#Elemental: The Power of Illuminated Love

[leyiorr]

i wonder what i look like in your eyes.

gojo ⋮ geto ⋮ sukuna ⋮ toji ⭑ how they see you and what you are to them.

¡! wc: 1.1k

¡! genre: tooth-rotting fluff, awful + contagious cases of lovesick men, you're literally their reason for existence

¡! an: i dropped this on another account but then abandoned it so its being posted here lolz!

☆ - satoru gojo ⋮ a nebula

when it comes to satoru, he's always been alone in his orbit. a level of his own. he's a god among the mortal race; both blessed and cursed to walk the earth. he's his own galaxy - the brightest and the boldest.

yet his galaxy is unbearably lonely. it's expansive, a cosmic canvas of infinite possibilites. it's an inky black celestial wonder, one that leaves a hollow feeling in his chest.

until he meets you, and you become the only being in existence allowed to orbit with him. you're his nebula, chaotic and disorted yet so effortlessly the most beautiful element of his galaxy.

you blaze in brilliant, radiant light; core searing it's permeant place in the midnight backdrop. you illuminate the space with shades of the deepest indigo and violets, mingled with wisps of turquoise and teal. crimson and oranges are vibrant in your centre.

the colour stretches into the void forming intricate patters, ones he finds himself untangling to better understand you.

in the silence of space, your nebula spoke volumes; comforting him at his worst, lulling his mind into dreamless sleep. your edges are softer, the colours more muted as you bleed into him. no one can tell where you begin and he ends.

you are so so small in comparison to the void, but so unbearably bright that you light it all with practiced ease. he tends to watch in awe as you decorate his solar system; nursing new stars to weave into his soul.

with you there, his universe becomes easier to live in, easier to navigate. you're a cloud of interstellar stardust - held together by the gravitational attraction of satoru's galaxy.

☆ - suguru geto ⋮ the artist

to suguru, you're the best thing that's happened to him. ever.

anyone who sees him with you knows. they know he's infatuated, enamoured. he's so far gone that people often think that he's been blinded by love, but he has simply never felt an emotion so intense.

with you he thinks he truly sees the world in all it's glory, innocent and pure. with you he traverses unpolluted by the atrocities of the world, you who colours his world.

he looks at you like you personally hang the stars in the sky when night rolls around, like you paint the sorbet sunsets by hand. he stares at you adoringly, as if you chose the colour of the sea and dusted white on the peaks of mountains to keep them warm.

he peers at you like you solely gift the flowers with their petals, dipping them in shades you deem beautiful enough. like you create the sand from scratch and lay it in pretty semi-lunar shapes next to the ocean.

he gazes at you like diamonds were invented in tribute to your tears, like you drew the prettiest landscapes alone in the quiet, before the age of humanity.

he studies you like you've sculpted the very shape of his heart - every ventricle and atrium handcrafted with your pretty fingers. as if his very existence was molded by you, hence why you fit so perfectly together; two pieces of a puzzle.

he could stare at you for hours and days on end, eyes full of love for the person who introduces him to a plethora of hues and tones that he imprints on the back of his eyelids when he sleeps.

☆ - ryomen sukuna ⋮ the breath of life

sukuna is not a good person. everybody knows that. he's taken innocent lives, sapping their energy like it's nothing. he's all-powerful; he stands amongst the deities - gods who have the capacity to bend fate to their will.

but after millennia of having everything under his rule, he's gotten bored. he has servants to order as he pleases but nothing they do entertains him. the god of death is bored, embarrassingly so.

until he acquires something known as a significant other, the other half of his soul as the humans say. you're his breath of life, a release of old, stagnant energy. it's as if you breathe vitality into everything you touch, all life forms flocking to you naturally.

you're so much softer than he, touch delicate yet profound, an ethereal caress that lights sparks in his eyes. he tends to linger quietly by your side when you walk in the garden he constructed just for you - though he would never tell you that.

wildflowers are coaxed into bloom with you around, their colours a testament to your nurturing touch. the dew-laden grass basks in your presence, gleaming a shade brighter than before. even the trees seem to gravitate toward you, branches reaching for you as you pass by, their leaves sighing in contentment.

sukuna's convinced the waves follow your pace, each push and pull matches your breathing.

you were the essence of renewal. his world had found it's pulse, it's rhythm, as you dance the unending dance of life in the centre. you sustain his beating heart, so sukuna's oddly content with merely watching.

☆ - toji fushiguro ⋮ a lover

toji sees you as not only a lover, but the lover. the only one he will have in this life and the next. there's no after you. it's a forever kinda thing.

something so simple as the title of 'lover' is so complex for toji, a man who's a veteran assassin, a man who previously had no regard for anyone else.

you're the only person toji promises to protect, to never lie to, to make happy for as long as his heart pumps and his chest rises with each breath. you're a miracle gifted to him by the gods - though he doesn't know what he's done to deserve it.

he's rough around the edges but with your standing as 'lover', you smooth him out.

he subconsciously thinks of you, always worrying for your satefy. you must be a deep ocean of the emotion known as 'passion' because he's willingly drowning, not even looking for shore.

toji looks at you like you're an extension of himself, the other half of him that the deities intended for him to find. he can't remember times before you or imagine a future without you.

he makes a deal of reminding you that you are his, just as he is completely and utterly yours. as his lover you hold his bloody, beating heart in your hands; he knows you'll keep it safe.

he stares at you like you'll disappear; like he's not even sure you actually exist. you love a man like him after all - that's a miracle in itself.

[jksian]

Rivals in flight (m) |JJk

Navigating the challenges of adjusting and studying as a commoner amidst insults from the nobility was tough, but, the struggle only intensified when the fellow dragon rider, Jeon Jungkook, who took so much pride upon his status and abilities, became a formidable enemy and the ultimate pain in your ass. What did you do then? Simple. You started fucking him.

Pairing: dragon rider!Jungkook x dragon rider!oc

Genre: forbidden love, fantasy, e2l, ewb (enemies with benefits? lmao), smut, angst (18+)

W/c: 5k+

Warning: okay so... Jungkook is a jerk in it, noble Jungkook x commoner reader= chaos!, jk called her names (love, phoenix, SLUT), school bullies, arguments and fights, Enter Namjoon!!, oral sex in a semi-public place, hair pulling, grinding, fingering, ass spanking like for twice, he eats her out in a library🫣, edging, orgasm denial, cum eating, they are kinda toxic but it'll be okay later IF I EVER MAKE IT INTO A SERIES🥹

A/n: It's finally here!! This is my first ever fic so I hope y'all will like it! I know that e2l meant to be slow burn and it will be the same if I make into a series but I'm not so sure about that:⁠,⁠-⁠) Like, do you guys want me to turn this into a series?

“Aster, ascend! Use ‘astral radiance’ on them now!” You commanded. The dragon respond with graceful flight, scattering the shadows with pulsating waves of celestial energy with his power.

Jungkook’s dragon again surged a series of shadowy entity, a relentless onslaught aimed towards you. You didn’t even had enough time to recover from the previous attack before you see a cloak of darkness approaching you.

“Screw you, Jeon Jungkook.”

As both of you resumed in a blaze of magic and motion, each command from Jungkook and you echoing through the air.

Eythor and Asterlith soared high above the arena where the game is going on, their wings slicing through the enchanted currents with a thunderous flap.

You guided Asterlith through a series of evasive spins and turns, “Defend! Unleash bursts of celestial energy to dispel the shadows!” That burst of energy created a celestial barrier, disrupting the shadowy figure.

The sky became a canvas for elemental clash. Shadows and celestial radiance intertwined, creating a mesmerizing dance that captivated the onlookers in the grandstand.

You heard Jungkook’s voice, a command filled with determination as the word ‘attack’ reverberates through the arena. Soon, you see a shadowy tempest raising above the ground, big enough to engulf the whole arena in its darkness. The intensity of it makes you a bit wary.

You, however, remained steadfast, “Aster, illuminate the sky and repel the encroaching shadows.”

You can hear the heavy breath from your dragon, as he tries his best remain solid in the fight. He had already used so much of his power that its getting harder for him to continue using constellations energy.

You rubs his neck, tried to calm his nerves and encouraged him, “I know you’re tired, baby, but please just a little more. Could you do that for me?”

You ask softly as he nodded at you. He gathered as much as energy as he can, his celestial radiance intensified, pushing back against the looming darkness.

The crowd below watched with bated breath as the clash of flight and attack unfolded.

The Dragon Duel had reached a crescendo, the clash of shadows and celestial radiance weaving a mesmerizing tapestry in the skies above Syndril. However, as the intensity of the battle grew, an unseen force intervened.

The authorities of the Wings academy, recognizing the escalating magical energies and potential consequences, decided to halt the duel for the safety of all involved.

“Cease the duel, right away!”

A resounding voice echoed through the arena, as you and Jungkook momentarily caught in the ebb and flow of the magical currents, reluctantly reined in your dragons, their energies already subdued but still resonating with the remnants of the fierce battle.

“This clash of powers has reached a level of intensity that poses a threat to the safety of the participants and spectators, so we have to dismiss the game at this very moment.” As the principal of your academy announced.

As the authorities assessed the situation, a magical barrier shimmered into existence, enveloping the arena. It served not only to contain the remnants of the magical energies but also to signal the temporary halt of the sports day.

Jungkook and you, both atop your respective dragons, when you shared a glance with him, you clearly saw a mixture of frustration and anger in it. You shrug it off as you saw a representative of the authorities stepped forward, addressing the dragon riders and the assembled audience.

“The Dragon Duel shall be temporarily suspended. We will assess the situation, ensuring the safety of all involved. Further instructions will be provided once we are confident in resuming the event.”

In the ethereal expanse of Syndril, where dragons painted the skies with hues of mystique, the art of dragon riding was a privilege bestowed upon the chosen few, a regal tapestry woven for the noble and royal alike. The intertwining destinies of rider and dragon transcended mere power, forming a sacred covenant that echoed through the ages.

In the middle of Syndril’s heart, there stood a grand place called the ‘Dragon Keep’, a living testament to the ancient bond shared between the realm’s sovereigns and the winged custodians that adorned the heavens.

Throughout the annals of history, dragons have been formidable companions on the battlefield, their majestic forms serving as both a symbol of power and a devastating force. Since ancient times, these mythical creatures have been harnessed as instruments of war, their scales reflecting the glint of conquest and their breath embodying the fire of conflict.

But, as the time goes, dragons become companion and more of a friends to the humans as the bond between two becomes more strong.

In Syndril, the training of dragons was a vital necessity rooted in the intricate balance of power, protection, and tradition. But, only the nobles were allowed to have a companion such as mystical creature.

To provide such directions and train the dragon in a proper manner, the ancient of this land made a dragon rider academy named ‘wings academy’, where people from royal blood and noble families can train and study with their dragons.

There are few reputed dragon houses in the kingdom, famous for their Excelled skills and magnificent magic, from the ancient, these are the elite houses which has been serving this kingdom from ages.

Each of this houses carries unique abilities and distinct attributes that contributed to the kingdom’s intricate tapestry.

The first one is Eythor from the house Shadowthrone, famous for its mastery over shadows and illusions, possessed a unique and elusive power. Its ability to manipulate darkness and create intricate illusions made it a formidable force in both stealth and strategic deception. Ruled by the Jeons, highest member of the royal council. It is rumored that the only people who build this entire Kingdom and found out about it was, The Vilothorn’s and Jeon’s.

Next one is known as the house of stoneheart, famous for possessing the power of earthquake and stone manipulation, ruled by Kim’s.

The house of inferno is famous for harnessing the power of heat manipulation. There ability has become a relentless force of searing destruction on the battlefield, ruled by Park’s.

In contrast to the previous house, the house of Frostland is famous for its capability to freeze opponents with its breath and control ice in various forms, ruled by Min’s.

The house of Skydancers ruled by Jung’s, has the ability to dominate the skies with its mastery over air manipulation and flight agility.

And, once-extinct dragon, has been reborn again, now found by a commoner girl. Asterlith’s wings were said to carry the very essence of celestial realms, now under the care of you. A creature emerged with scales that radiated with the brilliance of a thousand constellations became a living testament to the resurgence of magic and the rekindling of ancient bonds between dragon kind and those destined to ride upon their majestic backs, and now, you become one of them.

A commoner in the academy where she will study alongside other aristocrats were something not acceptable. ‘only the noble are allowed to ride a dragon’ was like a tradition which now has been broken by you.

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, Wings academy has been a fortress of nobility for centuries. This departure from tradition may disrupt the delicate balance that has safeguarded our realm.” Lord Liam voiced his concern in front of the gathered noble in the chambers of Syndril’s royal court.

Lord Jeon, the most trusted component of king Leo and an expert diplomat interjected, “Yet, Your Majesty, the magic that binds ___ and Asterlith is undeniably potent, not to mention that she is the chosen one by Asterlith himself. Are we to dismiss the weaving of destiny itself?”

Conflicting ideologies echoed through the walls of the royal court as each person tried to justify their opinion. Some nobles, entrenched in their adherence to tradition, cast disapproving glances, while others, inspired by the possibility of a new era, nodded in silent approval.

A decision was reached—a groundbreaking one that defied the norms of Syndril. King Leo then announced that everyone must accept this new norm and welcome you into the, once only for the nobles, Wings academy. You, the common girl, would be permitted to study at the Royal Dragon Rider School alongside the nobility was the new rule passed through out the kingdom.

But, you weren’t warmly welcomed by the other students at the school neither.

You found yourself facing the cold glares and condescending whispers of those who clung tightly to the rigid norms of Syndril. The nobility, accustomed to a lineage that stretched across generations, viewed your presence as a disruption to their established order.

Despite that, you continue your training regardless. At least, those insults weren’t as unbearable as Jeon Jungkook.

The second son of Jeon house, Jungkook, a formidable presence in the mystic realm of Syndril’s, is an embodiment of unparalleled power and prowess.

Jungkook’s physical prowess is akin to a tempest, an unstoppable force that commands attention.

His martial skills, honed through rigorous training, transform him into a living weapon.

His strategic acumen, a calculated dance of intellect and intuition, adds a layer of sophistication to his formidable persona.

Not only talented but, Jungkook is a magnetic paradox himself, a living canvas painted with ink and adorned with piercings that echo the rhythm of rebellion.

His onyx locks, a rebellious dance against tradition, frame a countenance that carries the weight of both legacy and defiance.

With a set of piercing eyes, a deep brown that reflects both determination and a hint of arrogance, Jungkook’s gaze is both intense and captivating. His brow piercings increases the intensity of his gaze even more.

Upon his strong arms, a tapestry of tattoos unfolds, each design a narrative etched in ink- The motifs, stark against his fair skin, trace the contours of muscles that hint at a strength not easily contained.

Beneath the hardened exterior, however, lingers the paradox of a “baby-faced” warrior. Jungkook’s soft features, though sculpted by the passage of time and the rigors of dragon rider training, retain a youthful charm that defies the graveness of his responsibilities.

Here, Jungkook writes a story of contrasts, where tradition and rebellion dance together in a spellbinding harmony.

Yet, him being loved by almost the whole population of the kingdom, you found yourself loathing him.

The animosity that grew between you two, emerged from a combination of conflicting backgrounds, divergent ideologies, and a clash of personalities.

Jungkook carried the weight of familial expectations and traditions. His reserved demeanor and arrogant nature often set him apart, earning him both respect and an air of intimidation.

You, on the other hand, hailed from more humble origins, your ascent to the esteemed academy marked by determination and an unyielding spirit.

You both fought for recognition in the academy, often led to arguments marked by sharpe words, competitive duels, palpable tension and mutual hatred for each other.

The hatred grew over the years as well as the thick sexual tension between you two. The irresistible attraction you both feel towards each other is unexplainable but not-so-hidden either.

The aftermath of the halted Dragon Duel left the arena in an eerie silence, the tension was thick in the air.

As, all the students got dismissed by the school authorities, everyone stared entering the school and going back to their respective dorms.

You were walking alone as usual towards your dorm when you heard a very familiar and annoying voice of the male you hate so much, “This intervention was unnecessary. We could have settled it ourselves.”

Jungkook, his usually reserved demeanor now tinged with visible annoyance, broke the silence at last. His voice reverberates through out the hollowed hallway, making everyone pause in their movements.

You, equally agitated, responded sharply, “Your arrogance is truly astounding, Jungkook. The authorities stepped in to prevent a catastrophe, something you seem oblivious to.”

The venom In your voice evident and not much hidden from anyone present there. People gathered around you, saw the argument unfolding in front of them.

Jungkook’s patience worn thin, he retorted, “You act as if you know everything. This clash was an inevitable part of our training. We can’t shield ourselves from every challenge!”

He was being absurd with whatever statement he was stating. His pride was taking a toll on his thinking ability clearly.

You were beyond annoyed with his obliviousness when you shot back, “Training, yes. But, not at the risk of endangering everyone around us. Your recklessness is a danger, and it reflects poorly on House Shadowthrone.”

You heard a few gasps around you, people were surprising with your choice of words. You saw their eyes gone wide upon hearing you pulling house shadowthrone into this argument.

Jungkook was enraged, if he wasn’t a human but a dragon, he should have breathed fire and burned you to the ashes once and for all.

He snapped back, “You act as If your celestial ideals make you infallible. This interruption only proves your inability to handle the challenges and run away from them. I chose the perfect name for you, didn’t I? Phoenix? Rise from the ashes without any ability and prowess–,” he stepped a bit closer to you, burning holes into your face with his Sharpe eyes as he said, “You belong to the slums and should stay there.”

His insulting words pierced through your heart and ignites a intense rage which you were unable to handle, “I’m not afraid of challenges, Jeon Jungkook from the house of Shadowthrone.” You said mockingly, “I just refuse to let arrogance and recklessness guide my actions unlike you. We must be responsible for the consequences of our powers.”

Soon, the onlookers, divided by loyalties, began to interject with verbal insults and jeers. A supporter of Jungkook, emboldened by the mounting tension, shouted, “Jungkook’s strength lies in action, not in empty words and celestial theatrics. Your ideals won’t protect us when the real challenges come.”

People found amusement in them as they begun to laugh at you. You were standing alone there, with no one by your side but yourself, helpless but still defending yourself.

You countered with determination, "Strength without responsibility is a liability, not an asset. We need more than brute force to navigate the complexities of our calling."

You heard a ‘tsk’ from Jungkook as he kept on glaring at you. The voices in favor of Jungkook gained momentum, echoing sentiments of tradition and House Stonethrone storied legacy.

You saw Ivy Drakaron, one of the nobles who happened to be your fellow classmate, smirking at your direction and quite enjoying you being insulted in front of thousands of people, whispering provocative remarks to those around her and laughing along with it.

“Your supposed ‘responsibility’ is nothing but an excuse for your lack of prowess. Syndril needs dragon riders who can face challenges head-on, not ones who cower behind ideals.” Jungkook spits venom from his mouth at you, and this time, it was enough for him to break your hard exterior which you were maintaining carefully and brought tears to your eyes.

With glossy eyes, you glare at his direction and this time, he looked quite surprised and speechless.

Kim Namjoon, senior of yours, belongs to the house of Stoneheart attempted to mediate, stepped forward, “Calm down, both of you, Jungkook and ____. Our unity is paramount, and personal disputes must not undermine the cohesion of Syndril’s dragon riders.”

He had always been the mediator whenever you two started quarrelling in the middle of nowhere. Being the president of the student community, he had all the abilities to be the perfect leader, still, you both made him afraid with your intense fights, so much so that he became tired. He referred himself to an old man because, according to him, he will soon become bald, if he had to continue taking care of you two anymore.

You thought, he might stop with his hateful remarks after seeing your cracked demeanor, it was clear that you were hurt but he didn’t stopped. Jungkook, unwilling to yield, shot a disdainful look at you, "Unity does not mean blind conformity. Your idealistic notions jeopardize the very essence of our training."

“And your recklessness jeopardizes lives. I won’t compromise the safety of our dragon rider community for the sake of your misguided ideals.”

Before the tears descended from your gaze, you departed, no longer willing to endure the ceaseless barrage of disparagement.

You were alone in the library at night, when you sensed an elusive presence that stirred the tranquil air.

It wasn't that the library was open at night, you often snuck in there from a secret path, finding the atmosphere of the silently library amusing, it became one of your nightly endeavours.

The muted glow of lanterns cast intricate shadows on the ancient bookshelves, creating an ambiance that heightened your awareness.

As you delicately turned the pages of an age-worn tome, the subtle rustle of paper seemed to echo louder in the stillness… An inexplicable awareness tingled at the nape of your neck, compelling you to glance over your shoulder.

Despite the initial surprise after seeing the figure that stepped into the pool of dim light, you decided to mask any reaction, adopting an air of nonchalance.

Because, you knew who it was.

You continued your perusal of the ancient tome, deliberately chose to ignore his presence.

Jungkook, sensing the deliberate indifference, cleared his throat as he leaned on the table in front of him.

You just gave a quick glance at his direction before continue your reading. You saw Jungkook’s eyes aglow with the flickering candlelight, he looked…handsome. You might fall in love if it weren’t for his arrogant nature.

“Seems like you’re quite fond of conversing with seniors. Is that how commoners like to elevate their status?”

There he goes again. Why can’t he keep his mouth shut?

Wait…why he is asking that?

It’s nothing like you both share a loving relationship, far from that. You both hated each other but despite the hatred, the burning desire and the tentative lust for each other was unexplainable.

The magnetic pull that neither of you could deny, at last gave in.

The first time he fucked you was the time, when you came in the second position of your test.

The rule was simple. The winner must take the lead.

It was quite exquisite seeing Jeon Jungkook squirming under your touch when you tied him up and kept him on the edge until he was begging underneath you, because he lost to you in a game of chess.

It was only this ‘physical’ relationship between you two besides the rivalry. So, why he sounded… jealous?

Nonetheless, you were quite enjoying it when you donned a smirk in response to Jungkook’s probing gaze. “Oh, didn’t realize my choice of conversation partners was under such intense scrutiny –,”

You moved towards the bookshelf beside Jungkook to grab an another ancient tome as you continued, “Namjoon? Just discussing the intricacies of life, you know, the stuff that doesn’t make it into noble conversations.” your words, laced with sarcasm, floated through the library.

You did had a conversation with Namjoon earlier, about the incident that happened before. He was worried about you. So, it was a normal decent conversation.

“ –also he was worried about my wellbeing.” You said as your fingers idly tracing the spines of the books. The calmness in your tone unwittingly added fuel to the simmering fire.

Jungkook’s jaw tenses, he retorted, “Seems like you’re building quite the support system among the nobles, ____.”

His constant insults only proves your theory further more, “It’s called having friends, Jeon Jungkook. Maybe you should try it sometime.” You subtly threw a smirk at his way before minding your own business.

This time, when you tried to move away from the spot you were standing, you felt a strong arm pulling you backwards.

“What friendship, ____? Where you fuck them?” His face was closer to yours, his warm breath hitting your face. You looked up at him and saw a intensity in his eyes you’ve never seen before.

“Why do you care? Huh?” You stood firm on your toes, “That’s .None. Of. Your. Business!”

“It is. Because, I’m the only one who fucks you.”

He clenched his jaw, a subtle tension lingered in the air. You didn’t knew why he was acting the way he was acting, so you tried to push your body away from him.

It wasn't like it’s any of his business. You can have any kind of relationship with anyone, he was no one who could tell you otherwise. His oddly possessive behavior made you irritated further more.

“J- Jungkook –,” You tried to pull your hand out of his grip and pushed him back. Your hand was on his chest, you felt his muscles tenses under your touch, “–let go of my hand.”

Instead of doing that, he pushed your back onto the table beside you, caging your hands behind your back as your butt hit the edge of the table.

He didn’t said anything, just looked at your eyes with the same intensity and something your couldn’t decipher.

“Let me go!” You whisper-shouted at him.

“Kiss me and I will.”

You eyes widened at his words as you saw a devilish smirk on his face. He was clearly messing up with you. You pushed against him again, but he settled his one leg in between your thighs, further confining you in that position.

“Fuck off!” You retorted, annoyance etching your words.

In response, he countered with a smoldering gaze, “I shall if you ask nicely.”

His face more closer to yours, lips brushing against each other and the leg between your thighs slightly grind against your throbbing cunt, making you whimper in the process.

You didn’t held back yourself anymore as you smacked your lips on his.

As your lips collided, an intricate ballet of conflicting emotions played out. You sucked on his lips harder, so much so that it might leave brushes behind but he didn’t restricted you.

You heard him growl under his breath when you latched on his lower lip and pulled it down with your teeth.

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help yourself. It was like you were hypnotized.

“I hate you.” You said in-between the kiss and he instantly responded, “The feelings are mutual.”

The intensity of the kiss grew even more when he grabbed your one leg, wrapping it around his waist. You could feel his boner right against you.

You grind on it, eliciting a hiss from him, moaning when you feel him growing harder underneath those clothes.

He deepened the kiss further, pushing further into your body. His hands comes down to your butt as he squeezes it.

Both of your tongue moved in a symphony, making you weak on your knees.

Then you did something. You grabbed his long locks in attempt to push in your tongue inside of his mouth but, in return, you received a harsh slap on your ass, along with a bite on your lower lip.

“Don’t even try, love.”

The moan that escaped from your mouth should be illegal, because the way Jungkook’s cock twitched and jumped in respond to that made him moan into your mouth.

You feel a gush of arousal approaching just from the name he called you. You knew he called you that mockingly but the things it does to you…it would rather be better if no one knows about that.

Pulling your head backwards by your hair, he started kissing your neck , leaving trails of colorful masterpieces on his way.

A reminder for you about your secret, which no one knows but you, the walls of these library and the man sucking your tits.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.” The sounds you were making, was obscene. He twirls his tongue around your hardened bud, harshly sucking on it. Two of his fingers makes its way towards your throbbing pussy.

“You aren’t wearing any panties?” You didn’t understand why he was in disbelief. It’s night time, so, wasn't it obvious?

“Yes, because I was going to bed, you stupi–,” you gasped when he suddenly pushed his one finger inside, making you clench around it.

“Watch your mouth, love, or I might shut you up with something else.”

That jerk!

Before you could threw some insulting remarks towards him, he turned you around abruptly and made you spread your leg wide. You found support on the table in front of you, as you gripped on the edges of it for some support.

He pulled your nightgown all the way up to your waist. You couldn’t saw him in the dim light, but you felt the heat of his burning desire.

The library's dim light cast shadows that played upon the canvas of your unspoken desires.

You felt his fingers on your thighs as they tentatively draw patterns on your smooth skin, as he kissed your inner thighs, making you shut your eyes from the overwhelming sensations.

When you did looked back, you saw Jungkook on his knees as he fondle your ass feverously, his intense gaze focused on your soaking pussy.

“Wandering around like this? You are a little slut, aren’t you?” You mewl when he placed a kiss on your clit, so soft that you just felt the ghost of his lips but it was enough for you to threw your head back.

Without a warning, he started sucking you clit, twirling his tongue all over your cunt as if he just found his favorite desert.

“My little slut, only mine. Right, love?”

He was settled in between you thighs, both your legs on his shoulder.

When you look down on him, he was smirking at you while devouring your pussy like a starve man.

The subtle eye contact ignited something in you, he made you feel things you shouldn’t felt. The forbidden sense of this makes it more appealing as you couldn’t help but drawn to the this unspoken game of lust and desire.

You screw your eyes shut, gripping the table as you prepare yourself for the upcoming orgasm.

He brought his fingers to your clit and started rubbing it in a crisscross way while his tongue goes inside of you, fucking you on his tongue.

As soon as that hot muscle entered, you moaned out his name, unable to control yourself, your essence dripping all over his mouth as he kept on rubbing and tugging your clit with his fingers while his tongue explores your warm walls as he found that spot which made your brain numb.

And, he knew it.

He smirked when you gripped on his men bun, shoved his face further into pussy as you grind on his face, desperately chased you release.

He kept on hitting that spot until you were a whimpering mess, but as soon as he felt your orgasm approaching, he pulled back altogether.

The whine that escaped your mouth was desperate. Embarrassing. But, you didn’t care.

“What the fuck?”

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

Asshole.

He wanted you to admit, to submit to him. Admitting that you’re his, had always been a struggle for you. Why would you though, when you weren’t his? You never understood his obsession with making you admitting that.

It must be some sick power play for him, you thought.

“I’m not saying it, because I’m not yours.” You firmly stated, glaring down at him.

His eyes further hardened from the previous half lidded one, “Let’s see for how long you can stick to that.”

Again he goes back to his work, this time more rougher than before.

Every time, you came closer to your release, he pulled back and made you squirm in his hold.

At the last thrust of his tongue, you cried out, your cries resonated through out the empty hall of the library. You instantly slapped your hand over your mouth.

“Come on, love. Say it if you want to cum.”

He was determined about leaving you then and there, hot and messy with your dripping cunt if you weren’t tell him the words he wanted to heard. His stubbornness and competitive nature wasn’t anything new to you.

He again brought his hand to your abused pussy, but this time, he put his fingers in it while sucking on your pulsating bud, occasionally tugging and biting the bundle of nerves, making you go insane.

“Fuck. Please, please Jungkook, let me c-cum,”

You voice was whiney, your broken cries made his cock twitch in his pants once again, making him growl into your heat.

“Then say it –,” He smacked your ass, his teeth dragging all over your throbbing clit before tugging and sucking on it harshly, “Say that you’re mine.”

You gripped onto his hair, tugged on it as your thighs stared trembling along with your whole body, you were close.

This time, you gave up.

You pleaded to him, chasing your release once again.

“No no, O-okay, please I’m yours, I’m yours, jus–Just lemme cum.”

“Then, cum for me but look at me when you do. I wanna see your face”

You obliged without any obligations. You looked down at him, staring into his eyes as you saw his brows pinched together as his lips attached to your clit, while thrusting his fingers inside you as you cum around them, made them soaking wet with your essence, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he watched your blessed out face with a smile on his face.

He didn’t stop though, until he drunk all of that you gave to him, slurping your essence, leaving you dry.

He was back on his toes as he turned you around. Your legs still trembling from the intense orgasm and overstimulation, he held you, encircled his hand around your waist and made you sit on top of the table.

You could see his face glistering with your essence, shining under the dim light, his piercing eyes staring at your soul as you saw he licked his lips with his half-lidded eyes and tousled hair from you gripping and tugging on it.

He was so hot that you didn’t knew if you wanted to kill him or kiss him.

He made it easier as he put his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence of off it, then pulling you into a kiss.

An electric charge rushes through you as it seemed to dance across every inch of your body. You gasped, when you tasted your own cum on your tongue.

You were out of breath when he detached his lips from yours, both of you tried to breath in some air while you thought what the fuck you just did?

When he tried to caress your cheeks, you pushed him back, made him bewildered in the process.

“I-I have to leave.” You stumbled a bit on your steps but caught yourself before he could reach out.

“____...” It was surprisingly…tender, almost affectionate. It made you wonder if he genuinely felt remorse, maybe guilt?

“What went down earlier shouldn’t have, and I get that I said some hurtful things. But…honestly, if you weren’t mentioned my house, I wouldn’t have gone there and– I hope you know that…”

Oh, the irony! Expecting an apology from him?

His pride soared too high to grasp your emotions. He didn’t even considered the things he said to you, the things you had to heard because of him, how much you had to suffer.

Yes, you truly despise him and he is the reason behind that.

As you kept on walking out of the library, not sparing a glance back at him, unwilling to linger in the aftermath of his intensity.

“You are a fucking jerk, Jeon Jungkook and I hope you know that.”

