll over. The clouds in the sky accentuate the sun and you feel a warmth spread inside you.

Yes, you can be happy and not dread every moment of your existence wondering if you were an awful parent, if you could have done more to save Sam, could have given Kai a reason to stay.  

You shake those thoughts from your mind. Shush, Aspen. You’re here to meet Corinthian on your first date.  

First date. 

The word feels foreign on your tongue and in your mind. You barely remember your first date with Kai, but it was likely a rushed one at a cheap ramen bar, the only thing starving artist college kids could afford.

The rest of your relationship flew by in a blur and suddenly Sam was born, your pride and joy, then he vanished too soon. Five years was not long, a life cut too soon. Such is the unfairness of the world. 

Yet, the world in all its cruelty has given you a new gift, a fresh start, hope. Hope you scarcely allow yourself to feel anymore, 

It’s the feeling that flutters in your chest when you recognize him there under the old oak tree, one you admire countless times from your park bench picnics, a sandwich in hand, your satchel next to you, filled with your wallet, books, and other essentials. 

He looks impossibly heartbreaking and more devastatingly gorgeous than you remember. When you first met him, he wore white suit pants and a simple T-shirt.

Now, he is dressed in navy blue slacks, a pale blue shirt, with a simple gray sweater over it, the collar edges peaking out from it. His signature sunglasses sat perched on the bridge of his nose. His brow rose in greeting. 

Shit, you have been staring too long, more like gawking and you snapped your jaw tighter, determined not to let him get to you. 

You can do this. 

It’s a picnic another normal day. 

Who are you kidding? This is more than you could fathom or deserve. 

“Hello, darling,” He rumbles, the breeze softly swirling around you. A few leaves tumbled around you, crunching beneath your sneakers as you met him, standing fully in front of him, appreciating the view a while longer. 

He reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before leading you to a place beneath the tree. 

You gasp, a giggle bursting from your lips. “You didn’t Cori.” 

He smiles. “Of course I did. It is all for you.” 

Before you are a simple picnic blanket, a simple wicker basket filled to the brim with drinks, snacks, and an assortment of fruit. In addition, there is a charcuterie board of cheeses, ham, and two loaves of bread, meticulously laid out on a simple wooden board. 

It is more than you could have hoped for. You eagerly sit on the blanket and Corinthian joins you, carefully brushing his fingers along your arm and handing you a plate. He chuckles when your hands brush as you reach for some cheese and meat and he carefully slices up some bread for you, which you gratefully accept.

The flavors burst on your tongue in a delightful manner, a low moan passing along your lips. Corinthian stiffens next to you his slice of cheese close to his mouth, jaw slack.

Hell, he loves the noise you made, and he briefly finds his mind wondering to what other noises he could possibly get you to make. He shakes these thoughts from his head as he asks, “Enjoying yourself?” 

“This is probably the best meal I have had all week.” 

He cocks a brow, his signature move. “Really?” That surprises him. What the heck have you been eating then?

“Yeah. The best I can do for myself sometimes is cereal, some taco meat on occasion, and sandwiches when I am in a pinch. It’s not the worst thing.” 

The way you shrug this off nonchalantly rubs Corinthian, prying an itch from his skin. He wants to make you good warm meals, that is the least you deserve. He wants to hold you against the cruel world, and kill those who harm you, bother you, or stand in your way. 

He reaches out to you to stroke your face with his hand, thumb dragging along your lip. “You had a bit of something there.” 

Your face warms at his touch, and you lean into him more, your gaze transfixed on him beyond the sunglasses. You wonder what emotion he conveys behind his eyes. Curiosity getting the better of you, you reach out to his glasses, but he veers out of your way. 

“Not here, darling,” he snaps, sending you shrinking. What did you do? You didn’t mean it. Panic and worry crawl along your skin. So you have been too foreward and he hates you now. 

Great, Aspen, look what you have done, ruined your once chance of something exciting in your life. Get it together you can make this work. 

“I’m sorry,” you eventually find yourself saying after an agonizing ten minutes, as you and Corinthian continue your meal, the park filling with more people. Children are playing on the playground, a group of teens starts a pickup soccer game, parents run with their children, a couple walks with a stroller built for twins from the look of it. 

You find yourself smiling as Corinthian reaches out for your hand, squeezing it gently. 

“I am sorry for snapping at you, Aspen. My eyes are sensitive and I don’t like exposing to the sun more than necessary, hence why I wear these. Should have explained sooner.”

“Oh.” 

Corinthian swallows, watching you intently. Shit he scared you off, you hate him for his outburst. He understands if you want to get up and leave, but…you don't, you stare at him longer then reach for the bottle opener, picking up the bottle of wine and champagne he bought.

He was not sure which you preferred, but champagne is usually in style, especially for a celebration and wasn’t this a celebration? 

A celebration of a colossal win or a massive failure. 

He had found you and wanted to know you more. What little part of his heart however misshapen by his creator beat stronger in your presence, filling him with a curious warmth, a warmth different beyond his bloodlust for killing.

He cared, that is what he feels when he watches you pilfer through the wicker basket, your face brightening when you produce a Honeycrisp apple. 

Without a word, Corinthian reaches out to take it from you, sliding a knife out from his holster and cutting it up in an expert fashion. Your eyes remain glued on him in morbid fascination, perusing his biceps, down to his forearms, then focusing on his hands. 

You wonder how they would feel on your sides, squeezing you gently, holding you close to his chest where you can hear the thrumming of his heart.

“Something on your mind, darling?” 

 You shrug, swallowing another bite of cheese before replying. “Not really. I was considering going to the bookstore later. I need something else to stimulate my mind while at work.

“Ah I see, work can get slow?” 

“Being a receptionist has its ups and downs throughout the week, but my boss gives us enough downtime to sneak in reading time throughout the day. It is good for our productivity.” 

“Ah, so I see,” Corinthian hums thoughtfully, interrupted by the ping of his phone. “Shit.” He glances down at his phone, mouth pulled into a thin line. 

“What’s wrong?” You take a sip of your champagne. 

“The sitter texted me saying their plans fell through so they can’t watch Levi for the following two hours. I told Matthew I needed him for longer so Levi wouldn’t disturb us.” 

“Oh, I see. Well, would it be that bad if Levi joined us?” 

“I had planned for us to go bowling.”

“He can join us.”

“Wait, you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” you smile. 

“I wanted this to be a pleasant experience for the both of us with no distraction and people are hesitant when I mention I have a child-”

“Hey,” you squeeze his hand. “There’s no need to explain yourself. I understand how it can be, the unsurety of how people treat you being a single parent.” 

“It is not easy.”

“It never is, but we love our children regardless.” 

Corinthian at least wanted to continue pleading his case so he hurriedly explained his sitter Matthew had to rush off on an extended errand for his demanding boss, and his bosses’ assistant Lucienne who was Corinthain’s fallback was overwhelmed with administrative duties it was not feasible and Merv, well Corinthian wanted Levi to not be surrounded by dangerous equipment - equipment Merv was certain to allow Levi try out all in good fun.

“Say we skip bowling and get ice cream as a treat for Levi. Would he like that?” 

“Darling, you are wonderful. I am sure he will be delighted.” 

******

With a bowling date falling through, Corinthian set his apprehensions aside when he saw Levi running to you for a hug after opening the apartment door. “Pretty person is back. Look dad!”

“Yes Levi, I can see you’re having fun. Hopefully, you were not too much trouble to Matthew. Also, that pretty person is Aspen. Can you give them a proper hello?” 

Levi beams at you as you twirl him in your arms, giggling hysterically. “H-hii Aspen!” 

“Hey bud, you have a good day today?” He giggles when you set him back on the floor, chuckling in amusement as he steadies himself on his legs. He quickly makes a beeline for the kitchen where he climbs up on the table to watch Corinthian. 

You join him and Corinthian sets down a glass before you from which you take a sip, thanking him all the while. 

“I have a few more things to pack then we can go get ice cream.”

“Wait, we’re getting ice cream?” Levi’s eyes widen and he almost falls out of his chair with excitement. 

“Woah buddy hold your horses. We will get some after we run a few errands. You can be patient, right?” Corinthian raises an incredulous brow. 

Levi giggles, nodding furiously. “Yes, Dad!” 

“Wonderful, buddy. How about you run along and show Aspen some of the books you got from the library this week.” 

“Yeahh!!” 

******

A few hours later, you find yourself back in the ice cream parlor you eyeballed weeks ago, one you thought of going to before settling on your park bench. It was the decision that changed the course of you life, leading you to meet Levi and his father. You find yourself enjoying their company their laughter, their conversation and warmth.

You forgot that is how a family could be, how humanity could be. Laughter, joy, the simplicity of running errands. Levi is surprisingly well-behaved and jovial, staying close to Corinthian and holding your hand to not lose you in the slew of people in the aisles and sidewalks. 

Soon enough you’re laughing, full from the ice cream at the parlor, and head back to the park after dropping off the groceries. Corinthian insisted all the while that he is making you dinner sometime after hearing you adore a good spaghetti and meatballs and a variety of American cuisine like cheeseburgers and BBQ. 

*******

He can’t stop watching you, your smile as you guide Levi down the sidewalk, turning your head to be on the lookout for any strangers or creeps who would follow you back to his apartment. He likes your smile, the way laughter flows through your entire being. It lights you up from the inside out and it is a beautiful sight.

You are beautiful, he realizes, has known it since the moment he met you in the park, a well-worn book next to you on the bench, the half-eaten sandwich you likely saved for dinner or lunch the following day. 

His heart seizes at this realization, the grocery bag almost slipping from his shoulder and he almost freaking trips- trips on the sidewalk barely avoiding a yipping dog whose owner rolled their eyes at him. 

You and Levi couldn’t contain your laughter and you were even more stunning then. He wants to reach out and hold your hand, hold Levi’s hand too. He can picture the life you could have together in his simple two bedroom apartment, the one he was lucky enough to find in a pinch soon after he rescued Levi, desperate to escape the confines of the dreaming world. 

Levi who changed his world in an instant and vowed to protect and would riot if Morpheus ever found him and tried to separate them. He needs Levi as much as Levi needs him. He cares for him so much more than he can express and he does not want to lose you either. If he could pull himself into some semblance of a better person for the good of his son, he can do it for you.

