#Runaway Thunder

[evileyekabuki]

GODDESS OF STARDOM CHAMPIONSHIPS

✝️🖤🪦 OEDO TAI 🪦🖤✝️

Championship Reigns: 6x

Most Reigns Individually: Yu Ishino (2)

[wondrouswendy]

for the fic asks, 🌅 and 🔚

Thank you for the ask!

🌅 do you typically known the ending to something before you start writing it?

For the most part yes, with exceptions to this being rare. I like having a general idea of where I want to take a story. What tends to be less deterministic is knowing how long the story might be ahead of time. I tend to expand a preliminary outline over the course of writing a story. The Runaway Rabbit was supposed to be a one shot, but then it became a much longer story as I realized it would be more interesting to explore the aftermath of this Trench/Darling origin story.

🔚 have you ever completely changed the direction a piece was going?

Originally while writing Days of Thunder, I hadn't planned on continuing the story past Trench and Darling's vacation. I had planned on jumping ahead straight to the future with Emily and Jesse inferring the nature of the previous leadership's relationship by reading between the lines in the documents. Kind of like what we can do ourselves. I ended up enjoying the story so much (and I brought @rangerzath on board to the Trench/Darling ship) that I decided to expand the story and showcase more of their history/relationship development over time.

[disneyparktournament]

Enjoy this terrible meme.

Disney Park Character alignments.

Apologies for the poor lighting on “chaotic Evil - it’s meant to be the Pirates from Pirates of the Caribbean.

[marvelbrackets]

[ballpitbee]

WARMING UP with Grampy Thunder Runaway and Uncle Oyl

OCs I went and drew today for a big thing im makin

[martiszcz]

I like that the prophecy Xavin was talking about turned out to be about parental love, not romantical.

[zablife]

Runaway with Me

Benny Cross x female reader

Divider credit @firefly-graphics

Summary: You're a nice college girl dating a fellow student and photographer named Danny, but your boring life comes to an end when you meet the man you've previously only lusted after in photos. When you spend a night with Benny, your whole world changes.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, language, drinking, infidelity (sorry Danny)

A/N: Kathy doesn't exist in this AU. Only my second fic for Benny. Let me know your thoughts! Comments are love 💕 No spoilers here!

Benny Cross Masterlist

“Hey,” a low voice called to you, rumbling like thunder on a warm summer night. His smoldering gaze stopped the click of your heels on the pavement before you could reach the bus stop, your attention stolen by a good looking blonde. You watched intently as the flashing streetlight illuminated his rugged jawline and muscular arms, sending a crackle of electricity down your spine.

“I know you,” he remarked mysteriously, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

Your throat went dry, as you struggled to answer. Readjusting your purse on your arm, you shook your head before you finally heard yourself whisper hoarsely, “I don’t think so.” However, you knew he was right, you’d seen his photos in Danny’s dorm room, though the prints hadn’t done him justice. 

“You’re that college girl Danny’s always talking about,” he added, eyes roving your body in obvious appreciation.

Your mouth dropped open at the mention of your boyfriend, heart beat quickening as you thought of the way you’d stared at those images, biting your lip in curious desire for a man you’d never met. It hadn’t occurred to you you might actually meet one day, but now it seemed your fantasy was coming true.

Locking eyes with him in a flirtatious stare, you almost felt guilty as you introduced yourself with a coy smile.

Benny's blue eyes twinkled and a wide grin spread across his face as he realized you weren't frightened of him.

"I'm Benny," he reciprocated without saying more. However, the way he allowed comfortable silence to linger, put you at ease long enough to explain that Danny stood you up, leaving you to take the bus home. You couldn’t help the anger that filled your voice, throat constricting with unshed tears as you wondered when you’d be as important as his silly book. 

Seeming to understand your need for distraction, Benny asked, “You wanna get out of here?” He didn’t wait for a reply before flicking his cigarette butt to the ground and throwing one leg over his bike.

As you thought of Danny's calls going unanswered, you picked at the strap of your bag hesitantly. “I don’t know, I should be getting back,” you reasoned quietly with yourself.

Benny held up his hands as though accepting defeat. “You gotta go, you gotta go,” he shrugged before starting up the bike.

You glanced over your shoulder toward the uninviting looking bench under the bus shelter just as the engine roared to life, impulsively grabbing his chiseled bicep. His chin jerked up at you in surprise, that adorable grin returning when you yelled, “I’m coming with you.”

Extending a ringed hand for you, he helped you onto the bike, snuggly fitting your arms around his trim waist with the instruction, “Hold on tight."

You didn’t bother asking where you’d be going, your desire for adventure steadily growing. When he accelerated toward the highway with wind rushing past your hair and colors blurring in your peripheral, you could think of nothing except the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the seductive thoughts multiplying with every new sensation.

Pressing your cheek against his back, you inhaled the intoxicating mixture of pomade and leather, closing your eyes to imagine it mingled with the sweat of exertion. The vibration of the bike beneath your legs, body molded tightly against his made you all the more eager for him.

When he pulled into a local motel and helped you off the bike, your legs had turned to jelly and you couldn’t be sure if it was from the overwhelming experience of the ride or your sudden nerves as you waited to see what might happen next. 

Benny didn’t seem to notice, walking toward his door with a slow, but confident strut. “Want a drink?” he asked, holding the door for you. 

You fidgeted with your necklace as you peeked your head into the small, yet tidy room where he said he’d been staying for the past month.

He offered you the first bottle of beer, knocking the cap off against the dresser with a sharp crack. He shook the fizz from his hand, sucking a little off his thumb before placing the bottle in your hand.

As your fingertips brushed against each other, it renewed the electricity dancing between you, his eyes darkening to a deeper shade of blue as lust overtook his gaze.

With a shaky breath you took a sip and placed the bottle onto the table, quickly forgetting it as he took hold of your arm and pulled you into a searing kiss.

As the cool metal of his rings touched the burning skin of your cheeks, you moaned against him, allowing him the opportunity to lick into your mouth hungrily. He was gentle, but firm as his tongue fought yours for dominance, hands tangling in your hair as his passion increased.

His calloused hands memorized every inch of you on their way down your body to find the hem of your top and pull it over your head. Nipping softly at your lower lip, he distracted you momentarily to unclip your bra and toss it aside, stopping long enough to suck in a breath at the sight of your breasts. 

Ducking his head to take a pert nipple into his mouth he lapped and sucked against the sensitive bud, making you whimper with need. 

“Like that, pretty girl?” he asked softly, hand kneading your other breast until you thought you’d cum from that simple touch alone. Hands resting atop his blonde curls, you pushed him away gently to catch your breath and he huffed out a little laugh. “A little too much, huh?”

Taking his lead, you wasted no time removing his jacket and shirt to reveal the taut planes of his chest and abs. Skating your fingers across the lean muscle with a sigh, you leaned in to place scattered kisses along his collarbone. You watched the vein in his neck jump before ghosting your lips over his throbbing pulse and chose a place to suck a bruise. 