The damage was done, and the scars of his callousness lingered.

Note: Let me know your thoughts on this and also, help me out with making the decision about if I should make this into a series or not. Like, is it worth it? Please let me know!!

copyright ©2024, jksian on tumblr. no revisions, translations, or reposting allowed.

[enchantedwitchling]

Illuminating the Path: A Beginner's Guide to Candle Magick

🕯️✨🔮

Candle magick is a beautiful and accessible way to harness the power of fire and light in your magical practice. Whether you're new to witchcraft or looking to deepen your connection with this ancient art, candle magick offers a versatile and powerful tool for manifesting intentions, creating sacred space, and connecting with the divine. Let's explore the basics of candle magick, how to choose and prepare your candles, and discover simple spells and rituals to illuminate your path.

What is Candle Magick?

Candle magick involves using candles as a focal point for your intentions, prayers, and spells. The flame of the candle represents the element of fire, a symbol of transformation, energy, and purification. The act of lighting a candle and focusing on its flame helps concentrate your energy and send your intentions out into the universe.

Choosing Your Candles

The first step in candle magick is selecting the right candle for your purpose. Candles come in various shapes, sizes, and colors, each holding unique magical properties.

Colour Correspondences:

White: Purity, protection, healing, spiritual growth

Red: Passion, strength, courage, love

Pink: Love, friendship, compassion, emotional healing

Orange: Creativity, enthusiasm, success, joy

Yellow: Wisdom, communication, mental clarity, confidence

Green: Prosperity, abundance, health, growth

Blue: Peace, tranquility, protection, intuition

Purple: Spirituality, psychic abilities, wisdom, power

Black: Protection, banishing negativity, grounding

Brown: Stability, grounding, home protection, animal magic

Types of Candles:

🕯️Taper Candles: Tall and thin, ideal for longer rituals and spells.

🕯️Pillar Candles: Thick and sturdy, suitable for extended workings and larger spells.

🕯️Tea Light Candles: Small and convenient, perfect for simple spells and meditations.

🕯️Chime Candles: Short and fast-burning, great for quick spells and intention-setting.

Preparing Your Candles

Once you've chosen your candle, it's essential to prepare or "dress" it for your magical work. This involves cleansing, charging, and anointing the candle to align it with your intention.

Cleansing: Cleanse your candle to remove any unwanted energies. You can pass it through the smoke of incense, sprinkle it with salt water, or hold it under running water while focusing on purifying it.

Charging: Charge your candle by holding it in your hands and visualizing your intention. Imagine your goal or desire flowing from your heart into the candle, filling it with energy and purpose.

Anointing: Anoint your candle with a suitable oil to enhance its power. Use oils that correspond to your intention, such as lavender for peace, rosemary for protection, or cinnamon for prosperity. Apply the oil from the top of the candle to the middle, then from the bottom to the middle.

Simple Candle Magick Spells and Rituals

Basic Intention Setting Spell

This is a straightforward spell for beginners to focus on a specific goal or desire.

1. Choose a candle color that matches your intention.

2. Write your intention on a piece of paper.

3. Light the candle and visualize your intention coming to fruition.

4. Focus on the flame and chant your intention, such as "I am attracting abundance" or "I am protected and safe."

5. Burn the paper in the candle's flame and let the candle burn down safely.

Candle Meditation for Clarity

This ritual helps clear your mind and gain insight or guidance.

1. Choose a white or blue candle.

2. Light the candle and sit comfortably in front of it.

3. Focus on the flame and take deep breaths, allowing your mind to clear.

4. Ask a question or seek guidance, and watch the flame for any flickers or movements.

5. Meditate for as long as you feel necessary, then extinguish the candle.

Protection Candle Spell

This spell creates a shield of protection around you or your home.

1. Choose a black or white candle.

2. Anoint the candle with protection oil (e.g., rosemary or frankincense).

3. Light the candle and visualize a protective shield surrounding you or your space.

4. Chant, "By this flame, I am protected. Negative energies are deflected."

5. Let the candle burn down safely, reinforcing your protective barrier.

Love and Friendship Spell

This spell attracts love, compassion, and friendship into your life

1. Choose a pink candle.

2. Write your desire for love or friendship on a piece of paper

3. Anoint the candle with rose oil

4. Light the candle and visualize loving energy flowing towards you.

5. Chant, "Love and friendship come my way, with harm to none, this I say."

6. Burn the paper in the flame and let the candle burn down safely.

Tips for Safe and Effective Candle Magick

• Always practice fire safety. Never leave a burning candle unattended and place it on a heat-resistant surface.

• Use a snuffer or your fingers to extinguish candles. Blowing them out can disperse the energy.

• Be mindful of the candle's flame and wax. The way it burns can provide insights into your spell's effectiveness.

• Keep a journal of your candle magick experiences to track your progress and learn from each ritual.

Candle magick is a powerful and accessible way to work with the elemental energy of fire and manifest your desires. By choosing the right candles, preparing them with intention, and engaging in simple spells and rituals, you can harness the transformative power of candle magick to illuminate your path and achieve your goals. As you light your candles, may your intentions burn bright, your heart be full of magic, and your spirit be guided by the gentle glow of the flame.

Happy casting!

🕯️✨🔮

[anika-ann]

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events - S.R.

Part 2 of 2

Type: two-shot, idiots-in-love, feel-good fic (part 1 here)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 10,7k (I-)

Summary: A few things had gone wrong on your camping trip with Steve and other fellow agents.

But is that such a bad thing?

Warnings: NSFW,  18+, size and praise kink if you squint, semi-public sex kiiinda, language, attempt at humour, FLUFF , Steve being a menace

A/N: written for the Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration hosted by @bigtreefest In this chapter, you darlings shall get "Who thought a place with mosquitos was a good idea?"; "You know this one’s my favourite", trying not to get caught and kinks size and praise, if you squint, as well as semi-public sex

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰 Several Agent of SHIELD characters are involved - I don't think you need any knowledge of the show to read this

The last sunrays of the day illuminated the crowns of the tallest trees, the shadows casted growing longer and wider. The fire the guys had started flickered in the breeze carrying the fresh cool air from above the lake. The warm colours of the flames danced across the improvised campsite you had settled, its heat not reaching the clothes you had washed and hanged in the nearby group of trees, but certainly had wonderful effect on everyone sitting around the fire. Work done and belly full, you were beginning to feel the miles you had walked taking its toll, pleasant but very real fatigue settling into your body.

And you weren’t the only one, by the look of it.

During dinner, everyone was supposed to share their most surprising moment from the field; but now, the chatter had quieted down, movements growing rather sluggish even as the atmosphere was serene and amicable. Bucky had taken it upon himself to finish the last pieces of grilled meat; the rest of you were simply staring into flames, talking quietly, or shuffled around in search of a soon-needed flashlight.   

The sudden rapid – and very distinct – movement on Daisy’s part startled you, snapping you awake from your near slumber.

It wasn’t just you who winced – not that Daisy seemed bothered by all the looks the unsolicited use of her powers attracted, huffing and waving her hand around.

“Ugh. Who the heck thought a place with mosquitos was a good idea? These little bastards love me for some reason… no one told me turning Inhuman had that effect,” she complained, once again striking the annoying insect with a wave of deadly vibrations. “Yes! Finally.”

You stared at her, blinking, wondering if you had actually fallen asleep and this was one of the creations of your hippocampus, nothing but a dream. The fact that everyone was staring too though made for quite an argument against that theory.

“Did you just… quake apart a mosquito?” Bobbi asked, sounding as incredulous – and amused – as you felt.

“Huh?”

Hunter cackled at Daisy cluelessness. “I think she did. Wow. Way to go, Trembles.”

“Tremors, Hunter. Mack calls me Tremors,” she corrected him gently, without an ounce of shame, proud of her murderous accomplishment if anything.“And why – yes, I did. And for everyone’s information, I’m not afraid to do that to any annoying elements on this trip.”

Smile dripping of sarcasm, Daisy turned to Hopkinson, who rolled his eyes and muttered ‘subtle’ under his breath.

A fresh wave of fondness towards Daisy swirled in your chest and you made a mental note to give her a hug just for that. You didn’t want anyone to get into crosshairs for your benefit; you didn’t want to stir conflict – if anything, acting partly like a liaison, you were often in the position of a peacemaker – but you’d be damned if Daisy or anyone else being on your side of things didn’t make you feel loved and appreciated.  

You had purposely not sat down next to Steve, even if you had wanted to. You didn’t want to give Hopkinson or anyone else any more ammo and… it was enough that you were wearing Steve’s hoodie, your brain somehow translating it into Steve’s warmth keeping you comfortable. From experience, you knew that if you sat next to him and felt the heat he was radiating despite only wearing short sleeves still, you’d lose it and might actually snuggle him. Even two seats over, you were painfully aware of his presence; and any moment you allowed yourself to think about sharing a tent with him, you were pushing yourself further into the area of crossing The Line.

Crossing it by miles.

“You know that the point of this trip is bonding, right?” May commented dryly, the twitch of the corner of her lips giving away her amusement – or approval.

“Sometimes eliminating the unbearable variable helps,” Natasha said matter-of-factly, gaze flickering to Hopkinson too. “Nothing strengthens friendships like burying a body of a common enemy together. Trust me.”

Mental note to hug Natasha as well, you thought. Or maybe buy her a fine quality bottle of red. She was a fan. You had drunk enough with her to know.

Bucky snickered silently at her side; and the fact Steve just hummed in silent approval and didn’t intervene despite this having been his idea, bonding during a camping trip indeed, spoke volumes about how pissed he was still for the comment Hopkinson had made earlier.

It almost made you feel bad for him; but Hunter’s wide eyes and Bobbi biting back a smile at the nonchalance in Natasha’s tone were simply too good not to enjoy.

However, Hopkinson did not seem to appreciate the gang-up, his face a mixture of offence and annoyance.

“Seriously, guys. Can you at least pretend you don’t play favourites 24/7?”

“No,” sounded collectively around the fire, causing your lips to part in awe; and your chest to feel pleasantly full.

Steve’s voice was no surprise to you, neither was Natasha’s or Bucky’s – or Daisy’s for that matter. Hunter’s too, since he was for any mischief he could get – but May’s voice joining the chorus took you aback a bit. The smile on Bobbi’s face told you that she herself only hadn’t agreed with the rest of them out loud out of diplomacy.

Hopkinson still threw his hands in the air, letting them fall to his thighs with a muffled slap before climbing to his feet and moving towards his tent in a demonstrative dramatic exit.

Bobbi followed his example, standing up too.

“Right. This was fun, guys, but I’m going to bed. Someone planned an insanely long hike for tomorrow,” she said, pointedly looking at Steve, who smiled and raised his hands as if he was giving up when everyone else glared at him too.

It was no wonder they looked at him; the way the flames painted shadows over his arms was simply gorgeous. It was hard not to linger, hard no let your eyes wander.

…and your thoughts were gradually losing filter the more tired you were getting. Maybe you should just go to sleep; if you were out before Steve would arrive, there was a chance of keeping up the façade. Maybe.

You rose to your feet.

“I guess I should go to bed too. I’ll just take a quick rinse in the lake and settle in the tent, that okay?” you said, checking with Steve, who only nodded with a reassuring smile

“Whatever works for you.”

“Take someone with you. Seems like bad luck keeps following you,” May hummed, earning a few chuckles from others.

As you looked at her, her smirk was somehow secretive, causing you to waver. Did she know something you didn’t? Were you cursed? Was this another of the infamous prank wars SHIELD agents sometimes declared? It didn’t happen often, but you had heard stories; in fact, May had such a great poker face that her team had once failed to recognize her as the perpetrator of the notorious whipped-cream-on-hand-when-sleeping prank on Agent Fitz and they only had found out when she confessed months later.  

“Yeah, we don’t want you to drown…” Hunter said, wincing when Steve and Bucky snapped their head to him with downright menacing glares. “What?! We don’t!”

You snorted, swallowing the ‘down, boys’ threatening to slip from your lips. It was still nice of them though – they didn’t know Hunter as well as you did. He didn’t mean anything bad.

Or did he? Was he, too, on that prank war that might be and might not be happening here with you as the main target?

“I’ll go,” Daisy said, jumping to her feet, now seriously making you question whether you were turning insane. “What? He has a point. Let’s go—oh come on, die, you blood-sucking little bast-”

Shaking your head, you just accepted it, too tired to care; but making a mental note to check your sleeping bag for bugs and itching power just to make sure.

As you were gathering the few precious pieces of clothes that had survived the marinade attack, including a towel, you couldn’t but chuckle at Hunter’s suddenly wide-awake voice.

“Hey, hold on, do you think that mosquitos who drink Inhuman blood turn into some… superpowered freaks? I read a story about a guy who was bitten by some freaky spider once, and he became a-“

“Hunter… shut up.”

While your feet barely even shuffled towards the part of the lake hidden from the sight of your teammates sitting by the fire, the cool water of the lake certainly awoke your senses anew. You and Daisy barely dipped your toes into water when you felt it started taking effect.

And yet. As Daisy looked back towards the camp, as if making sure no one had followed you, she dropped a bombshell on you which wiped any traces of fatigue as fast as if she fired a gun next to your ear.

“Okay, done deal,” she said, almost nonchalantly by her measures, as she descended into water, “you have to shag Steve, like yesterday.”

You turned to her so fast you nearly toppled over and fell into water just like Hunter had unwittingly predicted. Arms spread wide for balance, hissing as your knee hit the cold water surface, you didn’t – but that wasn’t important. And Hunter was not at all importantat the moment either.

What the--- what?!

And did she have to say it like that?

Of course she did. It was Daisy after all.

“Daisy!”

“What? Come on! He has literal heart-eyes whenever he’s with you. He even has a special nickname for you. That guy is smitten. And you are not at all better, since we’re at it, by the way,” she noted with a smirk, before sliding into water casually as if she was stating a boring obvious fact and not… that.

It left you dumbstruck.

Not that you didn’t want to ‘shag’ Steve. But that was not the point!

Were you really that obvious? Certainly, you couldn’t have been. You were an agent. A professional. Stealthy. And yes, Steve sometimes… looked at you in a certain way, way that made you feel warm and hot all over, but-

You shook your head, following Daisy’s lead, breathing out slowly as the nonetheless welcomed coolness of the lake enveloped you.

“That’s not-"

“Not what?” Daisy questioned, turning to you to show off her arched eyebrow. “Please. Take your lies elsewhere. And hey – the opportunity literally presented itself. I mean, maybe your sleeping bag is full of bugs, better to share with him since you’re already sharing his tent. I mean, you’ll have to be pretty close to each other anyway. It’s a big tent, but it’s not that big…”

She trailed off, a hint of a smile playing in the corners of her lips, your face growing hotter with every word; but there was also something in her tone that made the spy in you hyper-alert all of sudden. Something about the glee in her voice, her expression, the sparkles of enthusiasm in her eyes, her-

-abilities.

The realization dawned to you with a gasp, your jaw actually falling slack.

No. She wouldn’t.

Surely, she wouldn’t have-

Oh she absolutely would.

The buckles which had been securing the tent to your backpack had fallen apart. They had broken conveniently when you had been crossing the river, and in the area where the water was the deepest no less. Steve had had to hold you so you wouldn’t take a dive, Bucky had been too far to pull the tent out immediately, causing it to soak and sink-

“…did you quake apart the buckles that held my tent to my backpack? Because I’m sure they were as good as new when I secured the tent.”

You should be shocked. You should be scandalized. But as you said it out loud, it made perfect sense and Daisy was definitely the kind of person to do something like this given the right motivation.

And boy, did she seem motivated.

“…maybe.”

“Daisy!” You pushed the water with the heel of your palm, sending a solid wave to soak her hair to make her cool the hell down. “What the hell?!”

She laughed as she coughed the water out, shaking it from her hair, something impossibly warm humming in your chest and bubbling out in the form of laughter as well.

God, she had really done that, hadn’t she? You couldn’t believe her.

“What? You two are taking forever. Like… I’m sorry, I like me a slow-burn. But you’re moving like a drunk sloth, I swear. I haven’t decided if watching you two dance around each other is cute or painful,” she emphasized, the brightness in her expression telling you it was the former, but it was a close call. You just stared at her mutely, unable to decide whether to be mortified or laugh some more. “Plus, I’m begging you. You two need to get together just to put Hopkinson out of his misery and show him that it’s a lost cause.”

Your brain latched onto the last piece of information, because in the sea of things you were mildly mortified and rather amused to hear, this one didn’t even make sense.

“What do you mean? What’s a lost cause?”

Daisy chuckled, clearly entertained by a joke you were not aware you had said; a joke you did not understand in the slightest.

When she realized that, her smile slipped, replaced by awe.

“You’re… you’re kidding, right?”

“About what?” you asked, genuinely completely lost – and frankly, slightly irritated, because Daisy gasped at your reaction, laughing again. “What?!”

“Oh my god, how did you not notice? You’re a spy. One of the best agents SHIELD has, ever had, even May says so, and that says a lot,” Daisy noted, causing you to purse your lips, something inside you puffing in pride, effectively distracting you for a moment.“But oh my god, you really didn’t know. It’s obvious! H-jerk has hots for you.”

Blank. Your mind turned blank for a split second, no image, no sound.

Daisy could slap you across your face and use her powers doing so and you would be less dumbstruck.

“What?!”

What the---- what?!

Daisy, the little shit, had the audacity to snicker at your perfectly appropriate reaction – but that was because she was joking, right? She was pulling your leg. She had to.

“Come on, Libra.That ‘keep her warm’ comment? Grade-A display of jealousy – and I don’t think Steve is his type, if you catch my drift.”

You did catch her drift.

Except you didn’t.

“No! I mean--- yeah, I catch your drift, but… he doesn-“ you stopped mid-protest, words dying on your lips.

The idea was… strange at best. Intriguing, in the worst way possible. Plausible – except Hopkinson was being a douche to you 24/7.

Which, now that you thought of it, could possibly be some manifestation of his frustration of you not paying attention to him? But that would make it a lost cause – the bigger jerk he was being, the less you wanted to deal with him… which made him act like even a bigger douche, which made you even less interested in being in the same room as him and leading you to spend even more time with Steve, which would only make Hopkinson--- no. You didn’t not want to get into that vicious circle, getting the basic idea.

Insane and not really a likeable idea; plausible, but not probable.

Even if it did make a tiny bit of sense, you supposed. In some twisted, immature male logic.

“Oh.”

Daisy grinned. “Yeah. Oh.”

Oh she really believed that wholeheartedly, didn’t she? You weren’t even sure what to make of that – but frankly, you didn’t think you wanted to think about that too hard.

Scratch that, it was the last thing you wanted to think about, even if in a way, you understood Daisy’s amusement.

A little.

“Okay, this… today was a long day. I’m done,” you said decisively, earning a chuckle from your companion. “Enjoy the lake. I’m gonna go… before I find out other disturbing facts.”

Daisy, bless her, just hummed. She let you dry up and slip into your sleep clothes – and Steve’s hoodie, because you really liked the way it felt and made you feel, safe, among other things – in blissful silence, only speaking again as she was climbing out of the water herself.

“Well, now that we cleared things up… go shag the All-American golden boy.”

You ignored the pleasant tingle the idea sent through your body, raising your hand to gesture for her to just... stop please, as you gathered the rest of your things.

“Oookay, Daisy. I’m gonna go now. To bed. Alone. Have a good night though.”

“Sure. Night! …and share the sleeping bag!” she called after you as you turned away, causing you to shake your head, grinning like a madwoman now that she couldn’t see you.

Feigning outrage, you yelled back at her:

“Good night, Daisy!”

The tent was illuminated softly, signalling Steve’s presence as you approached it and climbed inside. Your backpack was already stored in the veranda, safe under the roof so none of your remaining clothes would get wet with a surprise night rain or the morning dew.

You lightly scratched on the cloth of the door, a wordless question you soon got your answer to, being invited in.

The warmth in Steve’s voice made your stomach somersault, the smile that had settled on your lips during your conversation with Daisy widening; and as soon as you unzipped the door and revealed Steve sitting on the improvised bed, you found him smiling in return.

He had changed into a pair of boxers and a sleepshirt, a nondescript grey loose thing only he could possibly make appear attractive, but one he liked anyway because the material was soft and airy at once. You would know; you had worn it before, with his scent lingering on the fabric, when you had needed some extra comfort after a nightmare, needed to feel as safe as you would in his arms but couldn’t have born the heat of his body holding you close at the moment.

Something gentle and sweet hummed in your chest at the memory; the sight of him, sitting here waiting for you, erased the last strain of the day.

Including Hopkinson’s annoying but truthful comment and Daisy’s strange theory… and more importantly, her instruction.

You shook your head incredulously at her shenanigans, Steve’s greeting earning a curious edge.

“Hey, you okay? You haven’t nearly drowned, have you?” he questioned, watching you as you climbed into the tent and zipped it up again, his gaze roaming your figure with attentive care despite his teasing.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Har, har, Captain Rogers. I’m fine, just… come bearing some news.”

“Oh? Tell me.”

He didn’t scoot over to make space for you; he didn’t have to. You didn’t mind his proximity. In fact, you yearned for it; and he knew it all too well.

“Well, according to Daisy,” you said, unable to keep the puzzlement from your voice, “Hopkinson is being a jerk, because he ‘has hots’ for me.”

Steve’s expression darkened, a frown twisting his handsome features.

“I don’t like the sound of that… and why would he be such a jerk to you if he likes you?”

You shrugged before sitting down next to him close enough that your thigh brushed his. It was a little funny, really; the tent had a fairly high ceiling, though not enough for Steve to stand up straight, and it was wide enough for you both to sit comfortably on your own. But sitting beside him, touching him, was an instinct; a magnetic force you were helpless against and didn’t mind succumbing to. Especially since Steve’s face cleared as you did so, reminding you why he was all frowny in the first place.

“Go figure. I guess some men don’t move on from the tugging on girl’s pigtails to show affection stage,” you mused, suddenly unbothered by it; because it was not your problem and the other news was much more fun. “Oh and she thinks that I should, I quote, shag the All-American golden boy.”

A slow grin spread on Steve’s face, his thigh nudging yours. “Now, that I do like.”

“Don’t-“ you warned him, smiling wide, heart speeding up at the twinkle in his eyes and the sheer beauty of it. “The lights are on, mister.”

“Easy fix.”

One hand reaching for yours, the other for the lamp, you felt profound warmth spread through your veins as his eyes observed you, taking in all of you, as if you had entered the tent in a luxurious ballgown and not a pair of leggings and his hoodie. It could be unnerving sometimes, the eyes of an artist looking at you as if you were a fine piece of art, but the emotion captured in that gaze was making you breathless in the best way possible.

As the lamp clicked silently, Steve’s thumb ran over the back of your hand; a small gesture of affection hidden by the shadows, just like your love.

You and Steve had clicked almost instantly.

You had fallen hard.

You yearned for a touch, always.

And so did he.

The perfect match.

Two months ago, talking had no longer been the only thing on agenda for you when he had asked you out. Two months ago, you had found out that Steve’s lips were as soft and sweet as they seemed and drawing was not the only art he mastered. Two months ago, you had discovered that Steve’s hands were not only made for fighting and protecting and creating something beautiful, but for holding you and showing you heaven unparalleled.

You were in love.

You were lovers.

You had just decided to keep it low for the moment – as low as it was possible among spies like Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes or Melinda May, as low as it was possible among the Avengers.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of each other or your together or worried about professional repercussions – Steve was confident that should it come to it, he could make sure you wouldn’t work on same missions should either of you feel compromised by your relationship. That wasn’t an issue, not truly.

It was just that… he was Captain America. You were a SHIELD agent, half an Avenger, one might say. You had noisy friends and colleagues, and the public already speculated about the nature of your relationship whenever someone snapped a picture of you two together. It wasn’t a question of life and death, even if Steve might argue on that one, worrying his affections might put you into an even bigger danger than you already were on a daily basis. It was a question of comfort.

You wanted your love to be just yours for a little while longer; you wanted your love to be a private place, a shelter, a sanctuary – not a public affair.

So outside the privacy of certain rooms in the Avengers facility, you were still nothing but close friends. That was what you had agreed on, this trip included. Key word of the trip: friends.

You weren’t sure if the façade would hold.

With Steve’s hand now cupping your cheek, you weren’t so sure you cared.

You cared much more about the relief flowing through your body at finally feeling his touch again, an invisible weight, a subconscious tension in the back of your head, melting off your body. That, and you cared that he could see just fine while your eyes were still adjusting, your brain scrambling to put together a mental image of the tent you had seen before.

It was rather difficult to focus now that Steve had kissed your lips, steering your mind elsewhere, but as you briefly met his lips in return – oh so sweet and tempting – one fact about the interior struck you, causing you to withdraw a bit.

“…where’s my sleeping bag?”

You might still not see Steve’s face clearly, but you could hear the smile in his voice just fine.

“Don’t know. Do you need it?”

You chuckled, arching your brow, naively clueless.

“I’m going to sleep, so yes. It’s a sleeping bag. There’s literally its purpose in its name.”

Steve’s hand grasped at your nape to pull you back as you tried to look around, inching closer, his amused gaze boring into yours in the shadows.

“Don’t get smart with me now, sweetheart,” he whispered, fingers flexing in your skin, a signal your body comprehended just fine, just like the message unspoken.

His lips brushing yours again helped too, excitement tingling in your belly, the protest slipping off your tongue but a weak alibi for when you’d reason you had agreed to keep your hands to yourselves in favour of keeping your relationship secret still.

“Steve… we shouldn’t,” you breathed against his mouth, as if you weren’t already reciprocating the affection, parting your lips for him, hand slipping from his own to stroke up his arm to grip on his shoulder, your other laid on his chest.

“No, we shouldn’t.”

Breathing having turned fast and shallow, you welcomed his lips like soil welcomed rain after weeks of drought; parched earth now soaking in relief, new wild life sprouting within, warm and beautiful under the sun Steve embodied as he caressed your skin.

It lit you alive, finally touching him again as you were meant to, as you were longing since had set off for the trip; finally feeling sated after having been drinking every feeble drizzle in the form of a gentle brush of hands he had offered, yet growing thirsty with every drop of affection you wished you could drown in.

You wouldn’t stop for air when he kissed you breathless. When he pulled you to his lap, his palm settling firmly over your back, the only sensible thing your desire-drunk brain could think of was to press closer, hand sliding into his hair, relishing in the way his fingers dug into your flesh with need. You wouldn’t have stopped for air – what was the few agents, your friends, who had no idea your relationship with Steve was way beyond platonic. They couldn’t see you anyway. Half of them already knew; the other half was probably asleep.

Here. Now. Steve’s lips, his hands, his torso firm and steady apart from his wavering breaths, thighs solid but soft and welcoming between your legs. That mattered.

Steve released your lips with a sigh of deep contentment and a teeny protest on your part, foreheads resting against one another, a peck to your lips to sooth you, a peck to his to show you didn’t have enough of him. Not nearly enough. You never would.

The smile he gave you was warmer than the midday sun; that much you could see, your eyes finally slowly adjusting.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

Just like that.

Hi.

The simplest greetingwhose true meaning – I missed you – remained hidden to the world outside of you two. Much like other small gestures today.

A smile; I’m happy you’re here with me.

Catching you when you had slipped; I’ve got you.

Treating your wounds; I’ll always take care of you.

Cradling your hands; you’re precious to me.

Checking up on him; I’m here for you.

Squeezing his shoulders, brushing your fingers over his skin; you’re safe with me.

Agreeing to share his tent; I need you close.

‘Not on my watch’; I’d fight the world for you.

‘We shouldn’t’; I want you.

“Hi,” you said back, smiling too despite the reprimand to come. “You’re a terrible influence.”; I adore you.

Steve ran his hand up and down your back gently, chuckling, brushing your nose with his before retreating and finding your gaze in the dark.

“I love you too.”

Unlike the first time he had uttered it during the trip, you whispered the words in return, rewarded by another sweet kiss, slow and deep, a confession of love written into your very soul, bodies so close they could merge into one.

“Missed you. Missed touching you. Almost kissed you on at least ten different occasions. Wouldn’t even care who’d see,” he confessed, sealing his words with another kiss as if to make up for all the lost opportunities.

“Yeah, me too. You are very distracting.”

Steve grinned boyishly into the next kiss, teeth pulling briefly on your lower lip, the hand on your back urging you to erase ever half an inch between you.

“You tell me. Especially now,” he mused, fingers tugging at the hoodie for explanation, a flicker of satisfaction igniting your chest. Good; for all his shameless attempts to break your will, as gentle as they had been, you had been teasing him in return by simply walking around wearing his clothes. Good.

It took a split second; that flicker turned into a wildfire of another kind as his dextrous fingers slid under the hem of the hoodie, tenderly – and so purposely lightly – brushing the sensitive skin under your ribcage. Your fingers dug into his shoulder reflexively, a soundless moan escaping you at the sensation of muscles flexing under your touch.

“You know, this one’s my favourite.”

Fondness battled with desire in your chest, the awareness of why feeling warm and burning at once.

“I know.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve hummed, lips trailing along your jaw, wordlessly asking you to tilt you head back. Oh how gladly you gave him the space... “You know why?”

You did. You were certain of it, but Steve’s hand on your back slid under the hoodie too, teasing alongside the clasps of your bra and the first and only word coming off your mouth was a pleading yes, the clasps undone a fraction of second later, your fingers plunging deeper into his hair, his lips returning to yours.

“What was that, sweetheart?”  

“It’s my favourite too,” you confessed, eyes fluttering open to meet Steve’s burning gaze. “Makes the blue of your eyes pop up…”

He caressed the bare skin over your hip, causing you to almost lose your train of thought again as his fingertips continued their path alongside the hem of your leggings, a deviously innocent smile adorning his lips as he watched your lips part with a sigh and your hips unwittingly buck forward.

The hitch in his voice at that was music to your ears.

“That so?”

“Yeah… and because I-- wore it, the first morning... after,” you whispered, the fond memory of Steve’s lips on your temple coaxing you to greet a new day with a promise of a breakfast and a lazy morning together, both forgotten for a while when you had followed him to the kitchen a few moments later and he had seen you walk in nothing but this very hoodie, deciding he was in a mood for a different kind of a feast and nothing all that lazy.

“That’s right,” he praised, hand sliding under your leggings at last, cupping your heat. Biting your lip to keep quiet, a silent keen of pleasure escaped you still at the relief and the tease all at once, Steve’s lips instantly on yours to drink up the sound with a groan. “Have to be quiet, sweetheart.”

“Thought you liked hearing me-”

“I always hear you… every little sound you make for me, every little sound I coax out of you,” he husked, dextrous fingers working to do exactly that, stirring the flames in your veins hotter, a muted grunt forcing its way past Steve’s lips as his fingertips explored with delight just how aroused you were. “God sweetheart, you’re dripping for me.”

“And whose fault is that? You’re the one who insisted on giving me this hoodie---- ah, and ripped logs apart with bare hands through half of this evening-”

Steve smile tasted devious on yours as you couldn’t but grin at his menacing ways – but by god, what a sight that had been. Lightning could have struck right next to you and you wouldn’t have noticed, entirely hypnotized by the display of sheer strength, the action barely making your lover break a sweat.

Now, when you tugged him closer to take more, to taste more, to get closer, always closer, already drunk on hip lips and nowhere close to having enough, his muscles danced under your hands again, a sheen glow of perspiration forming, the hardness responding to the undulation of your hips a testimony of you not being the only one affected, succumbing to primal desire.