He wants to be by your side for as long as you will have him. He says none of this as your walk into the library, his grocery bag full of library books to return. Levi had insisted on another outing to one of the few places he felt save, practically begged Aspen on the phone to join him and his dad again. 

Aspen complied, falling under his spell but Cornthian hopes it is because you want to see him as much as he wants to see you. The weeks have slipped away in the blink of an eye when your both near each other and he can’t explain how much more time he wants in your presence.

The late night killing sprees he completes do not hold a candle to the shine of your smile, the thrill of it all. Hell, he loves to make you smile, the easeful way your hair falls, warm and streaked with sunlight, makes you all the more alluring and he wants your smile to fall upon his face longer. 

******

The time at the park passes in a blur and you're on the way back to Corinthian’s apartment, Levi in tow, sitting atop his father’s shoulders, eyes bleary in exhaustion. The long day had certainly caught up to him between the grocery shopping, ice cream parlor, and additional park time.

You can’t blame him as you stifled back another yawn, yearning for the comfort of your bed. You almost sigh in relief when the apartment door opened, Levi murmuring sleepily that he wanted a popsicle, and Corinthian chuckled good-naturedly. 

You collapse onto the couch after taking your shoes off, relief sinking into you when the soft cushions meet your back. 

“Now this is nice.” You sigh and stretch. 

Cori smirked, Levi yawning on his shoulders as he pulled him down. 

“Time to get ready for bed, little buddy.” 

“Dad…” 

“Now, now Levi we’ve talked about this.” 

“But dad…” 

“Now now son, you know right and well you need to go to bed early tonight.” 

You smiled, continuing to listen in to their back and forth, soothed by the steady rhythm of their nightly routine, and your mind drifted, falling into thoughts you kept tightly concealed, ones that you hoped would never surface, let alone in the house of the person you have come to enjoy the company of for the past week, no month.

How time flew when you were together with him and Levi. You felt a certain kinship to Levi, healing the broken parts of your soul. You shifted adjusting yourself unconsciously, bumping up against something, or rather, someone next to you. 

Your heart raced. You try not to panic. Your heart is thrumming faster, certain you are in a dream until your eyes fly open, greeted with a room with soft light akin to a candle. 

Something, or someone stirs next to you and your first instinct is to get the hell out of there but your mind screams at you to take it slow so you do. 

Breathe. Kai isn’t here. You are safe. 

The mantra steadied you, and now that your eyes adjust to the light you can see you are in a large bedroom with a view overlooking the city, a gentle breeze blew through the room ruffling your hair. A soft sigh and groan followed from the figure next to you. Blonde, no almost platinum hair upon the bedsheets, and a nightmask around his eyes. 

Corinthian had tucked you in bed, his bed, and had fallen asleep next to you. You’re uncertain how you feel, then, but find the comfort of a warm body nice.

You liked that it was Corinthian there protecting you, watching over you, caring for you enough to let you stay. Though you had a panic about it you still find the gesture kind. In fact he was so kind you decided to return the favor and trailed your arm along his sleeping form, grasping onto his bicep. 

“What is it now, Morpheus. I have been good! Please.” 

“Corinthian? It’s me, Aspen.” 

You jostle him and still nothing. Nothing in the room made a sound, the breeze frozen on its journey through, almost stealing the breath from your lips.

Your bones felt cold, yet you can’t break away from Corinthian, his Adam's apple bobbling, lips pleading, forming words that don’t fall from his lips, until he croaks softly, “No…please don’t. Not him. Not Levi.” 

Dread falls into the pit of your stomach, awakening your irrational fears, but you shove them down, focusing on the man beside you. You nudge him again. 

“Cori? Wake up. I’m here. It’s me, Aspen,” You speak into the silence of the room, darkness convalescing down the walls, shadows playing on the cracks of the walls.

They laugh at you forming faces of your failures; you can’t save them, but you are the one who has to be saved. Can’t you do anything right? They taunt. You scream at them to leave you alone, just as Corinthian’s form jolts upright, breathing hard, a cold sweat chilling him to the bone. 

“Aspen?” Your name is a whisper on his tongue, tentative, unsure. 

You reach for his hand, squeezing tight in reassurance. “Yes, it’s me.” 

A few moments of silence pass, frozen in the low light of the room, moonlight streaming in. 

“Could you still care for me, even knowing I am a monster, an abomination?” 

“Cori we’ve known each other, have been talking for two months, now even if we only recently had our first date. You haven’t scared me off, yet. I do not think that will happen.” 

He gaffes before a bitter laugh follows. “Yet. So you will leave eventually, they all do.” 

Will you at least let me look at you? You do not sound okay” You reach for his eyemask and he turns his face from you. You’re not sure from fear, shame, or something worse. 

“I can’t let you or Levi see me this way.”

“Levi is fine, you put him to bed four hours ago, see?” You check the clock on the nightstand which chimes midnight, signaling a new day. “What’s really going on Cori? I know I have no right to prod into any more of your business. We haven’t known each other long, but would it help to talk about it?” 

He huffs, shifting before curling up. Why did you care? He is a monster, and doesn’t want you to see the true horrors he encapsulates.

Sure, he has done some things in the past that weren’t befitting of his station, but he had to claim his right. Surely Morpheus didn’t dare to track him down, yet the fear was always present, the thought of Levi being abandoned, left for dead, forgotten. 

Corinthian does not want to face that shame, so he pulls you close, taking a deep breath before replying. “Can you turn the light off, please?” 

You oblige, turning back the sheets, holding back a chill running down your spine. You hate to admit your fear of the dark but you can do this for him. A soft rustling comes from the bed and you hear the clicking of teeth, faint and rhythmic.

Your stomach turns in knots, thinking you stepped on something but eases as Corinthian feels for you, his mouth pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your hand, then your palm, and the inside of your wrist. 

“Would you stay the night with me? I know you fell asleep earlier so I couldn’t ask and I want you to be alright.” He ignores the lump that forms in his throat as he speaks, hoping you will agree and keep his racing thoughts at bay. 

You smile, despite the pitch-black darkness as you whisper, “Of course,” all the while falling into his hopeful, waiting embrace

******

[soft-girl-musings]

An Unexpected Proposition (pt. 2)

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

cross-posted to ao3

part 1

Kíli x fem!Reader

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

wc: 1,741

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You nearly killed him," you snarl.

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

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

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

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

__________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A heavy knock on the door silences the household.

"He's here."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cantsayidont]

June/July 1971. A vital aspect of Jack Kirby's original Fourth World books is that they were, for all their strangeness, often urgently topical. There's no more forceful example than THE FOREVER PEOPLE #3, which introduces the sinister Glorious Godfrey, preacher of the church of Anti-Life. Godfrey was inspired by Evangelical preacher Billy Graham, and Kirby's feelings about him were not subtle:

Oof. A crowd of blank-eyed, self-stigmatized believers, eager to surrender their individual will in pursuit of scapegoats upon whom to vent their rage. As we'll see, this is a call and response, part of a sermon by Glorious Godfrey:

In later, non-Kirby appearances of Godfrey and the Justifiers, DC has presented Godfrey as having supernatural powers of persuasion and the Justifier helmets as electronic mind control devices that can immediately overcome the wills of even determined anti-authoritarian types like Oliver Queen. Kirby walks a finer line in this story: Godfrey is using his high-tech pipe organ (pictured above left) to drive his believers into an ecstatic frenzy and "stimulate the brute instincts." However, everyone in his church is there because they believe in his horrifying message: "Life will make you doubt! Anti-Life will make you RIGHT!"

As for the Justifiers, the helmets in this story don't work by Mad Hatter-derived mind control circuitry, but by something much scarier: the promise of power in anonymity.

Godfrey's Justifier captain, for one, may be a dupe, but he's clearly not mind-controlled:

Godfrey's facial expressions in this story make the skin crawl. Look at his unctuous smile, full of utter contempt! Kirby, who watched a lot of TV while drawing, had undoubtedly seen Billy Graham's televised sermons, and the revulsion he obviously felt is palpable here.

This is a harrowing story — the Justifiers murder, bomb, burn books, and round up whole neighborhoods of "Others" to be carted off to concentration camps run by Darkseid's henchman DeSaad — but perhaps its most unexpected twist is the revelation that at the end of the day, Godfrey is really just a huckster. He sells Anti-Life, but not only is his pitch not driven by the supernatural force of the will-destroying Anti-Life Equation Darkseid is seeking, Godfrey doesn't really even believe the Equation exists.

Kirby draws an important contrast between Godfrey's church and the Source Wall on New Genesis, where Highfather receives the word of the Source directly, written in fiery letters by the disembodied hand of the Uni-Friend. In THE NEW GODS #1, Orion declares, "The moving hand appears! The Source gives us the irrevocable counsel!" Highfather corrects him, saying, "But it does not decide! The right of choice is ours! That is the Life Equation!"

The central conflict in Kirby's Fourth World saga, then, is not good versus evil, or belief versus nonbelief — it's choice versus subjugation, Life versus Anti-Life. Those who would remove or willfully abandon that choice are servants of Anti-Life. This is something later writers have dropped or obfuscated (particularly Jim Starlin, who can't resist filtering Kirby's Jewish ideas through his own lapsed-Catholic world view), but it's the conceptual spine of the Kirby stories.

[fleckcmscott]

Silver Dollar

Summary: An outage in Gotham provides the perfect opportunity for a special night.

Words: 4,629

Warnings: Smut

A/N: This story was prompted by a request from @iartsometimes! 💜 It's probably a little tamer than intended. 🤭 Thank you for the request! Also, much appreciation to @sweet-nothings04 for low-lighting visibility tips. 😂 🌃

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The graffiti plastered bathroom plunged into darkness.

Arthur stiffened where he stood, blinked into the blackness. His vision did not become clearer. Grumbling, he tucked himself into his pants and stepped back from the urinal. The handle took two tugs to flush. He fumbled for the sink, gave his palms a rinse shorter than the Gotham Department of Health recommended. Paper pharmacy bag in hand, he opened the exit's steel door and headed northwest. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring, August sun.

Gotham had gone crazy in record time.

People spilled out of luncheonettes, crowds crammed shop doorways. Traffic lights refused to light and pedestrian signals refused to signal. Horns blared in the building pandemonium. A passenger yelled out of a taxicab and flipped the bird, while the driver pounded the steering wheel. Chaos repeated block after block. The Stutton Cowboy on the center billboard ("Price is good. Flavor is everything.") no longer waved. His cigarette hand hovered over his mouth in shock.