He hissed as you tongued over it in soothing circles, fingertips clutching at your hip when you blew a stream of cold air across his flesh. Deciding to push him further, you snaked a hand down his front, palm gliding over the coarse material of his jeans. A low rumble of satisfaction came from his chest as you stroked his growing bulge, his hips involuntarily bucking against your hand. 

You smirked at his responsiveness and the fact that he was much bigger than you’d imagined. Unable to wait any longer, your fingers fumbled excitedly with his belt buckle, Benny groaning at the promise of release for his aching cock.

Falling to your knees, you helped him out of his pants and watched his cock bounce against his tan stomach. The little gasp that left your throat seemed to amuse him as he tilted his head to savor the sight of you before him.

Hand reaching for him like a prize, you began long slow licks along his shaft before taking the spongy head between your lips, eager to please. No sooner had you begun, he grasped for your shoulder to steady himself from the dizzying pleasure, opposite hand sweeping the hair from your face to watch himself disappear down your throat.

Benny’s moans began to fill the room as you worked, a stuttered breath escaping when you stopped to kitten lick and suck lightly on the tip, holding eye contact with him. The sight of your angelic face staring up at him through your lashes, saliva running down your chin was almost too much for him to bear. He knew he couldn't resist you if you continued much longer.

Within seconds you felt him capture your wrists, pulling you up to your feet as he gulped and shook his head. "Not yet, baby."

Walking you backward until the backs of your knees hit the bed behind you, he pushed you onto the mattress with a bounce. You giggled as his eager fingers hooked into the waist band of your skirt and underwear, tugging them down to reveal all of you to him. "So beautiful," he exclaimed, long fingers tracing over your chest and stomach reverently.

He hovered over you, placing kisses to your neck as his fingers found your slick folds, opening you up slowly until you were practically dripping down his fingers. Adding a thumb to circle over your clit, your back arched off the bed and he hushed you with a deep kiss which only intensified when he felt you clench around his digits.

"Need you, Benny," you whined, clutching at his broad shoulders and urging him to rest his weight over you. He pressed his forehead to yours, nuzzling your nose in a gesture far too sweet for the single, powerful thrust that came next. Tears sprang to your eyes from the exquisite feeling of fullness, the pressure on your g-spot intense and immediate.

Benny stilled the moment he'd seated himself inside you, shuddering slightly to hold himself back as he allowed you time to adjust to his size. His cool blue eyes drank you in before resuming a steady rhythm that had you writing beneath him, head tossed back onto the pillows.

The slow drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sent your nerve endings firing little sparks of heat through your core, somehow amplifying the need for more. Benny sensed it immediately, raising your leg to his hip and sank even deeper with a low rumble of satisfaction, matched only by your lustful mewls.

Spurred on by every sweet sound you made, his hips began snapping against you, a light sheen of sweat coating his chest. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging slightly at the roots as your brain fogged with pleasure. As he fucked you into the mattress, your eyes fluttered closed, only vaguely aware of him slipping his thumb into your mouth. Sucking eagerly against the salty skin, you heard Benny groan loudly as the sensation shot straight to his cock.

Removing his thumb with a pop, he snaked his hand between you to circle the small bundle of nerves at your apex causing your mouth to drop open. He leaned in for a kiss unlike before, messy and demanding. "Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?" he asked breathlessly.

You gave a pathetic nod, biting your lip as you felt the coil in your stomach ready to snap. Staring into the oceans of Benny's endlessly blue eyes, a soft static began buzzing in your ears as you heard him whisper, "Yeah? Let me see." His warm breath hit the shell of your ear just as you tipped over the edge, white heat consuming your body. Wave after wave crashed over you, melting your brain and making your limbs turn gooey.

Benny fucked you through it as he chased his own high, hips stuttering before he pulled out with a quick jerk. Emptying himself onto your stomach in hot, thick ropes, he exhaled a contented sigh and smiled down at you with a lopsided grin.

Hours later, overcome with exhaustion, you curled into Benny's side beneath the covers. Safe and warm in his embrace, you found yourself talking about anything and everything. He listened with rapt attention as you described your boring college, the pressure that came with the classes and your dream to escape, seeing the country the way Danny had.

Mostly, Benny listened, but he talked a little about his own travels too. The life he was leading fascinated you and you found yourself wishing you were part of it. However, your voice began to trail off as you glimpsed the far off look in Benny's eye.

Truthfully, Benny found the excitement in your voice endearing and he couldn't help fantasizing about taking you on the road with him. As he idly traced patterns against your arm, he found himself suddenly saying, "Runaway with me."

Clutching the duvet to your chest you turned to stare at him in disbelief. "What?"

His jaw set determinedly, he nodded to indicate he was serious about what he'd said. "Be my girl," he added, eyeing you carefully to see if you'd accept.

Your heart knocked against your chest as you swiftly agreed, moving to straddle him and take his face between your hands for a celebratory kiss.

As the first rays of sun hit Benny’s eyes, he groaned in protest. The morning had come too quickly despite his best efforts to savor the night with you. Turning over in bed to drag you closer to him, his arm stretched over the cold, empty sheets. Clutching the material in his fist until his knuckles turned white, he wondered if you’d caught a cab, leaving the moment you came to your senses. 

Shuffling to the side of the bed to retrieve his jeans, he wondered why he’d been foolish enough to think you’d go anywhere with him when you had so many other opportunities. But he couldn’t think about all that before he’d had a cigarette so he fell out the front door, digging in his pockets for a lighter.

Just as he stumbled off the concrete step, he nearly tripped over the chair you’d placed outside the door, eliciting a cry of surprise from you.

As he quickly apologized, you clutched his Vandals jacket to your shoulders, giggling at his disheveled appearance. He was still effortlessly handsome despite his hair sticking up in all directions, the streaks of golden blonde catching the sunlight and arousing another wave of desire in you. However, you noticed he seemed too distracted to reciprocate.

“I thought you left,” he admitted, graveled voice still full of sleep as he closed the motel door behind him.

You raised the hand that held your cigarette, explaining, "Just came out for a smoke.”

As he retrieved the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear, he considered you warily. "Before you took off with my jacket?"

"I was going to give it back when I came in to wake you up," you explained softly, standing to stub out your cigarette with the toe of your shoe.

He turned his back to you, pretending to survey the parking lot as he nodded in understanding, "You gotta go."

You wrapped your arms around his waist, cheek pressed to his back as you imagined you'd do many more times in the future during long rides together. "We have to go. I thought we were running away together," you reminded him with a playful nudge.

He turned around instantly, pulling you close by the lapels of his jacket for a long kiss. Smirking against your lips he murmured, "Then let's go, baby."

[tightjeansjavi]

Hi!! Love your writing!! Can you write a cowboy fetish joel miller with boot riding 🥺🥺

Hi nonnie! Thank you for sending this in! It scratched my brain just ✨right✨ and I hope it does the same for you! I couldn’t just do some boot ridin’ without some plot ;) enjoy 🤠

Dinner & Diatribes

~word count: 3.7k~

Pairing | Cowboy/bounty hunter! Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re the kind of love that Joel Miller has been dreaming of all his life

Warnings: smut,fluff, angst, cowboy in shining armor vibes, unprotected piv, boot ridin! dick slingin, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, implied age gap, dom/sub vibes, sir/mister kink, implied abuse (not by Joel) Joel is a bounty hunter during the Wild West, reader is a runaway bride wanted for murdering three men, filthy language, pining, protective! Joel, assumed unrequited love, swearing, AU that might not 100% be historically accurate but I tried! reader has no physical descriptions such a skin tone or body type, readers nickname is Chickadee, +18 minors dni! Let me know if I missed anything!