Yet, you felt his obvious upper hand in his voice, the way he preened at your praise, even when hidden under the veil of a faux-complaint.

“You liked that, honey? Like it when I show off my strength?”

He knew the answer and yet you granted it to him in a silent whimper, hand sliding down the hard bulge of his arm, a sensation almost as divine as his fingers sliding past the soaked fabric of your underwear and entering you, the first step on the ladder towards the stars.

“Yes, Steve—love, I-”

“Yes, honey?” he coaxed, lips an inch from yours. “What were you saying?”

“Gentle and strong---and big,” you managed to breathe out as he pumped his fingers in a way he had already learned would lift you higher and higher towards your peak, his gaze hungry as he watched the pleasure distort your features, every little sound you tried your goddamn best to muffle as not to give your friends a show fuelling his effort to make you lose that game and driving him wilder in retun. “Should manhandle me more often-“

“Is that right?” he chuckled warmly, so warmly and content you didn’t have time or space in your mind to feel shame for admitting it, less so since he curled his fingers just like that, mouth pressed to the column of your neck in a demanding kiss, a graze of teeth that nearly knocked your breath out of your lungs, your whole body burning like a supernova about to explode. “I’ll take a note. But for now… I gotta be gentle so you don’t let everyone know how close you are to your Captain.”

And gentle he was; a gentle tease. But as devious as he could be, dark eyes drinking in the sight of you falling apart for him but few second later, a sinful smile on his lips shining with your arousal when he took you apart for the second time, sucking a bruise to your inner thigh as you came down from your high – he drew plenty of his pleasure from your own and was still a giver. He kissed his way up your still trembling body, exposing more and more skin to give love to, until he reached your lips again, muffling both yours and his moan as he slowly entered you at last, taking for himself too, once, twice, no need for rest, but pausing still to feel the shared bliss spreading through your bodies.

Despite Steve’s lips being nothing short of wicked, his hands both tender and all kinds of greedy – an honour you so willingly and enthusiastically reciprocated – the words spoken between you were soft and sweet; and as quiet as you tried to be, there was plenty of space for I love yous without uttering a word.  

A gentle touch to angle your hips.

A caress alongside his jaw.

A kiss to your collarbone.

A hungry kiss to his lips.

The grip on your waist.

The dirty roll of your hips you knew made him see stars.

A press of his lips to your lower back when he flipped you over, a lingering moment of reprieve and torture before he entered you again in one smooth movement.

Confessions whispered to your ear and just as sweet and delicate breathed in return.

Love you; need you; gonna keep you.

Yes. More. Always want more of you.

You have all of me.

I’ve got you, love.

You did have each other. Body humming in quiet aftershocks of bliss, contentment settled deep in your soul, you fell asleep curled to Steve’s front, his arm draped securely around your waist, keeping you close.

The one sleeping bag which he had unpacked was but draped over your bodies, way too small to cover you both fully. And yet, you were perfectly warm and safe from the cold and the outside world, Steve’s breathing lulling you to a peaceful sleep full of gentle fire and stars-littered skies resting just at your fingertips.

Waking up came with flickers of blurry images you could hardly distinguish from a dream; but as you found yourself alone, colder than before despite being safely tucked into a cocoon of a sleeping bag, you smiled as you recognized some of them as real.

A morning ritual of a kiss to your temple; a gentle advice for you to sleep a little longer; your body seeking Steve’s on instinct, the hard planes of muscle relaxing again as he gave in and held you for another while, lips pressed to your hairline, an embrace full of love. Bucky’s grumpy voice whisper-yelling from an immense distance, reminding Steve that he had been the one to plan the morning run so he’d better get his ass out and stop shagging his lady; Steve’s sweet grunt so quiet that perhaps not even supersoldier ears could hear it from outside of the tent that yes, but that had been before he knew he’d have you for himself.

The dreams after that you didn’t remember, but you recalled they were awfully sweet and you wished to be woken up just like the first time.

Still, despite finding yourself alone, body slightly aching, the memories of last night and earlier this morning brought a wide smile to your face. The inside of the tent was already perfectly bright, so sun must have been high despite the relatively early hour. In your high spirit, the idea of warm sunrays even made you consider going for a swim in the lake, just to have the excuse to wear Steve’s hoodie later, discarded in a corner, again.

You pulled it over your head, fingers running through your hair to have the worst of your bed hair go away and pull it into a lose bun, you slowly climbed out of the tent, your smile only widening at the beautiful scenery awaiting you – and you didn’t mean your friends barely just getting out of their tents too. The woods, the sun reflecting in the crystal-clear lake, the remnants of the morning mist, the dew sparkling on the grass like thousands of soft diamonds.

Eyes slipping close to feel the sunrays on your skin, you stretched your arms above your head, breathing in deeply, the slightly crisp and gorgeously fresh air-

“I BLOODY KNEW IT!”

Your heart nearly gave out at the sudden cry, making you wince and drop your arms in an instant, seeking the source.

Pulse thundering in your ears from the fright, your gaze found Hunter, turning to Bobbi by his side with his mouth hanging open with shock as if he had just witnessed a real-life Loch Ness monster peek out from the lake and dive back again. Maybe he had.

The tension melted from your shoulders as you sighed, willing yourself to relax again.

Whatever was his issue, it was way too early for you to deal with his shenanigans – you’d leave that to his ex-wife.

You shook your head and turned back, letting yourself to take inventory; your body was aching all over, a testimony to a long pleasant night, thighs, lower back and neck a little stiff. You rolled your neck to relief the tension a bit, then shoulders, tilting your head to one side and then the other, nearly groaning at the stretch and satisfying ache--- only for your work to be instantly undone by Daisy’s loud voice. 

“Hunter, what the-- oh my god YES! Fucking finally!” she all but shrieked, the undiluted excitement in her voice causing you to snap back to her, panic rising in your chest.

Because you knew that tone.

This was exactly the tone she had used when she told you to shag Captain America, to share the sleeping bag with Steve. Had she seen your sleeping bag packed, assuming you had listened to her? But she couldn’t have possibly known you hadn’t had a head start and already packed it back again, so why would she give into that excitement so easy, that couldn’t have been-

“What is it?” you blurted out, heart in your throat, brain in an overdrive as you tried to think, think, think-

Your gaze found Steve’s as he and Bucky emerged from among the trees, slightly breathless, the loud ruckus clearly having startled them and making them race back to the camp.

You took a precious second to appreciate the absolute god-like appearance of his, red, red lips, chest heaving, arms bulging now that he put his hands on his hips and looked around with slightly worried and entirely confused blues that reflected the colour of the sky, his hair ruffled by the wind, sticking to several directions as it had lined with sweat.

“Nice badge, agent,” May commented dryly.

And yet, her voice dripped with amusement, the corners of her lips twitching in a smile, causing you to frown.

Nice badge? What did she mean by-

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

Your hands immediately flew up to your neck, covering the incriminated spot she was referring to, even as you hadn’t been aware there was one.

But there must have been.

A hickey.

You had a visible hickey, not just the one on your inner thigh which you knew Steve was so bloody proud of.

You had a hickey on your neck and now everyone saw it, an undeniable proof that you and Steve had most definitely not shared a tent platonically, but had shared a whole lot more.

You doubted you could blame the bruise – you didn’t even know what it looked like, oh god, you were mortified,why hadn’t you checked your appearance in a mirror, why – on some super-powered mosquitos drunk on Daisy’s Inhuman blood as Hunter had mentioned. And even if you could – you were hundred percent sure your spy training had flied out of the window and if the hickey hadn’t given it away, your imitation of a deer in the headlights when caught certainly had.

Speechless. You were rendered absolutely speechless and while this wasn’t any kind of tragedy, you felt the world spinning a bit. Oh no.

“Not that it’s any news,” May added, a smirk on her lips as all the gazes of those who did consider it news snapped to her.

“What do you mean?” Hopkinson asked, grumpy and entirely stunned.

Bucky snorted by Steve’s side, clearly highlyamused unlike your love and lover.

“You call yourself spies? They’ve been together for like two months and he’s been giving her heart-eyes from day one-“

“A-HA! Called the heart-eyes!” Daisy cried out pointing at you victoriously – and pausing.

Steve used the opportunity to put himself together, approaching you sheepishly and slowly as if he was worried you might actually throw something at him for leaving a badge of honour and shame on your neck. Which you might. Dammit Steven! If you found out that this was some kind of a ploy to make Hopkinson piss off if he really did have hots for you or whatever, you might spend the next night in your own tent alone just because.

“…wait, that means-- so you’re saying I quaked apart the buckles for nothing?”

At that, all eyes turned to her; and Bobbi let out a small sound of surprise.

“Oh! You quaked the— oh. That makes sense,” she said. “Well, I guess I unsecured the food container for nothing too, then.”

It was like watching a cartoon; at her admission, all heads turned to her in comical speed, stunned – and yours and Steve’s most of all, even as he stood at your side at last, a tender brush of his hand to your forearm for support.

Bobbi had done what?!

Something awesome in Daisy’s opinion, that was for sure. The women exchanged a conspiratory smile full of mutual respect and understanding.

All you could do was stare at them mutely. Daisy, well, she hadn’t surprised you all that much, even as you’d never dream of her doing that – but Bobbi? She had a wicked sense of humour and she certainly possessed a no-nonsense approach to things, but-

“Well, now I feel like a sucker,” Hunter said, glancing at his almost-wife. “I mean, all I did was not to tell her that her shoelaces were undone so she’d trip and someone would give her some TLC.”

You turned to him, gaping, no air coming in or out.

Y tu, Brutus?

All three of your friends had been on this, though apparently without cooperation? You were done. You were so completely done. And to think you had considered Hopkinson had been playing pranks on you. He was probably the only person who hadn’t been on this.

“Hunter, that’s awful,” Daisy commented at the sneaky act, causing him to raise his hands palms up innocently. “What if she’d have twisted her ankle or something?”

“Well then even better, wouldn’t it? He’d have to carry her in those--- arms with the biceps the size of bowling balls. And it worked, ain’t it? TLC, big time. Have you seen them when he treated her hands?”

Daisy paused, briefly lost in thought; then, she made a face. She couldn’t argue about that. Just like you couldn’t argue about the possibility of Steve’s solution being exactly the one and you being very much affected by being carried bridal style in his arms like that.

Not that that was the point.  

They really might have as well all worked in sync even if they hadn’t, huh?

Except all these things, arranged to get you and Steve together or somehow make you realize your feelings and act on them, were a little late to the party.

“Well, good work, everyone. I mean, it was fun to watch you try,” Natasha said, moving to continue packing her tent, slowly setting the scene in motion again.

“Almost as much fun as watching you two try to keep it under wraps,” Bucky smirked, walking past Steve and patting him on the shoulder. “Sorry to break it to you, but when it comes to undercover, you’d be more convincing as a couple of newlyweds.”

You sputtered at that remark, still to stunned to react otherwise, your famed ability to work under pressure and in unexpected circumstances suddenly nowhere to be found. You guessed it only applied to the field.

“I-” you started, unsure how to continue, feeling too busted – but also relieved somehow – turning to the man whose fault all this was. “Steve?”

He just opened his mouth, too taken aback as well; which you took as a prove that he hadn’t been aware of that hickey, bless him. Which… was curious at least, but he had enough wits to look guilty, so you’d leave that for after you’d process this.

May cleared her throat loudly.

“Alright, now that we established the bad luck that’s been following you was not bad luck at all, I believe we have a long hike ahead? We should move on with packing…”

Yes. Packing. That sounded wonderful. Anything to get the attention off you – though you weren’t sure it would help all that much.

Daisy, Hunter and Bobbi seemed simply too amazed by the revelation and satisfied with their work all the same. And Hopkinson was… something. Processing probably. Certainly not happy for you; you didn’t want to examine why. Even if it would support Daisy’s theory of him actually liking you, which was a wholly different can of worms you did not want to open at the moment.

You shook your head, your smile tight.

“Good call, Agent May. Thank you.”

She casted a small smile your way, actually shooting Daisy a pointed look so the younger agent would stop staring at you. She did; but not before she showed you a pair of painfully unsubtle thumbs-up, setting your cheeks aflame even more than earlier.

Once no one was looking, you lightly slapped Steve’s thigh with the back of your hand, staring him down despite truly feeling relieved you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the trip hiding anything besides the incriminated spot on your neck. …and your inner thigh when you’d go for a swim.

He observed you sheepishly and gently took hold of your left wrist, lifting your palm from where it had been covering your neck still; his gaze zeroed on that side of your neck – the very side on which you had been lying on when you had woken up, probably having been hiding the testimony to your passionate night from him when he had left you.

His pupils grew a little wider, eyes a shade darker, the hold on your wrist tighter-

“No!” you whisper-yelled at him, the corners of his lips twitching even as he seemed genuinely apologetic. He let you go when you tugged your hands free. “No, mister. You’ve already done enough.”

“Yes, I did… four times,” Steve whispered as lowly as possible, a loud responding groan sounding from both you and Bucky, who probably regretted having enhanced hearing at the moment.

“What?” Natasha asked.

“Believe me… you don’t even want to know.”

Your plan was to pack as fast as possible and get on your way; but there were things to be done. The team was onto packing, cleaning up after the yesterday’s fire, rinsing in the lake – and thankfully, chatting about various things of which none was you.

With Steve’s help, you had put down your tent, now finally dry, and moved on to a the group of trees where you had hung your clothes – now also dry and clean of the smell of marinade if not the stains.

You heard the shuffle of feet before you saw him; you froze in your movements, recognizing the pattern.

Hopkinson cleared his throat, signalling his presence, causing you to sigh and slowly turn to him.

You expected a snidey remark, bracing yourself for him boasting about how he had been right, about the pimping all those weeks ago and about Steve keeping you warm through the night – but to your surprise, his face was set in a pleasantly neutral mask.

It took you aback so much you didn’t make a sound before he spoke.

“So uhm… I’m all packed. You need any help?”

Your eyebrows shot up near your hairline before you could school your expression, your jaw falling a bit slack; a voice in the back of your head, one that sounded a lot like Daisy saying ‘Grade-A display of jealously’, whispered of the guy actually liking you,as unlikely as it had seem.

It did not seem all that impossible now; his posture was stiff and careful, which could be just him being nervous now that he knew you were under Steve’s protection on a whole new level, or being unsure how to approach you – but there was a hesitant interest and warmth in his eyes when you allowed yourself to look at him for long enough. And despite the tension in his shoulders, there was something rather welcoming. As if he was genuinely offering help.

Well, you’d be damned-

The creeping realization must have shown on your face, because his own expression fell, heat colouring his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Oh. You know. Well, this is embarrassing.”

“I little, yeah,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless and a little too high. Did an exchange just happen between you without a single insult yet? Did he really just admit to feeling anything else than the grandiosity of his ego, pointing out he was rather uncomfortable because of something? Wow. Just… wow. “I mean… I didn’t even realize. I’m… sorry.”

Your felt your features twist into a frown, confused by your own words – and feelings. The ‘sorry’ sounded strange to your own ears and tasted even stranger on your tongue, because from the two of you, it wasn’t you who should be apologizing. It hadn’t been you who had been the absolute douche.

And yet, here you were.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. A guy can’t exactly compete with… that, can he?” he suggested, chuckling bitterly.

Your eyebrows, having return to their normal position, arched again.

You understood his point: Steve truly was quite the competition for about anyone. But not for the reason you just knew flashed through Hopkinson’s mind. It had little to do with the size of Steve’s shoulders, the mantle he carried or his absolutely brilliant smile – as much as you admired or adored these things about him. It had much more to do with who he was without the shield; whom he’d still be if the serum fell out of him tomorrow.

You didn’t think he’d understand; he wasn’t in love with Steve Rogers.

“You mean… compete with the guy who’s not acting like an asshole around the woman he likes?”

Hopkinson grimaced, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“…I kinda deserved that. I’m… sorry.”

“Yup. You di-”

You stopped mid-sentence, his words actually registering in your brain. Did he… did he just apologize? And acknowledged that he had been an ass? Today really was full of shocking revelations.

The satisfaction of this one was too good not to enjoy. And yet. Maybe it was the emotional turmoil you had been riding out the whole morning, maybe the relief of you and Steve not having to hide, maybe it was the lingering euphoria of the previous night – but seeing Hopkinson stand there awkwardly, him, awkwardly, you did feel a little bit sorry for the guy.

You sighed again, this time mostly at yourself. “But hey. Some people are into the whole… golden hearted jerk thing.”

“What?!” he snapped, arms crossing on his chest defensively, as if the word jerk wasn’t the nicest one you could think of when it came to his behaviour. Then, he apparently heard past it – and his face cleared up. “Oh… what?”

Oh you were so going to regret this… and yet, it felt somehow right. Setting your folded clothes on the ground next to you, you met his gaze reluctantly, resisting the urge to sigh again.

“Look… have you’ve been a jerk? Yes. Absolutely. Jealous too, even when not entitled to it. But… I’ve seen you cover people in the field with your own body. Catch a bullet for them too. Save people. I’m not an idiot. Someone who does that? They’re not all bad. Hence the golden-hearted added to the jerk,” you said softly, unable to smirk as you threw in the insult just once more, because damn did it feel good to say it to his face after having to deal with his assholery. “And someone, like, I don’t know, maybe Agent Summers for example, are into that-“

“Wait what?! Angela?”

You had to blink as he interrupted you swiftly, surprised he knew who you were talking about – and that knew her first name. That was a good sign; maybe he wasn’t a completely lost cause yet. A flicker of warmth in your chest lit up, a silent reassurance that you had done the right thing telling him that. It seemed he did care for someone else than himself.

“Uhm, you didn’t hear that from me, but… let’s just say that maybe if you look around back home… you’ll be surprised there are people who have an eye on you,” you concluded.

Hopkinson watched you for a few beats of silence, something in his face softening in a way you didn’t think was possible. There was a hint of a smile, a genuine one, without a biting edge – and to your surprise, without the air of irony, it made for quite an attractive image. You hadn’t been blind to the fact he was a handsome man – one who was all too aware of it – but combined with something resembling kindness, it simply hit different. 

“Thanks, Libra. Really.”

A small smile spread on your lips as you hesitated for but a moment before you extended your hand – the final gesture of offering peace even as you hadn’t been the one to disrupt it. Surprised flickered on Hopkinson’s face; but he shook your hand, almost a gentleman’s grip.

Almost.

“But if you break her heart, I’ll break your arm. Minimum,” you said, deadly serious.

He retreated his hand, observing you with uncertain smile.

But oh he’d better be certain. Because you would. If he’d muck up his chance to be better, he’d pay.

“I’d trust her if I were you,” a familiar voice carrying a weight of authority and promise sounded behind you. “And you should know that I’d help her do it if she wanted.”

Hopkinson shot Steve a respectful glare and took a step back, causing the corners of your lips to twitch when he looked back at you. “Understood, ma’am… sir,---Captain.”

You bit your lips to stop the laughter at his sudden nervousness and prompt leave – but seeing Steve squared to a fight, wrapped in an aura of an uncompromising protector, did things to you, so you couldn’t say you blamed Hopkinson for being affected, albeit drastically differently than you.

Heat swelling in your belly, you tried to gather your wits by gathering your clothes; before you could, warm arms wrapped around your middle from behind, gently pulling you to Steve’s front, lips pressed to your neck, right over where your hickey was, now hidden by a scarf.

Smiling and revelling in the contact, you chastised him all the same. “PDA, Steve… and I’m not forgiving you that hickey, by the way. You’re possessive, mister. You’re gonna get me into trouble with my boss.”

“Can you blame me? And I have it on good authority at least one of your bosses approves,” he said decisively. You couldn’t feel his smile over the scarf, but you heard it in his voice, a silent whisper of an apology and seduction at once. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or get you into trouble. I honestly didn’t even realize. I just got… lost in you. Always do… you drive me crazy in the best ways.”

The little sweep in your belly at his flattering confession was undeniable; smiling wider, you melted against his body, earning a brush of lips against your temple, drawing a content sigh from your lips. You could get used to that. Steve’s voice in your ear, his arms around you, a beautiful view of nature…

What had you been talking about?

Ah.

“Same… but your hickeys heal right away. It’s so unfair.”

“True,” he hummed, nuzzling your neck softly when your hand settled over his. “Speaking of fair and unfair… you were far too kind to that jerkface. You’re a good person.”

“I try,” you said with a grin, pleased all the same.

Suddenly spun around, you couldn’t help the small yelp erupting from your lips, and neither the laughter as you landed in Steve’s arms, palms steading you against his chest as he looked down at you with a heart-melting smile.

“And I love you.”

Hopkinson who? The guy had been right. There was no competing with Steve and this moment, seeing him so happy from something as simple as holding you, four simple words that made the world shrink into the small bubble of your embrace, was just one of million reasons why.

Why even after barely two months, you were utterly, undeniably his.

Utterly and undeniably in love.

“I love you too… even when you’re about to drag me god knows how many miles,” you added cheekily, your breath hitching in anticipation as he leaned his head down, alluring lips you already craved again but an inch away.

“I’ll carry you if it comes to it-”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time-”

“Always, sweetheart,” he promised, finally erasing the distance, mouth pressed to yours softly, warm hand between your shoulder blades pressing your closer as your hand slipped to his nape and into his hair.

The awareness of not being alone was but a distant thought in the minuscule corner in the back of your mind. You sighed when Steve moulded your lips to his liking, mouths parting for but a split second and then connecting again, your head beginning to spin, heat spreading through your veins that had nothing to do with the sunrays caressing your skin. You didn’t fight the sensations, letting them consume you, revelling in the fact you two could do that now, publicly; and whenever you would say no to Steve?

When he retreated with a smile, nose nudging against yours, you found yourself grinning like a fool and griping on his t-shirt, the profound happiness in his eyes causing your heart to flutter.

God, you were so very, very lucky. The fact you had good friends looking out for you in their questionable but well-intended ways, only spoke in favour of that assumption.

“Well, I guess that with that… despite all the little misfortunes I had on this trip, I feel pretty lucky then.”

“Yeah? That makes two of us.”

Steve’s grin tasted sweet as he kissed you again, your fingers caressing along his throat awakening a silent rumble in his chest, his hand moving to your nape to keep you in place as his lips grew more demanding, your lips parting oh so willingly to accommodate him, your core burning as the kiss became so fierce you felt a strain in your back from bending backwards just a bit.

“OI PUNK! Just because they all know now, doesn’t meant we want the front row to you necking your girl!” Bucky yelled with too much laughter to his words for anyone think he was truly annoyed. “Knock it off!”

You grinned into the kiss at Steve’s not-so-gentlemanly curse, blinking away the daze when his lips left yours with a muted pop, hands remaining exactly where they were.

Wow, okay.

“Speak for yourself. I’m super happy to finally see them together…” Daisy said, crossing her arms on her chest, a cheeky grin on her lips.

“Oh, it gets old pretty quickly, trust me,” Natasha uttered with a fond smile. “They’re gross.”

“Amen…”

“Come on, guys… we have a long trail ahead,” May reprimanded you all, throwing her backpack on, nodding towards Steve. “Where to, Cap?”

That finally had Steve release you – not before pecking your lips once more, much to your shared delight – his figurative leader suit slipping on, making him stand taller, his voice earning a quality that made everyone fall in line; and you look at him with pride.  

“I’m on it, Agent May,” he said dutifully. “Let’s go.”

With that, gathered your clothes in one arm and he headed up towards the rest of the group and to your backpacks; the pile of clothes on one hand, his other wrapped securely around yours.

You were still wearing his hoodie; if he’d let you, you’d proudly wear it for the rest of the trip.

Something told you he’d be more than happy about it.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Here we go! I hope you enjoyed the little twist and the shenanigans 🤭 I certainly did. But also boooooy this is so much longer than intended.... ah well, Story of my life.

Thank you for reading and should you leave feedback, I thank you tenfold 💕 May your August be generous to you 🥰

P.S. - check out the rest of the masterlist for the challenge/celebration! I sure have my eye on it 👀

P.P.S - just because I can:

[yourladyem]

Beetlejuice 3 Story Idea

Delores and Rory plan to kidnap Lydia for a special Afterlife sacrifice that would give Dolores power over the Living and immortal beauty without the scars of her death. She uses her power of manipulation to trick Rory into believing she loves him and says the ceremony is for Rory to take Beetlejuice's place in her heart as her immortal partner/lover. But secretly it would bind Beetlejuice to her forever and give her the power she desires to return to the Living.

Beetlejuice, Astrid, and Delia team up to save Lydia. Lydia tries calling for Beetlejuice but Delores blocks her ability. Beetlejuice is the one who notices their connection is severed which causes him to reach out to Astrid for help after finding Delia who also notices her connection to Lydia was also cut. They realize none of them can get a hold of her. But Beetlejuice does figure out he can still contact her through a dream it's a connection with bizarre elements but doable for them.

They could travel through something like Dante's Inferno and Beetlejuice could brag that he literally went through Hell and back for the woman he loves.

No contract this time. No forced wedding. He just does it risking everything for her. But no one realizes it until after they save Lydia who starts questioning his motives immediately after she reunites with them after she found a way to escape. Clues in the dreams he sends her. Beetlejuice sacrifices himself to save her solely out of true love.

Lydia escapes and meets everyone just outside the gates of the sacrificial sanctuary. But her body starts illuminating. She doesn't have much time. They all reunite. Beetlejuice heads for the Hellish sanctuary with fire all around them. Lydia goes after him.

"What's going to happen to you?" Lydia asks.

"I'm giving her what she wants so you can go free?"

"What's the catch? Another bizarre wedding? For a third time? You know you could have asked someone for your Afterlife Green Card. Don't tell me you tricked Astrid into something!"

He sadly smiles at her outburst. He places an ancient sealed scroll in her hands. He holds her hands for a moment and she doesn't pull away. He cups her face and looks deep into her eyes.

"Even after all this time you still haven't figured it out."

She doesn't move away when he kisses her pulling her into his arms. Before she knows it, she's kissing him back.

He lets her go.

"I love you, Lydia." Before she can say anything, he runs towards the sanctuary. Lydia is left stunned watching him disappear into the blazing fires confronting Delores for a final stand off as Delia and Astrid pull her away as they escape.

They make it back to the graveyard outside the church through the same exit Richard showed them. It's a beautiful peaceful day.

Astrid and Delia are delighted the nightmare is over. Lydia stumbles towards the bench in front of the crypt and plots down still reeling from the events.

She looks down at the scroll. With shaky hands, she breaks the seal that is bound with a thin ribbon of red lace. Very familiar red lace. Gold lettering appears on the page.

It's a contract. But not just any contact.

Delia and Astrid join her. Delia sits beside her asking her what's wrong. She's unable to speak and hands the scroll to Astrid, who reads it.

The contract states he willingly traded his Afterlife for her life solely on the basis of true love and selfless sacrifice. No mutual trade-off except her freedom.

Lydia bursts into tears at the surprise of Delia and Astrid and even herself. Delia comforts her.

"Let me guess. You love him too." Delia smirks. Lydia just cries even more. After decades of denial, Lydia finally accepts the truth but now it's too late. Delia just holds her.

"Well, this explains so much, believe it or not. Still. Even after all the hell we went through with him, still better than Rory."

Astrid smirks in agreement. She started liking him too. He wasn't all bad. He was obviously crazy about her mother and now she knew the extent of it.

Time passes.

Lydia is never truly the same again. She checks the mail at the old Deetz home seeing the postcard from Astrid saying she's having a great time in Brazil with her college friends. She talks with Delia and goes through the rest of the mail finding an old folded-up piece of paper stuck to the back of one of the envelopes. She opens it up and it's an old flyer.

Missing the love of your life? Can't live without someone? Realizing you've made a terrible mistake pushing them away?

Same my name 3Xs.

"No way." Delia states

"It can't be." Lydia whispers. They stare at each other. Oh why not.

Beetlejuice.

Beetlejuice.

Beetlejuice.

Nothing.

They head for the foyer. Still nothing.

"Ok. He's not exactly one for subtly. Where is he?" Delia demands placing her fist on her hips. "Where are you! Great. Even I'm starting to miss him."

"The attic." Lydia concludes. They race towards the stairs when a knock comes at the front door.

They freeze. Lydia runs for the front door. A very attractive man with peach fuzz grayish/white hair and very striking familiar eyes smirks at her.

"Miss me, Honeycakes?"

Lydia feels their connection reform. His old self flashes before her then morphs back to the man in front of her. Lydia's jaw drops for more than one reason. "You..."

"It's me. The Juice in the flesh." He grins striking his signature pose.

"It's you?" Lydia finally manages to form a sentence.

"It's me, Lydia." Still grinning.

"It's really you?"

"Mmm hmm."

Her eyes crack in anger. "I'm going to kill you!" She screams charging at him. His smirk drops and bolts for the yard with her not far on his tail.

"Lydia! Lydia! Now wait a minute, Honey!" He keeps screaming at her as she continues trying to grab hold of him.

Delia watches from the porch with headless Charles. "She's going to marry him, isn't she?" She continues watching Lydia's game of murder tag.

"She wouldn't. Would she?" Headless Charles chimes in. Blood spewing out.

"Yes, she would. Still better than Rory, though."

Back in the yard, BJ twists away from his Gothic assailant. "Honey! Honey! Lydia! Babe! Stop!"

"Why? Why should I! Do you know what you put me through?! How are you even alive? How do you look like that?!"

"Did you read the scroll I gave you?"

"Yes!"

He laughs enjoying her irritation catching his breath.

"Then that's all you need to know. I thought it was pretty obvious. I thought it was obvious a long time ago."

She swallows the rising emotion.

"I traded my life for yours that granted me freedom from the Afterlife. Yes, I traded in my good looks for this." Pointing to himself. "Even sacrificing my luscious blonde locks but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make to help the woman I love. Again."

She shoulders sag. She looks at him with guilty eyes.

"Since I died on my wedding night - murdered by a death cultist actually who tricked me into marrying her for my soul - only if I selflessly sacrificed myself to save a person out of pure love I would be freed from my death sentence and could return to the Living and Delores would have no power over me again and she couldn't hurt the person I loved. Didn't think it would ever happen until I met you. By the way she is gone for good. Rory too by the way."

Lydia smiles a little. "So not someone else? Why me? You could have had someone else and gotten your Green Card marrying someone else or sacrificing yourself for someone else?"

"Yes, I could have. Even tried a few times before meeting you. But they weren't you. It was always you. It was always going to be us. And despite your best efforts, you've known that too. You can't stop this. You can delay it but never truly stop it. And you knew that too."

She bites her lip.

So," He pulls out a ring from one of his pockets. "What do you say, Honey? Will you marry for real this time? Third time's the charm." He grins.

She bites back the growing tears and nods. He slides the ring on her finger.

"Ok but no take back this ti-" She cuts him off with a rough kiss.

"Called it." Delia smiles. Charles digs into his pocket and hands her some cash.

Beetlejuice and Lydia break the kiss. Lydia smacks his chest.

"Ow!"

"I love you but don't ever do this to me again! That's for the literal Hell you put me through! Including not answering me when I called for you. I know you heard me!"

And they're back to arguing.

"Yeah, that marriage is going to last forever." Delia shakes her head. "Just like us." She turned to Charles.

Third wedding and they're finally married for real. Vows exchanged and he kisses his bride.

"I just have one question." Lydia whispers. "What is your real name?"

"Well it's actually B-"

Bam! Black screen and credits roll

[valkyriexo]

Hey Val

Can you please write about Chan comforting you during a thunderstorm? I have a fear, and sometimes I think it's really stupid, but I think Chan would be so comforting? thank u!!