Arthur was prepared. Whether due to bad writing or an unpaid bill, he'd spent his share of evenings smoking in the dark. This was something he was good at, an event he could take the lead in.

Bumping a fleeing college kid who had a bottle of vodka hidden under his arm, Arthur shouldered his way into the nearest grocery. Squeezed by a couple of oh lords, maneuvered through murmurs and gripes, and ran through a mental inventory of the drawers in 4A. The day dimmed as he neared the rear aisles. When he arrived at the Home Needs section, he crouched between an abandoned cart and a baby stroller.

He squinted at the battery rack. AAs for the radio, Ds for the flashlight. Maybe some candles, just in case...

An ever-expanding line of shoppers accelerated the beads of sweat on the young cashier's forehead. Handwritten receipts and totals by calculator took twice as long. Arthur sidled to the next line, overseen by a matronly woman wearing a paisley wrap dress who did all the math in her head.

"I'm gonna need a drink after today," she said as he approached the counter.

It took a moment for him to realize she was looking for a kindred spirit. A rapid blink, a subtle nod. "Yeah. Me, too." He eyed a row of bottles on the shelf behind her. That'd make his reply believable.

She followed his stare, stretched to grab a green bottle with an art nouveau label, and put it on the counter.

Vermouth. He wasn't familiar with that word. It sounded exotic, like a fine imported thing. It was a screw top instead of a cork, which he tended to frown on. Uncorking a bottle together was romantic, whereas this was akin to opening a liter of seltzer. He was about to decline it when the price tag froze him. At $14.99, it was more expensive than any wine he'd ever had.

Maybe it really was a fine, imported thing.

"Is it good?" he asked. He picked it up, studied the back as if a connoisseur.

"One of our best sellers."

He gave the matron a one shoulder shrug, half-commitment about to go full. "I'll take it."

~~~~~

Y/N strode the hallowed halls of Gotham City District Court. On the corner of Badger Boulevard and Olsen, the granite behemoth belied the civil servants who were paid far too little to deal with far too much.

Adjusting the bag on her shoulder, she ambled down the checkerboard floor towards the clerk's window. Rita, her favorite, was working today. Rita returned every call, always helped with a combination of sarcasm and cheer.

"And what did you bring me today? she asked when Y/N plopped her canvas bag on the counter. Rita stopped watering her shaggy spider plant and walked to the window.

"A motion to continue the Caruso case and a dozen new filings. You can send the invoice for the filing fees to my office." Y/N split the stack of folders into three slim piles and pushed them through the gap under the glass. "How did your bowling league do last night?"

"We're one game away from regionals! I'm trying to convince my husband to-"

A loud pop echoed down the corridor, bounced along the linoleum, ricocheted off horsehair plaster. The air conditioner's hum devolved to a grinding whir. Bright fluorescents gave way to dingey emergency beams, crisscrossing through dusty, recycled air.

Hand on hip, Y/N looked up. "Did you misplace the electric bill?"

"Great. Judge Harkness is in the middle of a jury trial on the fourth floor. He hates taking the stairs." The clerk covered her face, glanced at Y/N's folders through parted fingers. "I'm not sure when I'll get these processed."

"That's all right. I just wanted them off my desk. I haven't seen the surface in six months." She retrieved a business card from her purse, pushed it to join the files, a gesture repeated every visit to Rita, a reminder to reach out. "Don't forget to update me on your tournament. And don't let His Honor forget who actually runs this place."

When she arrived at Dube & Ellis after a fifty-two-minute walk - all subways stations were cordoned off - she was sweltering. Polyester didn't breathe and it comprised seventy-two percent of her wardrobe. That Terry had done exactly the wrong thing by drawing back the vertical blinds on each and every window was typical. "There's not enough light in here! The whole city's out!"

She unbuttoned her collar and dropped in her chair. Normally her Sanyo desk fan would rattle and grate. Now she'd give her whole paycheck for a hint of its cool breeze.

Power outages had been a feature of many seasons in Missouri. Tornado season and sticky season, window season and squirrel on the transformer season. One night a drunk driver had slammed his Studebaker into a utility pole three houses down. It'd crushed Mr. Walter's front porch and left the road without electricity for two days.

Her mother had instructed them not to open the refrigerator unless they knew what they wanted. Shut the doors to the hottest rooms and placed rolled towels at the bottom to keep air from seeping in. Though she'd loved how the sun filtered through her lace curtains, she'd kept the drapes shut. They'd lit candles at night. She'd done needlepoint in her favorite chair and watched her husband play cards with their daughters until bed. A real family affair.

Daubing beads from his brow with a handkerchief, Phil stood in the center of the room. His expression said keeping them there any longer would be an OSHA violation. He wasn't wrong. The office had become the least relaxing sauna on the east coast.

"You've all put in a lot of work today." He spoke in the voice of a grandfather and daubed again. "I know it wasn't easy. I guess there's no sense in us staying any longer. If the power's not back tomorrow-" A gulp here, as if he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "Enjoy a long weekend. My wife'll be glad to have me home. I think."

Y/N stole a glance at her watch: 4:42 PM. A whole eighteen minutes early. Though it wasn't a lot, she got how hard it was for a workaholic like Phil to give them five. Offering a soft smile, she went to him and stuck out her hand. The corner of his mouth twisted wryly before he accepted.

She gave his arm a collegial pat. "We're as caught up as we can be, so feel free to stop sweating."

~~~~~

The next morning's breakfast: cornflakes and blueberries. Y/N gave the milk a good sniff before pouring. With the microwave, toaster, and stove out of commission, oatmeal, toast, and eggs were off the menu. (Not that Arthur complained about the latter.)

They'd discussed how to use what was left in the fridge and freezer before it all went bad, but salads wouldn't work for every meal, and they were only two people. The Caswells across the hall, the neighbors who'd gotten their mail while they were in Missouri, had a grill. Y/N gave them a package of ground beef and a bag of frozen vegetables.

Arthur let his spoon clatter in the kitchen sink and rinsed his bowl. (It was a good and joyful thing that the water - and therefore the toilet - still worked.) "You know, I should go the children's clinic."

"Do you have a gig?" She sipped her orange juice.

"No. But it's boring hanging around all day without the TV. They hire me a lot. I'll go for free."

She rose, rubbed the small of his back. "That's so sweet, Arthur. And very kind."

"You could come with me." He paused, pressed his lips together. She'd seen him on street corners but hadn't witnessed the entirety of his performance. Even with her unending support, he suspected an all-out clown show would be the one place she'd feel out of place. He dared a glance her way.

And found a wide-eyed expression of approval. She cupped his hips, planted a wet kiss to his cheek. "You couldn't keep me away."

In the cab downtown, excitement bloomed in him, unfurling in a great wave of nervous joy. Knuckles intertwined, he hugged the prop bag on his lap, thighs jiggling. "Do you think they'll mind me just showing up?"

"No." She shook her head, placed a soothing palm on his knee. "They'll be happy to get a break in the monotony. It's a medical facility, they'll have generators, but the staff are going home to no power. They could use a laugh. The kids definitely could, too."

The Philomena Children's Clinic was squat for Gotham. Five stories of alternating beige concrete and polycarbonate windows, shaped into a squared-off U. Moss hung from the side of the porte-cochere, green clumps littered the pavement. Cartoon animals played on the entrance doors, giraffes and bears in happy acrylics.

When he checked in unannounced, Gertel the receptionist had a snotty face, but he'd learned not to take it personally. She liked order, worked eight to eight, even on holidays, and her only hobbies were the anagram puzzles in the newspaper and Harlequin romances. She was a tough egg to crack. The most he'd gotten was a pinched smile, a thin line of conceit.

Once he'd procured visitor badges for Y/N and himself, he went to the staff room to change. White base, blue triangles at the eyes, exaggerated red grin, bald wig with green curls, patched brown pants. He'd skipped his checkered suit jacket for a white lab coat, a long ago find from the secondhand store.

Rather than congregating in the common area, the kids remained in their rooms. The change put a limitation on his usual song and dance. Without those trappings, he wasn't quite sure what to do. He hesitated in the doorway of 201, thumbed a flat balloon in his pocket. When the little girl watching Sesame Street gave a small wave, he wiggled the worry from his shoulders and stepped forward.

Stephanie showed him a picture she'd drawn, all crayon streaks and misshapen house. In turn he crafted a balloon hat, put it on her head and told her to get well soon. A youngster next door, no more than five, told Arthur all about Misty, his golden retriever, and how much he missed her.

When Kevin, swallowed by an oversized robe, IV drip drip dripping, started to cry, Arthur's chest hollowed out. The boy hadn't seen his mom in two days. Being alone in a hospital was hard, a fact Arthur had lived. He plucked a prop handkerchief from his breast pocket, pressed it into the boy's tiny hands, pushed the corner of his mouth up with his thumb. "You'll see her soon," he said, words carrying a conviction he hoped was right.

Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted Y/N chatting with an RN at the nurse's station. He went into the corridor to eavesdrop, knelt beside a girl in a wheelchair smothered with pink and purple stickers, Heather plastered across the side panel.

"It was nice of him to come," Linda said. "A lot of their parents can't afford the cab fare to get out here, with the subway out and all. And if they're not working, they aren't getting paid. He's always excellent with the children - sometimes he's just like them. Do you have any at home?"

Heather leaned in, prodded his shoulder. "Who's that lady?" she asked, pointing at Y/N.

"That lady?" He grinned from ear to ear. "That's Mrs. Carnival."