Joel Miller knows that keeping a bounty for himself ain’t the way to go about things..he knows that there’s consequences for his actions, an imminent problem would surely arise if he didn’t bring you back to the town you fled from. Wanted for the murders of three men. A wild untamable thing on the run is how the sheriff described you to Joel. And the most important detail of all; I don’t care if you bring her back alive, or in pieces.

And then Joel found you, tracked your trails for miles and miles through the barren rough terrain of the Wild West. You didn’t even put up a fight when you heard the distinct sound of thundering hooves drawing nearer and nearer. You were exhausted, dehydrated, and on the verge of collapsing to the dusty earth while vultures circled ahead.

This didn’t mean you gave up entirely when Joel Miller had you circled, cornered and lasso at the ready. That’s when he took notice of your state, your attire. A once glittering wedding dress now hanging on by threads of shredded fabric. The bottom tooled fabric was now a dirty sand color, blending in with the dirt. Remnants of your eye makeup cracked and stained beneath your eyes and cheekbones that were once painted in a pretty pigment.

He watched from the saddle of his horse as you sank down to your knees, awaiting your inevitable fate to be delivered. “Have you come to turn me in, Mister?”

His head cocked to the side, eyes studying your vulnerable form intently. You couldn’t see his face as it was obstructed from your view with a tied bandana, but even from where you sat on your knees, you could see that his eyes were a deep shade of brown, dark and mysterious.

He dismounted his horse swiftly, silently, boots tearing up dusty patches of earth with each heavy step he took. The spurs on the back of his boots chimed through the air as he stopped in front of you. His broad frame casted a shadow over your kneeling form. His hands were encased in worn leather, and he smelled of tobacco smoke, saddle soap, and musk.

He crouched down, hat tipping forward while one leather clad hand reached for your jaw, thumb brushing across your skin as he tilted it upwards, forcing you to look into his eyes. He saw your grime and dried blood stained face up close. Your eyes flickered nervously as he turned your head to the side.

“Ain’t you gonna get on with it and turn me in? What’re you draggin’ this out for, huh? You caught me, mister. Go and collect your fuckin’ reward.” You spat defiantly into the dirt, a glob of salvia landing on the toe of his boot.

His grip tightened around your chin, jaw ticking sharp like a knife, eyes narrowing in on your face and the subtle wobble of your severely cracked and dry lower lip.

“What happened to you?” He finally spoke. His voice reminded you of fire crackling, ominous thunder and heavy rain. Thick, gravelly, deeper than the Grand Canyon itself.

“What’s it matter if I tell ya, huh? You gonna take pity on me or somethin’ mister?”

He was silent again, appearing deep in thought as he continued to study your face, searching through the grime and dirt for any clues..then, he saw it; The eyes of someone that suffered abuse. His grip around your chin softened

“Stand up.” He commanded.

You struggled to your feet, confusion etched in your features, the obvious sway in your step before two strong hands grabbed your shoulders to steady you.

“We’ll have to move fast.”

“What’re you—” You were still confused, head spinning from his words and malnourishment.

“I don’t turn in folks that killed outta self defense, Chickadee. And certainly not a woman that killed her abusers.” He gave you a curt, tight nod. “Better you than I cause I woulda tied those sons a bitches up and dragged them through the fuckin’ desert.” He rasped.

“You’re..not turnin’ me in?”

“No. Ain’t morally right for me t’do so.” He said softly.

And that’s how you ended up riding through the countryside with Joel Miller to protect you. You’d patch up his shiners, his wounds, keep his belly full with hearty stews that kept him strong and alert. You’d clean his gun, shine his leather till you could see your reflection in the fabric. And in return, he protected you. He never asked for any sexual favors, or for your hand. He viewed you as his equal, his partner.

It hurt sometimes, to flirt with the man you owed your life to and for him to brush your attempts off everytime. As if you were a pesky horsefly, or insignificant gnat. Yet, you couldn’t help it. Joel was handsome, ruggedly so and you’d often find yourself fantasizing about kissing him, feeling his fingers touch you in places you craved to be touched in. To feel his caress on your skin, the bite of his leather, the scrape of his scruffy beard. The stretch of his cock inside of your wet cunt.

You were driving yourself mad with want for a man that didn’t want you back, or so you assumed that was to be the case.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Joel Miller was on the edge to finally just give in when he caught you one night with your skirts hiked above your thighs with your boot clad feet firmly planted in the dirt. Under the pale glow of the moonlight above, and the glittery shining stars, he could see your hand between your thighs, touching yourself and moaning his name.

It felt wrong to watch you, to invade your privacy and your modesty. But he’d be damned if he’d go another night without feeling the hug of your pussy around his aching cock. Or to feel the taste of your kissable lips on his tongue. Damned. Damned. Damned. Fuck, he couldn’t survive another second without knowing what it was like to be loved by you.

For years he had pushed you away despite knowing the pain it caused both you and him. A man could only last so long pretending to not love a woman that he’d throw his life down for in a heartbeat. That’s the kinda love Joel Miller had been dreaming of all his life.

Your head snapped at the sound of a twig snapping behind you as your hand stilled between your thighs. Your heartbeat rattled wildly in your rib cage at the fear and excitement of being caught.

Oh, please. Please let tonight be the night.

“Don’t stop on my account, Chickadee.” He drawled deeply before stepping closer to where you sat.

The heat rushed to your cheeks like a wildfire spreading, your stomach clenched inwards as you began to touch yourself once more, eyes staying locked on his own.

When he was close enough, you used his shins for support as you rubbed your swollen clit in tight, fast circles.

“No.” He shook his head. “Slower. Take your time, darlin.’ There ain’t no rush. Let me see you.” He rasped, before slowly sinking into the dirt behind you. His strong thighs corralled your own almost possessively as his hands gently grasped the hem of your skirts, pulling them up higher. You felt the brush of his beard against your cheek when his chin came to rest along your shoulder. “Nice and slow for me.”

“I’m—sorry, Joel.” You whispered ashamedly through the cool darkness of the desert night. You slowed your fingers, dragging them through the building slick that pooled between the seam of your cunt.

“Sorry for what, Chickadee? Sorry for touchin’ yourself? For moanin’ my name? Why would you be sorry for that?..” His deep tone sent sparks flying through your body as you leaned back into his strong chest.

“Because—you don’t want me, and this is wrong for me to do. To touch myself and moan a man’s name that doesn’t desire me the way I desire him.” A whimper was clawing up your throat, begging to be released, but you wouldn’t allow it.