You're Scared of Thunderstorms | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Fluff

ᑉ³warnings; Thunderstorms, Anxiety

ᑉ³Authors Note; Hope you all enjoy :) thank you for the request!

It was a quiet, peaceful evening. You were nestled comfortably in your bed, the soft glow of the television casting a warm light across your cozy bedroom. The rain pattered gently against the windows, creating a soothing backdrop to your movie night.

Your bedroom was your sanctuary. The walls were painted a soft, calming color, and your bed was piled high with plush pillows and a thick, fluffy comforter. You had a cup of hot cocoa on your bedside table, its warmth radiating through the mug.

You were watching your favorite feel-good movie, a romantic comedy that never failed to lift your spirits. The lead had just confessed his love for the girl in a beautifully lit park, and you couldn’t help but smile at the screen.

Just as the movie reached a heartwarming climax, the power suddenly went out. The television screen went dark, and the room was plunged into darkness. The comforting hum of the appliances ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a wave of unease wash over you.

Moments later, a loud crack of thunder split the air, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated the room for a split second. The storm had arrived in full force, and you hadn't checked the weather. Your pulse quickened, and a wave of panic surged through you. You pulled the comforter up to your chin, trying to calm your racing heart, but the ominous rumbling and flashes of lightning outside only intensified your anxiety.

The house, which moments ago had felt like a safe haven, now seemed oppressive and dark. Each burst of thunder resonated through the walls. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one felt shallow and ineffective. Memories of past storms played in your mind—times when the thunder seemed endless, when you felt helpless and small against the raging elements.

Your fear of thunderstorms had roots deep in your childhood. You remembered one night in particular, when a fierce storm had knocked out the power for hours. You had been alone, hiding under your bed, every thunderclap feeling like it would shatter the world around you. Even now, as an adult, the raw terror of those nights lingered, resurfacing with every storm.

Another crash of thunder jolted you, and you found yourself trembling uncontrollably. The flashes of lightning seemed almost to mock your fear, each one revealing the room in stark, harsh relief before plunging it back into darkness. You felt trapped, as though the storm was pressing in on you from all sides, leaving no escape.

You tried to focus on the small, comforting details of your room—the scent of lavender, the softness of your pillows—but it was no use. The storm was all-consuming. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, and you fought the urge to cry. 

Just then, you noticed a flash of light, but this time it wasn't from the storm—it was from your phone. You picked it up with shaking hands and saw a series of messages from Chan.

You took a deep breath, feeling a small surge of comfort from his concern. With trembling fingers, you typed a response.

You took a deep breath, trying to focus on Chan's words. The memory of that day in the kitchen brought a small smile to your face. You remembered the warmth of his arms around you, the sweet scent of cookies baking, and the sound of your laughter mingling with his. It was a happy, safe memory. But another loud thunderclap quickly snuffed out any relief you felt.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt paralyzed with fear, unable to move or think clearly.

Your phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with another message from Chan.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands trembling, before finally pressing the call button. The phone rang twice before Chan's voice came through, calm and reassuring.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I'm right here," he said softly.

"Chan," you whispered, your voice shaking.

"I'm coming over," he said firmly. "I can't leave you alone like this."

"But what about your dinner plans?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and guilt.

"They can wait. You're more important," he replied without hesitation.

"No... Please don't cancel your plans because of me," you said, your voice wavering as you tried to sound brave. "It's gonna make me feel worse. It's just raining... It's just rain... I can do this." The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, shaking with fear. "I can be alone... Go with your friends."

Another super loud thunderclap struck, reverberating through the house and shaking the walls. You shrieked in fear, tears streaming down your face as you clutched the phone tighter, your whole body trembling.

"Baby, I know you're scared," Chan's voice was filled with concern. "I promise you're safe. It's just a storm, and you're inside. Nothing's going to happen to you."

"But the house is shaking," you cried, your tears blurring your vision as the fear threatened to overwhelm you.

"I know it's scary, but I swear you're safe. Just hang on a little longer. I'm almost there," he reassured you, his voice steady and comforting. "Just keep talking to me. You're doing great. Remember, it's just a storm. You're safe inside."

Another crash of thunder made you flinch, and you felt tears falling from your eyes. "I can't... I can't do this," you choked out.

"You can, baby. You're so strong, and I'm so proud of you. Just a little longer, okay? Remember when we went to that carnival, and you were so scared to go on the Ferris wheel? But you did it, and we had the best time. This is just like that. You can do this," Chan said, his voice gentle and encouraging.

The minutes stretched on like hours as you waited, every crash of thunder making you jump. You tried to focus on Chan's voice, his calm, steady words keeping you tethered as the storm raged outside.

"I'm going to use the spare key to come in, okay? Don't be scared. It's just me." Finally, you heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Relief washed over you as you realized Chan was here. You heard his footsteps coming down the hallway, and then he was there, standing in the doorway of your bedroom, his presence instantly calming you.

Without hesitation, Chan sprinted across the room and scooped you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. "It's okay, baby. I've got you," he murmured.

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as the tears flowed freely. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek was grounding, and you felt the storm's hold on you beginning to loosen.

Chan kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back in slow, comforting circles. "I'm here now. You're safe. Nothing can hurt you when I'm with you," he whispered, his breath warm against your hair.

Another clap of thunder rumbled through the house, but this time, it felt distant, less threatening with Chan's arms around you. He rocked you gently, his presence a fortress against the storm.

"Listen to me, baby," Chan said, his voice right by your ear. He tilted your head slightly so his mouth was close to your ear, and you could feel his breath against your skin. "Focus on my voice. Just listen to me." His words were deliberate, each one spoken to cover the sound of the thunder.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I'm sorry, Chan. This fear is so stupid. I shouldn't have pulled you away from your friends."

"Hey, hey," Chan interrupted gently, his voice soft and filled with love. "Don't apologize. This isn't stupid. Your feelings are never stupid."

"But I—" you started to say, but he shushed you softly.

"Shh, listen to me. There’s nothing to be sorry about," he reassured you. "I love everything about you. Your fear of thunderstorms doesn’t change that. It’s part of who you are, and I love every part of you."

Another roll of thunder echoed outside, but Chan’s voice kept you anchored. "I love how you light up when you talk about your favorite books. I love how kind you are to everyone, even strangers. I love your laugh, your smile, the way you make me feel when I’m around you."

His voice was steady, filled with a sincerity that melted your anxiety. "I love how you make me cookies when I've had a long day, how you remember the little things that make me happy. You make my life so much better just by being in it."

"I love how brave you are," he whispered, his lips close to your ear. "Even when you don't feel it, you’re stronger than you know."

You gripped onto his shirt for dear life, your fingers clutching the fabric as if it were a lifeline. You nodded against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"I’m here, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "And I’ll always be here. You never have to face anything alone. Not thunderstorms, not anything. I love you, exactly as you are."

The storm outside continued, but with Chan’s arms around you and his loving words filling your ear, it felt like a distant worry. You snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his love and the safety of his embrace.

"I'm so lucky to have you," you whispered back, your voice filled with gratitude.

"And I'm lucky to have you," Chan replied, his voice full of warmth. "Now and always."

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[pookalicious-hq]

blue velvet... jinx x reader

next | masterlist

synopsis: two girls trapped within a world full of hate would do anything for eachother. too bad they're both crazy. tags/tws: mentions of mental health illnesses, mention of suicide, blood and gore, mc has split personalities word count: 2.5k a/n: this is a start to my jinx x reader series that i'm planning on making, lmk if you like it loves mwah.

You laid flat on the rooftop, the rain pouring down in heavy sheets, each drop landing with a soft patter before joining the steady flow that ran across the stone. The water soaked through your clothes, turning your skin cold, but you barely noticed. The downpour was like a thick, weighty blanket, wrapping you in a cocoon of sound that muffled the world beyond. The constant rhythm of the rain against the roof matched your heartbeat, slow and steady, while the distant rumble of thunder vibrated through the air, a low and soothing hum.

Above you, the sky was a swirling mass of dark, ragged clouds, woven tightly together and swallowing any hint of light from the city below. The scent of wet stone and earth filled the air, sharp and fresh, mingling with the metallic tang that came with every crackle of lightning.

Water pooled around your body, gathering in shallow dips on the rooftop, but you didn’t shift or move to avoid it. Huge wings lay limp at your sides, the once-soft feathers plastered to the surface, weighed down by the relentless rain. They felt heavy, but not in a way that burdened you—more like the sensation grounded you to the earth beneath.

You closed your eyes, the cold wetness of your soaked clothes and skin fading away. In its place, warmth blossomed in your chest with each roll of thunder, spreading through your limbs like a quiet fire. The storm was a comfort, a reminder of who you used to be. Here, exposed and uncaged, with the sky as your only ceiling, you felt a sense of peace she rarely found in Zaun’s suffocating depths.

A poor bird with no room to fly had found solace within your element. The rain could not trap you; the storm could not harm you—it was part of yourself, the only place where you felt free.

If not for the nagging bruise forming on the side of her torso, you might as well have fallen asleep. With a tired sigh, you tugged your shirt up slightly, just enough to inspect today’s damage. The faint glow of distant lightning illuminated the angry purple blossom spread across your ribs, each raindrop that hit the tender skin sending a dull ache through your body. It wasn’t the worst injury you've had, but the soreness lingered, a reminder of the fight.

Nothing had been broken—just your pride, really. The job was supposed to be simple: in and out. No one should have touched you. Yet somehow, they’d managed to land a hit. You winced, not so much from the pain but from the fact that you let it happen.

The rain pattered against your exposed skin, a cold contrast to the heat radiating from the bruise. You laid your hand over it, as if willing to take the pain away. But the storm, for all its comfort, couldn’t heal what was beneath your skin. It could only distract you from it.

You closed your eyes again, letting the sound of the rain drown out the frustration still swirling inside you. The job wasn’t a failure, but it hadn’t gone smoothly. And now, lying on the rooftop, you were trying to forget the adrenaline, the chaos, the way your powers surged uncontrollably for a moment when things went wrong.

In the distance, the thunder grumbled like a low growl, echoing the storm within your mind. You sighed deeply, letting your body relax further into the cold stone beneath you as if you could become part of the rooftop itself and disappear into the sky.

The storm continued its relentless downpour, the city below a blurred mess of shadows and rain. You barely registered the sound of footsteps splashing through puddles behind you. You were too lost in the corners of your mind, too focused on the rhythmic thrum of rain against skin.

But the familiar voice, always loud enough to cut through anything, broke through the storm’s lull.

"Birdie!" Jinx’s voice rang out, playful and teasing. You opened your eyes, blinking through the raindrops as Jinx approached, her figure a blur of wet blue hair and mismatched clothing. "You really pick the weirdest places to hide, you know that?"

You didn’t move, letting your head rest against the cold stone as she watched Jinx saunter closer, completely unfazed by the rain. "Not hiding," you muttered, though your voice lacked its usual edge. "Just… being."

Jinx dropped down beside you with a huff, legs crossed beneath her, her bright eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Being what? Wet? Miserable? Extremely lonely since I’m not with you?"

You chuckled softly, chest rising and falling with the effort. "Something like that."

Jinx tilted her head, and for a moment, the playful sparkle in her eyes dimmed as she noticed the way your hand hovered near your ribs, just below the edge of your shirt. Without asking, Jinx leaned forward, brushing your hand aside with a featherlight touch, her eyes sharp as she inspected the bruise. By now, there were no lines that hadn’t been crossed between the two girls.

"Well, shit," Jinx muttered, her voice dropping an octave. "Looks like they got a good one in, huh."

You sighed, letting your hand drop into the pool of water beside you. "It was dumb. They got lucky."

"Lucky?" Jinx’s brows shot up, her grin returning as she sat back on her heels. "Birdie, they didn’t get lucky. They got stupid. Anyone who lays a hand on you is just asking for it. And by it, I mean getting zapped into a pile of dust, super duper dead."

You gave her a half-hearted smile in return, your eyes drifting back to the sky. "Maybe next time."

Jinx shifted closer, lying down flat beside you, her shoulder brushing against your arm. For a few moments, you both laid there in silence, the rain continuing to pelt down, soaking you both. Jinx let out a small sigh, her voice softer now. "You know… I could’ve helped, right?"

You turned your head slightly, meeting Jinx’s eyes. "I know."

"You should’ve told me," Jinx’s voice had a hint of something uncharted in it, something she didn’t often let show. "You don’t have to do everything alone, you know?"

Your gazes met—a soft union between your own foggy grey eyes and Jinx’s cobalt blue, tinged with navy highlights from the stormy sky above. The rain slid down your faces, unnoticed, as if the world beyond the rooftop didn’t exist for that brief moment. There was a weight in Jinx’s eyes that you hadn’t seen in a long time—something deeper than the usual spark of chaos.

You hesitated, lips parting but no words coming. You were supposed to be the strong one, the one who could handle whatever Silco threw your way. The one who didn’t need help. But here, under the clouds, lying beside Jinx, that strength felt more like a burden.

"I…" your voice faltered, the confession stuck somewhere in your throat. Your mind raced for a way to explain it, but all that came out was, "I didn’t want to bother you."

Jinx blinked, the corners of her mouth twitching into a lopsided smile, though there was still that trace of vulnerability in her expression. "Bother me? You? Birdie, come on…" She nudged her gently with her elbow, trying to pull out the usual banter, but her heart wasn’t fully in it this time. "You're never a bother. Not to me."

You could feel your chest tighten, the words sinking in. For so long, you'd been on your own, dealing with the pain, the chaos, and the aftermath of everything done to yourself. You had always tried to find an escape. But now... now you weren't sure if you wanted to escape anymore. Not when Jinx was here.

"I didn’t think you'd care." The words came out quieter than you intended, almost lost in the rain.

Jinx’s smile faded, her eyes widening just a little as if the admission had surprised her. She stayed quiet for a moment, studying your face like she was piecing together a puzzle. Then, with a soft sigh, Jinx shifted closer, her arm brushing against her side as she rested her chin on her hands, lying on her stomach now.

"Of course I care, you dummy," Jinx murmured, her tone unusually soft. "I care way more than you probably realize."

Her words hung in the air between the two, heavy with meaning that you weren't entirely sure how to respond to. The familiar warmth that the storm usually gave you was now radiating from Jinx, the closeness between them bringing a different kind of comfort.

“You know I love you more than anything in the whole world, right?” Jinx said as she propped her head on top of your chest, voice light but with a warmth that you always found comforting.

You chuckled softly, fingers absently running through Jinx’s soaked blue hair. “Yeah, I love you too.”

The words felt easy between you—familiar. To yourself, it was just how they you: two best friends who stuck together through everything. You didn’t notice the way Jinx’s smile faltered for just a split second before she buried her face in your chest, hiding the small sigh that followed.

Jinx had given up on trying to explain how she felt. She’d tried before, more times than she cared to admit. But you were so... broken it was like trying to explain the stars to someone who’d never looked up. Where did all your love go? Yet, lying there, wrapped in the storm, something shifted in the air between them.

“Good,” Jinx mumbled, her words muffled by your shirt. “Just making sure.”

You smiled, closing your eyes again as the rain drummed softly against your skin. You didn’t realize how much weight those little words carried for Jinx. You just knew that, with Jinx beside you, the thunder felt less chaotic. Less like something you had to run from.

For Jinx, that was enough. It had to be.

She looked at you beneath herself, watching you relax into the rain, face peaceful. If this was all she’d ever get—a friend who didn’t mind when she crashed on top of her, who laughed at her jokes and let her stay close—then that was more than most people ever got in Zaun. She could live with that.

As long as you were happy, Jinx would be too.

The sound of the rain became a gentle backdrop, creating a world where they were just two girls finding solace in each other’s presence. You could feel Jinx’s breath against your shirt, warm and steady. It made your heart swell in a way you couldn’t fully grasp. The tension you carried in your chest began to ease, slowly replaced by the warmth of Jinx’s affection—a connection that was undeniable, yet uncharted.

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like?” Jinx’s voice was muffled, her chin resting against your chest. “If we just… left all this behind?”

“Zaun?” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes. But where would we even go?”

“Anywhere!” Jinx exclaimed, her enthusiasm peeking through the softness of her tone. “We could go to the surface, see the sky for real. Or just find a place where nobody knows our names, where we can be whoever we want.”

You considered it, the idea stirring something inside. “It sounds nice,” You said slowly, “but it’s not that simple. You know that.”

“Why not?” Jinx’s voice was firm, a contrast to the rain’s gentle cadence. “You don’t owe Silco anything, Birdie. And you sure as hell don’t owe anyone else anything. You’re stronger than literally anyone. We can do this together, you know.”

You let your fingers tangle deeper in Jinx’s hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers like the rain. “I don’t want to put you in danger. Not again.”

Jinx lifted her head, their eyes locking in a moment that felt both fragile and electrifying. “You think I care about danger?” she scoffed, though her voice held a playful edge. “I’m literally a ticking time bomb. And as long as I’m with you, I’m not afraid of anything.”

“But I am,” you admitted, your voice a quiet confession. “I’m afraid of losing control. Of becoming someone I can’t recognize. Someone who always hurts people.”

“You’re not that person,” Jinx said, her tone unwavering. “You’re not Silco. You’ve got a good heart. Just look at how you took care of me when I was—” She paused, her voice trailing off as a shadow of memory crossed her face. “You’ve always taken care of me.”

“And you’ve always been there for me, too,” you replied, your heart swelling at the realization. “I don’t want to lose that.”

“Then we won’t,” Jinx said, a determined fire sparking in her eyes. “You’re my Birdie. I’ll fight for you. We’ll get out of all this together. I promise.”

The sincerity in Jinx’s gaze struck you with an intensity that made your breath catch. It felt like a lifeline, like a bridge spanning the chasm of fear that threatened to swallow you whole. In that moment, you saw not just Jinx, but a future—one where they were free, one where they could carve out their own lives.

“I just—” you hesitated, the weight of your emotions threatening to spill over. “I’m too weak.”

Jinx leaned in, her forehead resting against yours. “We’ll figure it out together. And if you ever feel lost, just look for me.”

You closed your eyes, the warmth radiating from Jinx wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the storm inside you start to settle, the chaos slowly fading. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you could breathe.

With a small smile, you whispered, “Okay. Together.”

Jinx’s grin broke wide, her eyes sparkling with mischief and joy. “That’s the spirit! Now, if we’re gonna run away from all this, we need to come up with a plan. And maybe a cool name for our adventure.”

“Adventure?” you chuckled, spirits lifting. “Like a real one? I’ve never had an adventure.”

Jinx sat up, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she launched into a grand idea. “We’ll be the legendary duo! The Storm and the Joker! Together, we’ll conquer the world! We’ll make people remember us!”

You laughed again, the sound bright against the backdrop of rain. “The Storm and the Joker? Might hafta re-evaluate your naming skills.”

“Shush! It’s perfect!” Jinx cackled. “Come on, don’t you feel it? The energy? The potential for power!”

You felt the warmth spread through you, the playful spirit in Jinx infectious. “Alright, alright. I believe you,” you agreed, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

Jinx’s grin widened as she bounced to her feet, pulling you up beside her. “We’re not going to be just any duo—we’re going to be the best duo! And the world won’t know what hit it!”

You couldn’t help but grin, the rain still pouring around them but feeling lighter now, as if the storm had shifted into something else entirely—something exciting. Maybe it was the promise of freedom or the bond they shared. Whatever it was, it felt right.

“Okay,” You said, a newfound determination blossoming within. “As long as you're with me.”

a/n: hi loves, i hope you like this little intro to the mc and her relationship with jinx. sorta gives some backstory cues but you don't need to focus too hard on that.

thanks for reading pookies, lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist <3

[dark-corner-cunning]

The Virtues of Sacred Woods: Embracing the Magick of Trees

Note To Reader: As we find ourselves in the heart of summer, journeying along the southern road of the crossroads here in Appalachia, we embrace the virtue of earth and the magick of Old Mother Green Cap. This post is woven from the threads of traditional witchcraft, physical witchcraft, and my own path. As always, take what resonates and leave the rest. Feel free to make up or create your own correspondences and virtues as you see fit.

What is a virtue? In our witchy world, a virtue is a beneficial quality or power of something, a word whispered from the metaphysical lips of existence. It's the hidden essence, the subtle energy, the magick that pulses through the veins of the natural world. When we speak of virtues, we're invoking the spirit and energy that dwells within every tree, every branch, every tool crafted from nature's gifts.

Among the myriad stick-formed tools in the Traditional Craft of Cunning, two stand as pillars in our practice: the Wand and the Stang (or Staff). While their virtues are distinct, their roots intertwine deeply with the ancient woods from which they were born. Let us briefly explore these sacred tools, for within their grain lies the power to shape our craft and connect us to the hidden currents of the world.

-The Wand: Conduit of Power-

The wand, slender and elegant, is a faithful companion to the cunning practitioner. Its primary virtue lies in its ability to direct power and energy, much like a conductor's baton orchestrating the unseen forces around us. Wands are used to banish unwanted influences and spirits, sweep away negativity, and conjure helpful entities from the ether. When we cast a working circle, the wand traces the boundary, marking a sacred space or container where magick can unfold.

Each wand, depending on the wood it is crafted from, carries its own unique virtue. A wand of oak might offer a fiery virtue of strength, wisdom, power, protection, or aid to solar rites and magick… while one of willow could provide a watery virtue of emotional healing, strengthening love, divination, enchantment, enlightenment, or aid to rites and workings of the Moon. The wood whispers its secrets to us, guiding our hand and amplifying our intent. Thus, the wand becomes an extension of our will, a bridge between the mundane and the magickal.

My "Red Serpent" Wand: This wand is directly linked to the serpent energy of the land. It is made from Oak and has a Dragon Blood Stone, Snake rib, and Blood embedded into it. I use it as an extension of my own willpower and life force. I usually bury it under a Full moon to charge when "Sprowl" is at its peak.

-The Stang: Pillar of the Worlds-

The stang, often fashioned from a forked staff, holds a different yet equally potent virtue. It can stand as a representation of the Horned One, the dualities of nature, and the power that flows from earth to sky. In its form, we see the concept of the World Tree, a sacred axis that grants access to the virtues of both the upper and lower worlds and those that lie at the crossroads.

In ritual workings, the stang is a steadfast companion. Its presence anchors us, grounding our energy and connecting us to the land. When we walk the paths of the wild, the stang serves as a tool to gather and store land energy, the elusive "sprowl" that breathes life into our craft. It becomes a beacon, drawing the virtues of the earth and sky into our rites and rituals, where they can be harnessed and directed.

My Stang that I have been slowly working on for a few years now. It is made from Oak and the forked ends have Clear Quartz in each end. It has the Web of Wyrd Rune on the front and the symbols for each element on the back. I mainly use my Stang during laying and conjuring the crossroads for rituals.

-The Dance of Wood and Witch-

In the dance of wood and witch, we find our path illuminated by the virtues of our tools. The wand and the stang, though different in form and function, both serve as conduits of the ancient energies that flow through the natural world. They are not mere objects, but living entities that resonate with the heartbeat of the land.

Some practitioners favor keeping several wands, each made from different kinds of wood to suit various purposes. Yet, many find solace in the singular presence of one main stang or staff, a trusty ally that carries their spirit and intention.

As we continue to explore the virtues of the different woods, let us remember that our connection to these tools is a sacred bond. Through them, we touch the spirit of the trees, the whispers of the wind, and the silent strength of the earth. They are our guides, our protectors, and our allies in the timeless craft of cunning.

-The Virtues of Woods-

Note: This list is but a glimpse, for the world is rich with countless species of trees. Here, I focus on trees that dwell in my own corner of the world and the ones I know. These are mainly just the virtues of the wood and bark (not the leaves, flowers, seeds, or fruit). I highly recommend you embark on a journey to discover and list the trees within your local area, letting their virtues reveal themselves to you. Also, please take caution of any poisonous trees.

Alder: Defensive Magick, Strength, Leadership, Bravery, Divination, Healing, and Wind & Weather Magick

Apple: Love, Healing, Friendship, Divination, Garden Magick, and Harmony

Ash: Healing & Regeneration Magick, Sea Magick, Communication, Knowledge, Wisdom, Travel, Aids workings of Spirit, Passage Between Worlds, and is often the wood chosen for a Stang.

Beech: Wisdom, Knowledge, Focus, Meditation, Wishes

Birch: Purification, Creativity, Willpower, Initiation of Inception, Birth & Fertility.

Blackthorn: Baneful, Associated with Bucca Dhu/The Devil, Blasting, Defensive Magick, Setting Boundaries, Toad Magick, and Rites of The Dark Moon.

Cedar: Cleansing, Protection, Wards, Divination, Summoning, Consecration, Prosperity

Chestnut: Clarity, Focus, Justice, Encourage Longevity

Crepe Myrtle: Glamour Magick, Fertility, Youth, Peace, Money

Dogwood: Wishes, Protection, Health, Wisdom

Elder: Protection, Exorcising Illness, Spirit Conjuration, Blessing

Elm: Protection, Divine Feminine, Healing, Fae Magick

Gorse: Purification, Conjuration of Fair Weather, Discovering, Protection, Fertility & Love

Hawthorn: Associated with Bucca Gwidder/The Green Man, Dealings with Spirit Folk, Fertility, Enchantment, Wards, Charm, Spirituality, and Fishing Magick. Folklore suggests not using Hawthorn as a staff as it may employ ill luck upon walking journeys.

Hazel: Wisdom, Luck, Fertility, Wishes, Divination, Dowsing Wands, Inspiration & Visions

Hickory: Legal Matters, Protection, Protection, Wisdom, Leadership, Acquisition, Power, Wholeness

Holly: Aids Rites of Death/Rebirth, Exorcism, Defensive Magick, Potency, Logic, Power Transfer, Protection

Linden: Creativity, Enchantment, Enlightenment, Truth, Healing

Locust: Enforcing Boundaries, Binding, Defensive Magick, Enchantments, Wood and Thorns used to make pins for Baneful Magick, Appalachian Association with European Blackthorn Virtues.

Magnolia: Fidelity, Love, Hair Growth Magick, Marital Happiness

Maple: Love, Luck, Longevity, Money, Travel, Cleansing, Communication

Oak: Strength, Power, Protection, Wisdom, Longevity, Endurance, Doorways between Realms, Solar Magick, Potency, Associated with The Red Serpent.

Palm: Fertility, Focus, Potency, Divination, Purification, Protection

Pine: Strength, Protection, Healing, Prosperity, Exorcism, Wisdom, Increase of Power

Poplar: Spirituality, Change, Rebirth, Summoning, Wealth, Willpower, Witch Flight

Rowan: Protection, Guarding, Defensive Magick, Warding, Necromancy, Quickening, Conjuring Visions, Lifting Curses, A staff of Rowan protects while journeying.

Sumac: Cleansing, Healing, Creativity, Focus

Sweet Gum: Healing, Spirituality, Enchantment, Leadership

Sycamore: Ancestral Wisdom, Divination, Prosperity, Strength, Endurance

Walnut: Cleansing, Healing, Focus, Insight

Willow: Moon Rites & Workings, Emotion Healing, Love, Fertility, Divination, Change, Wishes, Enchantment, Spirituality, Wards

Witch Hazel: Chastity, Protection, Emotional Healing

Yew: Death Mysteries, Ancestral Wisdom, Transformation, Change, Renewal, Baneful, Necromancy

[honorarysimp]

Chapter 8: Nobody’s Soldier

series masterlist

All is fair in love and war.

Maxine, wasting no time, immediately seizes the initiative, her hands moving swiftly in a complex gesture as she incantates under her breath.

The air around her crackles with malevolent energy, forming a potent spell aimed at disrupting Lorraine's balance.

With a powerful sweeping motion, she directs the spell towards her target, sending a shockwave of energy surging in Lorraine's direction.

The attempt is both swift and calculated, designed to catch Lorraine off guard and exploit any vulnerabilities. As the incantations echo in the clearing, the very air seems to crackle with supernatural energy.

Lorraine, wielding the power of the elements with precision, unleashing bursts of fire and lightning against her sisters. Each blast illuminates their faces, revealing the true depth of their need to win this.

Maxine — seething with rage — retaliates with a dark and ominous incantation, commanding the shadows to rise up and ensnare Lorraine.

“You'll pay for this, Lorraine. You'll never know peace again!” with a swift and purposeful gesture, Maxine summons the shadows to obey her command, manipulating them to ensnare Lorraine in their inky embrace.

The tendrils of darkness writhe and twist sinuously, snaking around her like suffocating chains.

Despite the oppressive grip of the shadows, Lorraine fights fiercely, channeling her willpower to break free from Maxine's malevolent spell.

With a surge of sheer determination, she directs a powerful burst of energy towards the shadows, shattering their hold and emerging triumphantly from their clutches.

A flicker of defiance dances in her eyes as she stands her ground, unyielding in the face of Maxine's malevolence.

As Bobby-Lynn steps forward, preparing to join Maxine in her assault, Lorraine's gaze meets yours with a mixture of desperation and determination.

"Go!" she urges, her voice filled with urgency.

"RUN!"

Through the daze, you register that Lorraine is trying to sacrifice her own safety just at a whim chance you might be able to get away.

Even in the face of imminent danger, her priority is ensuring your safety, standing her ground to give you the chance you didn’t take when you came to save her.

Maxine and Bobby-Lynn join forces, their combined energy intertwining in a formidable offensive spell. With a synchronized incantation, they unleash a powerful blast towards Lorraine, aiming to exploit any opening in her defenses.

Lorraine, with unwavering focus, shifts her attention back to the conflict, channeling her magic to deflect the onslaught. The air crackles with the intensity of the magical exchange, causing the ground to tremble beneath their feet.

As the powers collide, the clearing morphs into a spectacle of contrasting lights—an amalgamation of fiery reds, crackling blues, and ominous shadows.

The elements intertwine in a mesmerizing dance, with flashes of energy rippling through the air like bolts of lightning.

Shadows stretch and bend with their command, snaking around the combatants, while vibrant bursts of light illuminate the battleground with an eerie brilliance.

For a moment, you’re captivated, entranced even.

As you observe Lorraine weakening from the intense energy exchange, a surge of protective instinct propels you forward, urging you to leap into action.

However, just as you're about to recklessly intervene, three familiar figures materialize from their hiding spots, halting your advance with their sudden and unexpected appearance. They move with an uncanny precision, circling you cautiously, like a pride of lions staking out prey.

Despite having three formidable adversaries surrounding you, you can't help but steal a quick glance at Lorraine, who — even when being outnumbered and weary — still manages to retaliate with a spell that disrupts Maxine and Bobby-Lynn's balance.

However your moment of split attention leaves you vulnerable as one of the male figures makes swift work of your momentary distraction, grabbing you roughly by the shoulder and holding you firmly in place, preventing you from moving any further.

Realizing it's Jackson who has grabbed you, you muster your strength and deliver a powerful strike, aiming your knee firmly between his legs.

Jackson immediately doubles over in pain, a groan escaping his lips, as he clutches at the sensitive area, struggling to regain his composure and balance.

As Jackson crumbles to the ground, a groan escaping his lips, you cast a brief glance at him, uttering with a hint of dry irony "sorry, no hard feelings, buddy”.

With that, your focus swiftly shifts to the other two remaining figures who continue to circle you cautiously, their intentions and next moves unclear.

You stand firm, raising your fists defiantly, displaying an open and ready stance. A determined smirk plays on your lips as you utter a provocative challenge, your voice laced with barbed sarcasm.

You know you don’t stand a chance against them physically, but what else can you do?