The girl gaped in astonishment. "She's not a clown?"

~~~~~

Stolen sheets hung from the railing at both ends of the fire escape. A forest green acrylic blanket obscured the front. A floral comforter, retrieved on tiptoe from the bedroom closet, covered the wrought iron platform. Two wine glasses and vermouth stood on the steps. All that was left was to tune the radio to easy listening, which Arthur did, treading lightly to avoid a stubbed toe.

Nodding, he smiled at his handwork. Well, at the blurred shapes he could detect in the dimness. He looked skyward. With the sun below the horizon and the usual light pollution gone, the night was sparkling.

Candlestick in hand, he eased the bedroom door ajar and sidled through. Gold flickered through the dark, a softening glow. Y/N was an unmoving lump on the mattress. Leg dangling out from the sheet, her half-slip a line on her thigh. Though sleep now came easier, her ability to nap stoked an ember of envy. Midday snoozes happened only after a bit of afternoon delight. She'd tired early, around quarter past six. If he let her doze any longer, she'd be locked in a daze brewing coffee at 2:00 AM.

Hot wax stung the web between his thumb and forefinger. He hissed, shook his hand, shoved the candle on the nightstand. The edge of the mattress sunk under his weight. He grasped the cotton sheet. Dragged it from her shoulder. Revealed the lace trim of her ivory chemise. A brief mumble fell from her mouth, a wet sucking sound. Her fingers curled into the pillow. He pulled the sheet down further. It puddled to the floor.

Stretching one arm, she rolled back to wince at the candle, then at him. "What time is it?"

"Nine-thirty."

That jolted her awake. "I slept too long."

"Mabel called earlier."

"What did she want?"

"She said the blackouts were on the news. I let her know we're all right."

A tender caress to her calf, which felt like silk in his palm. Images of the romantic evening he was about to have with his wife played in his head, a loop that made his stomach all aflutter.

Y/N boosted herself on her elbows. "You have that look."

"What look?"

"The look that means you're up to something," she said, brow arched to her hairline.

Part chuckle, part scoff, he laughed. She read him too well. While it made surprises harder to hide, it pleased more than it annoyed. He stood, offered his hand. "Come here," he said. She accepted, pausing long enough to blow out the flame. He led her to the fire escape and sat on the comforter.

Halfway behind the glass door, she clutched her arms over her chest. "Arthur, I can't go out like this."

"No one'll see you." He gestured at the impromptu walls. Besides, he was six feet away and her form was barely more than a shadow. "And without all the lights, you might be able to see the stars. The way you did back home. Like you told me in the park."

A beam bloomed across her face, what he imagined might be a faint blush. Bent at the waist, she slipped into the half moon's light. One hand on the doorknob, a lifeline in case she reconsidered. Her fingertips relented one by one. First the pinky, last the middle. She settled to his left, knee pulled to her chest, the other leg folded under.

Arthur shuffled closer so they were hip to hip, reached behind her for the wine glasses and bottle with the art nouveau label.

Y/N snagged it from him, squinted at it. "Vermouth?" She held the bottle while he twisted the cap. "My mother used to drink this before bed in the summer. And she rubbed it on Mabel's gums when she was teething. Whiskey, too."

When he brought the goblet of garnet colored liquid to his lips, his nose wrinkled. The liquor smelled like an overgrown garden. He dared a small sip, anyway - and bitterness coated his tongue. He winced, sputtering. "This taste weird. This was supposed to be wine."

"It is, just a different type." She drank long and deep then drank again. "This one's not bad. Strong on the cloves but it'll get the job done."

A news bulletin interrupted the animated notes of Herb Alpert's Tijuana Brass. "In what authorities are calling a historic event, Gotham's five boroughs remain dark tonight - including McKean Island. We're assured safety measures are in place and the maximum-security wing remains in lockdown. Though the extent of the damage is unknown, we're happy to report that crews from Pennsylvania and New York are on their way to our fair city to lend a hand. Police Chief Miles O'Hara and Mayor Thomas Wayne are urging calm and-"

"That's enough of that." Y/N flipped the off switch. "You know the best part of all this? Wayne Tower is just as dark as everywhere else."

Unable to stop a chuckle, Arthur shook his head. She wasn't one for holding grudges, but the ones she did carry lived in the lines of her palms, plain enough for any flimflam psychic to read.

But he didn't want her to talk about that, not now. And he knew of a guaranteed method to distract her, to bring her back to where he wanted. He refilled her drink and clinked their glasses.

Second helping swallowed, she inched her bottom forward to lay on her back, arm tucked beneath her head. "It was wonderful to see you work today. Thank you for inviting me. I'm sorry it took so long."

"Well, you come to my standup shows." Only a month ago, she'd recorded his performance and given him tips over Thai. He stretched out next to her, set his still full glass on the steps. "The girl in the wheelchair asked who you were. She was surprised Mrs. Carnival isn't a clown."

"As surprised as everybody was that I married one?"

A hitched laugh. He fiddled with his trousers' belt loops. "I guess."

"There's a magic wand." She pointed at the skies. "By the moon, to the right."

Arthur hummed a contented hum, let his eyelids flutter shut. The street was peaceful, as still as he'd ever heard it. With most shops and restaurants shut down, the list of leisure options fit on a postage stamp. It was a moment to capture, preserve, like swirls in a vase.

A breeze rustled the sheets, blew across them, carried Y/N's natural scent straight to his nostrils. Warm and spicy, like roasted vanilla edged with musk. He breathed deeply, needing to fill his lungs with her anew. Sighing happily, he turned to her.

Silver gleams turned her skin to gossamer, dusk smudged her features. Feathered brown locks merged with the vines on the bedspread's pattern. Her breast threatened to fall out of the armhole of her lingerie.

Christ. They were outside. He hadn't planned on getting aroused. But the longer he looked at her, the harder he got.

Y/N sipped, balanced her stemware on her sternum. "Thank you for tonight, too. You're always so thoughtful." A simple sentiment but exactly what he longed to hear. An affirmation, a pledge to love him further.

But before he could respond in kind, the glass between her breasts began to tip...

He caught it, a splash hitting his wrist, crimson droplets landing on her collarbone. He set it on the step, bent to seize her lips. An unpleasant earthiness covered them. He licked it away, coaxed back her sweetness.

Gigging, she broke away. "Was this your plan? To get me out here and ply me with drink?" The hand on his shoulder dragged to his cheek. The breathy voice she adopted shot straight down his spine. "To take advantage of me?"

It wasn't but he didn't have to tell her that. He nudged closer, his erection grazing her thigh. "Maybe."

A slow smile of pleasure. "I like that plan."

Her palms snuck under his t-shirt, forced it upwards as she explored his body. Nails swirled at his abdomen. It grew taut, stuttered at the sensations, her tickles and temptations. When she reached his pecs she gave a firm pinch. At his displeased grunt, a wicked laugh left her, bawdy and amorous. A clear sign of what they were up to.

His thumb followed her chemise's ribbon strap. His hand fell to her side, skimmed her rounded hip, the delectable curve of her leg. Her half-slip had a daring slit. He slid through, drew lazy circles on her inner thigh.

She shivered. "You're not making it easy to be quiet."

Fingertips traced her panties' elastic leg. Heat emanated from her core, luring him nearer and nearer. Her swallowed whimper rushed him there. Slick and wet, the nylon gusset clung to her vulva.

He'd grown deft at touching her, even in the dark. He trailed a careful stripe along her labia. Inner lips were a prominent line through the fabric, her clitoral hood a plump ridge. Light and rapid he flicked his nail across it. Her pelvis snapped up, held. Millimeter ruts chasing his scrapes, fingers digging his back.

A shudder racked him. His forehead pressed to hers. "If we had more room, I'd taste you." She pressed her lips together, a squeal trapped behind them.

The same breeze that'd carried her scent could very well carry her hungry little whines around the block. So he captured her mouth with his. It started off tender and shallow but was soon all encompassing. She raked through his hair, tugged and tugged again. His tongue sought hers, caressed, collided. Teeth bumped with a muted click.

Sharp gasps. Her neck, her breasts, her entire being arching into him. Desperate push-pulls. He pressed on, strokes licks of fire on her clit. Mewling built in the back of her throat. He heard it in her shallow pants, felt it in how she gripped his bicep. Her thighs trembled, vulva throbbing in his hand.

"Ah!" She squeaked, a strangled, undignified sound.

Snorting, he shoved her sweaty face into the crook of his neck, caught the cries she couldn't stop. (Long ago, she'd offered to visit his apartment on her lunch break - with the explicit promise she could be quiet. He hadn't taken her up on it. Phew!) Her grip on his shirt tightened. One leg went straight, the other knee brushed his cock. Stillness punctuated by tremors. He kissed her temple, slowed his caress to a languid pace.

Legs akimbo, she blinked at him. Signaled silence with a finger to her lips. She balanced on her knees, shed her panties, patted the spot where she'd lain. He scooted over immediately. When he tried to sit, she pushed him to lie on his back. Moving to straddle him, she unbuttoned and unzipped his fly. He made no move to stop her.

Y/N braced herself on his chest, reached between them to press him to her entrance. She began to ease herself onto him, ease him inside her. But he told her to stop.

A strap fell down her upper arm, loosened her camisole to accentuate her cleavage and reveal a breast. Her nipple poked out, its dusky brown a tantalizing contrast to her white skin. Moonlight sculpted the apple of her cheek in whirls of silver. The stars shone about her head, caught in her tresses like sequins on an evening gown.

A pleasant fuzziness swept through him. Nearly three years and he was still drawn to her like a magnet. He'd bet his life that'd be the same case in twenty.

She cocked her head. "What is it?"

He brushed her hair behind her shoulder. Lowered the other strap. "Perfect," he said, smiling as his heart swelled. "You look perfect."

Teeth pressed her lower lip in a shy smile. When she bent to kiss him, her nipples dragged up his chest, prickled his flesh. She shifted the angle of her pelvis forward, the angle that rubbed her clit on his public bone. The one that left his black curls a matted, wet mess.

A sensuous thrust, her hips rolled in a seductive circle. "I want you to come," she whispered, and licked his bottom lip.

One foot braced on the grate beneath him, which bit even through the comforter. He bucked into her, into that heady stretch of her slippery heat. As if testing their connection, she raised up until he nearly flopped out, until only the glans remained. Then her walls encompassed him once more. Clutching, grasping. A steady rhythm. Relentless motion that bewitched and bewildered.

He cleared his throat to keep from crying out, channeled the urge to groan into grabbing the baluster behind his head. Her pinky brushed the strong sinew of his neck, her tongue followed his collarbone. Tightness in his loins spread to his abdomen, crawled through his limbs.

A burst of light, white and pulsing, formed behind his eyelids. Fire rippled through his veins, a scarlet flush of satisfaction. He bit the inside of his cheek, permitted one weak whimper to escape. She held herself in place while he finished, in the way she knew he liked. Stroked the tension from his dimples until they melted into a smile.

Slack and sated, his arm dropped to the ground. He puffed out his chest and cheeks and huffed. On a swift peck, she began to push herself up.

Just then, the Caswells' glass door creaked. Sluggish steps, like a hiker stuck in the mud. Y/N ducked on top of Arthur, held her breath. A hurdy gurdy voice called from inside. "...should have added it to the list last week. Where are you going? Louie L'Amour's about to start on GPR!" The rattle of a far-off rotary phone. "Oh, I bet that's your mother. She's called every hour!"

"I never said you have to answer it!" A resigned sigh, the click of a lighter. Arthur could almost hear the man deflate.

"The heat must be getting to them," Y/N said. "I think he'll be out here awhile."

Arthur murmured into her hair. "If you weren't so sweet, we wouldn't be in this jam." A playful swat to her bottom.

Laughter tickled his neck. She lifted herself a couple inches, pulled up the straps of her camisole. Careful to remain discreet, she grabbed her panties, clambered off him, and duck walked towards the living room. One foot beyond the threshold and she scampered out of sight.

He zipped his trousers, straightened his shirt, stretched as he stood, stuck a hand in his pocket to appear nonchalant. He grabbed the radio and headed inside. The rest he'd retrieve ten minutes later, when the neighbor would be forced to answer to his mother.

As he entered, Y/N emerged from the bathroom. His feet stumbled to a stop, his brain blanked. She'd shed her clothing and now stood nude before him. His stomach again went all aflutter.

"Let's repeat all that as soon as we can.” She curled her fingers around his wrist, not giving him a moment to resist. “By candlelight. In our bed."