He dropped the fabric of your skirts briefly only to dip his hand between your thighs and place his massive palm over the top of your hand, guiding your fingers over your clit once more. “This man desires you plenty, Chickadee. I was only tryin’ to protect your modesty..and our hearts.” He whispered against your ear, lips ghosting across your exposed skin. “Been wantin’ to love you all these years we’ve spent together.” He admitted. “I’m a terrible, rotten man for keepin’ you starved this long..” he trailed off, pressing open mouthed kisses at the spot where your jaw met your neck. “M’sorry.”

Those were the last words you ever expected a fucking bounty hunter to whisper..let alone to you?

A shuddered breath slipped past your parted lips, just for him. Your head lolled to the side, granting him easier access as your lashes fluttered shut. “I’ve felt like..such a fool, Joel. A dirty little fool for a bounty hunter.” You took your lower lip between your teeth, biting down harshly and drawing blood to the surface. You let him take full control of your hand, letting him guide and manipulate your fingers to play with yourself just right.

“Shh..I know now, Chickadee. M’sorry, truly. But I’m here now, ain’t I? M’here. Here forever if you’ll have me. I understand if I've bruised and neglected your heart far too many times..I can accept your rejection if it is coming.”

You could detect the edge of sadness in his tone, the acceptance already settling into his bones and heart.

“Joel, please kiss me.” You nearly begged him, dying to finally know what his lips would feel like on your own.

“Why didn’t ya just say that sooner, Chickadee.” He chuckled. “I wish ya woulda just grabbed me by the breeches years ago and knocked some sense into my thick skull. Woulda taken your ache away a long time ago, darlin.’” He said in a hushed whisper. “But I know you were afraid..can’t blame ya for that. Not really. ‘Specially since I ain’t the nicest of men to come by.”

He was taking too long, and you were an impatient woman.

“Joel.” You huffed, fighting the urge to curse him out before you decided to take matters into your own hands, finally. Tomorrow was never promised, not when you and Joel were constantly on the run.

He kept rambling on until he felt the soft touch of your fingertips brushing against the patches in his scruffy beard and the magnetic pull drawing him in closer, closer till he could taste your mingled breath on his lips.

Here in the middle of the desert, with nothing but the moon and stars as a source of light, you finally knew what it was like to kiss Joel Miller. You learned his lips quickly, liking that they were both soft and a bit chapped. As you licked slowly into one another’s mouths you could taste the faint remnants of tobacco on his tongue. It was a bruising kiss, one that both ignited the fire deep within you, and sent a delicious tingle curving down your spine.

So, this is what the girls back home were all talking about. Being kissed by a real man.

And then you found yourself straddling him in the dirt, saying fuck all to your modesty because you had never wanted a man more than you did now. And you wished that your mother could see you now. To see what her perfect little daughter had turned into.

Fuck you, mother. Fuck you for forcing me to marry that monster.

Joel brought you back down to earth with both his lips and his words tattooed on your skin. He caged you with his body, acting as a shield from the chilly night ear that sent goosebumps rising.

He worked your blouse open, growing more frustrated by the minute when the clasps wouldn’t automatically give. He was desperate to feel more of you, all of you because he knew then that you were his, and he was yours. And if you’d end up being the death of him, so be it. At least he could go out being loved rather than unloved.

“You gonna fuck me now, mister? Gonna take what belongs to you, Joel?” You mumbled against his lips in a chasing kiss, growing more desperate as the seconds ticked by.

“Gonna do more than that, Chickadee.” He rasped. This was a promise, and a man such as Joel always kept his promises.

The howl of a Coyote far off in the distant sent uneasy nerves rolling through you, because the realization hit you then that you and Joel were out in the fucking wilderness, and you suddenly felt bare and exposed.

“Jus’ a coyote, doll. He’s singin’ to the moon. We’re safe here, I promise. Ain’t ever gonna let somethin’ happen to you again, Chickadee.” His strong calloused, yet gentle hands came to cup for your face. His deep brown eyes met yours through the pale glow of the moonlight casted over your faces. “I swear on my life, you will always be safe with me.”

and while the lone coyote sang his song to the moon, Joel Miller had you singing your own song, just for his ears too.

After that night spent together, you never had a night where you slept alone. Joel was always there. Holding you, kissing you, fucking you into a blissful state.

He still feared for your safety, and you feared for his. This would never change, but you refused to live in fear for the rest of your life.

It was a boiling hot day under the blazing desert sun. You and Joel were moving west towards California. Hearing about the gold rush there sounded like as good of an opportunity as any. Not even just for the gold, but the prospects of a new life. Joel had dreams of owning a ranch, sheep specifically and living out his days with you by his side.

“Come join me for a swim, cowboy.” You were sitting side by side under the one single tree along the river's edge. Your two horses were drinking their fill after traveling for days in these conditions.

Your cowboy had his arms crossed behind his head, biceps bulging under the thin fabric of his shirt. His hat was tipped down over his head. You only witnessed Joel being fully relaxed on a few occasions where he would let his guard down for just mere minutes.

“Mmm. That’s alright, doll. Y’go on and enjoy yourself.” He said with a lazy sigh.

“Just a quick one together? Please?” You reached over and gently lifted the brim of his hat just enough so you could see his closed eyes.”

“Chickadee..” he said in a low warning tone, peeking one eye open to look up at you before he shut it once more.

“You’re no fun.” You huffed while releasing your gentle grip on his hat.

“M’plenty fun, doll. I gotta keep watch, anyway. Can’t do that if I’m stark naked in the river with ya. What if someone tries to sneak up? Won’t have my gun at arms reach.” He sighed.

“I know, Joel.”

Maybe when we get to California..he won’t have to worry about all of that.

He sat up turning his body to face you before his palm came to rest upon your cheek in a gentle caress. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, tugging it down gently before he leaned in and kissed you sweetly. “Now go on and cool off, Chickadee.”

You kissed him back with the same amount of sweetness before you pulled away and gave his nose a light boop. His face scrunched inwards before he reached around and gave your ass a light and playful swat that sent you giggling as you rose to your feet.

You shot him a seductive wink before you raced down to the river's edge, kicking up a cloud of dirt with your boots.

Joel watched from afar with a hooded gaze as you stripped down from your skirts and blouse followed by your unlaced boots. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when your one boot wouldn’t give right away and you nearly tripped before finally getting it off. He kept watch as you dove into the crystal clear waters and reameraged moments later.

He reached into his pack, pulling out an apple and pocket knife while you splashed around like a kid on Christmas. He cut off a small slice before biting it off on the edge of the knife, chewing thoughtfully as he leaned back against the sturdy tree.

When we get to California..I’m going to marry her.

He didn’t want to end your fun so soon..but it was time to get moving again. He brought his thumb and forefinger into his mouth, whistling to let you know that it was time to pack up.

You had been floating peacefully on your back with your eyes closed when you heard his whistle that immediately tore you from your daydream state.

He was just about to stand up from where he was resting against the tree when you emerged from the river. You reminded him of a goddess. Bare, beautiful, skin sprinkled in water droplets that were kissed by the sun. You looked unreal, and he was the luckiest man alive.