"Well, well, well, looks like we got a real dead fan club” your words carry a mixture of bravado and anticipation, a subtle mockery of their unspoken threat.

"I'd apologize for the lack of autographs, but I'm a bit 'busy' at the moment. So, unless you gotta plan on doin’ more than just dancin’ around, let's get this over with”.

As RJ and Wayne lunge towards you, their movements quick and precise, you react on instinct, pivoting swiftly to the side to dodge their advance.

The adrenaline surging through your veins sharpens your senses, making you acutely aware of every twist and turn.

Focus. Move. Breath. Move. Just like high school.

With a deftness you didn't know you possessed, you manage to evade their grasp, the ground beneath you churning with the dance of your nimble retreat. Despite the precarious situation, a spark of exhilaration ignites within you, fueling your determination to outsmart your formidable opponents.

You instinctively glance at Lorraine, concern knitting your brow as you take in the ongoing battle. She's still engaged in a fierce skirmish with Maxine and Bobby-Lynn, her every strike imbued with unyielding resolve.

Temporary awe bleeds through you, it’s hard not to watch because this isn’t card tricks or little parlor magic.

Both of them. Shes holding off both of them.

The clash of their magic sends ripples through the air, creating a chaotic dance of light and shadows. Despite her resilience, you can't help but worry about her chances against such formidable adversaries.

A shriek shatters the tense atmosphere, and in a split second, Wayne lunges towards you with a wild, reckless abandon. You barely manage to sidestep his uncontrolled charge, his movements clumsy yet undeniably calculated.

Recognizing the need for something to defend yourself with, your eyes dart around, scanning the surroundings for anything that could act as a makeshift weapon.

Your gaze finds the woodpile nearby, settles on an axe embedded into a chunk of wood with its blade glimmering amidst the moonlight cutting through the shadows, an unlikely companion in this tumultuous battle.

With a surge of decision, you make a mad dash towards the weapon, strides filled with a renewed sense of purpose. The world around you blurs as you focus on reaching the axe, your heart pounding in your still aching head.

Every muscle tenses as you approach the woodpile, your fingers closing around the handle of the axe, its weight reassuring in your grip.

Gripping the axe firmly, you muster all your strength and attempt to wrench it free from the chunk of wood. The blade remains lodged in place, the wood unyielding against your determined efforts.

Frustration builds within you, mingling with the urgency of the moment. Time seems to slip away as you strain, exerting every ounce of strength to force the blade free from its stubborn resting place.

The cut in your hand aches, making the handle slippery with your blood, so quickly you tear a bit of your already ripped shirt off and frantically wrap it around your hand.

Not the best, but a momentary solution.

You continue your struggle with the axe, desperation seeping into your every action. The words spill from your lips in a plea of "c'mon, c'mon, please”, gaze darting to the side, alarm fueling your urgency.

The three men, their movements a blur of intent draw ever closer, approaching swiftly and menacingly. With every passing second, the need to break free becomes more urgent, the weight of the situation pressing down on your shoulders. Your breath hitches, a mix of determination and terror coursing through your veins as you fight against the constraints holding the axe captive.

With a surge of frustration and desperation, you muster a final burst of energy and wrench the axe loose from the stubborn wood. The moment the axe is free, you pivot swiftly, your instincts honing in on Jackson approaching you.

They’re already dead. They’re already dead.

Besides, at this point, you’re so completely fed up and exhausted with everything that you have just too many pent up emotions needing release.

In that single instant your mind and body are a whirl of honed focus, channeling every ounce of determination into a single, deliberate strike.

The blade arcs through the air, fueled by adrenaline and desperation, and comes crashing down with unwavering precision.

It whistles through the air and connects to Jackson with a sickening crunch. A spray of blood splatters across the ground as Jackson falls, the metallic scent mingling with the charged atmosphere as a guttural groan escaping his lips.

And when he doesn’t get back up, you remind yourself that he wasn’t even alive anymore, there was nothing human left in him. In any of them.

The sight sends a shiver down your spine, but there's no time for hesitation. Your focus remains unwavering, your heart racing as you brace for the next assault.

Driven by a primal instinct to survive, you grip the axe tightly against your chest, your every fiber tense with anticipation. RJ lurches forward, his presence filling your field of vision.

Without a moment's hesitation, you sidestep his charge, your movements fueled by a rush of adrenaline. You twist with precision, narrowly evading RJ's outstretched arms, the axe clenched defensively in your grasp, every muscle taut.

With a swift and calculated motion, you seize the opportunity provided by RJ's momentary loss of balance.

Your arms move in a fluid arc, raising the axe above your head and then with a burst of power, bringing it down with force upon his vulnerable back.

The impact is sickening, the sound of the blade meeting flesh resonating through the air. A surge of exhilaration and terror courses through you as RJ falls to the ground, stunned and defeated by your decisive strike.

Just as you wrench the axe free from RJ, Wayne descends upon you with a frenzy of uncoordinated movements, his teeth bared in a threatening snarl.

In a desperate attempt to protect yourself, you swiftly hold the axe handle up, creating a makeshift barrier between you and Wayne's lunge.

The strain on your arms is immense as you brace against the weight of his mindless onslaught, the axe handle quivering against the force of his jaws snapping mere inches from your face.

Wayne's bloodshot eyes burn with a haunting intensity, magnified by their proximity to yours as he continues his determined growling. With an unsettling strength, his hands grip the axe handle firmly, tugging relentlessly to wrench it away from your grasp.

The unexpected force catches you off balance, blood already lubricating the handle which causes you to release it and stumble back, footing slipping momentarily.

Panic surges through you as the axe is torn from your hands, leaving you vulnerable and at the mercy of Wayne's unpredictable nature.

Wayne - gripped by a frenzied rage — raises the axe high above his head, a feral scream tearing from his throat.

He brings the axe down with a forceful arc, its blade glimmering fiercely in the dim light. Just as quickly, you find yourself slipping on the uneven ground beneath you, your balance faltering as you stumble backward.

The descent is abrupt, and you fall to the ground with a resounding thud. The axe swings with a sickening whoosh, its sharp edge inches above your head, narrowly missing your fallen form.

With a mixture of disbelief and terror, you find yourself uttering a “holy shit."

The sheer intensity of the situation overwhelms you, and in a panicked reflex, you scramble to your feet as he raises the blade again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins urging you to flee.

Wayne’s relentless pursuit propels you into action, and you bolt away, your heart pounding in your chest as you barely dodge yet another swing of the axe. Sinking into the soil just where you’d been.

You can’t help but feel a renewed surge of desperation, your mind racing with thoughts of survival. In that moment of heightened awareness, the world seems to slow down, every detail etched in your memory.

The thudding of your heart echoes in your ears, the wind moving past you as you sprint forward, the ground beneath your feet a blur of motion. Your eyes dart around, scanning the surroundings for any potential escape routes, instincts guiding your every step.

As you flee, your senses on high alert, you catch a glimpse of Wayne clumsily freeing the axe from its grounded position.

With a sickening clarity, you see him raising the weapon above his head, his movements still frenzied yet strangely calculated. It’s as if he’s locked onto your retreating figure with a predatory precision, poised to deliver a devastating throw. The blade of the axe glistens in the moonlight, its deadly aim directed towards you.

Lorraine's desperate cry of "NO!” pierces the air suddenly, drawing your attention from the impending threat back to her.

In a heart-stopping moment, you watch as she swiftly turns her aim from Maxine and Bobby-Lynn towards Wayne, her hands trembling with urgency.

Just as Wayne hurls the axe towards you, Lorraine cuts through the air with her hands and emits a concentrated blast of magic. The two forces collide, resulting in a shockwave that sends out a surge of energy that rocks the ground beneath you.

A causality from being in the range of the blast, the forceful impact of your fall sends a jolt of pain through your body. The ground gives way beneath you, and you find yourself sprawled on the unforgiving surface — the taste of dirt and blood mingling in your mouth.

The shockwave's aftermath leaves you disoriented, your head spinning as you try to gain your bearings. As you regain some composure, your ears ring relentlessly, the result of the fierce impact lingering like a phantom reminder of the battle's intensity.

Despite the pain and disorientation, you can't help but notice the reopening of old wounds, a poignant symbol of the repeated trauma you've endured.

A groan escapes your lips as you reach up to touch your head, wincing in pain as the ringing in your ears slowly subsides. Through blurry vision, you try to make out the figures engaged in the ongoing conflict.

Amidst the haze, flashes of vibrant magic illuminate the scene, casting an ethereal glow that dances across the battleground.

Despite the visual distortion, the radiant bursts of magic remain a vivid reminder of the supernatural forces at play, guiding your attention to the heart of the skirmish.

As you regain your composure and sit up, your gaze shifts to Lorraine, who is now under relentless assault by Bobby-Lynn and Maxine.

They attack with a ferocity that borders on madness, their unwavering focus directed solely towards their target. The onslaught is relentless, leaving Lorraine with little chance to retaliate.

The once calm and composed Lorraine now appears vulnerable and overwhelmed, her slender frame struggling against the barrage of attacks.

As you observe the ongoing struggle, your attention is drawn to Wayne, who has seemingly recovered from Lorraine's forceful blast. His movements are erratic, punctuated by guttural growls that escape his throat.

It's a chilling sight, a reminder of the malevolent force that now controls him, driving him forward with a single-minded focus. The once familiar face of Wayne is now distorted, contorted by darkness and despair, his eyes devoid of humanity as he stumbles towards Lorraine with relentless determination.

With a sense of urgency, you frantically search the ground for the dropped axe, your head throbbing with pain. Time seems to stretch as you desperately scour the area, your fingers grappling along the grass to find the familiar handle.

Every second counts as Wayne closes the distance between himself and Lorraine, propelled forward by an eerie determination.

As your fingers finally brush against the cool yet sticky wood of the axe, a surge of hope floods through you. You clench the handle tightly, your injured hand throbbing with pain as you shove yourself up off the ground with effort, and fall into a sprint.

With unwavering focus, you push through the pain and disorientation, your vision narrowing into a tunnel as you gather every ounce of strength left within you.

In a decisive motion, you swing the axe with all your might, targeting Wayne's side just before he reaches striking distance. The impact is deafening as the blade connects with his flesh, causing him to let loose an echoing bellow.

You mercilessly wrench the axe free from Wayne's wounded side, eliciting a sickening sound that echoes through the air.

Your lungs heave with heavy breaths, each exhale laced with an effort to maintain consciousness. The clash of magical forces continues behind you, a mesmerizing spectacle that dances eerily amidst the darkness.

Amidst it all, you stand, a tableau of both determination and desperation, your form streaked with a crimson hue — a mix of your own blood and the blood of your adversaries.

A macabre sense of humor laces your words as you manage through heavy breaths, "how's this for cutting the tension, Wayne?"

The clash of magic and the echoes of Wayne's scream fills the clearing, trying to push himself up on to his feet as he claws his way to you, so you seize the opportunity to strike a final blow.

With a decisive motion, you raise the axe high above your head and bring it down with unwavering force upon him, severing any hope of recovery.

The sickening crunch of metal meeting flesh reverberates through the air, accompanied by a surge of exhilaration that tinges the triumph with a hint of grim satisfaction.

The ground rumbles violently, shaking the very foundation beneath you. The intensity sends shockwaves through the earth, causing the fires surrounding you to whip and dance wildly.

Maxine, Bobby-Lynn, and Lorraine all halt their magic-induced battle, their eyes widening in a mix of awe and panic as they regard the spectacle.

The air currents, fueled by an inexplicable force, swirl around you like a tempest, crackling with an unseen energy that raises the hair on your arms.

Maxine's chilling laugh echoes through the air, drawing all attention towards her, her arms lifted triumphantly to the heavens as she proclaims “the second part of the ritual is complete! The sacrifices have been taken willingly by the promised!"

Maxine's declaration hangs heavily in the air, its weight settling upon you like a suffocating shroud. The implication of her words sinks in, their meaning twisted and sickening.

Panic courses through you as you grip the axe tightly, desperately seeking answers from Lorraine as your eyes find hers across the clearing.

"What the hell is she talking about?" you shout, a mix of fear and confusion lacing your voice.

The weight of the situation presses heavily upon your shoulders, a palpable tension settling in the air. Lorraine's face pales further as she recognizes the implications of Maxine's words.

"The prophecy," she whispers, her voice trembling before shifting into an accusatory shout as she whips around to Maxine.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”

Maxine responds with a subtle nod of her head, a silent signal to Bobby-Lynn, who seizes the opportunity to restrain Lorraine with an invisible force.

The air around Lorraine constricts and tightens, constricting her form. She lets out a sharp inhale, an audible gasp, as she attempts to break free from the unseen grip.

Instinctively you take a step forward, squaring your shoulders as you yell out “LET HER GO! This is between us now!”

Maxine turns her attention to you, a calculated look in her eyes, seemingly relishing the power she possesses. Her voice, carrying a hint of dark satisfaction, repeats the chilling verse.

"Three sacrifices, taken willingly by the one promised," she intones, her steps approaching you with unwavering purpose.

A surge of trepidation floods through you, your heart pounding against your chest, as you tightly grip the axe, your every instinct screaming to be cautious.

The air around you seems to thicken with an intangible menace as Maxine closes the distance between you, a wicked smile playing at the edges of her lips.

Your voice echoes forcefully, "they were already dead! It doesn't count—"

Before you can finish, Maxine swiftly interrupts you, “no one gives a shit about the details” her words filled with a chilling finality “it has waited too long to abide by guidelines" she declares, her expression resolute.

The weight of her statement hangs heavily in the air, its implications sending a shiver down your spine. It's becoming increasingly clear that Maxine's motives are far more complex and sinister than you could have initially anticipated.

The true extent of the danger you face is only now beginning to unravel.

Lorraine's voice cuts through the chaos, a desperate plea, "run!" she begs, “you have to run!"

Despite the alarm in her voice, you don't relent. Planting your feet firmly, you stand your ground, realizing the futility of fleeing. With resolute determination, you understand that this has to be faced head-on for it to end.

You know if you run, they will simply find you again.

With the force of a tempest, Lorraine struggles against the invisible binds, her voice echoing with escalating panic. "No!" she cries out, desperation lacing her tone, “don’t be a hero!”

Yet you remain steadfast, adjusting your grip on the axe with unwavering resolve. You take a moment to steady yourself, drawing a deep breath before taking a step forward, your gait measured and determined. Maxine, undeterred, matches your stride, closing the gap between you with an eerily calm expression on her face.

Summoning every ounce of your remaining strength, you muster a mocking retort, calling out to Maxine “how’s this for having a few brain cells?"

With a surge of determination, you shake off your body's warning signals, pushing past the dizziness that threatens to overwhelm you.

With a reckless swing, you lunge forward. Your muscles tense, fueling the forceful movement as the axe blade arcs through the air towards Maxine.

In a display of almost taunting grace, Maxine smoothly side-steps your initial swing, her movements fluid and calculated.

Frustration boils within you, fueling your desperation. You let out a cry of exertion as you muster the strength to swing again, disregarding the protest in your arms and the searing burn of your exhausted muscles.

The axe blade arcs through the air, determined to meet its mark despite the mounting fatigue—

“ENOUGH!”

Maxine snatches the hilt mid-air with surprising ease, her grip firm and unwavering. Your arms tremble with the strain, the once surging adrenaline now fading, leaving behind the stark realization of your depleting strength.

The axe blade hovers in the air, poised and still, as though frozen in time between you and Maxine. Despite your valiant attempt, you can feel your body's resolve waning, the struggle to maintain your stance becoming increasingly arduous.

With a single effortless motion, Maxine swiftly tears the axe from your gripping fingers and flings it aside.

The discarded weapon lands heavily, its significance eclipsed by the immediate threat at hand.

Her free hand seizes you around the neck, the grip harsh and unyielding, leaving you little room to maneuver.

Your vision starts to blur as her grip tightens around your throat, a suffocating sensation that intensifies with every passing second.

The room starts to spin as your senses dull, the edges of your vision darkening. The sound of Lorraine's panicked calls fade into the background as a cold wave of fatigue washes over you.

Despite the desperate grasp of your hands around her wrist, the struggle grows feeble and halfhearted, the fight drained out of you by the relentless chokehold and the profound blood loss.

You fight to maintain consciousness, but your body grows heavy, the relentless grip of blackness slowly enveloping you.

Only… it’s not her grip on you that has your consciousness fading in and out.

Amidst the chaos and encroaching darkness, you find yourself fixated on Maxine's unsettling incantation she’d been muttering since she grabbed you.

Her free hand, cold and clammy, suddenly presses firmly against your forehead. A sharp, searing pain unlike anything you've ever experienced before erupts within you.

It's as if a scorching fire has suddenly ignited inside your skull, the intensity and suddenness of the heat spreading through your veins and leaving you reeling.

The world around you starts to melt away into a blur, the agony consuming your entire being. Your body bucks and contorts involuntarily, your spine arching in a forceful, unnatural manner. The sudden surge of agony radiating through your chest intensifies, excruciating torment that claws at your very soul.

Within your mind, a cacophony of disoriented voices echo, their chants merging with Maxine's incantations in a chilling symphony of torture.

The onslaught tearing at you from the inside is overwhelming, each voice feeding the scorching intensity burning through every nerve in your body.

Lorraine, driven by a potent mix of anger and desperation, breaks free from Bobby-Lynn's magical restraints.

Every fiber of her being is channeled into a surge of strength and determination. With unyielding resolve, she forcefully breaks through the constraints, shattering the hold Bobby-Lynn had over her.

The moment she is free, her focus shifts entirely to you, her eyes filled with unwavering dedication.

The intensity you’re undergoing intensifies, the excruciating pain mounting with each passing second.

Your voice finally breaks free in a shrill, agonized scream, the sound echoing with the sheer distress and torment you're enduring. The pain sears through every nerve, threatening to overwhelm your senses.

Maxine casts a fleeting glance at Lorraine, a look of warning flashing in her eyes, but her focus remains firmly on the sinister ritual she's conducting.

It's clear that she's intent on seeing this through, regardless of the pain and suffering it inflicts upon you.

And that, just won’t do.

With a swift and forceful motion, Lorraine channels her energy, unleashing it upon Maxine. The impact sends Maxine staggering back, knocked away from your convulsing form.

The sudden release from Maxine's grip leaves you vulnerable and weak, your body collapsing helplessly to the ground near the roaring flames of the bonfire.

Lorraine, driven by desperation and determination, unleashes a barrage of blows on Maxine, throwing all her energy she has left into the effort.

Yet, despite the intensity of Lorraine's attacks, Maxine effortlessly deflects each one with an almost supernatural ease.

The deflected blows ricochet off Maxine like they are nothing, her focus unyielding and undisturbed. All the while, Lorraine desperately tries to reach your side, the urgency evident in her frantic movements.

As Maxine rises to her feet, Lorraine stands firm, poised and determined. The realization that she must face Maxine head-on settles within her, and she steels herself for the confrontation.

With unwavering resolve, Lorraine does everything in her power to divert Maxine's focus away from you. She deftly maneuvers, creating a dance-like exchange of attacks and dodges, all with the sole purpose of keeping Maxine's attention squarely on her. The air is thick with intensity as Lorraine fights, buying you precious moments.

And then, there’s a pause between them both, breathing raggedly and hands poised at the ready.

As a standoff commences, a palpable clash of wills fills the air. Maxine and Lorraine stand face to face, their expressions etched with unwavering determination.

Each woman's gaze is razor-sharp, their features reflecting a mixture of concentration and focus.

They circle each other cautiously, steadfast on the precipice of the battle continued where the stakes are both physical and supernatural.

The intense face-off between Maxine and Lorraine is suddenly interrupted by the resounding voice of Bobby-Lynn.

She interjects, her tone stern yet tinged with annoyance "Lorraine! This is so not you, it ain’t right!"

The unexpected intervention startles both women, their attention momentarily diverted. Bobby-Lynn steps forward, her expression a blend of disappointment and disbelief.

Lorraine's gaze flicks towards you, now being supported upright by Bobby-Lynn, being used almost like a human shield. The sight that confronts her sends a shiver of horror down her spine.

You stagger weakly, your eyes barely open and your body drenched in a sickening sea of crimson. The realization hits Lorraine like a ton of bricks; you're in far worse shape than she initially thought.

As she takes in the gravity of the situation, Lorraine's expression mirrors the churning nausea in her stomach. Her focus shifts sharply from Maxine to you, her concern escalating exponentially.

Bobby-Lynn, her mock sympathy reaching its peak, stretches her arm around you and seizes your face with false concern.

With a dramatic pout on her lips, she turns her gaze to Lorraine, taunting expression on her face, and utters, "you're really gonna give up everything — power, freedom, control — for this? C'mon now”.

Her words hang in the air, dripping with sarcasm and disdain as she questions Lorraine's loyalty and devotion, where it truly lies.

Lorraine, with a slow and deliberate motion, raises her hands in a gentle and non-threatening position.

Gathering her composure, she tries to plead a case “please, you don’t have to do this—“, only for Maxine to swiftly interject, emphasizing the importance of unity.

"Not so long ago, you were with us, Lorraine," Maxine reminds her, "not against us." The weight of their shared history hangs heavily in the air as Maxine's words echo through the clearing, challenging Lorraine's recent shift in allegiance.

As Lorraine's gaze shifts to Maxine, she observes the irritation and perplexity etched on her face. With a firm tone, Maxine points out the reality, saying, "Rooks left you, Lorraine. We were the ones who stood by you”.

Maxine's words hit home, reminding Lorraine of the contrasting support she had received. The mention of your return being facilitated by Maxine and Bobby-Lynn adds another layer to their argument, a reminder of the complexities of their relationships and loyalties.

Lorraine takes a momentary pause, the weight of memories and emotions tugging at her. Though she almost succumbs to feelings of doubt, the sight of you, weakened and bloodied, anchors her.

The deep-seated worry and love for you override any lingering confusion. Lorraine's resolve firms as she steels herself against the influences attempting to sway her.

With unwavering determination, Lorraine steadies herself, drawing strength from the unwavering loyalty you had shown by returning for her.

She looks to Maxine and Bobby-Lynn, her voice carrying a resolute undercurrent. "You may say Rooks left me," she says, a hint of defiance lacing her words “but Rooks came back. Even with no reason to stay after finding out the truth, yet did."

Lorraine's steadfastness in the face of doubt and conflicting loyalties shines through as she speaks up for your unwavering commitment and presence in her life.

Maxine and Bobby-Lynn exchange a quick, meaningful glance, an unspoken dialogue passing between them as a subtle understanding forms.

Amidst the tension, Bobby-Lynn holds you in her gentle yet firm grip, ensuring you don’t collapse. The weight of the situation hangs heavily in the air, the unspoken conversation between Maxine and Bobby-Lynn adding an air of anticipation as the power dynamics shift.

Bobby-Lynn turns her gaze to Lorraine, her mock innocence apparent in her eyes. "If it's Rooks' heart that you want…" she says slyly, a hint of mischief in her voice.

Her words carry a sharp edge, and Lorraine feels a pang of unease as they strike her deeply. The revelation of their true intentions sends shockwaves through her. It's a stark reminder of the treacherous nature of those she once trusted, leaving her in a state of vulnerability and uncertainty.

“…I’ll happily get it for you”.

As Bobby-Lynn's fingers splay out against your chest, the air in the clearing thick with tension, Lorraine's heart clenches in realization.

Fear floods her face, her eyes widening in horror as she processes the true intention behind Bobby-Lynn's actions.

With a sharp inhale, Lorraine screams your name as she instinctively rushes forward, her voice filled with terror and desperation.

"NO! No, please don’t!" she pleads, the panic evident in her voice.

The ground beneath and around the area of the bonfire suddenly starts to rumble and shake, causing Bobby-Lynn to lose her footing.

She lets go of you, momentarily distracted by the unexpected upheaval. The once still and stable earth heaves unsettlingly, causing them all to scramble to maintain balance, trying to steady against the tremors that rock the very foundation they stand upon.

And then, the ground splits open.

Lorraine instantly drops, hands splayed across the grass as if it could do anything to anchor her. Bobby-Lynn somehow manages to stay upright, nearly topping back into the bonfire behind her.

Maxine, having been standing close to where the newly formed gap in the ground is, barely manages to catch herself on the edge to prevent herself from falling in.

Her head hovers over the opening, the void below threatening to swallow her whole. The sudden ground shift has caused an unstable edge to form, putting Maxine in a precarious position as she struggles to regain her balance.

The violent shaking abruptly ceases, leaving the atmosphere charged with suspense. As Lorraine struggles to push herself upright, she looks up at the sound of a scream to see Maxine hurled forcefully backward, as if hit by an unseen and powerful force.

Maxine's body soars through the air, propelled in an unnatural arc that defies gravity. Lorraine gazes in shock and surprise at the unexpected spectacle unfolding before her eyes.

And when she lands, it’s hard, rolling back a few feet before coming to a halt.

She doesn’t get up, nor move at all.

As Bobby-Lynn swiftly moves to Maxine's side, concern etched across her face, she urgently calls out to her.

"Maxine! Maxine!" she exclaims, her voice tinged with worry. Meanwhile, Lorraine is presented with a brief window of opportunity.

She hastens to scramble on the ground, urgently making her way to your unconscious form, utilizing this momentary distraction to her advantage.

Lorraine's heart pounds in her chest as she rushes to you, panic coursing through her veins. The sight of your unconscious form, lying motionless on the ground, fills her with a sick feeling, a deep sense of dread gripping her.

She reaches you, gently lifting up your head and cradling you in her arms with an aching tenderness. Tears well up in her eyes as she takes in the extent of your injuries, her heart heavy with worry and fear.

“Stay with me, don’t you dare do nothin’ stupid now like die—“ she mutters, pressing her fingers against your neck and holding her breath, the amount of relief she feels when she finds a pulse is almost overwhelming.

Tears gather in Lorraine's eyes, her voice breaking as a broken sob escapes her lips. She holds you tenderly, her hand gently cradling your face, as if to protect you from further harm.

Her heart aches as she whispers words of reassurance to you, her voice low and shaky with emotions. "It's okay," she murmurs, her voice laced with tears and fear, “you're gonna to be alright. I'm here. I've got you."

Your eyelids flutter slightly as you struggle to fight off the exhaustion that threatens to overwhelm you. Despite your valiant effort to maintain your breath, the strain is evident on your face, your body clearly overwhelmed by fatigue and injury. Every breath seems labored, a battle against your own weakening body.

Lorraine's comforting words are interrupted by a sharp cry of pain, catching her attention and pulling it away from you.

Concern etched on her face, she turns to look in the direction of the cry, her eyes flickering between you and the commotion a few feet away from the bonfire.

The sequence of events unfold like a blur, with everything happening in rapid succession. Lorraine manages to catch a glimpse of the scene, witnessing Maxine's abrupt and stiff actions as she grabs Bobby-Lynn's face and slowly rises to her feet.

There's a sense of discomfort and unease in the way Maxine moves, something distinctly amiss in her unnatural stiffness.

Lorraine holds you close, shielding you from harm as she frantically scans the surrounding area, trying to find a way to extract you from this dangerous situation.

At the same time, she cannot tear her gaze away from the unfolding events a bit a ways from the bonfire, her mind racing with worry and uncertainty about what's about to transpire.

When Lorraine looks away for what is only a mere two seconds, her heart skips a beat at the horrifying sound that reaches her ears.

It's a sickening crunch, as if bone has met with something hard and unyielding.

This is followed by the distinct thud of something hitting the ground nearby. Her mind instantly reels at the sound, knowing instinctively that whatever happened was nothing good.

Lorraine's gaze slowly moves back to where Maxine and Bobby-Lynn were. Her eyes widen in horror when she sees Bobby-Lynn's motionless body lying on the ground at Maxine’s feet, her neck bent at an unnatural angle.

A wave of shock and revulsion washes over Lorraine as she takes in the gruesome sight. She instinctively tightens her hold on you, her heart racing with fear.

Maxine inhales deeply, her eyes closing with an unnerving focus. The peaceful silence of the moment is brutally interrupted as her head jerks backwards, her mouth opening to display a set of glistening, razor-sharp teeth that are distinctly non-human. Her entire countenance is transformed, taking on an eerie, otherworldly quality.

Maxine releases a bone-chilling shriek that reverberates through the night air, its pitch unlike anything ever heard before.

The sound is so unearthly and unnatural that it sends nearby birds hiding in the trees flying into the sky in a panicked flurry, their shrill caws adding to the already chaotic atmosphere.

The gears of Lorraine’s mind spin in a desperate attempt to process the situation and determine a course of action.

She fights to maintain her composure in the face of this supernatural onslaught, her determination ignited by the desperation to navigate through this nightmare-like reality.

The demon, now possessing Maxine's body, turns its gaze towards Lorraine and you, its demeanor chilling and menacing. Lorraine's heart races as she braces herself for whatever might happen next, her mind going through different scenarios and preparing for the worst.

In the dancing light cast by the flickering bonfire, Lorraine catches a glimpse of the demon's inky black eyes.

The scene is vividly unsettling, the flames casting an ominous glow over Maxine's possessed form, her once familiar features now marred by something sinister and otherworldly.

Lorraine holds you tightly, her heart pounding with fear and protectiveness. Her thoughts are a chaotic whirlwind, a mixture of fear, determination, and guilt.

"Please, hold on," she whispers down to you, her voice quivering but firm. "I won't let anything happen to you. We'll get out of this, I promise."

She scans the surroundings again, desperately searching for an escape route or a way to defend you both against the malevolent force that now controls Maxine.

As her thoughts race and her mind whirs, Lorraine's focus is abruptly interrupted as the demon suddenly seems to pull back, retreating into the night.

The bonfire's flames cast an eerie, flickering light over the scene as it hurries away, its retreating form blending into the shadow of the treeline and vanishing into the darkness.

And just like that, it’s over just as quickly as it started.

The bonfire still burns, casting an uneasy, wavering light over the surroundings. The bodies of Bobby-Lynn as well as the butchered remains of the men, along with the way you lie motionless on the cold, hard ground — a silent testament to the violence that has just been unleashed upon.

The night air is brisk and cool, a sharp contrast to the heat of the bonfire behind her. Off in the distant trees, the familiar caw of a crow can be heard, its mournful cry eerily blending in with the desolate setting.

Lorraine stares off — stunned, at the fact the demon simply left, disappearing into the trees. She lets out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding, her heart still pounding furiously in her chest.

Her mind races, trying to process what just happened. She looks down at you, still unconscious and vulnerable in her arms, and feels a renewed sense of determination.

"It's gone," she whispers, more reassuring herself than anything.

"For now, it's gone."

____________________________________________

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeates throughout the kitchen, its rich and enticing scent filling the air.

Alongside this, the sizzle and pop of bacon cooking in a pan on the stove can be heard, creating a comforting and familiar background melody.

Lorraine stands by the stove, frying some bacon while occasionally glancing over her shoulder. The early morning light streams in from the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow over the room.

Lorraine's face bears a mix of exhaustion and worry, her mind no doubt preoccupied with the chain of events from the last few days.

Finally the bacon is done, and Lorraine plates it, placing a few crispy strips on a dish already stacked with pancakes, and promptly turns off the stove.

She sighs, pouring a cup of coffee and taking a small sip. The caffeine is needed, as Lorraine had been up most of the night watching over you while you slept fitfully.

Not that she will ever complain.

Even when you sleep restlessly, she’s grateful to wake up from her own nightmares where she watches Bobby-Lynn rip your heart from your chest, only to find you sound asleep next to her.

Heart still beating.