~~~~~

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[kitsunesakii]

Flower Shop.

Printer issues, Lunch date, ur here, The Stranger- pt2, Pt.3, pt.4, Spider in the Dark, Two is better than One, next part?

Sasha normally spent her off days at home. Every once in a while she’d yield to Tim’s attempts at getting her a date at some bar but she mostly just went with him since he was a movie’s worth of entertainment and kept her laughing. She wasn’t impartial to him coaxing her out of her apartment but she also appreciated the simplicity of sitting on the couch and reading a good book. This saturday hadn’t been one of those days.

Sasha had woken up and noted that she lacked any ingredients for breakfast, she was out of her usual produce options, her stash of tea was empty and she was out of cat food. She sighed and prepared for a chore day.

The morning air was brisk and the breeze cut through her core as she made her way through the farmers market. She picked out fresh tomatoes, some home grown spices, a wicked looking necklace that the seller claimed was made out of seashells and a fresh loaf of sourdough bread. After nearly dropping the bag and spilling all of the continents she managed to secure it over her shoulder and she walked to the convenience store just down the street.

There, she bought milk and eggs as well as sweetener. Sasha stared at the isles in contemplation, wishing she had just made a list, before giving up and paying for the three items. If she was quick she could at least make it home to turn on the tv and watch her favorite show.

It wasn’t long after putting away her groceries when she got a message from Jon. Something about a statement that he was following up and locations and hacking. Sasha stifled a groan as she begrudgingly agreed to meet him out on the corner of Jamesnrowe. Once met up with Jon Sasha followed him to what was supposed to be a women’s house who gave a statement about Jane Prentiss. Jon had apologized and informed her that Martin wouldn’t answer his phone and Tim had yelled at him to take the weekend. Sasha sarcastically thanked Jon for remembering she was also in his contact list.

The actual house was obviously abandoned, and when she tried to use her phone to look up information about the house all she got was decommissioned, infestation, and uninhabitable. She had the slight awareness that this might have been a trap of some sort. But nothing came out to greet them and when Jon convinced her to follow him into a slightly open window there was nothing waiting for them inside. Thankfully. If Jon had gotten her killed on a weekend she’d be very angry. It ended up being a wasted four hours and Sasha had been sure that the only way to get Jon out of the building would have been at gunpoint, but finally he relented. It wasn’t all bad, on the walk to the bus stop she managed to get a small laugh out of her boss. It was nice to see him off of his usual edge since he was out of that damned building. That institute was surely a cancer and she wasn’t all too pleased to watch it kill Jon slowly.

She got off of the bus at Baker street, a pleasant street not too far from anything and having a pleasant array of shops and scenery to keep a small crowd entertained. By now it was close to sunset and the light breeze drilled the cold air into her skin. Usually she only traveled this street in the daytime, when all the shops were open and the sunlight was kind. Even so, it held a nice atmosphere, fairy lights had been strung up in the rows of trees and a small street performer was playing gentle violin music somewhere nearby. She got in line to a food cart, something hot was sure to help her right now. Sasha watched the people walking the street. A man and a woman sat laughing, their faces illuminated by the streetlight and a cornershop promising baked goods. An old couple, well into their marriage by the way the woman held the man’s arm and walked with a gentle sway, seemed to be headed in a needless direction. Simply enjoying the sights as they came. Sasha watched as across the street a woman walked a large German Shepherd out in front of the flower shop. She stopped to light a cigarette and the dog barked at a tall fellow with long blond hair who was looking over the flowers. He was bathed in a green light coming from inside the shop and it illuminated the patterns on his coat.

Sasha blinked. Was that- she looked closer, noting the spotted scarf blowing in the breeze and the lines, shapes, and patterns in his multicolored coat. Micheal was looking at flowers. His hair stretched and curled around him, the edges blurring with the air around him, seemingly fading out and then back in. Sasha vaguely remembered him holding flowers the first time they spoke.

She glanced back at the inevitably long wait ahead and instead popped out of line and quickly crossed the street.

It only occurred to her mildly that he might not want company, and the thought caused her to slow down to a lazy walk as she approached the flower shop. The closer she got the clearer she could see the flowers he was examining. They were lilies, although she wasn’t the best at differentiating flowers but her mother had a patch of lilies in her garden when she was younger. He was tracing his thumb against the petal and she watched the flower stretch and grow to reach him. They were a brilliant orange that turned deep pink the further out they went. Some of the other petals seemed to have been tampered with as well, left amalgamated together and swimming with spots that seemed to move slightly. The flowers to the left of them had also been blurred together like a static image. Melting into each other and creating new colors Sasha was sure didn’t exist. They were gorgeous, and she found herself easily distracted by the moving patterns and colors in front of her to the point she hadn’t noticed when he moved, she noticed when he spoke though.

“Hello.” He said simply, still looking at the blooming patterns spreading over the petals.

When she turned to face him, she swore he looked sad. Like some tragedy had just played out and the only correct response was to cry.

“Hey.” She wasn’t sure what to say.

He gestured to the bundle of distorted flowers. “You see just another monster breaking yet another beautiful thing?”

Her eyes shot up at his words. Searching in his spiralling eyes for any glimmer of what laid beneath. “No.” She looked back at the flowers, a different type, she assumed daisies, had bled into the lilies, the petals turning white on the edges and spiralling inwards. “You haven’t broken anything.” To punctuate her point, Sasha carefully picked up the bundle of flowers and took them and him into the shop over to the cashier. She ignored the look of horror on the girl’s face and paid for the flowers, leading Micheal back outside before holding them out to him, daring to smile. “Just because something changes, doesn’t make it broken.”

Micheal stared at the bundle being held out to him for a moment before the slight look of surprise melted and he let out a laugh that ricocheted off of the surrounding shops. His laughter landed softly as a sigh as he took the flowers, Sasha noticing the tears in his eyes. They disappeared when she blinked.

He followed her through the chilly night air towards a hot chocolate cart.

“I do not like the cold.” Micheal said after a moment.

“Why not?”

The sadness was in his eyes again, in his smile. “It is unkind.”

“Oh?”

He nodded towards the flowers. “It takes the innocent things.”

Sasha considered the flowers he was holding. “It didn’t take those.” She smiled and he smiled back.

She ordered a cup of hot chocolate and wrapped her hands around the mug, the warmth highlighting the cold around her and causing her to shudder slightly. She wasn't nearly as well dressed for the occasion as Micheal was.

“Sasha?”

“Yes Micheal?”

“You are cold.”

“Ah,” She shrugged, “I’m alright, just a little-”

“Here.” In one fluid motion that she was sure shouldn’t be possible Micheal unwrapped his scarf and rewrapped it around her neck. Giggling to himself when it covered over her nose and using a single long finger to pull the fabric down below her chin. He tipped his head and moved the remainder of the scarf to sit over her shoulder, his eyes glazed over when he smiled, satisfied. “There.”

She moved her hands up to her neck. Feeling the soft fabric of the scarf. It didn’t look like a singular texture, more like something someone stitched together crudely, but it was as soft as cotton and warm. It reminded her of something homemade and loved. It tingled slightly against her skin, as if it was an extension of Micheal’s form. She chuckled and looked back up at him. “Thank you.”

They continued on. Sasha wasn’t entirely sure where they were going, she, wrapped snugly in a scarf that wasn’t hers and holding a hot cup of chocolate between her fingers and Micheal, wearing a symphony of colors on his coat and distorted flowers held prettily in his hands. Sasha was sure they were prettier than before. The silence buzzed loosely around them as they passed other people making their way in and out of shops. The music from the violinist echoed in her ears as they passed by. It was nice. His arm brushed against hers and it just made her smile a little wider, not missing the small giggle that echoed close and yet somewhere far away.

Eventually they made their way to the bus stop where a bus had just pulled in. Sasha watched as a few people got off. She turned to Micheal and smiled, sitting down her half empty mug.

“Here.” She carefully removed the scarf and he leaned down slightly to allow her to drape it loosely over his shoulders. “Thank you again.” She noted that his smile was no longer sad.

Micheal hummed and pulled out a singular flower from the mess and held it out to her. His words were shy as he repeated what she said earlier. “Not everything that changes is broken.”

She took the flower and spun it lightly between her index finger and thumb. “And sometimes, the innocent things outlast the cold.”

“Sometimes.” Micheal echoed, and she got onto the bus.

[lovesickonmybed]

some nights they get so bad you almost pick up the phone | (3/?)

chapter two | masterlist

eddie munson x OC | word count - 3025

summary | a surprise visit at work leads to a drunk phone call

warnings | violence, swearing, underage drinking, abandonment, allusions to self harm and child abuse, sexual content, and dark thoughts.

a/n | this chapter got really dark so sorry in advance. listen to g.i.n.a.s.f.s. by fall out boy while reading.

taglist | @lelenikki , @bimbobaggins69

I wake up falling out of my bed as my alarm clock goes off. Fuck. I totally forgot I worked today. I peel myself up off the floor and turn off my alarm clock. I grab a patchwork button down and a pair of dark blue jeans to wear to work today. I go to my bathroom and put my hair into two braids and do some light makeup. I work at a bookstore two miles from my apartment and I bike to work every shift. I grab my bike lock and put it into my backpack along with my wallet and my cassette player and headphones. I put some tapes in my bag too. I grab my blue bike helmet and start biking to work. On my way there a car pulls up near me, keeping the same speed. The passenger throws something at me but thankfully I dodge it, they yell, “SLUT!” before speeding off. “What the actual fuck?” I mumble to myself as I keep biking. I arrive at work with no more incidents and lock my bike up outside the shop. 