“C’mon, Chickadee. We gotta head out.” He called for you when you were within earshot.

“I’m coming!” You bent down to gather up your clothes before the idea struck you. “Can I dry off first, please?”

He let out a grumbled sigh before he ultimately nodded his head in agreement. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt..

“Jus’ till ya dry off, doll.”

With your clothes and boots gathered up in your bare arms, you approached him casually, setting everything down on your nearby saddle while he watched you with piqued curiosity.

“I was thinking about you out there..laying on my back and feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin..” you trailed off.

“Is that so? Hmm..what were you thinkin’ about, Chickadee?” His eyes slowly trailed down your bare body. From the swell of your breasts, down your tummy and thighs and what lay between them.

“Want to take a guess, cowboy?” You asked teasingly.

His brow raised as a grin tugged along the corner of his lips. A game is what you were playing, and he was the willing participant.

“Based on your tone, I’m gonna guess it’s got somethin’ to do with..my cock?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner while his hand casually came to rest between his own thighs. Oh, he was playing alright.

“Mmm..perhaps I was thinkin’ of ridin’ your cock right under the shade of this tree..but that would be too obvious, Joel.” Your eyes drifted down to where his hand was before the traveled down the expanse of his strong thighs and ending at the toe of his leather boots.

He caught onto your drift almost immediately and you saw his pupils begin to darken. “Y’wanna ride my boot? Is’that it? Well, ain’t you a filthy thing, Chickadee. You wanna get ‘em all shined up for me? Drag that sweet cunt of yours over them?”

His eyes stayed locked on yours in a challenging stare while he palmed himself through his pants to relieve the growing tension.

“I do, sir. I really, really, really want to ride your boot.” You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks because never in your wildest dreams did you expect to take part in debauchery such as this.

“On your knees then, girl. Kiss ‘em for me.” He fell right into character with a flip of a switch.

You found yourself lowering onto your knees without a care in the world about the dirt while you bent down over his boots, pressing a kiss to the leather, dragging your tongue down the stitched seam.

“That’s it, doll. Get ‘em nice and shined up for me.” He said while popping the button on his pants open and pulling his cock free from the confines.

“You gonna touch yourself while I ride your boot, mister?” You were sitting upright again before you crawled closer, letting your hands rest along his thighs as you positioned yourself right above his left boot. The imprint of your kiss had already begun to dry from the scorching heat.

“Yeah, doll. I’m gonna fist my cock while you ride my boot like the dirty Chickadee that you are.” He spat into his palm before he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock just as you lowered yourself over the expanse of his boot, taking your lip between your teeth when you dragged your clit right across the smooth leather.

“Fuuck me. Ain’t that a sight. Look at you, fuckin’ filthy girl. S’feel good, Chickadee?”

You rolled your hips forward slowly at the rate that he was pumping his fist. A soft whimper slipped past your lips while your eyes stayed locked on his.

“Feels so good, mister. So—so good.” You moaned freely with each steady roll of your hips, chasing that high. Nothing would ever compare to Joel’s cock. You knew this, he knew this, and you also were aware that this little game would only last so long.

And then he watched you lose yourself completely on his boot with each roll and grind of your hips against the dampened leather. Crying out his name, nails digging into his covered thighs, head thrown back, tears nearly flooding your eyes.

He had the same sense of urgency and realization that nothing would ever compare to the warm hug of your pussy around his cock. That’s when the game ended as his strong arms came to lift you into his lap by your thighs. His lips met yours in a bruising kiss filled with intermingled moans and teeth clashing together when he finally slipped into your warmth.

California could wait a little longer, he wanted to savor this moment for as long as it lasted because now he had the love that he had been dreaming of all his life. Right here in his arms, cock buried to the hilt under the shade of this very tree. Right here with his Chickadee.

That’s the kinda love I’ve been dreaming of

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[agentoffangirling]

Bc of all this stuff of "Billy is the first gay character in the MCU", I have decided to compile a list of queer characters in the MCU, sorted by date so y'all know who the actual firsts are

The conditions are thus:

It is confirmed in the project by either the character themselves or by another person. Maybe they speak of a partner, or say "I'm gay" onscreen

It is confirmed outside of the project by a director, actor, writer, etc. The specific thing about this is that it must be spoken about openly, not just "oh I like that idea!". No, it must be said, "yes, we intended for this" "this character is queer", you get the idea. This means cases like where Chloe Bennet voiced support for an openly bi Daisy Johnson in "Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." will not be counted, for while she does like it, she doesn't confirm Daisy as bi

The project must be set in the MCU timeline. If it is the subject of a multiverse, then that must be when the multiverse started branching out. "Deadpool and Wolverine" counts, but all other X-Men movies will not count

With these conditions, it also means cases like Iceman will not be considered, as even though him being a mutant is written like a coming out scene, he is still treated as being entirely het

Does that make sense? Good, let's get going

Victoria Hand (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season 1, 2013-2014): Lesbian, confirmed by actress

Isabelle Hartley (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season 2, 2014-2015): Lesbian, stated by actress

Joey Gutierrez (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season 3, 2015-2016): Gay, confirmed on screen

Jeri Hogarth (Jessica Jones, 2015-2019): Lesbian, confirmed on screen

Valkyrie (Thor: Ragnarok & Thor: Love and Thunder, 2017/2022): Bisexual, confirmed by actress and later confirmed on screen

Korg (Thor: Ragnarok & Thor: Love and Thunder, 2017/2022): Gay, only confirmed on screen in Love and Thunder

Karolina Dean (Runaways, 2017-2018): Lesbian, confirmed on screen

Nico Minoru (Runaways, 2017-2018): Bisexual, confirmed on screen

Ruby Hale (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season 5, 2017-2018): Aesxual, confirmed by actress

Aneka (Black Panther & Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, 2018/2022): Lesbian, confirmed by actress

Ayo (Black Panther & Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, 2018/2022): Lesbian, confirmed on screen

Unnamed character played by Joe Russo (Avengers: Endgame, 2019): Unknown, confirmed on screen

Marcus Benson (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season 6, 2019): Gay, confirmed on screen

Loki Laufeyson (Loki, 2021): Genderfluid and bisexual, confirmed on screen (it is worth noting that Loki was only confirmed as queer in the series, ten years after he made his debut, which is why I only count the series here. However our main timeline Loki is suggested to be same)

Sylvie Laufeydottir (Loki, 2021): Bisexual, confirmed by creators

Yelena Belova (Black Widow & Hawkeye, 2021): Aroace, hinted on screen, confirmed by writer

Phastos (Eternals, 2021): Gay, confirmed on screen

America Chavez (Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, 2022): Lesbian, confirmed by actress

America's moms (Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, 2022): Unknown, confirmed on screen

Mister Immortal (She-Hulk: Attorney at Law, 2022): Bisexual, confirmed on screen

Agatha Harkness (WandaVision & Agatha All Along, 2021/2024): Unknown, potentially sapphic or wlw, confirmed on screen

Rio Vidal (Agatha All Along, 2024): Unknown, potentially sapphic or wlw, confirmed on screen

Billy Maximoff (Agatha All Along, 2024): Gay, confirmed on screen

[confessedlyfannish]

Six Years Ago

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Fortunately for them, the kid isn't good at subtlety. When he appears it is usually with a delayed boom announcing his arrival, like a crack of thunder to his lightning. And a hood pulled low over someone's face doesn't mean much when there's only one preteen in the world who can blow a fire out with his bare breath while floating in midair.