Ever since that fateful night, yours and Lorraine's sleep has been restless and plagued by nightmares. It's not surprising; the trauma of what happened is still raw and fresh in both of your minds.

No thanks to her, which is a guilt she will carry with her indefinitely.

But for now, Lorraine thinks to herself, you're out of the hospital and away from the relentless questioning of the police has come to an end.

It's a small mercy in an otherwise turbulent situation.

Basically, you’ve both been house bound until the investigation is concluded, at least out here you aren’t being watched by everyone. Because unfortunately for Lorraine, her life happens to me right in the middle of town, so the manor was the only option.

You’d been against it heavily, but the scrutiny from the townsfolk eventually made you cave.

Lorraine grabs the plate of bacon and the steaming cup of coffee, balancing them carefully in her hands.

She then steps out of the kitchen and into the living room of the manor, maneuvering around familiar furniture and taking in the sight of the room she's already spent countless hours in.

As Lorraine walks through the room, she carefully navigates around the still half-packed boxes that litter the floors.

These boxes are now a forgotten sight, their contents unimportant compared to the bigger, more pressing issues at hand.

Lorraine moves past them all until she reaches the foyer, her steps a bit quicker now without obstacles as she heads up the stairs, humming a soft and soothing background melody that fills the air.

As she reaches the top, she veers to the right, deliberately avoiding looking in the direction of your Pops’ old study.

The sight of the door, now nailed shut and reinforced with a fancy lock, still brings shudders down her spine. The sacrilegious text that lies within will stay there, at least until you both figure out what to do with it, considering how burning the damn thing didn’t work.

You never did liked that room. She doesn’t blame you for it either, all things considered.

The energy seems to shift as Lorraine approaches the door leading out to the balcony patio area. A subtle change in the air, a stillness, as if the rest of the world is holding its breath. 

The atmosphere becomes more open, more inviting. The faint sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling carry on the breeze, a stark contrast to the cramped indoors.

As Lorraine steps through the open doorway, into the balcony area, she instinctively exhales, the relief almost tangible.

Lorraine's heart sinks as she glances over to see you, sitting at a small table nearby, turning to look at the sound of her footsteps.

The sight of the bandage still wrapped around your head serves as a reminder of the events that brought you both to where you are now. But despite this, she forces a soft smile onto her face, hiding the pang of worry she feels.

Lorraine approaches, softly greeting you with a whispered "hey."

She then sets down the plate filled with bacon and pancakes on the table in front of you, followed by the steaming cup of coffee.

Her movements are gentle, as if worried any wrong move might break the fragile equilibrium of the moment.

Your gaze follows Lorraine, tracking her every movement as she sinks into the seat next to you. There's an undeniable warmth and tenderness in your eyes, the adoration you feel for her written on your face. 

Your eyes linger on her face, taking in every feature as if committing it to memory. The softness in your expression belies the fear and trepidation still present in your heart, but your devotion and love for her remain unwavering.

The aftermath of the incident had left both you and Lorraine struggling to find solid ground. The days immediately following were a whirlwind of police questioning, doctors' visits, and general chaos.

It wasn't until a few days later, when the dust seemed to have settled, that the two of you were able to find a moment of relative calm to properly talk about everything that had happened.

During that time, it had been difficult to find the right timing and space to truly process your thoughts and emotions with everything else going on.

You’d somewhat touched on everything, or at least everything in regard to her role in it all, and she’d been completely honest.

For now, it was going to have to do.

The police had grilled you both for hours on end about the deaths that had occurred, demanding to know what happened.

You both had answered their questions as honestly as you could manage, but there were certain things — including Lorraine's initial involvement — that you both had deliberately omitted from your statements.

The police didn't need to know everything, especially not something that could potentially incriminate Lorraine further.

Following the incident, Maxine had gone missing, disappearing without a trace.

You had tried to explain that the situation was far more complex than the police believed, that there were supernatural forces at play.

Lorraine had backed you up on this, corroborating your tale, but the police had remained stubbornly skeptical. The idea of witchcraft or supernatural forces was too far-fetched for them to accept.

They believed you must be either delusional or outright lying.

Lorraine is pulled out of her thoughts as you dangle a piece of bacon in front of her face in a playful gesture. She quickly mirrors your smile, accepting the treat before biting into it.

"Thanks," she mumbles through a mouthful of bacon, a mixture of gratitude and amusement in her voice.

As you laugh, a small wince involuntarily escapes you, causing Lorraine to immediately sit bolt upright, concern etched across her face.

Sensing your discomfort, she gently places a hand on your shoulder, grounding you as your taut muscles instantly seem to ease at her touch.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice brimming with worry.

You're about to snap out a sarcastic reply, your usual defensive mechanism taking over. After all, you're not used to being pampered and cared for.

And there's still a sliver of resentment towards Lorraine, remembering her initial deception. But as your eyes meet hers, a soft understanding passes between you.

She did try to warn you, then set you free, saved your life, broke free from the malevolent manipulation that had a dark hold on her soul — all for you.

You fight down the snark, softening your tone as you respond “I'm fine”, albeit quietly.

Lorraine watches you closely, sensing the change in your demeanor. Her hand remains on your shoulder, a soothing presence in the midst of the myriad of emotions swirling through her.

"Are you sure that’s what you’re gonna go with this time?" she asks gently, her words laced with concern.

She knows you're hesitant to show weakness, to be vulnerable, but she's determined to be there for you, whether you like it or not.

You're about to respond, exhausted and worn out, when your words catch in your throat. Out of the blue, a familiar caw rings through the air, stealing your attention.

Your body tenses instinctively, muscles tightening in response to the sound.

It's a sound you know all too well.

Lorraine sits quietly, her gaze fixed on you, watching and waiting patiently. She's learned over time that pushing you never works, that you need space to process and speak your mind in your own way.

It's a habit she's grown accustomed to, waiting for you, but this time it's for a different reason.

Lorraine feels a sense of duty, a debt to you that she is eager to repay. She knows that your trust in her is fragile right now, and she's determined to earn it back, step by step.

You fix your gaze into the distance, a pensive look on your face, before muttering your thoughts aloud.

"I don't think accepting was a good idea," you speak softly, your words tinged with a hint of unease. Lorraine turns to look at you, her expression inquisitive, waiting for you to elaborate.

You shift your gaze to meet Lorraine's gaze, your brow furrowing in contemplation "I just think it’s weird," you begin, your words laced with skepticism, "how our case was picked up so fast by a stranger from across the country. Doesn't that seem a bit off to you? I mean — how does someone in New York catch wind of a Texas case?”

Lorraine gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she responds, her voice quiet and soothing.

"What matters is that someone does believe us, this someone is all we got" she starts, her words firm yet tender. "And if we get locked up..." She pauses, hesitating, not wanting to speak her next words aloud.

Right. And then there’s still that issue at hand.

You nod in agreement, understanding the gravity of the situation. You finish Lorraine's thought, your voice tinged with a mix of resignation and determination.

"That thing will still be out there," you state, the words hanging heavily in the air, “possessing Maxine, wreaking havoc."

That was also something you’d both somewhat touched on, the conversation wasn’t long, considering you both felt partially responsible for unleashing a demon out into the world.

And thus, you both felt it meant you’d have to be the ones to put it back.

Another loud caw interrupts your thoughts, the sound drawing your attention away once more. Lorraine, silently observing, simply watches you, her eyes never straying from your face.

After the caw fades into the distance, Lorraine speaks up, her voice soft and inquisitive, “they still call to you?”

You fall into a pondering, contemplative silence for a moment, your mind working through the implications of the caw.

Finally, you speak, murmuring quietly, "it's different this time," you brow furrows, voice low and thoughtful.

"It's not a warning, but it’s… a beckoning”.

Lorraine tilts her head slightly, her eyes fixed on your face, a quizzical expression on her face.

"What do you mean?" she asks, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.

In response, you look back at her and offer a shrug, a weary sigh escaping your lips. You're about to speak, your words tinged with a bit of optimism.

"I just hope this Detective can—"

But before you can finish, Lorraine interrupts you with a soft laugh, her tone tinged with amused affection as she playfully corrects you.

"You mean Private Investigator”.

Despite the gravity of the situation, a faint smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you react to Lorraine's playful correction.

Her lightheartedness serves as a brief but welcome diversion from the grim reality you're facing.

For a moment, the weight of it all seems to lighten just a bit.

Your gazes hold each other for a moment, a silent connection passing between you. Her hand rests on your shoulder, a gentle yet grounding presence. A soft intimacy envelops the moment as you both share it together in the quiet solitude.

Despite the lingering feelings of betrayal and trust, beneath it all there's a love that remains.

Lorraine has become an integral part of your life, a constant presence in the chaos.

You may not have fully forgiven or trust her yet, but she's the only one you have, and that realization weighs heavily on you.

As if attuned to your thoughts, Lorraine suddenly asks gently, her voice tentative, "do you think you can find it in yourself to forgive me?"

The question lingers in the air, leaving a tension hanging in the space between you. It's a query that cuts right to the core of your feelings, forcing you to acknowledge and confront the pain inflicted by her actions.

Your response is tempered with a hint of playfulness, but there's a genuine warmth in your eyes as you speak.

"It might take some time," you reply, your voice low but affectionate. The corners of your mouth curl upwards in a slight smile, telegraphing a mixture of forgiveness and the lingering hurt beneath it.

Lorraine understands the nuances of your response, her hand gently moving from your shoulder to tenderly cup your face.

As she does, you instinctively lean into her palm, the simple gesture evoking a sense of comfort and security.

Lorraine's voice, soft and sincere, resonates in the air between you as she speaks.

"If you'll have me," she says, her words filled with determination, "I'll use every day as a means to make it up to you. To prove myself."

Your smile grows wider as you cover her hand with your own bandaged one. Your touch is gentle, yet firm, conveying a mixture of vulnerability and strength.

You turn your head, your lips brushing against her palm as you murmur softly, "maybe some day."

You take a moment to sort through the maelstrom of emotions and uncertainty that swirls within you. Amidst the confusion and hurt, there's a glimmer of hope.

You realize that despite the current chaos, you don't want to face it alone. You need Lorraine by your side, and that thought alone gives you a sense of comfort in this storm.

The path forward is uncertain, but having her with you, even if it's a work in progress, means the world to you.

There is still the demonic entity, lurking behind the chaos and the supernatural events that have unfolded.

You know that deep down, it's only a matter of time before it unleashes its destructive power upon the mortal world.

Despite the looming threat, you feel a sense of determination.

You know the reckoning is coming, but you're confident that when it does, both of you will be prepared to face it.

Together.

previous.

AN: thank you everyone who followed along with this series! As always, it’s been an honor, a pleasure, and a privilege.

————————————————————————

Tag List: @thatshyboy1998

[matt0044]

What we can learn from “The Jaune Arc Discourse” (TM).

Well, to start with, people are really resistant to being corrected on lies at worst or overstatements at best.

Like if nothing else, the Does RWBY Like Women poll was illuminating in how it showed me that a veeeeeery weird myth about Jaune Arc has persisted beyond its true relevancy.

Volume 1 of RWBY features Jaune Arc in the spotlight for… what? Four episodes? The minutes of each adding up to roughly twenty minutes, the length of an average TV episode?

While he was featured in the previous storyline where we are given an eight episode arc introducing us to our eight main protagonists, he was a lot more… ancillary as comic relief. A discount Lavernius Tucker with Felix’s voice if you will.

He's Vomit Boy in episode one. Episode two has him introduced more formally as somebody who helps up Ruby after a bad first impression on Weiss. He later appears more prominently pining over Weiss and catching Pyrrha's attention before falling to bracing himself in being catapulted into the Emerald Forest.

He's bailed out by Pyrrha and it's set up that he's in over his head by not knowing what Aura is or at least wanting to know how it works. An exposition sponge as I heard on fan call it. I could go on but the point is that all signs pointed to a Butt Monkey Ron Stoppable sort who was likely there for cheap laughs.

Amusing enough but I worried if that's all he'd be personally. Lord knows that some movies give the Comic Relief character too much comic relief and, well, not enough character. But after Ruby and Weiss have their leader/lance headbutting, the four episodes that followed reassured me that there'd be more to Jaune than meets the eyes.

But to circle back to the main thesis, it's actually fascinating that the myth of Jaune hijacking the narrative for himself is this pervasive when the offending story in question... is very much a self-contained character piece. It's way less about the wider story involving Ozpin, Roman Torchwick (at the time) and the White Fang.

It has relevance in how Pyrrha starts mentoring Jaune after he deals with Cardin and gets over himself (for now) which trickles down into future stories. Even then, the next story arc right back with Team RWBY with nary a sign of the everyman in question. A story arc that does deal with elements of the main plot, leading directly into Volume 2.

And in Volume 2, Jaune trying to woo Weiss and being ignorant to Pyyrha's advancements was just a subplot scattered in the first half of the story. It very much piggybacks off of Team RWBY's whole deal.

Volume 3 has what I consider to be a reversal of what's been known as Trinity Syndrome.

Namely the sort where a male character goes off the square off with the main villain mano-e-mano after shoving the female character/his love interest away so she won't get hurt. An egrigious example being when the love interest CAN FIGHT and back him up.

However, Pyyrha instead shoves Jaune out of the way after kissing him and goes off to face Cinder in a very fatal battle. It was honestly a brilliant (as much as the term may be disliked these days) subversion of the cliche.

And it’s Ruby who sees her death and gets the trauma induced power up. Jaune only has a scene of angst before that and was the one to call Ruby to have her try and back up the one he just realized he loved.

Jaune from that point on is an Everyman Protagonist who is forced to remember that he’s not THE protagonist. Yet the myth persistently proclaims that he hijacks the narrative from the titular Team RWBY despite only four episodes being wholly dedicated to him and his head space.

How did we get here?

Well… there’s the fact that not everyone finished Volume 1 and that not everybody, well, watched RWBY. And that would be fine on its own. You gave it a shot and it wasn’t your cuppa joe. You saw the trailer but clicked on something else.

I get it. That’s fine. Contrary to popular belief, nobody in the FNDM will really fault you for it. Less fine is when you spread faulty readings of RWBY and from those heavily biased against it no less.

It cannot be emphasized enough that tearing into RWBY is a cottage industry on YouTube. Hbomberguy might have the biggest platform but you’ll find multiple channels with lengthy series on “RWBY bad, here why.” And they are actually amongst the FNDM. They know how the YT Algorithm game is played, how it rewards engagement above all else. And sadly, negativity and rage pay more bills.

It’s why there are few positive videos or at least few that are pushed into the recommendations. Many often borrow the same points from each other born from the V1 days, namely that Jaune is allegedly given favoritism by the writers while we somehow “don’t know who the main girls are.”

From four episodes.

I also think it’s also to do with how it’s not that he actually did steal screentime… so much as many anticipated he would. A lot of shows and movies I grew up with would have strong female characters but any potential they had was hindered by the male lead and his hero’s journey. See the above Trinity Syndrome I referenced.

But Jaune didn’t do that. Even when he was central to an event like his semblance being awakened, it’s a healing/power boost that he gives to others. Weiss getting skewered might’ve brought it out but it lead to her getting back into the fray while he was largely to the sides.

Seems more like he shares screentime if anything.

People cling to these myths despite legit fans actually pointing out, “Hey, that’s not true actually and here’s why,” because that hate being told they are wrong more than being wrong. And because there are many around these who reinforce this “truth,” they feel content with it. No need to challenge it when it “feels” right.

So Jaune Arc stole screentime. Because that’s what “everyone else” is saying. By you need to question popular opinions. You need to realize that sometimes… a fan community is based on lies.

”Trust me, bro” is not the gotcha you think it is.

[sentientgolfball]

Ghostober Day 7

I need everyone to know the concept of siren Swiss hit me like a truck. Also @divine-misfortune can I have my socks back now

Pairing: Rulti

WC: 2482

Tags: Quintosis, cnc, outside sex, the tiniest touch of voyeurism.

By all accounts, Swiss’ quintessence was no match for a full fledged quint ghoul’s. It may have been one of his strongest elements besides fire, but it could not come anywhere close. Still, that does not mean he does not know how to use it. He would tell anyone who asked that his lack of power made him that much better. He actually had to learn this element instead of snapping his fingers and getting what he wanted. 

It also means he is full of surprises. Unpredictable. Volatile. Nobody knows how many tricks he has up his sleeve. Nobody can be prepared for it. He loves it more than anything. 

Tonight he is going to show off a new trick he finally perfected. He knows just who to call to help him with the debut. He is positive no one will appreciate it as much as Rain. 

He sits outside at the center of the hedge garden. Light from the moon illuminates the purple and white flowers surrounding him, hiding him from view. She’s not quite full yet, but there’s enough for him to see. He stares up at the sky for a moment before laughing to himself. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again the normal black and white of a multi ghoul’s is gone, replaced by lavender and yellow. Quintessence and air. 

He feels the quint spark to life under his skin as he focuses it towards his throat, “Showtime.” 

He begins to sing a soft melody. It is something sweet from the Pits. Something calming. Something he heard when his travels lead him to the oceans. He lets quintessence bleed into every note. He laces the song with intention before calling his air element. Nothing too serious, just a cool gentle breeze to carry his voice to the window that overlooks the hedge garden. The window that is cracked open. He will have to apologize to Mountain later, but right now he needs his little fishy more than the earth ghoul does. 

He keeps singing until he hears the leaves rustling at the entrance of the garden. He grins, pouring so much quint into the next note that it makes him a little dizzy. He does not care though. Not when his prize is so close. He cannot wait to see the look on Rain’s face when he realizes he has been beaten by his own game. 

Right as Swiss reaches the high note of the song, Rain makes it to the center of the garden. He is breathing hard and his eyes are frantic. He steps towards Swiss on shaky limbs, reaching out to him like he is the only thing in the world. Swiss stands from his spot, walking over to him while he continues to sing. He circles him just to watch him spin, trying to keep Swiss in view. When he has gotten a full few of his sweaty, disheveled form, Swiss cups his cheek to make him look up at him. The little whine Rain lets out at the contact goes straight to his cock. The swirls of purple in his dark blue eyes go straight to his ego. 

“Hi Rainy baby.” He stops singing, stops the flow of quintessence. He keeps it just below the surface though. 

He watches in satisfaction as he blinks, eyes starting to focus. Confusion does not even begin to describe the look on his face when he realizes Swiss is standing in front of him. 

He blinks a few times and shakes his head, “Swiss? What are you…I was just in Mountain’s room.” 

“Sorry baby but I had to borrow you. I’m sure the big guy won’t mind.” 

Rain takes a step back and Swiss lets him. No point in holding him close, if he tries to run he will not get very far. Not if Swiss can help it. Instead Swiss lets him look around. Let’s him try to gather himself. He wants to see if he is smart enough to put the pieces together before Swiss takes away his ability to think. 

“Why are we outside? How am I outside?” Rain questions with an edge of panic. 

Swiss does not blame him, he has been victim to Aether too many times to know what it feels like to blink and be somewhere with no memory of how you got there. But he is no Aether. He cannot have Rain too freaked out. He will not be able to bring him down if he is. 

“Relax,” he lets a thread of quint bleed into the word, “You’re okay baby.” 

Rain shakes his head a little as the words sink into his brain, “M not.” 

“Yeah you are.” He steps closer. 

Despite himself, Rain steps closer as well. He is beyond confused and Swiss is the only thing that makes sense in the moment. If anyone or anything is going to help him, it is Swiss. 

“Swiss seriously what’s—“ 

He stops. He sniffs the air around the multi ghoul. Ozone and frost. The walk down the stairs and out the door still may be missing from his mind, but scent fills in the gaps. He backs away from Swiss with a glare. 

Swiss clicks his tongue, “What’s wrong rainstorm?” 

“What did you do?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He tries to play innocent, but he cannot help the fang filled grin that splits his face. He takes a step towards him. 

Rain steps back, “Tell me what you did or I’ll leave you here to choke on your own blood.” 

“What? Don’t recognize your own trick?” 

Rain shudders at the fizzy feeling that shoots down his spine when Swiss speaks. 

“Took me a while to get it right but I knew I had to show you once I got it.” 

Rain does not believe it. He cannot believe it. How could Swiss have managed to do this? Even Aether and Phantom need something physical to sink their claws into. Physical touch to let their quint seep into a body to overtake the brain. Even the handful of trigger words they have for each member of the pack had to have been created with something physical. So how did Swiss manage to slip him quintessence without laying a finger on him? He was intrigued, but he would not give Swiss the satisfaction of knowing that. 

“This is…the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen Swiss.” Rain slaps his hand over his mouth the moment the words leave it. 

That is not what he said, or at least not what he had the intention of saying. He looks at Swiss before slowly uncovering his mouth. 

“Oh please show me more.” 

This time he hears it. It is his voice alright, but Swiss’ echoes like they have been layered on top of each other. 

“Well if you insist,” Swiss grins at him, “kneel.” 

The word buzzes in his brain and before he knows it his knees are hitting the ground. He can feel the familiar tingle of magick in his ears and around his throat. He knows what happens every single time Swiss discovers a new trick. This is not the first time he has been caught in his web, and it certainly will not be the last. While he normally loves a bit of quint to turn his brain off and make him cum harder than he ever could alone, this time he would rather put up a fight. Swiss does not get to make a mockery of his song and get away with it. 

“Aw come on don’t give me that look,” Swiss pouts, tilting Rain’s chin up to look at him, “I know you want this. You always do.” 

He wants to get up and wipe that look off of Swiss’ face. But he really wants his body to stop reacting. He cannot tell if it is the quint laced words making his cock twitch or if it is just himself. Still, Swiss does not deserve to have this effect on him after stealing his voice. He grits his teeth and tries to get the message across. 

“Fuck…me.” His tongue feels foreign in his mouth. He does not sound like himself. 

“Oh getting straight to it I see. I like the enthusiasm.” Swiss laughs and shoves him down so that his face is in the grass. 

He drops down onto his knees and pulls Rain’s hips up so that his ass is in the air. He kneads each cheek, squeezing a handful through his sweatpants. He makes sure his fingertips brush against his hole with each little movement. Rain curses the way the slightest bit of stimulation goes straight between his legs. It does not help that there is a healthy dose of quintessence in his veins. It always makes him unbearably sensitive. 

“Someone’s excited.” Swiss hums, pulling the waistband of his sweats and boxers down to pool around his thighs. Rain gasps when he feels him brush his thumb over his hole and slick drips down his balls. Stupid fucking Swiss. Stupid fucking quintessence. 

Despite everything in his head telling him to make it hard for Swiss, he cannot help the way his hips shift back for more. He never was good at keeping up appearances when someone finally gets their hands on him. 

“Oh don’t you worry rainstorm, I’ll take good care of you.“ Swiss circles his hole before slowly pushing his thumb inside. 

“Swiss please more. I need more.” His voice rings out against his will. 

“Greedy little thing. But I could never deny my little fishy.” Swiss pulls out only to shove two of his fingers back inside. 

Rain gasps at the sudden intrusion, tail lifting to expose more of himself. He is finding it harder and harder to want to tear Swiss to shreds for the mimicry of his song. How can he be blamed when skilled fingers pet against his prostate. He can get Swiss back another time, but right now he sees no harm in letting him play. If it means he gets filled then he can show him what a real siren song can do later. 

All too quickly, Swiss pulls away. Rain whines at the loss of contact, but he is not entirely sure if he made that noise consciously. 

Swiss tsks, “We both know a couple of fingers aren’t enough to satisfy you tadpole.” 

He slides his pants and boxers down just enough to pull his cock out. He gives it a few quick strokes, spreading Rain’s slick and coaxing himself to full hardness. He presses the tip against Rain’s hole just to feel it flutter against him. 

“Relax,” Swiss sings. 

All at once Rain can feel his muscles loosen. If not for the hold Swiss has on his hips, he probably would have fallen over. He pushes into him easily, no burning stretch that usually accompanies such little prep. 

“That’s right baby, just relax and take it.” 

He has no choice to. He cannot move even if he wants to. Though with Swiss’ cock inside him, moving is the last thing on his mind. Every little roll of his hips pulls a moan from him,  but not by choice. He can feel the quintessence rippling through their bodies like a circuit. 

“Keep singing tadpole,” Swiss snaps his hips harder, “Let everyone hear how pretty you sound.” 

The magick in his veins makes sure his voice rings loud through the night air. He could not shut his mouth even if he tried. He hopes Mountain is still asleep. He cannot begin to imagine what it might look like if he glanced out his window. He does not need anyone catching him moaning like a whore because of Swiss. 

“Swiss please oh,” he pants. 

“What is it baby? What do you need?” Swiss grinds against his ass. 

Rain grits his teeth, trying to keep his words inside. But it is no use, “Please I’m so close.” 

Before Rain can even comprehend what he said, his body is flooded with pleasure. It makes him dizzy. His gut feels like it is burning and his cock is so hard it hurts. He is sure a few quick strokes would have him spilling into the grass. 

“Already? It’s only been a minute. Must’ve needed it bad, huh? Swiss lilts. 

Rain wants to curse him. He wants to throw back in his face and mock him for getting so worked up over a little bit of power. Power he did not even earn. Power he stole from Rain. But once the quint is in his veins he is helpless to it. All he can do is close his eyes and focus on the way Swiss fucks into him deeper and deeper. The way his cock hangs heavy between his thighs. The way his own gasps and moans sound. He always was a vain one. 

Swiss shifts his hips, changing the angle and Rain keens. Swiss grunts and slams into him faster. Wet obscene sounds accompany the nonstop cries from Rain. A spark of quintessence ripples over Swiss’ body through his. The feeling nearly makes his eyes cross. 

“I’m oh Swiss I can’t fuck.” His whole body shakes as he cums untouched. 

Not even a second later he feels Swiss spill inside of him. He grinds into him through his orgasm, fucking his spend as deep as he can until overstimulation sets in. The moment he slips out of him, he can feel the fuzzy feeling of magick leave his body. Still, he collapses forward onto the ground, breathing heavily. He rolls over onto his back only to see Swiss grinning down at him, chest heaving. 

“Such a fucking slut for it.” Swiss sneers. 

“I’m going to kill you.” Rain lifts his head to glare at him. 

“You wouldn’t do that. You like me too much.” 

Rain will never give him the satisfaction of knowing, “You sure that’s enough to stop me?” 

“Don’t know,” Swiss shrugs, “But you’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna stay right here until someone finds you covered in your own mess.” 

All at once the tingling sensation returns again. Rain cannot move. He is stuck resting on his elbows with his legs spread open, hole on display as it drips with Swiss’ cum. He cannot even open his mouth to curse at him. All he can do is move his eyes. 

“I’ll come back in the morning. See if you’re still in one piece,” Swiss looks up, “Though I think he is gonna make that difficult.” 

Rain follows his gaze until. Oh fuck. His eyes lock with Mountain’s. He cannot see his expression from this distance but the green glow tells him one thing. Mountain is pissed. 

Swiss just laughs and begins to walk away, “Have fun rainstorm.” Rain is definitely going to kill. That is, if Mountain does not kill him first.

[rosewaterandivy]

iii. starlit night

summary: it's either fate or a cosmic joke.

pairing: s.h. x werewolf!reader

w.c.: 5.3K

warnings: blood, bloodlust, blood drinking, guts, gore, possessiveness, supernatural elements, quasi-mating rituals, exhausted best friend!eddie, no a/b/o, angst, mild dubious consent, amateur wound care, power dynamics

a/n: consider this my warm welcome to spooky season, happy autumnal equinox y’all! monsters need love too 🐺

m.list | playlist

prev | next

Eddie gave nothing away, and neither did you which was more than a little infuriating for Steve.

After the incident with the impromptu dog sitting and tire tracks on his lawn, he hadn’t seen hind nor hair of you. No daily runs in the woods, or in the crowd at Corroded’s Tuesday night shows, and certainly not frequenting Family Video.

The balm of summer has settled upon Hawkins, humidity sticking like dew to his skin no matter how long he lingers beneath the spray of the showerhead. He’s sweated through his shirt and vest by the time he clocks out to leave for the day, muttering his goodbyes to Robin as she reminds him to pick her up at closing tonight.

For as much as Steve loves the languid drip of summer days, he positively loathes the heat. Can’t stand feeling sticky and damp with no reprieve. So it’s really a no-brainer that he elects to waste the afternoon in the swimming pool, waiting for the a/c to cool the house to a respectable 68 degrees, utility bill be damned.

He’s driving back from Family Video, Robin in tow, as night falls. The streetlamps had a dull and ineffective glow which only partially illuminated the edges of the road. Steve took the back roads to Robin’s house, one of his many shortcuts through a town in which nothing ever happened.

“Steve!”

Robin’s gasp, and spastic pointing are enough to startle him from fiddling with the radio. Eyes slicing to the road, he sees an animal darting across the pavement, and swerves to miss them. The front corner of the car wings left as it grazes the animal with a loud thud, following by the shrill screech of wheels skidding to a stop.

His right hand splays against Robin’s collarbone and chest, pressing her back into the seat. He can feel her frantic breaths heaving from her lungs as she sucks in paltry breaths.

“Are you alright?”

She nods, fingers fumbling to release the seatbelt. She’s shaking a little from the shock of it all— Steve hitting an animal with his car on the edge of the greenbelt. Her mind is spinning and she can only imagine how he’s feeling, if the slight tremor in his hand still affixed to her chest is anything to go by.

“Is it—?”

He clears his throat and unbuckles his seat belt and opens his door quickly. “Just stay here, I’ll check it out.” The hazard lights click on as Steve steps out to approach the animal.

It’s lying at the center of the road, the poor thing’s chest rising and falling in slow succession. It’s still moving, hazily coming to in the still summer evening. Head turning toward him and eyes blinking away the fear in a flash of milk glass.

Oh fuck. Oh shit.

Suddenly spurned into action, Steve moves with a speed that even Robin finds shocking. It’s a moment she’ll never forget. In an instant he heaves the large dog into his arms, shouting at her to open the back door in a panicked voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

She wonders why her best friend is profusely apologizing to an animal that seems, at first glance, none the worse for wear. Steve slides it into the back and jumps into the driver’s seat, peeling out so fast that she barely has time to get into the vehicle herself.

“Steve, what the ever loving fuck is going on?”

Turning to him for the first time since the slapdash animal rescue, Robin’s mouth falls open in thinly veiled terror. Steve is drenched in blood and debris, remnants of fur and skin stuck to his gray shirt, slowly staining itself maroon and perfuming the air with a metallic tang. It’s too much blood to be from the accident, right? The animal was already injured when they clipped it; it had to be.

He doesn’t reply, electing to simply speed back to his house and run a bloodied hand through his hair frantically.

Robin faces forward and blinks.

She catches a flicker of something in the rearview mirror.

Wrong noises are coming from the backseat, terrible growls and low whines. The sound of joints popping in and out of place, muscles shifting and pulling taut beneath skin. Teeth scraping and grinding against one another.

It’s the pain that brings you to consciousness— knifing through your skull and making you want to vomit. Swallowing back bile and blood in your mouth, you want to rip yourself apart and keep ripping until there’s nothing left. Your jaw is moving unnaturally so, everything is wrong and you want to scream. Piping hot and burning, you’re sure you’ll spontaneously combust any second now when a hysterical shriek rends the air.

But not from you.

Steve is wholly unequipped to deal with his best friend’s nervous breakdown and a very naked what he can only assume werewolf dipping in and out of consciousness and bleeding out on the tile of his bathroom.

Between Robin’s blubbering and your soft murmurs, he can really only think to do one thing:

Call Eddie.