I walk inside and greet my manager before putting my stuff up in the back and grabbing my name tag. My job is usually pretty quiet, a majority of the people who come in are looking for a book for school or are some nice more nerdy types who want some recommendations. It’s clearly going to be slow today so I tune the radio to the rock station and grab a copy of Carrie by Stephen King. I've read it like a million times but it never gets old. I hum along to the radio until my boss brings me some books to re-shelve. I take the cart and start going around to re-shelve the books. I’m in the romance section when I feel myself get shoved back against the shelves. The air is knocked out of me and a hand covers my mouth. I open my eyes and I’m face to face with Billy Hargrove. Shit.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart? Because I sure missed you,” He smirks.

Panic rises in me, and my palms sweat, my hands beginning to shake. My eyes are wide with fear and my brows furrow with worry. Billy has his hand on my hip pinning me to the shelf, I can already tell it’ll bruise. I speak despite his hand covering my mouth, “Y-You’re hurting me, Billy,” My words muffled by his hand.

“I know I am. Y’know, it wasn’t very nice of you and that freak to humiliate me like that, sweetheart,” he says before removing his hand from my mouth. He plays with my hair, twirling it around before sharply tugging on it. I wince in pain and squeeze my eyes shut. 

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t know he was going to do that, I swear!” I try to defend myself.

He shoves me back harder, my head coming into contact with the shelf painfully, I groan in pain and rub the back of my head. 

“I honestly don’t give a shit, I need you to give your little lover boy a message for me. Can your pathetic little brain handle that, sweetheart?” He asks.

“He doesn't even like me. Why don’t you tell him yourself?” I spit back.

He grabs my hair at the root and holds it tightly and painfully, “You’re going to give him the message or I’ll make your sad excuse of a life even worse than it already is, got it bitch?”

Tears prick my eyes as I nod, “G-Got it.”

He smiles wide, “Good. Tell him that if he ever fucks with me like that again I’ll carve up more than his locker next time. Maybe next time it’ll be you, sweetheart.” 

My breath hitches in my throat and I gulp, “I-I’ll tell him.”

“Good, I would hate to hurt a pretty little thing like you,” he smirks before walking off. 

I don’t relax until I hear him leave through the shop door. I run to the bathroom to fix my hair and makeup, and to see how my hip is doing. When I look in the mirror, my jaw drops in shock. I have mascara running down my face and my hair is messy as hell. I fix my hair and wipe off the tears. Then I go into a stall to look at my hip, there’s already a small bruise forming from how hard he was grabbing me. “Fuck…” I mumble. I lay my head back against the stall wall and sigh.

I walk out of the bathroom and make a beeline to my manager, “Hey um, I hate to ask, but can I use the office phone for a personal call? It’s really really important, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”

He looks at me with concern but nods, “Of course Viv, go ahead, honey.” I thank him and then head into the office and dial the number I’ve had memorized for years. My mouth goes dry as it rings, it goes on for a while and I worry he might not pick up. But finally he does.

“Munson residence, what is so damn important that you have to interrupt my campaign?”

I’m too nervous to speak at first but I stutter out, “P-Please don’t hang up. Billy just came to my work and I-”

“Vivian? What the fuck are you calling me for?” He whisper yells into the phone.

“Please, just let me explain! I wouldn’t call you just for shits and giggles. Billy just came into my work and told me to tell you that if you fuck with him again, then he’s gonna carve up more than just your locker. He threatened me too and thanks to him I’ve got a pounding headache and bruise on my hip,” I rant.

I hear Eddie sigh into the phone, “Seriously?”

“Why would I make something like this up? I can come over and show you the bruise myself!”

“I don’t want to see you,” Eddie says abruptly.

I say nothing back; I don’t even know what to say. I feel tears welling up in my eyes again.

“J-Just watch your back…you know what he’s capable of. Okay?” I say before hanging up, my voice wavering as I speak. It’s clear in my voice that I’m on the verge of tears. I collect myself before going back out and thanking my manager for letting me use the phone.

I go back to restocking the shelves and keep my eye out for anyone else who plans on coming in to fuck with me. I’m on edge the whole day, I spend my entire lunch break in the back to avoid everyone. I continue to read Carrie as I eat my lunch. She’s always been one of my favorite book characters. I relate to her anger and her isolation. Whenever I read the book, I feel protective over her, if people treated me like that everyday I’d snap too. 

When I go back out after my lunch I notice the store is pretty busy, I help customers find books and ring them up once I help them make their selections. The rest of my shift is pretty busy as I assist customers and re-shelve books. Finally, at 7pm my shift is over and I grab my stuff out of the back before saying bye to my manager for the night. As I unlock my bike, I see my back tire is slashed. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I yell. I kick the post that’s nearby and regret it immediately as sharp pain shoots through my foot. “FUCK!” 

I gather myself and start walking back home with my bike in the dark. I stay far off from the road so I don’t risk getting hit. I take an hour to walk back home and when I get home, I’m a sweaty pissed off mess. I lock my bike up even though I know nobody is gonna steal it with a giant fucking hole in the tire. I swear if I knew how I’d put a goddamn hex on Billy Hargrove. 

“Mom! I’m home!” I yell as I walk into the apartment. I set my bike helmet by the door and unpack my backpack. My mom isn’t home like I had hoped she was. I see a note on the fridge and sigh. ‘Going to be gone for a week, I left money for Pizza. Aunt Gina is sick.’ I groan and grab the money off the counter to order some pizza. I call and place an order before getting comfortable on the couch and turning on a horror movie, I’m cuddled up into a blanket when the phone rings. It scares the shit out of me and I go flying off the couch. Horror movies may not scare me too badly but loud sounds definitely do. Once I get up off the floor, I run to the phone to answer.

“Hello?”

“Viv?” Holy shit, it’s a voice I haven’t heard in forever. Veronica Ecker has called me.

“Y-Yeah? Um yeah it’s me, it’s Viv,” I ramble.

“I don’t know what the hell happened last night but stay away from Eddie. He’s talking about Billy Hargrove having it out for him and I swear to god if you don’t get that asshole to back off of Eddie then I’ll have it out for you!” Before I can even try to respond she slams the phone down, hanging it up immediately. I groan and pull at my hair. 

“How do I manage to make everyone in Hawkins hate me, jesus fucking christ?!” I throw myself back down onto the couch and scream into a pillow until I can feel my rage subside. I get up off the couch and make my way over to the liquor cabinet and thank the lord that my mom doesn’t care if I drink. I make a rum and coke that’s definitely more rum than anything and drink it as I watch the movie, waiting for the pizza to arrive. I don’t know how I fucked things up so young, if I hadn’t gone to seek revenge over something so stupid I still could’ve had friends, could’ve actually had Eddie by now, instead I have a bottle of rum and a lonely ache that fills my bones. Sometimes I wonder if my dad had known how badly of a fuck up I’d be and that’s why he left, maybe I was already a fuck up as a kid. My grades weren’t great, I didn’t have many friends, I guess he knew I’d never get better, I’d just be a loser forever. I inherited his eyes, his anger, his love for the bottle. I wonder if he ever felt like this, if he left because he felt he wasn’t good enough. My mom never gave me his actual reason so I let my mind wander. I wonder if life is always this empty, this lonely, this cruel. I go to take another sip of my drink but the doorbell rings. Pizza’s here. 

Most nights when I plan to get drunk I unplug my phone from the wall, I don’t trust myself to not call somebody I shouldn’t, but Eddie hates me even more now, Billy Hargrove wants me dead, and me simply leaving my house is social suicide so it’s not like I have much left to fuck up. I let myself stop caring, stuffing my face with pizza and washing it down with rum, not exactly my dream combination but who cares. With half the bottle gone it doesn’t take long for me to pick up the phone. My anger seeps out when I drink, but so does my sadness. I dial Eddie’s phone number; I know he’ll be up, he always is at this hour. The phone rings and rings until he finally picks up.

“Munson residence, who the fuck is calling at 2am?” He answers, angrily. 

I smirk, I love that I’ve pissed him off, “Hey Eds. Miss me yet?” I laugh into the phone, taking another swig from the bottle.

“Jesus christ, what the hell do you want?” He asks. I know he’s rolling his eyes, I’m shocked he didn’t hang up as soon as he heard me honestly.

“Well, your good friend Ronnie called me up earlier. She didn’t sound too happy with me, thinks I sicked Hargrove on you like some junkyard dog. You didn’t tell her what a gentleman you were at the lake?” I tease. I’m fed up, I can’t hide it anymore. I’m angry at him, I’m angry at Billy, I’m angry at everyone.

“She called you?” He sounds confused.

“Yeah. Why don’t you tell her to get her fucking facts straight before threatening me, we both know I could take her in a fight anyway,” I’m slurring my words letting whatever pops into my head simply spill out of my mouth.

“Fuck,” he sighs, “Viv, are you drunk right now?” 

“So what if I am? I’ve got nothing better to do right now and rum doesn’t taste too bad after a few sips,” I giggle. 

Eddie sighs into the phone again, “How much have you had tonight?”

“Jesus christ, what are you my dad? Y’all both left anyway,” I mumble that last part.

Eddie goes silent. 

“Sorry,” I hiccup. I feel sad again, I know I said something I shouldn’t have.

“Why’d you call me, Viv?” He asks softly.

“I don’t know…I don’t…” My voice trails off.

“I’m sorry, that Ronnie threatened you,” he says. 

“It’s fine, I deserved it. It’s my fault we’re even in this shit. I shouldn’t have taken that dare,” I say sadly, I take another sip and curl into myself on the couch.

“It’s not your fault. Billy got what he deserved, well less than what he actually deserves. I made the choice to help you, I don’t regret it.”

I furrow my brows in confusion, “Why not? You haven’t spoken to me since the first day of Junior year. You hate my fucking guts, Eds.”