Unfortunately for them the kid is fast, see aforementioned "sonic boom". That is not to say Danny could not follow him anyway, but after the eighth time he heads to one of the kid's rescues and he flees before Danny can get a word out, Ellie is sitting at his kitchen counter heating up his leftovers.

"You need to cool it," she says, using her fang to pop open a sapporo. "He doesn't want to be found right now."

"Yeah, I got that." Danny says, swiping the beer out of the hands of what is technically a fourteen year old. She shoots him a scowl as the microwave dings.

"He's a child, and he's sick, Ellie." Even if Frostbite hadn't said as much, it hasn't escaped Danny's notice that in the past two months his speed has ever so slightly slowed. A particularly brave emergency worker had scolded Phantom for scaring him off this time around, concerned about his thin wrists.

"Gee, a sick child runaway, I wonder who that reminds me of," she says, tapping at her chin. She douses the chicken lo mein in sriracha.

"That's different. You knew to come find me, when it got bad. This kid is afraid of me." And he was. Whenever he and Danny met eyes the kid would go pale(r) with fear before zipping away.

"So make him less afraid."

Danny gapes at her. "Gee," he says slowly, a mimicry of her earlier sarcasm. "Why didn't I think of that."

"You're literally stalking the kid right now, you think I don't know about Tucker's alert system? Right now you must seem like the boss monster that shows up at the end of the level," Ellie says. "You need to approach this differently. Go slow, the way you did with me." She pauses, mouth twisting in a way that signals she's about to be reluctantly vulnerable with him.

"I didn't know what it was like to be...cared about. Properly. Before you guys. Even with the memories," she taps her head with the chopsticks, "It didn't click. But you showed me you would be there for me, even as you respected that I needed my space. You taught me how to trust you."

Danny takes a lengthy pull from the bottle he's still holding. "I can't be patient with him, Ellie," he says. He fiddles with the edge of the peeling label. "He's going to get worse."

"Yeah." Ellie says. "And I think you should let him."

---

The first time the backpack appears, Jon takes one look at the post-it with the scribbled stylized D and ":)" on it and tosses the whole thing in the trash before taking off.

He does the same the next four times, even as the backpack gets bulkier, its contents crashing together as it hits the nearest available dumpster.

He's in New York City after he saves a window washer from falling twenty stories when he sees his face plastered on a Times Square billboard. A hotdog stand owner in New York City offers him one on the house which he reluctantly accepts, trying to ignore the man's searching gaze.

He's not an idiot. He knows he's starting to look like crap, if the way the people react when they see him means anything. It's not like he smells, he regularly bathes in clean streams and lakes, but even when he eats coconuts and mangos and wild raspberries until his stomach is bursting and he has spent the last five minutes petting a giraffe on the head, feeling so giddy he almost forgets how his family is gone—he feels...strange. Weaker. The cuts on his side and face from the evil robot with the green eyes have slowly scarred pink, and they still pull and sting if he stretches. Jon's never had a scar before, and now he has six. And he's losing weight.

A lot of the people he meets have been super nice about it, offering him food and, in a particularly cold area of Alaska, a zip up hoodie he now wears over his recognizable family crest. Not that doing so has stopped the white-haired guy from finding him. But it has allowed Jon to move around more freely when he isn't out rescuing people. He even made some cash in Wisconsin cleaning up a grocery store before the night shift manager had recognized his face.

This and the billboard means he stops to buy a pair of cheap glasses and a large t-shirt with the NYC skyline and shorts on it from a tourist shop. After, he takes a bus to New Jersey with the last of his money and changes in the bathroom. He bites back a sniffle when he peels his superhero costume from his body. He's suddenly overcome, poking a finger through the slashes in the side, and spends the rest of the trip with his head buried in his knees, trying to keep his hiccups quiet.

When he exits, he heads to the library he's already visited three times before. It's bad, to develop a routine like this when he is actively being hunted, but he can't help himself any more than he can help the way he sometimes sleeps in that barn in Kansas, the few times he feels like he can actually rest, surrounded by the familiar smell of animal and hay.

As he searches a few more terms that predictably turn up nothing on the public computer, he notes bitterly it's not like the man can't find him anyway. Just because he's backed off doesn't mean he isn't around, silently threatening Jon with randomly appearing backpacks. Each backpack is different too, as if Jon might be taking issue with the color purple rather than the scary guy providing them.

Jon pushes away from desk, waiting for the inevitable wave of despair that hits him after each Google session proves fruitless. He's even, in one moment of lunacy, searched Talia Al Ghul, thinking if anyone can find him after his search pings her servers it's her—

But she never did come.

No one has.

Except for him.

The wave today is muted, lapping at his ankles rather than bowling him over, and somehow the resignation that accompanies it hurts more. He wants to do something, anything, and so he scoots back to the cubicle and types in white haired flying man, d symbol.

This is the first time he learns about Phantom.

---

The boy has started taking the backpacks.

Each one is filled with fresh meals in glass tupperware, meant to last for a while even without refrigeration (though with the boy's ice breath, maybe it's not a problem), as well as ziploc baggies filled with pretzels and carrots and goldfish and celery sticks.

("no peanut butter, he might have a nut allergy!"

"Wouldn't that have come up in Frostbite's scan?"

"You think Frostbite would've thought amidst scanning a little boy's half-alien body to check for a peanut allergy?"

"...Fair enough")

Alongside the meals are cash in the form of U.S. dollars, pounds, euros, yen, yuan, and an extreme hail mary in the form of an ATM card that Ellie rolls her eyes at every time Danny packs it.

There is also a miniature first aid kit, sans medicine but including ice and heat packs you can shake to activate. Danny wedges folded clothing in the spare edges of the bag, a blanket, and forces the zipper closed over a pair of high top sneakers similar to the ragged ones the boy wears. He tops every one with the same post-it drawing of his symbol, and a smiley face.

The boy is still weakening, beginning to look like a strong wind could blow him over even as he zips through mudslides in Colombia and scoops a father and son out of a rip current in Italy, but as he accepts the backpacks Danny listens to Ellie and waits.

And then one day Danny is watching him push a bus away from the edge of a sinkhole in Mexico, school kids pressed against the rear windshield watching him, and Danny hears the creaking of his bone right before the kid's arm snaps.

"Okay, fuck this," Danny says into the Fenton comms as the child wails, swooping down to grab the boy with one arm and the bus with the other.

The boy is too stunned to react, sobbing with pain as he cradles his arm protectively, and Danny shamelessly takes advantage of that as he gently but hurriedly places the bus beside the crowd of spectators.

A very small woman who immediately beelined for him as he landed smacks him in the shoulder, hissing at him in Spanish while several people try to hold her back. She smacks him again.