And that seemed like a good plan half an hour ago when he laid you in the bathtub and swaddled Robin in a smattering of blankets on the sofa downstairs.

But now, he’s not so sure.

Because Eddie strides into his house like god sent him to settle a score, wearing fury on his face in a way that could be considered cuttingly alluring, if not for the broken glass bottle digging into the skin of Steve’s neck as his back hits the wall.

“Give me one reason not to spill you guts all over your Nikes, Harrington.”

It’s more of a snarl than a request.

And what is there to say, really?

Sorry, I hit your werewolf best friend with my car after snooping around because for some ungodly reason I’m drawn to her and unable to control myself.

His hands and temples are covered in dried blood, dark and foreboding, crusted on his skin and hair and nails. To say nothing of his shirt, plastered to his chest and emanating a startingly metallic odor.

As if suddenly realizing this, Eddie blinks and loosens his grip on Steve’s shirt, palm coming away tinged in blood.

“What did you do?”

And, to be frank, Steve preferred Eddie’s rage to whatever this was, dread, he supposed.

“It was an accident.”

They both turn to the pile of blankets on the couch that is Robin. Only her face is visible, pale and dazed.

Eddie turns back to Steve with a look that could turn most people to stone, and yanks him up the stairs to the bathroom.

Greeted by a warm wall of steam, Eddie shoves Steve toward the sink with gruff instructions to find a first-aid kit. He crouches in front of you and murmurs in a soft voice. Languorously, you turn your head toward him with an easy smile, lips bloody.

“Hiya pal.”

Your voice is a croak, rough and jagged as it edges up your throat.

Eddie says nothing, rolling his lips between his teeth as his hands close in around your face turning it this way and that as gently as he can. The spray of the hot water has matted your hair impossibly at the back of your skull, rivulets coming back a translucent red on his palm. A large bruise blooms burgundy against your hip, splotchy and livid.

He leans you forward to survey your back, brushing away the rocks and dirt embedded into your skin and mindful of the raised red road rash. But none of that goes to explain the blood swirling down the drain— where is it coming from?

Steve stands awkwardly behind, red and white box in hand.

Elbows resting on your knees as Eddie continues his perusal of wounds, you shoot him a sleepy smile before your head falls to your forearms. The mad fluttering of your eyelashes as you battle to stay awake.

“She can sleep damn near anywhere,” Eddie mutters as your body goes lax in his arms, “Long as she knows she’s the deadliest thing in the room.”

“Is that, uh, safe?” Steve asks, handing the kit over as Eddie extends his hand.

“Safe enough. Help me turn her on her side, will ya?”

Both men let out a jarring gasp at the sight of the bite to your side. A festering and weeping thing, blood almost black as it skitters down your stomach and back. Steve’s mouth fills with saliva as he steps back and vomits. Eddie’s nostrils flare as he breathes steadily in and out, trying to piece out who or what could’ve done such a thing to you.

Steve spits a few times for good measure before gargling some mouthwash.

“I told you not to go in the woods.”

It’s about as subtle as a grenade, Eddie’s pointed accusation.

But that doesn’t make it any less true. If Steve would have just minded his own business, heeded Munson’s warnings, you wouldn’t be bleeding out in his bathtub right now.

“I-I know. I’m sorry.”

He leans back on his heels, a ringed hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as Eddie methodically begins setting out bandages, antiseptic, and gauze.

“Can you thread a needle?” He asks around a wisp of silver clenched between his teeth and hands the needle and spool of thread to Steve.

“Yeah, sure.”

“And find her some clothes.”

“Uh huh.”

He hands the threaded needle back to Eddie with trembling hands, absolutely terrified at the gray pallor of your skin. The surface wounds stitching themselves closed, as blood seeps from mangled flesh curving along your side.

Steve haphazardly grabs a shirt and shorts, tossing them to the side as he’s hauled back toward the bathtub. In the few minutes of his absence, Eddie has worked quickly. Your wounds are scrubbed clean and bandaged, and he’s angled the showerhead to hit just beneath your wound having cleaned it prior.

“Okay Harrington,” Eddie begins, grabbing a switchblade from his pocket and pouring the antiseptic over the blade as it flicks open. “Here’s how it’s gonna go: the wound is too severe for a simple bandage and she’d bleed through it anyway. The only shot in hell we have is you staying close and using your blood to jumpstart her system. We’ll have to be quick—”

“Wait, what?”

“Because I’ll have to disinfect the bite before her were instincts kick in and she starts healing on her own. S’like jumping a car, no big deal.”

Stupidly, Steve doesn’t pull back his palm from Eddie in time, as the wet slice of the blade pierces his skin. It burns as the blood wells up from the cut, bright red and cascading down his hand. Eddie yanks Steve’s hand toward your partially open mouth, eyelids fluttering in your uneasy sleep.

He presses the heel of Steve’s palm to your lips until you subconsciously latch, the tips of your fangs grazing his skin. It’s horrifying, Steve thinks, how easily your tongue laps at the ruby red rivulets weeping from his broken skin. You hum contentedly, swallowing over and over again until he realizes that he’s gone all slack and whimpering.

Well, now that is just embarrassing.

“All right, champ,” Eddie says, pulling you off of Steve and he mourns the loss of the warmth of your lips.

You tip back against the porcelain and howl as Eddie pours antiseptic onto the wound that is rapidly stitching itself together on your side.

Steve falls with a thud against the wall, cradling his cut palm to his chest as he watches in holy terror as you magically revive before his very eyes.

“Blood of your blood.”

Eddie says this as if it could possibly explain anything.

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Steve can see the blood— his blood— as it warms your cheeks and lips, pumps life back into your muscles and arteries. And you must be a living nightmare torn straight from the depths of his mind, more wild than the wilderness skirting the edges of town, a cursed thing surely there to kill them all.

“She’ll be weak for a few days,” Eddie says, leaning back against the wall after he cuts off the water. “We’ll just keep her hydrated and fed and she’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Delirium must be setting in, because Steve finds himself nodding along to Eddie’s instructions. Allows himself to be tugged forward by the lanky man as he slices a near-identical cut into your palm.

“Drink, it’ll close up soon and you need your strength.”

Steve doesn’t even think twice about it, sinking his teeth into the meat of your palm and sucking. Every time your body tried to stitch itself back together, he draws forth another pull of garnet blood, precious droplets cascading down his jaw and neck, failing to stifle the noise trying to break free from his throat.

The room doesn’t so much as spin as it shifts, blurring out in haze and lights bursting like stars behind his eyelids. He tongues at your lifeline, gasping, slurping, and moaning until—

“Okay Romeo, slow it down there.”

Eddie grips the scruff of his neck like he’s an overexcited puppy and jerks him backward onto the cold tile floor.

“‘Kay,” He blinks lazily, mouth slick and painted a violent shade of red as he slumps to the floor.

Eddie eyes him warily, “Ya with us, Harrington?”

“Feel high,” Steve replies, still woozy and buzzing.

Before he can reply, you shake yourself awake and shudder in the cool air. You look around, everything too bright and smelling like you’d huffed the entire contents of a janitor’s closet. Someone tosses a shirt and shorts your way, and you slowly worm your way into the clothes. Skin feeling too tight and something smarting at your hip.

“Fuck,” A dazed voice says, sending a shiver down your spine. A hand gently touching the side of your face, blood smearing against your cheekbone as he turns your head. “Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”

Eddie scoffs from somewhere near, as your lips kick up in a smile. His thumb grazes the full of your lips, skirting against the pearly white of your fangs. And it’s only when you take in a lungful of Harrington that it all falls together.

Tearing yourself from the surging desire to nuzzle into his open palm, you bare your teeth and train your eyes on Eddie. Snarling to say:

“The fuck did you do.”

Because there was absolutely no way this human was somehow halfway to being your mate.

Not when you’d told your Guardian, who was smirking down at you now, that under no circumstances would that be happening.

He barks a laugh and shrugs as if to say, you were dying, what could I do?

You shakily stand, ignoring the crestfallen expression on Steve’s face, and amble out of the bathroom.

Life must have been some cruel joke, only to serve Steve Harrington, of all people, up on a plate and wave him in your face as something you could ever afford to keep.

A cutting slice of tragedy to give him some kind of forever, when you couldn’t even take care of yourself, much less a pack.

The words of the only father figure you’d ever known pounded in your skull as you hurried down the stairs and out into the balmy night:

This is a gift, it comes with a price.

You’re gone for what feels like days.

A span of time that finds Steve shaky and pale, nearly biting off the heads of everyone currently invading his house instead of answering their inane questions, until a voice in his head warns, Easy now.

Robin’s somewhat functioning, though not entirely recovered from the shock of the century; the revelation that werewolves exist. And that her best friend is fated to be with one.

She just about lost her mind when Eddie sat the pair of them down to explain things.

“Mates. What does that mean?”

She’d done most of the talking, since Steve hadn’t said a word since you left.

Eddie sighs and his eyes dart back and forth, as if he’s second guessing himself in sharing this information outside the pack, as ramshackle as it was.

“It’s like, having partner, I guess. But it’s predetermined biologically? We don’t really know how or why it happens, and it’s rare when it does.”

“So… not every werewolf gets a mate.”

“Well, I mean they can date and be with whoever they want, just like us. But if there’s a mate and the circumstances align just so…” He trails off and glances at Steve, guilt etched on his face. “It makes being with anyone besides your mate difficult.”

“How so?”

“Kind of like a bad break-up, but you both want to be together? There’s no physical ailment, but you just feel—”

“Abandoned.”

Eddie swallows and nods.

“And she just—”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” He cautions Robin. “She could come back, we don’t know. But, to be fair, I did kind of fuck it up.”

“Wait, hold on.” Robin extricates an arm from her swaddle of blankets and grabs Steve’s hand, “So you’re saying that she didn’t reject this whole thing?! She just ran out of here like a bat outta hell! How is that not a rejection?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Okay,” she drawls, “And?”

Eddie sharks his head, “I really can’t say more than I already have.”

She scoffs, “That’s a fuckin’ lie and you know it.”

Eddie’s eyes cut back to Steve as he lets Robin run his thumb across his bandaged hand. His eyes almost looking through Eddie, far off and distant. It’s spooky, how quickly the light left him as you slipped out of the front door that night. How Steve could tell the instant it happened, jerking upright on the tile floor and Eddie watched as his body tensed, muscles coiling with adrenaline and no way to rid himself of it.

He scrubs a hand down the tired plane of his face, letting loose a beleaguered sigh.

“Look, I’m a Guardian, not a Scrivener alright?”

“Like we’re supposed to know what that means!” Robin hisses in reply, thumb worrying across Steve’s lax palm.

“I just gotta make a call, okay?” He says, rising to stand and roll his neck. “Stay with him until I get back.”

“Yeah,” She calls as he walks to the phone in the kitchen, fingers punching in the familiar set of numbers. “No shit, Sherlock!”

Eddie drums his fingers against the wall and hopes to God she picks up, because if he has to talk to her mother one more time—

“Hello, Wheeler residence,” She chirps down the line.

Eddie lets out a sigh of relief, his forehead resting on the cool wood paneling as he says, “Hey Nance, we’ve got a bit of a situation. Can you make it to Harrington’s place?”

It takes all of ten minutes for Nancy Wheeler to come barrelling in, her arms laden with books and giving Eddie a look that would strike lesser men dead on the spot.

“I could kill you Munson.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He says with a lazy wave of his hand, “Join the club Wheels.”

“I get first dibs,” Robin pipes up with her first smile of the evening.

“Guess I’ll settle for sloppy seconds then,” Nancy huffs, dropping the books on an ottoman. “I can’t believe you did this, going against not only her express wishes but Steve’s as well? Bet you didn’t even tell him what all this entailed and now look at him!”

Steve, for all the talk about him, says nothing. His face radiating heat and steadily becoming a vibrant pink.

“Is he,” Eddie begins, stepping closer. “Blushing?”

“Nah,” Robin says knowing best and laying a cool palm to his forehead, “That’s no blush, that’s a fever.”

The thing about Steve is that he rarely, if ever, gets sick. Had perfect attendance all through school, until he got caught skipping, because he’d never gotten the crud. So when he emits a full body shiver, Robin has no choice but to act.

His teeth are still chattering even after being hauled upstairs and smothered beneath blankets. And saying that Steve feels ill, or under the weather or even is inching toward death is a massive understatement.

He grunts beneath the sheets and blankets, socked feet sliding against the rumpled fabric. He aches from the top of his head to the toes of his feet, somehow his fingernails hurt. What is up with that bullshit?

And yeah, he’s supposed to stay in bed, he knows that. But he can’t see the door from up here and what if you come back, what then? What if you and Eddie get into it again and you storm out?

He’s not warming up any more up here than he would down there. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he thrashes beneath the covers and hobbles down the hall.

What Steve is not anticipating however, is to find his living room filled with the likes of Chief Hopper and his daughter El, a lanky older man that he doesn’t recognize, the Byers family, Lucas, Dustin, Mike, Max, Billy fucking Hargrove, and finally, you.

So, it’s not all that surprising when he slumps to a heap on the landing of the stairs.

Alright, okay, he passed out a little bit. What gives?

Well, in your opinion (which really is the only one that matters at present), Steve fucked up is what.

Not only did he get out of bed and drop like a sack of potatoes at the sight of what can only be described as a pack of people? Werwolves, who knows—in his house, but on the way down, he managed to knock his head on the banister and come to with someone half-shouting at him and half-shouting at everyone else in the room.

“If anything, this is Munson’s fault.”

“Shut the fuck up Hargrove,” Eddie sulks, “No one asked for the opinion of a drop-out meat-head.”

“That’s rich coming from you, super senior.”

“I swear to god—”

“Boy, you better settle down!”

“C’mon Wayne, I’m just—”

A low, warning growl cuts through the room.

Everyone has the common sense to look abashed, tail between their legs, and even Hargrove stubs out his cigarette.

“Cut that shit out.”

Angry eyes greet Steve as he groggily comes to. Irises bleeding milky white as you struggle to contain your baser nature.

“Are you alright?”

Each word is bitten and harsh, your teeth set in a tidy row against your plump lips.

He nods, wincing at the pain blooming in his temple. You continue to glare as you sit him upright, “You.”

Steve flinches, pain thudding dully in his skull, all too aware that there will be an audience at his execution if your expression is anything to go by. He opens his mouth to apologize, the sibilant ‘s’ on the tip of his tongue, until your eyes slice to his and stun him into silence.

“Don’t you even start.” With a sigh, you join him leaning back against the railing, hand falling uselessly between you. “This is all my fault. You wouldn't be in this mess if I had any lick of sense.”

It startles a laugh from him, how quickly you rush to accept the blame.

“Well, I did hit you with my car.”

“Oh, right,” You snort, “That.”

“Can I um,” He says haltingly, “What happened?”

Your head knocks once against the wood banister, “You were supposed to stay in bed.” Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you shrug. “Best I can guess is you were worried and got up. Only to be greeted with the shock of a lifetime by having a buncha weres in your living room.”

His lips form a silent ‘oh.’

“We’re not a pack,” You’re quick to clarify, “At least, not officially. And they’re not all weres, just most of ‘em.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, and Steve is placated, for now.

“Hey, boss?”

Though, he still can’t get over that Billy motherfucking Hargrove is in his living room and deferring to you. You merely turn your head before he says something about some vital information being left out of the welcome packets for tonight, and you sigh with a roll of your eyes.

“Sure Hargrove, lemme get Steve settled and we’ll get into it.”

You stand up pulling Steve with you, and he sees Billy nod before lighting up another cigarette and turning toward the window.

He’s insistent that he doesn’t need a babysitter, but that does nothing to stop Dustin from inviting himself into Steve’s room when you go down to sort things out with the not-pack. He feels marginally better, and maybe Eddie was right when he said proximity helps. He doesn’t feel as wrecked as he was earlier, and if anything, it’s getting a bit hot underneath all the covers on his bed.

“Don’t smother him, Henderson,” You grunt, sticking out your chin as you lean on the doorjamb an hour or so later, while Dustin continues piling blankets on Steve. “This isn’t Mommy Dearest, kid.”

Steve thinks it’s cute, the slight drawl in your voice as you scold him. It’s probably your not-pack voice, the lower register, and gruffness of it. Packmaster-mode, Dustin had called it, even though the title is technically Alpha. But no one calls you that to your face, something about not liking the moniker or responsibility of it.

“Alright punk, scram.”

Dustin does as he’s told, begrudgingly so.

“Y’know,” He says, pausing at the door, “You’ve got to work on your people skills.”

Flicking the hat off of his head and shutting the door in response, you turn back to Steve looking ready to throttle the pipsqueak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You sigh, slumping down on the bed.

“It’s his ego, right?”

You blow a raspberry and let out a humorless laugh, “Eddie says it’s his tone.”

“Hmm, yeah. That too.”

Steve shuffled over to make room on the bed and peeled the covers back in a huff. You’d kicked off your sneakers and snuck one leg under the sheets next to his, the other propped with your foot resting on the mattress.

“Oh my god, you’re so warm.”

“Yeah, we run hot. It’s a were thing.”

Steve doesn’t sag against you exactly—it wouldn’t make any sort of physical sense—but he feels like he does it metaphorically.

“Ugh, that must be brutal in the summer.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” You give him a small smile and let your arm graze his thigh. “But it’s not all bad.”

Steve picks idly at the fraying hem of his shorts, fingers itching for something, anything to do. He’s not mad, well, not exactly, but he is kinda keyed up.

“Can hear you thinkin’ in there.”

You crack an eye open, and he turns back, a blush dusting his cheekbones.

“It’s just—” He starts to say, falling silent as you sit up beside him, the legs of your shorts, which are unfortunately boxers he grabbed without looking, rise up to reveal the soft skin of your thighs. And your skin is the only thing soft about you, from what Steve can tell.

“You didn’t even give me a choice.”

The light in your eyes snuffs itself out. Your face falls as you take in what he’s just said.

You clear your throat, “It’s not much of a choice,” Voice soft and small, “Not really.”

Steve nods, rolling his shoulder and chewing on his lip.

“Look, I’m really sorry Steve, truly. And if there was a way I could go back and undo all of this, I would.”

A momentarily panic flares up in his chest. No, that's not what he— he didn’t mean it in that way. He frustratedly runs a hand through his hair, recalling how Nancy pointed out that communication had never been his strong suit.

“No, hold on. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all fucked up now,” You admit, “Eddie knew how I felt about it and he went and did it, anyway. He claims it was done in my best interest, but he’s a smarmy motherfucker when he wants to be.” It all rushes out of you in the span of a breath, but now you’re on a roll and can’t stop, no matter the defeated expression on Steve’s face.

“He just like, dove straight in and started the Blood Rite without either of our consent, and now we’re stuck in this labyrinthian limbo from hell because you’ve had my blood and I’ve had yours. So how are we ever gonna know if any of this,” You wave frantically between your bodies as if it’s somehow proof, “Is a legitimate and purposeful choice or the result of fucking werewolf nonsense?!”

Well, Steve certainly wasn’t expecting any of that.

He looks at you, so directly it’s almost a challenge, the muscle in his jaw working steadily and you have to will your need to dominate deep down like the slumbering beast it is. But he’d look so pretty laid out and begging underneath you.

Ahem, another time maybe.

“You don’t wanna do this.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No, but it’s what you meant.”

“Steve, no—”

“Heavily implied.” He spits, turning toward you and shifting up on his knees. “I’m not stupid, y’know.” Steve says, and seeing you caught off-guard like this has set something into motion that he just can’t get the precise nature of yet.

You swallow and drag your hand down your face, letting it settle across your lips as you study him. Keen eyes, a predator’s eyes following every movement as he spreads his legs wide, nearly straddling you but not quite.

“A part of you wants me.”

You're staring at the ceiling fan now, but your face has gone tight with frustration and something else.

“More than you should.”

One hand distractedly pushes the hair from your face, your mouth falling open to argue.

“Well?”

You swallow, pushing yourself up straighter. “I should go,” You say carefully, eyes rapt on Steve’s face. Responding more to the tone in his voice than anything else, and you chafe under the ease with which he wields it.

He doesn’t back down, which only stokes your ire. Steve’s close enough to touch, but remaining just out of reach, taunting that part of you that howls for him.

Well, two can play at that game.

Desire uncoils in your gut at a lazy pace, taking its time to pool beneath your navel. It shakes you alive, prompting you to disentangle yourself from the sheets wrapped about your ankles. Rising to your haunches as if readying yourself for a chase, Steve feels himself prickle hot all over just at the sight of it.

He licks his lips, and he’s so close that you can feel rather than see the slight shudder of his body. If you pushed just a bit harder, took in a little more atmosphere he’d fall like a house of cards.

And then, to the victor go the spoils.

Steve shakes his head and sighs, it’s such an infuriatingly him gesture that you’re nearly taken aback. But his gaze remains steady, just as his hands and heart do, the comforting da-dum, da-dum, da-dum of it drawing you closer and closer.

Normally, you’d find it endearing. So familiar that you can paint it with your eyes shut, but not tonight, not when you have the moon and him singing in your veins, emotions a bit fraught and not entirely your own.

Walking on your knees across the bed as if it’s a desert, and you’d spent hundreds of miles repenting, Steve stills.

Baring your teeth to smile wide and wild, “C’mere honey,” You croon, saccharine sweet. “I’ll play nice.”

He breathes your name, there’s no other word in his head.

Some things are fated, destined, and mapped in the stars, but nowhere is it said that these things need to be kind.

[lawslessons]

Heat Stroke - Ace x f!Reader

Rewatching One Piece again. I was inspired by a certain man. I had this crazy idea involving an ice cube. Hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: After a failed assassination attempt, I find myself stuck with the man I was supposed to kill. Now I'm dehydrated, exhausted, and very, very attracted to my captor.

Warnings: N$FW

It was a mirage, it had to be. There was no other explanation for what I was seeing and for why I was alive. Everything I knew about mirages involved water and palm trees, not tall men in orange hats, especially men who were my targets. All I could remember was wandering the desert for a day without water and hunting down my target. I looked at his bounty poster and saw that he matched the image perfectly. I walked towards him and with my knife, I remember lunging after him in the middle of the desert, he turned around and flashed me a smirk, and then my world went dark.

 My sweat dripped into my eyes as I tried to make out the shadowed figure in front of me. The light in the tent was dim, the candle in the corner seemed to struggle as it pitifully wiggled and gasped for air. The man in front of me was tall and shadowed well. The light illuminated the rough contours of his bare middle and muscular arms as he stared at me. As my eyes met his, I felt the temperature in the sweltering tent reach a near unbearable level.

Why am I here?

“I could ask you that same question,” a smooth voice teased. With my exhaustion, I hadn’t realized I had spoken aloud until I witnessed him smirk. He had dimples, I was in for a rough night. Why didn’t his poster show his dimples? The poster was incredibly misleading. While I knew that he was dangerous, I didn’t know just how dangerous he was. He was gorgeous - there was a hidden danger in those who were beautiful like him. I tried to push my thoughts to the side as I watched him approach me and crouch to be at my eye level. The candle flared behind him, it seemed to gasp as I gasped and fully saw his face. 

“You’re –”

“You already know who I am,” he teased as he sat down on the plush blanket which was laid out on the ground. I had a feeling it was him, but the sweat dripping into my eyes was making it difficult to see. I regained my wits and shook my head to get the sweat out of my eyes. Some of the sweat landed on him, but he didn’t even flinch. I scowled at him. This couldn’t be possible. My last memory was me stabbing my knife into his back. I could almost remember the feeling of my knife landing into air… or was it fire? As I tried to lunge towards him now, I heard the grating clinking of metal behind me. I glanced behind myself and cursed as I saw that my hands were chained to the wooden pole which seemed to support the tent’s fabric. I gave the chains a few experimental tugs and cursed again. The way I was now, there was no chance I would be able to escape.

“You’re a bounty hunter. You’ve been hunting me while I’ve been in Alabasta,” He pouted as he held up the bounty poster of himself which he had grabbed from my bag. The poster was well loved. I had folded it up in numerous ways as I carried it around with me and asked locals if his face was familiar. Seeing him in the flesh was jarring, his poster didn’t do him justice. I should be focusing on the fact that I had just gotten kidnapped, but instead I was fixated on his face; mainly his lips. No man should have the ability to look as good as he did while pouting, but I knew he was not just any man. “You’re not as slick as you think you are, you’re pretty sloppy,” he stated as he relaxed there and watched as I continued to struggle to break out of my chains. It was a fruitless effort on my part. I didn’t have any Devil Fruit powers. My main strength was the element of surprise and I blew it. 

“I’m not! You caught me at a bad time, that’s all,” I spat as I exerted myself more. My head spun and reminded me why I had been caught. “Water,” I pleaded. My tongue suddenly felt dry as I desperately tried to swallow some of my own spit to have some relief. 

“That reminds me! You just passed out in the sand. Seems like you were going in for an attack when you just… fell. How long had you been out there following me?” He asked with an infuriating smirk gracing his lips. I could only scowl. 

“Just give me water, Ace.” I couldn’t recognize my own voice. It was gravely and dry, any noise I made was followed by a painful dry cough. As I acknowledged who he was, he seemed to preen and smile even more at me. He seemed to enjoy the fact that I knew who he was, and it was infuriating. His excitement was almost childlike, it reminded me of another pirate whose bounty I was looking to obtain, but that would be for another time.

“Who sent you to find me?” Ace asked while wiggling the wanted poster in front of my face. The move itself wasn’t much in theory, but with the still air in the room, the small movement was priceless to me. The quick blast of air against my heated skin felt heavenly. I was tempted to tilt my head up and expose my neck for more relief, but I quickly gained control of myself again. I had to concentrate, I had to get out of here, I had to ignore my attraction to him. I had obsessively hunted him for weeks before our encounter in the desert, I couldn’t let my time be for nothing.

“Piss off,” I retorted. Ace only seemed to be more amused as he watched me helplessly lash out at him from the chains behind me. He stopped messing with the poster and placed it to the side. I groaned and felt my face grow hot again. After having a brief taste of relief with the air on my face, the lack of a breeze was suffocating. I was uncharacteristically weak and delirious from my dehydration. I was growing desperate. I felt like a caged animal which was being poked again and again. I was unable to snap at him. My arms were uselessly pinned behind me while my legs were numb under me from my uncomfortable kneeling position. 

“How long are you going to keep me here? Are you going to let me go? What do you even want from me?” I asked while examining his infuriatingly perfect face.

“I’m the one asking the questions here, sweetheart,” Ace cooed as he slowly traced my jaw with one of his fingers. The heat which emitted from him only made my throat drier. I broke out into another coughing fit and scowled at him as he stood up. When I refused to answer, his smirk broke into a full smile. The pathetic flame behind us seemed to flicker in excitement as he stepped back from me. 

“You’re thirsty, exhausted, and going crazy from what I can see, but you still have your brains with you,” Ace said as he paced the length of the tent while watching me. While his movements mimicked a predator stalking its prey, his expression was curious. I wasn’t scared that he would hurt me just yet, but I was more worried that I would let my guard down around him. His eyes burned into mine, and as his eye contact continued, I felt myself becoming delirious for completely different reasons. His eye contact was powerful. The onyx coloring of his eyes was beautifully shown through the candle light. I had never seen eyes like his. If I wasn’t careful, I knew I would fall for him.The sight of him was magnificent. Strong muscles, but he wasn’t too bulky, he was just right. Freckles on his cheeks, biteable dimples, and hands that had the power to burn everything in their path. My tongue suddenly didn’t feel as dry and I found myself salivating over the man in front of me. Perhaps I was too late. Maybe I had already fallen for him, maybe it was before I even woke up in this tent. There was a reason I gravitated towards this mission to hunt him down, perhaps my intentions were less honorable than I initially believed.

“That has me wondering just how desperate you are to leave. What would you do?” Ace asked as he stopped his pacing and fully turned to face me. He was assessing me. People didn’t give him as much credit as he deserved. He was smart, cunning, analytical when he needed to be too. The candle burned brighter and I felt myself become breathless the longer he stared at me. Those damned eyes would be the death of me. I felt my resolve weaken, and the longer he held eye contact with me, the more I broke. He wasn’t unkind, he was just curious about what my next move would be. I was curious too, I had never been in a situation like this one before. He was right here and so, so attractive… My throat was dry. I coughed again and wheezed. The burning in my throat was reaching an unbearable point, I didn’t think I could hold out much longer. 

“Anything,” I found myself admitting. The heat of the desert was fogging up my brain and drying my throat even more. 

“Anything?” Ace questioned. “Even answer my questions about who sent you here?”

I tensed and turned my face away from him. Even when I wasn’t facing him, his stare was so intense that I could feel it burning through my cheek. “Anything except that.” Even if I had failed my mission, I couldn’t reveal my organization.

“Then what are you useful for?” His question was so blunt that it had caught me off guard. I thought about my mission and how I had failed it by being captured. This was my chance to redeem myself, catching him was all I needed to do, but I failed. The grief of being captured was strange. It wasn’t debilitating, but it didn’t feel freeing either. No one would rescue me. I had failed, so now I was useless in the organization’s eyes. 

“Nothing, I guess,” I whispered. The realization was sudden on my part, and I didn’t miss the look of shock which quickly appeared and disappeared on Ace’s face. I found myself smiling through my internal turmoil, it felt good to catch someone like Ace off guard. It felt good to see the bewilderment on his face. I laughed, I had failed and I would be killed when I got back to my organization without Ace if I even made it out of this situation alive. I was thoroughly screwed.

“Ah, I thought you’d be more fun, but you’re giving up so quickly,” Ace frowned. The disappointment in his tone had me scowling again. I watched as he lifted his hand up and how the flame flickered more wildly behind him. His finger erupted into flame as he watched me. My heart sped up. I knew I was going to be killed. I had to decide what was more important; attempting to finish the mission, or my life? When I weighed both options, I watched as the flame on his finger became even more intense. I didn’t know what to choose, but I knew I needed to fight for myself. I couldn’t give up. Either I was killed by my organization, or I died by Ace’s hand. Or maybe I didn’t have to die. There had to be some other option out there.

“I’m not giving up. I have no choice here,” I pointed out to him. The flame on Ace’s finger fizzled out as he watched me. He was silent as if he was giving me permission to continue speaking. “If I give you the information, you’ll just take it and kill me. If I don’t give you the information, you’ll still kill me. Either way, I die. What would be in it for me if I said anything to you?” I was breathless again. Ace didn’t deny that killing me was out of the cards, that made my mouth dry. My throat constricted as I coughed and gasped for air. The air I inhaled was dry and burned my throat even more, but without water I was hopeless. Ace seemed to notice. His smile widened as he seemed to have an idea on what he could do. 

“Water,” He offered. Most captors offered their prisoners jewels or money when they needed information. This spoke to the depravity of my situation. He could have offered me anything else in the world and I would’ve scoffed, but water? I tried to crawl closer to him at his offer. Water was more tempting than my freedom.

“You’re mocking me,” I stated, but I still didn’t deny that I wanted what he was offering me. The longer he stayed silent, the more desperate I felt. 

“You don’t want it?” Ace asked. He walked over to a small chest in the corner of the tent and opened the small latch at the front. “It’s so hot outside, but I’m able to handle the heat. You? You could barely last a day out there before you fainted on top of me. I’m only offering what you want… unless you don’t want it?” Ace had grabbed an ice cube from the chest and turned to face me. My eyes were wide and focused on him as he dropped the ice cube into the crook of his neck. I watched as the ice cube quickly began to melt. The water began to pool near his collarbone before it dripped down his chest. I watched as the water trailed down his abdominal muscles like a river before the water disappeared behind the waistband of his cargo shorts. I didn’t see Ace step towards me. My eyes were still focused on the water disappearing behind his shorts when I felt his hand on my jaw and suddenly my eyes were meeting his eyes again. 