“No, I don’t. I-I…it’s all complicated, okay?” He sounds genuine, he sounds soft, it confuses me.

“You should. You should hate me. I-I’m a fucking disaster, I-I…I’m a shitty friend, I’m selfish, I’m angry…so goddamn angry all the time. I don’t like my friends, or well, ex-friends now I guess since they’re all groupies for that mullet wearing fuck. They’re so mean to you and your Hellfire friends, I-I try to get them to stop but they don’t care what I have to say…I-I could’ve tried harder to stop it, but I didn’t I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry I slept with Tommy too. I just…when I saw you that night with Nicole I couldn’t take it. She was so fucking cruel to me…and you…you slept with her anyway, you let her take your goddamned virginity Eddie! Why? Huh? God, I know she was your type but you couldn’t have picked someone else? Literally anybody-fucking-else!” I yell into the phone, letting my anger get the best of me. There are tears running down my face as I’m brought back to that night.

“I’m sorry for yelling, I’m sorry for calling you. I-I should go…” I mutter.

“Don’t! J-Just stay on the phone with me, okay? You shouldn’t be alone like this,” he says.

I cry harder, “I shouldn’t be with you when I’m like this either…I talk too much, let too much out. I should keep it in, keep the peace…”

“Fuck that, let it out. You’ve got a lot you wanna say to me, right? Go ahead, let me have it,” He chuckles into the phone.

“I try not to be angry in front of other people, I’ve got my fathers temper y’know…” I laugh dryly, wiping away my tears.

“I’m not much better and you know that, I can take it,” he replies.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“But I will, so start talking.”

“Why’d you fuck her, Eds?” I ask, laying back on the couch and waiting for a response.

“Do you want to know the truth?” He sounds hesitant.

“I wouldn’t want anything else.”

“I…I thought that if I slept with her, if I let her get her story for her friends, that she’d lay off you. I didn’t like her…at all…and she was awful in bed, by the way.”

I laugh into the phone, “Was she really?”

“The worst, I swear she thought porn was the standard, I thought I’d have to gag her because of how over the top her moans were,” he laughs.

“Fuck…Tommy wasn’t good either. Well…I mean I didn’t really get to feel if he would’ve been or not…fuck I can’t believe I’m telling you this but, he umm,” I snort with laughter at the memory, “He was fucking my thighs the whole time thinking it was my vagina.”

I hear Eddie fall off of his couch and howl with laughter, he takes a good minute to catch his breath, “S-So you’re telling me that he didn’t even fuck you? Like…he just fucked your thighs like some virgin who’s never taken an anatomy class or been with a woman?” He laughs.

“Pretty much.”

“Holy shit…the other guys you’ve been with, I mean there had to be more than just Tommy, they’ve made you cum right?” He asks. 

I bite my lip and run my hands through my hair, “Like two of them have, yeah.”

“Not enough guys are getting you off correctly, you need someone who knows what they’re doing…” He’s doing his DM voice, the voice that had me clenching my thighs every time he’d speak at a session.

“Y-Yeah…” My mouth feels dry, my face is hot, and there’s a familiar ache between my thighs.

“Fuck it’s getting late, get some sleep, you’re gonna have a wicked hangover tomorrow,” Eddie sighs.

“Shit, don’t remind me,” I groan.

He laughs and the ache between my thighs gets even worse, “Seriously though, get some sleep…I’m glad you called me.”

I could scream, I never thought I’d hear him say that, “Yeah…me too…goodnight, Eddie.”

“Goodnight, Viv.”

[chellesdump]

Fluffy Days and Warm Feelings - JeongHyo

"Jeongyeon knew that Jihyo wouldn't go down without a fight since the girl just couldn't stay still for more than five minutes, so she devised a plan to get the toddler down for a much-needed nap. The main objective get her as comfy as possible to win the fight against the sleepy toddler "

word count ─ 1.5k

tags ─ little! jihyo, toddler hyo is my fave hyo, cg! jeongyeon, autumn, leaves, stubborn toddlers, cuteness

notes ─ This is for the Comfy prompt, i also want jeong to cuddle me to sleep i swear i won't be a pain in the butt and will go down easily. So please enjoy :3

The girls had just arrived from their latest schedule from Japan, they were tired after a month of constant work and were in dire need of some rest, so everyone was more than eager to get out of the airport and go home. 

While they were waiting for their luggage Jihyo went toward Jeongyeon, she was so tired that she leaned against the older girl closing her eyes just for a moment (she swears it was just while her luggage came through the Baggage Carrousel), but was shaken into consciousness by Jeong talking to her “Hyo wake up! We need to get moving or they are abandoning us” said Jeongyeon shaking her arm so Jihyo would straighten up and start walking.

“No, wait! My bags! I need to get them!” yelled Jihyo trying to walk back to the carousel but was stopped by some hands, “I already got your bags, they are with mine. So stop worrying and let's go” assured her the elder before guiding her with a hand on her back. Throwing a glance at the cart Jeong was pushing and distinguishing her bags she started walking alongside Jeong, thankful for her shades so no one would see her drowsy eyes.

Once they had reached the vans that would take them home, Jihyo and Jeongyeon boarded the same one, they waved goodbye to all the onces that went to greet them back into the country and made their way home. As soon as the vans started moving Hyo reclined her seat and went back to sleep, sleeping all the way home was just what she needed for all the work she had just gone through.

Jihyo woke to a familiar voice, but it wasn’t one she was expecting to hear, she should have woken to a manager's voice but instead, the voice belonged to Jeongyeon, it was always nice to hear Jeongie’s voice when she was sleepy… BUT WHY WAS JEONGYEON AT HER HOUSE? The trip always meant that they left Jeong at her house and then they would take Jihyo to hers.

She let Jeong know about her train of thought and was just told that she wished to spend some time with her, that was a good enough answer and she accepted it, throwing her arms up signaling that she wanted to be picked up. Jeong gave in and picked Hyo up placing her on her hip, the manager helped them take all the luggage to the apartment and bid goodbye, Hyo was clearly regressed, that was apparent to anyone given that she was all snuggly with Jeong.

But the moment they got really into the place she demanded to be put down, “Put Hyo down p’ease. Needa do somethin’” said Jihyo wiggling her body to transmit her message even further, once Jeong let her down she was quick to grab her bags and rolled them to her room. Jeongyeon followed the regressed girl to see what she was doing and found her putting her dirty clothes away into the hamper and the clean on the closet, all with sluggish movements that demonstrated how tired she really was.

“Hyo leave that, you can do it another time, right now you are almost asleep sorting the clothes. How about we go and lay on your bed while watching some movie or show?” asked Jeong taking away the suitcases and pushing them away, trying to guide Hyo to her room but the little one escaped and went toward the kitchen. Between huffs, she said, “Jeongie no! Hyo busy, no bed! Me work, no tired. No need sleep” The last thing was said between yawns, showing the contrary to what was said.

Knowing how stubborn Jihyo is, in and out of her headspace, Jeong tried to come up with a plan to get her to relax and possibly fall asleep again, but she couldn’t think of anything until a wild idea struck her. She was not sure her idea would work out but she needed to try or else Hyo could hurt herself since she was doing diverse things without being fully aware of what she was doing or her surroundings.

The first step was to prepare some food so Jihyo would stop for a little, if just to eat that would give enough time to prepare the next steps of her plan and hopefully get the little girl down for a nap. Jeong made some kaljebi, rice, kimchi jjigae, and some mandu, she knew Jihyo wouldn’t be able to ignore the food and would come quickly at the smell of it, just like predicted once all the smells had combined and reached the little girl she came toddling into the room asking about them.

She sends the girl to wash her hands while she serves her a portion of everything, once both of them get their plates served they start eating, in the middle of the meal Jeong excused herself to the bathroom where the second step of her plan was going to start. This next step consisted of drawing a warm bubble bath, Hyo would certainly end up sticky from the meal combined with the work she had been doing before, and Jeong knew she would like the idea of the bath waiting for her, she let it fill slowly to have time to finish the meal and guide Hyo back there.

When Jihyo announced she was finished, Jeong turned to face her and faked surprise at finding her cheeks smeared with food, “Baby…” started saying but was interrupted by a “No a baby”, “Sorry my bad, Hyo why don’t you go and take a bath? You are all dirty and sticky, wouldn’t a bath be just perfect right now?” the elder said all this while taking Hyo’s hand and leading her to the bathroom.

Hyo made her Mommy go out of the room since she was big enough to bathe herself - Thank you so much -, this made the next step of Jeong’s plan be able to proceed, for this step, she laid down a fluffy pajama set that Jihyo loved wearing when she is tiny, some fluffy socks and a soft blanket - leaving a pull up on a side of the bed in case she felt tinier by the time she had got out of the bath-.

Hyo got frustrated around the halftime point of her bath since she couldn’t seem to latter her hair and she couldn’t scrub her body either, so she asked for help begrudgingly but remembered a moment later that her Mommy always told her that asking for help is a big girl thing, so she felt calmer. Jeongyeon reentered the bathroom at the sound of Hyo yelling, “Mommy p’ease help?”, she got scared thinking the little had fallen but thankfully only needed help getting clean, she was careful to do everything slowly and gently to help Hyo relax.

When she was out and clean, it was clear that Hyo had slipped just a little bit more into a younger toddler headspace and was clearly fighting to remain awake, so she let her Mommy guide her into the bedroom, wait a minute -when had she started referring to her as Mommy and not Jeong anymore? Who cares, Mommy is so soft and Jihyo likes that- thought the toddler getting on the bed to let her Mommy get her dressed.

“Hyo baby do you want to wear big girl underwear or a pull-up? It’s just in case, you don’t need to wear it if you don’t wanna do it.” said her Mommy while she was drying her and putting lotion on her tired body, she nodded, it was just in case her bladder betrayed her when trying to reach the potty. When she was dressed Mommy told her to turn around on the bed and let her brush her hair to keep the tangles out, she did as told, asking for braids in her hair since Mommy was so great doing her hair ever so gently.

The repetitive motion of the brush and later the fingers of Jeongyeon was making the toddler ever so sleepy, she was nodding off but quickly shaking herself awake since she wasn’t supposed to fall asleep, she *yawn* needed to get back to work but Mommy’s fingers were lulling her and then Mommy started talking to her about how she needed her opinion about something.