"I'm trying to help him. I promise. Ayuda." Danny says, shifting the boy into a more comfortable bridal carry.

"Ayuda? Help? You, you bad! El pobre niño." The woman sneers. "Bad! ¡Mal Fantasma! ¡Eres un padre horrible!"

Danny knows what padre means, and even if he didn't, he's heard the rumors and conspiracies (and maybe even leveraged them in a conversation with the U.S. government, who can say) and he doesn't bother denying it, because the truth is he has let this child down from the moment he allowed him to be hunted on Skulker's island, and he deserves every nasty word and more.

"Yeah. I know," he tells the woman. In his ear, Sam demands to know what's happening. The boy is incoherent with pain, the outline of the bone pressing against his skin.

"It's going to be okay," Danny tells him, lifting off the ground. Regret is sour in his gut, bile on his tongue. What was he thinking? In the curl of his arms, the child is so small. This isn't a stray cat one coaxes into their home. This is a terrified little boy.

Danny isn't a fourteen-year-old too young and stupid to recognize he shouldn't let a two-month-old clone explore the world with his blessing. He's twenty-eight. He needs to get a grip.

He needs to be better.

The world stops. Everything goes quiet.

A blue portal unwinds via the hands of time.

"I see you're ready now." Clockwork says to him.

Danny wants to deny it, but the words are stuck in his throat. What use is denying what Clockwork already knows to be true?

"This is the right choice, Danny. Everything will be as it should be. Help him," Clockwork nods at the child. "Then find me."

Danny's tongue unsticks from his mouth. "Only if you tell me. If I do this, will he be safe? Will I have the power to protect him?" An echo of what waits to be unlocked drapes over his words, cracks appearing in the ground at his feet. "Tell me."

"Yes. You will keep him safe. Until he no longer needs you to do so. Here."

With a wave of his staff, a neon green portal rends through the air.

Clockwork drifts back to his own portal. "I will see you in Time, Danny."

Danny nods at him as he leaves, feeling a contract snap into place as time restarts at a crawl.

"Shh kiddo," he says as the boy, gradually unfreezing, trickles tears. "I've got you. You'll be okay. I'm going to fix this. I promise."

He steps through the portal, towards whatever comes next.

Part 5

[telephonedear]

additional things i think the Archons would be gods of (feel free to add your own):

BARBATOS, god of:

wind

poetry

song

freedom

hope

children

sleep/rest

death

MORAX, god of:

rock/earth

contracts

marriage

trade

wealth

strategy

BEELZEBUB, god of:

lightning

thunder

eternity

storms

virgins

runaways

BUER, god of:

plants/flora

wisdom

dreams

memories

wonder

youth

purity

FOCALORS, god of:

water (seas, rivers, etc)

justice

fairness

decisions

truth

MAVUIKA, god of:

fire

lava

war

warriors

dance

festivities

TSARITSA, god of:

ice

love (sexual, romantic, familial, etc.)

relationships

marriage

childbirth/fertility

madness (?)

i made both morax and tsaritsa the god of marriage because i feel like they’d be different types- morax would be more arranged (contracted) while tsaritsa’s would be out of love.

i also think that both buer and focalors could be gods of purity, so lmk who you think it should be

again, feel free to add some more!

[sailoryooons]

Request: Alpha Yoongi x omega reader. Werewolves. Smut and fluff. Dom Yoongi and sub reader. Starting with non-sexual dominance like her kneeling at his feet. Then, kind of a fear/primal chase in the woods as foreplay. Smut. And then aftercare with nesting.

❀ Pairing: Alpha Werewolf!Yoongi x Omega werewolf! F. reader

❀ Summary: Your alpha wants to go on a hunt through the woods. Who are you to deny him?

❀ Word Count: 8,727

❀ Genre: A/b/o, werewolves, supernatural, established relationship

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: I have never used the word scent and smells this much in my life please forgive me for I have used it a million times, alpha/omega dynamics, Yoongi chasing through the reader for fun, light predator/prey play, sexually explicit content including unprotected sex (f. receiving), breeding kink, mention of ruts, oral sex (f. receiving) not a lot of foreplay, a ton of being in subspace and hormone drunk, reader is pretty much a pillow princess/borderline free use for Yoongi, a lot of slick and soft dom Yoongi/sub reader, hint at aftercare and nesting

❀ Published: April 11, 2023

❀ A/N: Hi okay so I re-wrote this like three times because every time I did it, I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of filling this request, but I think I finally have something that I am happy with! It went in a little bit of a different place, but I hope that you like it! I am super unused to writing werewolves and a/b/o and I had such a good time dipping my toe in - it’s something I want to write in the future where I have some room to world build and go crazy on word count hehehe. Enjoy!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Milestone Event Request Fill |

Trees flash by you as you run, hands pumping at your sides, heart thundering in your chest. A pack of rabbits startle as you run by, bolting into their little dens. The earth is damp beneath your feet, still saturated with morning rain. You almost loose your footing more than once as you spring over a fallen tree, dry-rotted and full of ants.

The pine trees are packed tight, shafts of moonlight painting the forest floor in spotlights of silver as you run. The low-hanging branches catch you on your flight, needles stinging your skin but not drawing blood. Still, you snarl as a branch cracks under your barefoot, sending a sharp pang through your sole. 

You don’t stop, moving blindly toward the south of your territory. You don’t look over your shoulder to see where he is - you don’t need to. Even with a small head start, Yoongi is far faster than you are, and you swear the land changes at his command, putting tangled vines where you don’t remember them being, adding a hole to trip you up as you sprint through the trees. 

Yoongi isn’t magic, of course. He cannot change the lay of the land any more than you can, but he walks among these trees and hills every night. Plus, you’re frantic in your runaway, your human instincts bluring, somewhere between wolf and person. 

Run, little omega, Yoongi had whispered, pupils blown out, scent heady and hypnotizing. You’d only just come through the door to find him standing in the living room on the edge of pre-rut. Run and don’t let me catch you. 

Except Yoongi is going to catch you. You can hear the squirrels in the trees chattering angrily at him as he crashes through the woods behind you. He doesn’t have to be quiet - he is the top of the food chain here, he has nothing to fear. And neither do you, really. You’re a predator too, a wolf born and bred in these woods.

There is only a single thing you are prey to and he is laughing manically behind you as he hunts you down. 

Movement to your right catches your eye. Yoongi’s trying to cut you off, coming from the west of the woods to intercept you as you scramble south. You snarl and change direction, swerving southeast to put distance between the two of you. 

“Ah, come on, omega!” he hollers behind you, voice closer than you expect. You move faster, desperate to outrun him.

This far south of your house is a ravine. You know that if you slide down the side and run east, you’ll end up in Jungkook’s territory. A place your’e definitely not allowed to go, especially right now. You throw caution to the wind anyways, making a line for the ravine, singularly focused on making the slide down. 

You never make it, Yoongi slamming into your side and knocking you off your feet. You scream as you go down hard, but not hard enough to do more than jar your bones. Yoongi takes the brunt of your fall; you pressed against his chest, his back hitting the ground hard before he rolls. 