“Interesting.” His pupils were wide in fascination and arou— no, it couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. My lips parted when I gasped as he crouched down and brought his face closer to mine. The fingers he had on my jaw quickly went into my mouth and he began to feel around there. “You’re wet,” he marveled as he pulled his spit covered fingers out of his mouth. His lewd allusion had me flustered. My face burned even more as he rubbed his wet fingers together and watched me squeeze my thighs together to relieve the throbbing discomfort between my thighs. He licked his lips and my eyes focused on that motion as I moved to copy him. I was surprised to feel how I was salivating while I watched him. The moment between us burned longer and longer as we watched each other breathe, pant, and figure out the next step.

Ace stood up and I almost groaned as he turned away from me and went back to the ice chest in the corner. He picked the chest up and brought it closer to me before he set it on the ground. A pitiful sound arose from my throat as I tried to lean forward to get a piece of the ice on my tounge. Ace smirked and pushed my head back so I couldn’t get close to the ice.

“I think I’ll be nice today. I’ll give you some water and if you’re up for it later, we can talk. But before you get your water… I need to know that this is something you want.” Ace had grabbed another piece of ice from the chest and reached forward to sloppily smear the piece on my lips. I groaned from relief at having my heated lips balmed by the ice. I understood what he was alluding to and I found myself nodding. 

“That’s not good enough,” Ace chided as he pulled the ice cube away. “If you don’t consent to this, I’ll give you the water, knock you out, and take you back into town. But if you do, I promise I’ll make your torture perfect,” Ace promised as he used the ice cube to cool off my cheeks. In a perverse way, I found Ace to be quite a gentleman at that moment. I ignored the fact that he did kidnap me and instead focused on how he was right now. What he wanted - no, what we both wanted - was something he could’ve taken by force and I wouldn’t have been able to do much about it. Instead, he was offering something mutually beneficial… Besides, he wasn’t holding the water back if I didn’t want to have sex with him. I had power at this moment. I could easily take the water and go back to the town. I could lie and say I hadn’t found Ace yet and live to see another day, another mission. I knew I was kidding myself. The minute I left here without him, I was as good as dead. But what about myself? I was tired of making decisions for other people’s benefit. I never received anything good from what I had to do. Seeing Ace in that moment, seeing how he was looking at me like I was something to be prized, savored, and tortured. I wanted it all. I wanted him in any way he would give himself to me. I wanted to be destroyed by him. 

“I don’t do nice guys,” I smirked as I looked up at him. “Do your worst.” I was screwed anyway, I might as well have fun before I died.

Ace grinned again and I watched how my captor quickly - eagerly - grabbed onto another ice cube and held it in his hands. “You must be thirsty,” He murmured as he sat up some more so his chest and abdominal muscles were in front of me. “Drink,” he ordered as he dropped the ice cube onto his chest again. Like earlier, I watched as the ice quickly melted on his naturally hot skin and flowed down his chest to his middle. I was closer to him this time. Ace was watching me. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I wanted this. The temptation was too strong. I leaned into him and pressed my tongue against his middle. Ace’s eyes momentarily fluttered shut as my tongue began to work its way up his body. I followed the waterfall up his abs and up his chest until I reached the nearly melted ice cube and lapped at the small pool with my tongue. Now that I had a taste of the water, I knew that it would take more to quench my thirst. I was fooling myself by saying I was desperate for the water. Tasting his skin made me realize he was the drug I never knew I needed. Now that I had a taste, I was an addict that could never get her fix.

“More,” I pleaded as I watched Ace. Ace’s gaze was unfocused as he watched me. He seemed to be surprised by my boldness, but he didn’t deny my request. He grabbed another ice cube and held it in his hand which was out of my reach. As I tried to reach for it with my mouth, he pulled the ice cube further from me. My thirst was worse than ever. I let out another frustrated sound which only made Ace laugh. 

“You’re cute,” He teased as he used his free hand to feel at my jaw and my neck again. His fingers weren’t hot, but I still felt as if they were burning me. I groaned and tried for the ice cube again, but he pulled it out of my reach again. 

“Ace!” I snapped up at him. Ace laughed even harder and smirked as he let the ice cube drop from his hand and onto the top of his boot.

“Looks like I dropped it,” He hummed. I watched as the ice began to melt on the leather and I cursed myself. When he didn’t make any move to get the ice off his boot, I looked up at him. He smirked down at me and raised a brow expectantly. I knew what he wanted me to do. It wasn’t like that part of his boot touched the ground, it was clean, but humiliating. I was too far gone by that point. I scowled at Ace before I bent down even more and popped the ice cube into my mouth. The ice melted instantly on my tongue and I nearly burst into tears from how comforting the water felt running down my throat as I greedily lapped up the rest of the water that had landed on the leather boot. I groaned in relief when I finished with that ice cube and felt most of my thirst become quenched. When I glanced up, I noticed how Ace’s teasing smile turned into something more sinister and animalistic as I sat crouched at his boots. It was a demeaning position which only reminded me of my current predicament. I didn’t realize my thoughts brought me to tears until Ace reached for my cheek and wiped away one of my tears with his thumb. He brought his thumb to his mouth and licked it clean. His pupils were blown, he seemed to be as lost as I was. 

“Wait,” He said as he went to his bag and grabbed a key. He came back to me and crouched down again as he reached behind me to undo the cuffs on my arms. I felt the cuffs come off and my first instinct was to run, but I didn’t. Ace stayed in the same position he was in, he didn’t grab another ice cube, he just watched me. I knew the next move had to be from me. This was on my terms and I had to remember that. I wanted this, I wanted him. Without breaking eye contact with him, I reached for another ice cube and popped it between my lips. Ace’s gaze flickered down to my lips. When I didn’t make a move to kiss him, he raised a brow and I just smirked. He once again was a bit caught off guard, but he smiled as he reached his hand towards me and pulled me in close for a bruising kiss. 

I pushed the ice cube into his mouth when he deepened the kiss between the two of us. He pulled me on top of him as we both fought for the ice and for control. Ace’s hands wandered from my arms, to my sides, down to my hips where he squeezed to keep me close to him. He was maddening me with how good he was at kissing. I felt my brain grow foggy as he deepened the kiss even more and pulled at my bottoms. Just as I was gaining confidence in the kiss, Ace pulled away and watched me with his chest heaving from him catching his breath. My legs were shaking from the awkward position I was previously in as I stood up and looked down at Ace. Ace seemed to know what to do. He smirked up at me and grabbed at the waistband of my bottoms and pulled them down in one easy motion. 

“I wanted to burn these damn things off of you,” Ace said as he messed with my bottoms and made me lay down on the blanket that was there on the ground. I shivered as he grabbed the hem of my top and tossed that to the side of his tent as well. The candle behind Ace was flickering wildly, I was almost afraid that the flame was going to set the whole tent on fire. 

“Why didn’t you?” I asked while Ace unclasped my bra with one hand and ripped my panties off with the other. Ace didn’t seem to expect that question from me. He grinned and held my underwear up before he just set it on fire in his excitement. “Wait! I’m going to need those later!” I scowled. He laughed and pushed my legs apart before he grabbed another ice cube.

“You won’t need them if you’re with me,” He stated before he put the ice cube between his lips. I instinctively tried to shut my legs since I assumed he was going to use the ice on my clit, but he didn’t. He chuckled at my pathetic attempt of pushing him away before he pushed me down on the blanket again. He pressed the ice cube against my neck and I gasped. My back arched up as he circled the ice near my pulse point at my neck. When he was satisfied, he dragged the melting ice cube down to my breasts where he pressed it against my sternum. My nipples perked up when I shivered, but he seemed to ignore them with his mouth while he ventured further downward. His hands reached up and cupped my breasts while he brought the ice cube further down. I was panting and cursing his name. My skin wasn’t overheated from the outside heat anymore, but instead from the damned man who was about to go down on me.

By the time he reached my clit, the ice cube had practically melted. He slurped the rest of the water up before he looked up at me. His onyx eyes locked onto mine as he squeezed my thighs and pushed them further apart. He gently rubbed my entrance with his fingers and grinned as he pulled back and rubbed his slick fingers together. “You’re wet,” he murmured again as he watched me. I was breathless and shaking, I had never wanted something more than I wanted him at this moment. He settled between my legs and stared up at me. I was so lost in his intense gaze that when I finally felt his tongue, I cursed. He pressed his tongue against my throbbing clit, and I nearly came apart on the spot. 

“Fuck, Ace!” I cursed as I reached down and grabbed onto his hair. He ate me like a man starved. His tongue circled my clit while two of his fingers pressed against my entrance before he pushed into me. The stimulation from his tongue and his fingers had me melting like the ice in the chest next to us. He methodically pushed his fingers in and out of me. He curled his fingers a certain way which had me seeing stars. He was relentless with his fingers and his tongue. The sounds that came from my lips didn’t seem like they were from me. I babbled and cursed as I tried to meet his thrusts with my hips. Ace pulled his face away from my clit to look over at me again. Though I couldn’t see myself, Ace’s expression told me enough. I was debauched and he loved it.

“You need to cum?” he asked with a confident smirk on his face. He knew I was close, but he was just messing with me again. “Not gonna let ya unless you beg for it,” Ace said as he slowed down his thrusts. I throbbed around his fingers and tried to ignore the wet sound his fingers made when they would thrust inside of me.

I cursed again and shut my thighs around his hand to force him to stay there. “Damn you,” I hissed through my gritted teeth. It was taking everything in me not to finish. I thought that it was my pride that wasn’t letting me beg, but I was mortified to realize that I was enjoying him denying me my orgasm. Ace seemed to notice this as he pushed my thighs apart again. 

“You don’t want me to stop? Is that what I heard?” Ace asked as he slowly fucked me with his fingers. I could feel myself throbbing and clenching around his fingers. My body was begging for a release, but the torture of being denied by him was even sweeter. “I can’t hear you,” Ace smirked as he slowly pulled his fingers out of me. He inspected his fingers before he looked at my breathless state. He slowly licked his fingers clean and groaned as he slid his tongue between his fingers to thoroughly clean them.

I cursed loudly and felt myself clenching around nothing as I watched him. I could still feel the ghost of his fingers inside of me. I was near tears again. I reached down to alleviate some of my need, but Ace quickly pinned both of my hands above my head.

“You think I’d let you cum by your own hand? No chance for that,” he smirked. He let go of my hands but kept a close eye on me as he unbuttoned his shorts and pushed them down. “Seems like you didn’t want to finish from my hand either. Is there something else you want?” he asked as he hovered over me.

“You, all of you,” I breathed out as I glanced down and took in the sheer size of him. I shivered in anticipation and spread my legs some more as he got settled between them. 

“And what exactly would that be?” Ace grinned as he held my legs back and lined himself up. He rubbed his head against my clit and we both hissed at the same time from the mutual pleasure at the simple contact. I didn’t want him to hold back, I wanted to feel all of him inside of me. 

“Ace, I need you to fuck me, I need to feel you inside of me,” I begged as I reached down and lined him up against my entrance. I tried to pull him in closer to force the head inside of me. Ace cursed and pinned me against the blanket with his arms resting at my side like a cage. 

“I think I can manage that,” Ace smirked down at me before he pushed all the way into me. I loudly cursed and dug my fingers into his arms as I adjusted to his size. 

“You’re huge,” I gasped, I was in shock at how full he was making me feel. He was full and throbbing inside of me. The stretch of having him inside of me was exquisite. Ace grinned as I stroked his ego even more.

“Why thank you,” he smiled. For that moment, he was gentle and I found myself falling into his softness, but soon that moment was over. His soft expression was quickly replaced by that seductive smirk I was growing to crave as he started to thrust into me. Again and again, he was relentless in his pace and the force of his thrusts. My eyes were rolling back into my head from the white hot pleasure I was feeling. 

Though it was sweltering, I couldn’t seem to care. The only thing that was able to balm this fire I was feeling was more fire. Whenever I would turn away from Ace as he fucked me, he would use one of his hands to force me to look back at him. 

“I want to see you fall apart because of me. I want to hear every sound you make, I want to see your tears from how good you’re feeling, I want you to see me,” he emphasized his last few words with two particularly toe-curling thrusts. I cursed and nodded as I watched him. 

“Ace!” I breathlessly moaned as I was once again brought to the edge of my climax. Ace watched me and grinned as he relentlessly pounded into me and forced me to watch him. I could feel him throbbing inside of me, I could feel the desperation in his thrusts, I could tell he wanted me as much as I wanted him. He sped up as my sounds became more frantic and desperate. He had me coiled tight and only he was able to release me. He bent down close to my ear and held me close as he continued to fuck me into oblivion.

“Cum,” he ordered. I didn’t need to ask for permission. There were no strings attached here, he just wanted me. His words were enough to set me off. With an ear-spitting shout, I finished. I felt my fingers dig into his back and scratch against his tattoo. I felt him help me ride out my orgasm before he quickly pulled out and finished on my stomach with a satisfied groan. 

The minutes after were still. We both panted as we caught our breath together. Ace’s face was hiding in the crook of my neck. My hands were absently playing with his inky hair, it seemed that both of us were riding out this high. I didn’t feel hot anymore, I felt comfortable and very, very satisfied as I watched Ace pull back and stretch. His little laugh had my heart beating even faster.

“That was something,” He said as he grabbed a clean cloth to clean my middle up. I could only nod as I watched how tender he was being with me. He grabbed a canteen and handed it to me as he started to get dressed again. “Drink. I don’t want you passing out on me again,” he explained as he put his hat back on.

I looked at the canteen in confusion and looked at him. “This wasn’t part of the deal,” I teased as I greedily drank my fill. He watched me and rolled his eyes at my attempt at a joke.

“Not exactly, but I do have to knock you out to take you back to town. You do have a mission to do,” Ace reminded me. I instantly sobered and stopped drinking the water.

“What if I didn’t go back?” I asked. “I’m tired of doing what they want. What if I want to live for myself? What if I want freedom?” I asked. It seemed that what I had said pleased Ace. He smiled at me and grabbed my shoulders as I got dressed.

“You sound like you’d be a perfect pirate. What if you came back with me? I’m sure they’d all love to meet you. My captain would love to meet you too,” Ace babbled as he continued to talk to me about the dream of being a pirate.

I found myself smiling as he spoke. “A pirate, huh?” I asked as I got myself dressed… minus my underwear.

“Yes! Join me, we can go on adventures together!” Ace smiled as he reached his hand out to me to help me stand up. I took his hand and stood up and watched him smiling down at me.

“Why’re you being so good to me? I went after you to kill you,” I frowned as I grabbed my bag and put my arms through the straps. Ace went towards the candle and used his fingers to stub the light. The tent was now dark, but I could still make out his features with the moonlight filtering in through the front of the tent.

Ace just smiled even more at me. He never seemed to stop smiling, he was someone special for sure.

“Everyone deserves to live their dream,” he explained as he looked at me with his mesmerizing onyx eyes. It was so simple with him. He was trusting and believed in my dream. It made it hard for me to not believe in my own dream. All I wanted was freedom, I could have a real chance at that with him and his crew. I smiled at him, he was right. I took his hand again and stepped out of the tent into my future full of freedom with him.

[talonabraxas]

Kali Yantra

The Yantra is a geometric symbol existing in the external world as well as a subject to be internalized within human consciousness. Kali is the Hindu Goddess of time, of change. She is the power of action, of the breath and of transformation (kriya-shakti). Kali’s essence is Divine Love. Through time, breath and Divine Love all things are accomplished. If we surrender to Her essence, She creates the energy and all is possible. The Kali Yantra, then, contains within it the transformative energy of change.

When we internalize this energy and surrender to its sweet transformative power of love, we begin our inward journey toward healing and spiritual growth. According to the Tantric tradition, the 36 corners of the Yantra represent the 36 principles (tattvas) of creation, from the Most Transcendent to the most minute expression of Materiality. The bindu is the central point, the seat of the soul, the Atman; the internal link with Brahman the Absolute. The bindu is also Kali, and all the phenomenal world emanates out from Her. In the Tantric tradition, Kali as the energy (Shakti) aspect of material nature is united with the Absolute (Shiva) for the sake of creation

Five (5) inverted concentric triangles, 2 circles and 8 lotus petals enclose the bindu.

The 5 inverted concentric triangles represent the 5 kosas or sheaths of the human condition, with soul (bindu) in the middle: Annamayakosa (physical), Pranamayakosa (life force), Manomayakosa (mental/emotional), Vijnanamayakosa (wisdom) and Anandamayakosa (bliss). The 15 corners of the 5 inverted concentric triangles represent the 15 principles of experience (tattvas); the 5 organs of sense – smell, taste, sight, touch, hearing; 5 organs of action – procreation, excretion, locomotion, handling, speaking; and 5 tanmatras – odour, flavour, colour, feeling, sound. The inverted position of the triangle represents the female regenerative power.

The 2 circles symbolize the cycle of birth and death, which we must pierce through the bindu in the centre in order to reach the Absolute Reality.

The 8 lotus petals are symbols of Prakriti, the cause of the manifesting universe. The 8 lotus petals refer to the 8 principles (tattvas) of Prakriti – The 5 principles of materiality or nature (Prakriti) are Earth, Water, Fire, Air, and Ether. And with the 3 principles of the inner instrument (antahkarana), the Lower Mind (manas), the Higher Mind (buddhi) and the Ego-sense (ahamkara), these 8 tattvas compose the phenomenal or relative world.

Kali as the power of action is inherent in the element air or wind, Vayu. In human body Kali exists as Prana, the breath or life-force. Kali holds the five vital airs: prana (upward air); apana (downward air); vyana (air within the body); udana (air leaving the body); and samana (air at the navel which helps to digest food). Kali emphasizes inner action, which generates the internalizing force of so’ ham, the rhythm of the breath, the sound of the breath: I am that, I am Spirit, I am Kali. Like the wind, she is mobile, subtle and transformative. Kali relates to lightning (vidyut-shakti), the electrical force that pervades the universe as the power of transformation. Like the electrical storm, She acts quickly. Kali grants a lightning-like illumination and transformation. She is located in the spiritual heart, the anahata chakra. She is the pulsating of the physical heart, the blood that gives us life; in this action She is called Rakta-Kali or the Red Kali.

Red in the Kali Yantra is the colour of the heart’s lifeblood, filling us with vitality. Black is the colour of the night; but as we approach Kali, She becomes as bright as the sun. Grey is the emerging light into the black, the midworld existing between the earthly plane and the realm of heaven. Kali as Prakriti or Shakti exists in all three realms. Bronze is the colour of the earth, the sphere of normal consciousness. Gold is the colour of the alchemist, the colour of transformation moving us into Higher Consciousness. The red and yellow flames are the transformative fires gently cooking us, making us more palatable for Spirit.

Kali Mantra

Om Hrim Shreem Klim Adya Kalika Param Eshwari Swaha [Om Hreem Shreem Kleem Ahd-yah Kah-lee-kah Pah-rahm Ehsh-wah-ree Swah-hah]

“Om and salutations to She who is the first one, dark within her own reality, the supreme primordial feminine, who cuts through illusion to the unabridged truth of existence.”

The Kali Yantra Meditation:

[gryphis-eyes]

⊙ ἀγάπη, for you my true love

× who's your next girlfriend~

♤ Welcome to this pick a card~ im kinda doing this pac to celebrate the fact that im finally at peace with my sexuality (and I think that's exactly why I always feel conflicted about the love pac Ive done in the past lol) but I think we deserve more wlw in pick a cards. The person that will be represented in those piles can either be a cis woman or identify as a woman, Ive included the whole ’female spectrum”. In this pac I'll use the myths surrounding the dragon I'll pick to represent your next girlfriend to channel her personality and life story, hope you'll enjoy

Also it wasn't the intention but i did rant sometimes about myths don't worry i'm angry when it comes to dragon slaying lol

♤ Deck used : "oracle des dragons" by secret d'étoile & Illuminated Tarot (dedicated to Apollon, thanks for the gift of divination ⊙)

little note ; i only used court cards and major arcana, it is better to identify someone.

○ Masterlist

Choose a picture of my wife, Marie ;

♀ Pile 1

【Cards】 Tarasque & Dreki + The Sun

The first thing that came to my mind are those people who are really fond of the image of the divine feminine maybe it's something that trully changed their life and view of themselves for the better. She totaly got the vibe of a fertility goddess maybe she is even worshipping one, this woman truly feels like Hathor or Brigid because i've eard "she is like Hathor but in a forest". Please do take care of this sun goddess, this isn't a sun that burn but a sun who nurture and deliver a comforting warmth. Being blessed by their love is like being a cat laying on its back bathing in a warm sun ray (lucky you).

It's funny because the two dragons that represent your next girlfriend aren't your typical dragons, they both don't have wings, they're peaceful unless disturbed and don't seek conflict (yes im on the side of the Tarasque fuck those peasants) in this oracle they're called Dreki and the author went on their interpretation of them but it's actually referencing to Lindworm who are dragons that are closer to snakes and who aren't dangerous at all as they feed on dead bodies or random animals. But for those two dragons, once they've encountered men Humans they're instantly considered a menace due to their appearance. The Dreki, as described in this oracle is a dragon that is almost invisible due to their closeness with nature and wilderness by that i can imagine that your next girlfirend is probably shy but i do think it's more about reservation wether they started doing it because of how the world treated them or just because it's their nature. Honestly i'm pretty sure that for most of you, your futur girl is so close to nature some are probably witches or at least worship nature or a deity/spirit who represent the element of earth, the forest and fertility (it can go from Artemis to Demeter or just the fairies). She is very patient and nurturing, probably have the cosiest home you'll ever go to or she has the power to make anyone feel cosy, i know she gives wonderful hugs but you have to deserve them because~

Let's get to the Tarasque side, you can consider it a dark side but i honestly think it's something she's grown into, the Dreki feels like their true self while the Tarasque is probably their "outside appearance". In its legend, the Tarasque attacked annyone who came to close to its territory, it was a furious and scary creature many talks about how terrifying she looked. Just with this part of the story i can see how the world have treated this woman, probably pointing fingers at her pointing out anything that made her different or maybe she's just not conventionaly attractive. Of cours the villagers (her whole surrounding) just wanted the dragon to be slain but one day Marthe (it can be you or someone who's a true friend to her) came in the town, she saw the potential of the Tarasque and not just a furious monster of devastation, lady Marthe appeased the Tarasque and treated it gently. Sadly once Marthe bought the Tarasque to the village those stupid monkey brained peasant decided to kill it in vengeance despite the dragon being now tamed and calm (i'll be salty forever by the way apparently this town sucks now SO GOOD FOR THEM)

With this part of the story i can have two scenarios , this is either the story of your meeting so you'll meet her when she will be in a really lonely place, probably stuck in the place that hurted them (because hey it's not that easy to leave). Or they've already been through all of this and now she is far from those people who harmed her but of course it has consequence on her and her personality so she might come off as rude people might even say 'rude' but don't be stopped by their tough exterior, it's not a mask but an actual outside image of them. Kind of like a bear i've heard, some will think about the fact that they're aggressive and dangerous but actually they're quite cuddly and protective, look at interpretation of the Bear card from Lenormand i feel like it does represent your person quite well or simply what bears represent in your belief system.

Be gentle, be patient because it's not a woman whom you can approach just out of curiosity you'll actually have to seek out in the forest to find her in their most natural habitat and who know maybe she'll charm you. la petite fille de la mer just started playing when i got to this part like wow she is so dreamy i feel like she could hypnotise you like the fairy she is~

my best wishes for you and the fairy princess

♀ Pile 1

【Cards】 Ladon & gargouille + The Sun

It's quite funny that you also got the sun to describe your woman but i sense her to be quite far from Pile 1's girlfriend. She strike me as the sun but in the way of Apollon who represent it, she got a bright side that is bold but warm, she inspire a lot of people as much as she intimidate them because Ladon is the dragon (a kind of hydra) who ended up being turned into the dragon constellation (what a star). And just like Apollon she also has a really dark side, a side of the sun that we often forget about, she is a furious & burning star alone but shining on the world both nurturing and devastating. Your girlfriend is kind of a punk i must say, probably very active when it comes to injustice that just make her blood boil. She probably made herself a lot of enemies but she doesn't care, yes she is alone but she is confident in it (tho i can guess that the loneliness can be heavy sometimes) i can also say that a lot of people probably hate her out of jealousy because she is free and independant while other people are probably too insecure to do anything she does. An other thing i got is that she doesn't care about dressing how she want or being provocative in general "just because she can" i've heard, after all gargoyls are made either scary or provocative in order to scare off evil (like the gorgon images) she assume all of her choices and so she doesn't mind any asshole who come up to try to put her down because if she ever falls on the ground she'll get up to go as high as the stars.

In the myth, Ladon has been slayed by heracles (it's an heracles hater account by the way) during his labours but thing is, Ladon's death has been quite the scandal and made the nymph really sad above of that the dragon was protecting the golden apple tree (thank you for being useless heracles). I can interpret this for your futur girlfriend as her being just protective and supportive of other women (the nymph) but probably about minority in general (the apple tree represent multiple things to protect that are all linked togheter), since the nymph adore Ladon to the point of crying its death she is probably quite popular amongs the girls. Now for the heracles part i think we can all imagine what he represent when you think about the image of your futur girlfriend, (cis)men 100% hate her for sure and some might have been pretty violent about it (what can you expect from such primitive creatures after all).

After being slayed, Hera took Ladon's dead body and made it into the now known as the dragon constellation and the nymph all cried the death of the beast. Your girl is alive don't worry i'm not predicting any death ! I can interpret this part of the myth as despite her being put down by abusive figure she has found the right people for her and who helped her being her true self or just going back to her true self after a big trauma (i mostly get woman figure or a group of woman at least). I can also imagine that as her having a big presence only and so a big supportive audience with some haters.

Your girlfriend actually remind me of Marie, the girl i picked for the 3 piles image so maybe you'd find her interesting maybe read her wiki page or read Innocent (her full name is Marie Joseph Sanson) tho be aware it's a quite violent and dark manga it's not for everyone/every age.

♀ Pile 3

【Cards】 Ouroboros & Quetzalcoatl + Judgement

What the hell ? What have you done to pull out some goddess like that i think you'll date a litteral dragon. This woman has experienced high highs and terrible "death moments" i'm definitly getting someone who's into witchcraft/spirituality but not your little crystal collecting girly oh no, here it's someone who's actively practicing it. Think of the women who worship santa muerte or who are following any chtonian or chaotic god or spirits (like dragons why not). This person kind of remind me of a female version of Griffith but before he became the most problematic character on earth. She looks angelic, like a savior she probably gives wonderful advice and help people get out of wild situation she if harsh in her messages if needed but everything she does serves the ouroboros (the cycle of life and death) most people have met her when being in very bad state as she came by to remind them about the cycle of things or just to shake their world a bit so they start moving again. Tho this angel might be a bit lonely since it's probably really hard for her to find people who match her energy, she isn't afraid of her solitude and darkness because she choosed it, she just fly high knowing that one day she'll meet people or at least someone who match her vibe or who is at least not coming to her while beging for help.

This person is a leader and a messenger she is probably really good with divination it might be her go to thing for everyday trial. Quetzalcoalt was against human sacrifice and with the ouroboros i can imagine that your next girlfriend probably have been through a long and painful cycle of self sacrifice, her surrounding has probably preached how wonderful and how you have no choice but sacrifice yourself for the sake of others and that you should just suffer in silence. Your futur girlfriend said no and stood up against this victim mentality because true freedom cannot be attained when being pushed down to the ground by people, her place was amongs the clouds in harmony with the element of air. She come and goes like the wind, i sense that she isn't particulary extraverted but she doesn't have problem when it comes to interacting with people so she probably speak to random people everytime she goes out however she is quite the loner or at least she is really distant from her friend group, maybe she is very different from them so despite getting along she can't fully give herself to her friendship like she wish she could.

Quetzalcoalt has been betrayed in his myth, again i always sense that your girlfriend's life trial has been made into whole cycle so she could observe and live the problem in all its angles. Has amazing as it sound, this person has suffered a lot through those cycles, yes they come out strong and still standing but don't understimate the pain she went or is still going through, after all Quetzalcoalt killed himself with fire and only his heart was left and became the morning star. I can interpret this has your person using their past experience to teach others about life's pain and how to overcome them but sadly no ones does it for her, it's like she is the first one who always step in dangerous zone to be faced with danger so the others don't despite her fighting to stop this "sacrifice cycle".

Despite being strong they probably needs some company to light up their day (wink wink)

⊙

[mostlyvoid-partiallyflowers]

The most recent episode of Interview with a Vampire let's us see Lestat's side of the story and see how it compares to Louis' accounting of their relationship. As a result, it reaffirms just how unreliable of a narrator Louis is, but it also further illuminates elements of his character that the director and writers have been playing with since the beginning of the show.

There's this part in the episode where Lestat turns to Louis and apologizes and it's framed with Lestat turned to Louis on one side and Claudia on his other side. They're the angel and devil on Louis' shoulders, but who is the angel and who is the devil? And as my friend said, Armand and Daniel are placed into that same dynamic with Louis later on. We are being asked to decide who to trust, who's telling the truth, who's the good guy, but the fact of unreliability robs us of that decision.

This whole story is about Louis, he's the protagonist, though not the narrator, and he is constantly being pulled in two directions, no matter when or where he is in his story. He's a mind split in two, divided by nature and circumstance. He's vampire and human, owner and owned, father and child, angel and devil. He's both telling the story and being told the story. His history is a story he tells himself, and as we've seen, sometimes that story is not whole.

Louis is the angel who saved Claudia from the fire but he's also the devil who sentenced her to an life of endless torment, the adult trapped in the body of a child. He's the angel who rescued Lestat from his grief and also the devil who abandoned him, who couldn't love him, could only kill and leave him.

He's pulled in two directions, internally and externally at all times and so it's no wonder that he feels the need to confess, first to the priest, then Daniel, and then Daniel again.

He's desperate to be heard, a Black man with power in Jim Crow America who's controlled by his position as someone with a seat at the table but one who will never be considered equal. He doesn't belong to the Black community or the white community, he can't. He acts as a go-between, a bridge, one who is pushed and pulled until he can't take it anymore. He's a fledgling child to an undead father, he's a young queer man discovering his sexual identity with an infinitely experienced partner. He's confessing because he wants to be absolved, that human part of him that was raised Catholic, that child who believed, he wants to be saved. He wants to be seen.

Louis wants to attain a forever life that is morally pure, but he can't. He's been soiled by sin, by "the devil," as he calls Lestat, and he can never be clean again. Deep down, I think he knows this, but he can't stop trying to repent. He tries to self-flagellate by staying with Lestat and then tries to repent by killing him, but can't actually follow through. He follows Claudia to Europe to try and assuage his guilt. He sets himself on fire, attempts to burn himself at the stake, to purify his body, rid himself of the dark gift.

Louis is a man endlessly trying to account for the pain he has caused and he ultimately fails, over and over again, because he can't get rid of what he is. A monster. He's an endlessly hungry monster. He's hungry for love, for respect, for power, for forgiveness, for death. He's a hole that can never be filled. He can never truly acquire any of those things because he will always be punishing himself for wanting and needing them in the first place. He will never truly believe he deserves them and as a result, can't accept them if they are ever offered. He can never be absolved for he has damned himself by accepting the dark gift and thus has tainted himself past the point of saving.