This was the last step of Jeongyeon’s plan, talking about random things to Hyo since she was aware that her voice helped her fall asleep, she asked her for her opinion on a song she was writing. She made the toddler lay down beside her once her braids were done, since they were talking she knew Hyo wouldn’t object to laying down under a soft blanket holding her special owl plush that had been gifted to her by Nayeon.

The speaking and later singing voice of her Mommy’s voice made Hyo fall asleep cuddling on top of her Mommy’s chest. Her breathing, her calm heartbeats, and the calm voice that was humming and singing were so soothing that she let sleep win the battle against her, she let her thumb gravitate to her lips where it stayed for a couple of minutes until Mommy took it out, she was about to whine her protests but soon tha missing feeling was replaced by her pacifier, finally feeling as comfy as it could get.

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

20 Questions - Fanfic Writer Edition

I was tagged by both @writer-or-whatever and @jmrothwell so I suppose I better do it 😅 Thanks guys!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 42 (*gasp* am I Miles Morales?)

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 1,265,660 lol

3. What fandoms do you write for? currently just Spider-Man but I used to write for Supernatural and before that Harry Potter. I'm a one obsession at a time kinda girl.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Paradise (spread out with a butter knife) - 72k spideypool soulmates au

Don't Freak Out - 136k parkner rivals to lovers speedrun

A Peach Like You - 73k parkner featuring autistic!peter, loveatfirstsight!harley, and a cringe self insert as the villain of the week lmao

The Distance Between (You and Me) - 29k parkner bodyguard au

You're Freaking Out - 166k sequel to DFO featuring plot (wow!) and Miles (yay!)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

My dudes I try. I know I'm not very consistent and I have a tendency to disappear for months at a time, but I read and cherish each one.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really do angsty endings lol I think the closest I've gotten is Lay Me Down - 8k destiel major character death--lowest kudosed fic out of all 42 lmao

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is an impossible question. I am like the queen of happy endings? You want me to rank them??? Fine, it's You're Freaking Out. Best 10k epilogue in the land. Oh hey also I just noticed it has 997 kudos. May I humbly request 3 more pretty please?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No. Closest was when someone complained on one of my destiel fics about the grocery store not having plastic bags and needing a quarter in order to obtain a cart. I specifically remember they said, "I hate when writers do this," and went on to complain about us making up obviously fake stuff that pulls them out of the story. Like, first of all you're complaining about storytellers making stuff up ??? okay. And second, it was an Aldi. A real grocery store. That I didn't make up.

I had to take a day to cool off before I responded and then they were like oh yeah, my roommate told me when I complained to them, you responded to this really nicely though! WHICH folks LET ME TELL YOU made me angrier lol Like you found out you were wrong and didn't even come back to edit/delete/apologize for your comment???

Anyway after that I internalized that you don't know what kind of lived experience your commenters have so some comments should be taken with a grain of salt. Which is a double-edged sword bc sometimes I get really nice enthusiastic comments and read it like, okay but what if this person is 12 and read it at 2am in a fit of delirium and this is their first fic ever and it's actually not as good as they think haha

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I doooo. I haven't published any since I wrote for spn but I have a parkner pwp ready to go as soon as I muster up the nerve.

I have no idea how to interpret the question "what kind" lol uhhh the hot kind? pffft

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have but I never published them. Again, these were for spn which is hella fun to play with merging into other canon. I started but never finished spn crossovers with Firefly, The 100, The Hunger Games, Criminal Minds, Agents of Shield, and Teen Wolf. I think that's all of them. I've been thinking about putting all of my abandoned wips on AO3 for archive purposes, but idk still noodling on it. I wish there way a way I could elect to post without notifying my subscribers :/ Or at least send them a message warning them that I'm about to be incredibly annoying

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of 🙃

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!! A few now! The ultimate kudo in my opinion, and one I never expected <3

The wonderful @bluettspetal has translated An Insignificant Problem, Undercover? I thought you said under covers..., and Completely and utterly devoid of sex appeal into Russian with plans to translate more.

And Faaayeee42 on AO3 translated Paradise (spread out with a butter knife) to Mandarin Chinese.

I'm forever blown away by this.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! Done some brainstorming a few times but nothing that has evolved into actually writing out a shared thing. Not sure I'd be any good at it tbh. I'd probably be a very frustrating writing partner.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Peter Parker/Harley Keener. They're good boys.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

My Infinity War time travel fix it (make it worse) fic 😔 It's got so much potential but it is perpetually at the bottom of the to-do list.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and developing relationships

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

mother fucking action sequences and like, coming up with The Plan (the evil kind and the ones to take down the evil kind)

This silly little graphic I made for You're Freaking Out where Harley mocks The Plan made by the spider dumplin gang was initially one half of my brain negging the other half about being shit at making Plans and I decided that it might as well manifest as the characters lmao

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Eh. It's fanfiction, you know? Do what you want. Experiment. Try your best to do it justice. Accept that some people are going to let their eyes blur and skim over it while others will pick it apart but most will exist somewhere in the middle. Just write what you want to write, how you want to write it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

*sigh* Harry Potter. Looking forward to my own post getting gobbled up by my block list lmao

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Goodness gracious how do I even decide? I think Peaches Ain't Pretty is my favorite. It's the fic that showed me beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can step outside of fanfiction and write whatever I want and be just as satisfied, if not more.

[emotigonecreative]

Kalor Session 9

The party fight the strange shadow creatures, finding that Lillian’s radiant power is the most effective against the monsters. Lydia tries to hold their own but when they try to use their magic it surges wildly, summoning a unicorn instead of the spell they wanted. Lydia rolls with it, trying to get the unicorn, who declares themselves as Gwain, to work with them to fight the creatures. It begrudgingly obliges,much to Lillian’s delight as the unicorn takes a shining to her. Lydia locates the source of the disturbance—a shadow stone in a well— and with the stone nullified the party is able to defeat the remaining shadows.

When the party compares the stone to the one Lumivarax found in the Sassaran ruins it’s remarkably similar— almost identical— and when Aknadin takes one to inspect it he surprises the party by turning its powers on them. He is surprised when the party is seemingly unaffected, until they all realize Buberry’s eyes are glowing a sickening purple as he turns his bow on them. Aknadin uses the distraction to escape, holding the stone and producing a strange dark portal that whisks him away. With Aknadin gone, Buberry returns to normal, with no memories of what happened. 

The party, hoping to somehow pursue Aknadin, investigate the remaining stone. They are unable to discern its nature, determining it is neither arcane nor divine, but discover that channeling magic into it causes it to teleport the user an undetermined amount of space in any direction, as Lydia and Victor test it on land, and Vanth and Lillian test it in the sky. They learn that it seems to work through shadows as the further they teleport, the more they glimpse a strange darkness enveloping them.  The tests come to an end when Buberry and Lydia try to teleport thinking of home, the astral plane, instead winding up in a shadow dimension and catching sight of a strange creature they can’t identify.

They quickly teleport back and Victor wonders if this strange stone is related to rumors he heard of the Sessaran Empire and their ability to appear and disappear armies. He concludes it’s almost certainly the reason for the disturbances in Trost, with accounts describing the same shadows.

They are gearing up to leave as Robert returns, having been lost in the tunnels as they tried to escape the guards. He was able to smuggle their things out of the city, notably their cart, and is shocked to learn that Aknadin betrayed them and escaped. They gather up whatever animals and supplies they find in the abandoned village, leaving a warning of the shadow creatures for any travelers who happen upon the place.  Lillian finds a small altar of Sol and prays over the lost souls, while Victor sets up a headstone for the lives lost to the uncontained magic of the stone.

Disguising themselves as peasants to avoid attention the party takes to the road heading to Augustine, setting up camp off the path in the tree line as Lydia uses their magic on the earth to conceal them and their carts from passerby. As the rest of the party settles down, preparing their gear and hunting for food, Vanth quietly slips away, spotting her silver raven returning with a message from Corvus noting they will meet in person. 

During the night, the party spots a caravan of knights and a carriage bearing the emblem of the royal house. Captain of the Guard, Vinick, is surprised when they approach, admitting the King has been searching for them.The King himself emerges from the carriage and inquires about Aknadin, expressing concern but not surprise at his betrayal.

Vanth, Lydia, Lumivarax, Victor, and Robert enter the King’s carriage to discuss what transpired in Dito as the rest of the party keep watch— wary of another betrayal. The party explains the situation, and the King explains the Lumber permits that caused him to be cursed by the fey were signed with Aknadin’s name. 

The King mentions bringing this information to the Arbiter Council, but Victor refuses, telling the King he shouldn’t trust the guilds. He and the party explain their suspicions about Reynard, the warning from Jace, and the King reveals that it was Aknadin that pushed the idea to start excavating the Sessaran ruins in Trost. When the King brings up the long-ago death of the crown prince, drowned at the tender age of eight in one of the castle ponds, the party speculates that perhaps Aknadin has always been working against the crown. Victor wonders if Aknadin also had a hand in the death of Jace and the Istirian ambassador. 

 He asks the party what he can do to help them get to the bottom of this, and they express interest in records on the Filodaxi's history. Vanth gives the King her silver raven statue so he can send them what he finds. He also mentions an inert stone on Aknadin’s desk, dark and crystalline, and the party asks the King to look into it as well.

The king promises to give them what he can, and with that they exit the carriage and the King returns to Augustine with his retinue.

Back in Augustine, the city is on high alert, so the party uses forged documents to pass as merchants. Robert sets up his ship, and Lydia accompanies him while Buberry scouts the city. Meanwhile Victor visits the church to seek information about Filodaxi from a priest named Christopher.

With his mule safely aboard the ship Lydia leaves Robert to his work and tracks down Lillian and Vanth, while Buberry meets up with Lumivarax to find a seedier market to pawn off the remaining spoils from their mission in Trost. 

Soup finds the magic shop with Lillian and Vanth as they try to re-up their supplies, but when he calls out to her the shopkeeper recognizes Lillian’s name and begins alerting the guards. In a panicked response, Lydia’s magic surges again, accidentally casting Magic Missile at 5th level, killing the shopkeeper and three others, and leaving one person grievously injured. Five guards immediately converge on them, and Lydia decides they might as well get the supplies they came for and begins looting the store as chaos ensues.

[digitaldetoxworld]

Top 10 Shopify Marketing Strategies to Skyrocket Your Sales in 2025"

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"Effective Shopify store promotion methods in 2025"

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