Gasping for breath, you claw at him, scraping to move from where he has you pinned. He laughs, catching your hands in one fist and slamming them above your head. His grip and the sound of him snarling your name has you snap to attention, going boneless. 

Yoongi is panting heavily against you, filling your space with his scent. Your eyes flutter as your chest heaves, trying to catch your breath. Every inhale has your sense flooding with Yoongi’s scent: pine and sage, edged with something heaver and muskier. 

Alpha near rut. 

It makes your head spine and for a second, your vision of him goes a little blurry. He lets go of your hands but you don’t move. He knows you won’t, pinned under the heavy weight of him as he straddles your waist, sitting on you. 

Blinking the heaviness from your eyes, you look up at him and it feels like the world stops. 

Yoongi’s round face is framed by dark, black hair. It’s a little damp with sweat, clinging to his brow bone. His feline eyes are sharp and wild, pupils dilated with the frenzy of the hunt. A single, dark scar mars his right eye. You used to feel a pang of guilt looking at it, a reminder of what being an alpha had cost him. 

Now, though, you think of it fondly. You’ve traced it hundreds of times with your fingers, know every smooth and knotted surface of the injury. Yoongi is beautiful with and without it, lips glossy as his tongue darts out to wet them.

“You smell so good,” Yoongi growls, leaning down. You hold your breath as he leans toward your neck, nosing the scent gland there. Stars burst behind your eyes and you shiver underneath him, let out a whimper. He laughs, the sound low and scratchy in your ear. “Could smell you all the way from the house.” Yoong’s hands runs down your hips, skirts your thigh, and slips between your legs. He presses his fingers against your jeans. “Could smell this perfect little cunt for miles.”

A high-pitched whine leaves you as Yoongi presses harder, fingers providing the barest amount of friction. The ache between your legs is growing painful, your stomach twisting in arousal in response to the smell of him, the touch of him. An omega responding to their alpha in pre-rut, nearly on the brink of instrictual frenzy. 

Forming coherent thoughts is difficult, especially when you’re mind is in a state that’s more wolf than human. That’s the struggle with werewolves, toeing the line between human and animal. Instinct and choice. Your body does not choose to respond to him on a chemical level, but you don’t mind. It’s Yoongi. Your Yoongi. Your mate. 

“I told you not to get caught.”

You huff, irritation stoking you. He mouths at your throat over your gland, making you nearly pass out. “You’re faster than I am.”

“That isn’t true.”

Yoongi distracts you with a wet, hot lick over your mating mark. You let out a loud moan, not even trying to hide it this time. He laughs as you squirm under him, silenced when he growls your name. “Is that true, omega?” He asks, mouthing at your jaw. You can hardly understand his line of questioning as your thoughts and feelings blur. “Am I really faster than you?”

For a few moments, you don’t respond. Everything feels heightened, the sound of Yoongi’s voice buzzing against the corner of your mouth as he brushes his lips across your skin, not kissing you exactly. You’re hyper-aware of the smell of him, threatening to drive you into madness. Feel the way his hips press to against yours. 

“Omega.” Yoongi’s voice is final. 

“No,” you admit. “You’re not faster than me.” 

“So you let me catch you?” 

“I thought about it.” Yoongi nose bumps yours. Your eyes flutter shut as his mouth barely touches yours and you speak against his lips, “But then I decided I wanted to win.”

“And you were running to Jungkook’s hmm?” You wince and he hums, knowing he’s right. “Bad omega. Little wolves running into another alphas territory while they’re being hunted isn’t a very good idea, huh?”

“Would you have followed?”

“Of course I would. You’re mine. I would follow you into a fucking fire. Little Jungkookie’s territory is nothing.”

It’s a simple declaration, but you know what it means for an alpha to boldly claim he would enter another wolf’s territory, to break a line of demarcation. You can’t help but smile, leaning your head upward to press a kiss to his lips, hungry and tired of running from him. 

Yoongi lets you, though you feel the shape of a smirk through the sweet taste of his mouth, warm against yours. Yoongi sinks his hips heavily against yours and you moan into his mouth, spurring him further. Your hands remain where he left them, outstretched above your head as he licks into you, no longer content to let you kiss him the way you want. 

His kisses consume you. He takes your breath away, hand leaving the apex of your thighs to snake up your front, loosely gripping your throat. You feel dizzy. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t do anything but rest his hand at the base of your neck, fingers pressed lightly to the sides of your throat. 

It’s comforting, having him smother you like this. You get lost in the wet tangle of his tongue, your skin burning up from the inside out. He rolls his hips into you, but it’s not enough. You need him, a fire sparking to life that burns hotter than you can manage.

A feverish need comes over you. Yoongi senses the shift. His kisses turn to bites, teething gently at your skin as he works you out of your clothes. You still haven’t moved your hands and when he glances at them, he grins. 

Your eyes are only for him, shrouded in darkness as he pulls your pants down, then your shirt. Your eyes are sharp in the dark, able to see the rippling muscle of his arms and shoulders. The dusty nipples, the swells and planes of his chest and stomach. See the way his gaze is fucked out when he’s barely touched you, shuffling down your legs, hands skimming and grabbing the soft meat of your thighs. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes dragging from the wet smear down your thighs, to your hands above your head. You whine under his gaze and he grins, feral and sharp. “So obedient for me.”

“You like hands above head until you say so.”

“I do.” Yoongi bows low, grabbing your legs and hiking them over his shoulders. Your world spins, feeling his breath on your cunt as he makes a low sound in his throat. “Fucking wet, just how I like it.” 

Yoongi licks a sloppy path up your pussy and you gasp, head digging back into the grass. It’s almost painful, the need for him pulsing between your legs. He hums, sucking at your clit hungrily. Your toes curl and you hide your face in your arm, the urge to squirm away from the stimulation strong.  

You’re an exposed wire under Yoongi’s tongue as he eats you out, messy and wet. He laps at your hole, eager to taste you, nose pressed against your clit, teasing. You whimper his name, thighs clenching, fisting your hands together as you fight to remain still. It’s nearly impossible, this stillness he’s asked of you. You want to reach down and thread your fingers through his hair, want to dig your nails in and scratch, want to pull him close and shove him away.

The sounds he makes are obscene, alternating between sucking loudly and flicking his tongue against your throbbing clit. It’s pleasure-laced pain. You want him to fuck you, to sink into you as deep as he can until you can’t do anything but take it. But you like this too, the way Yoongi’s tongue works your clenching hole.

A high-pitched keen leaves your mouth. He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded as he sticks his tongue out, making a show of licking your cunt top to bottom. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth as you mumble his name, speech slurred. 

“Hmm?” he asks, grunting against you as he works you closer to an orgasm, which hovers in the distance. He looks up at you again, sees the tears lining your eyes. “You can touch me,” he murmurs, saying the world between lush licks between your folds. “Greedy omega.”

And so what if you are greedy. Yoongi gives you everything you want. He makes a grumble about it, rolling his eyes and sometimes acting like it’s a little inconvenience, but you know he loves it- loves this. Loves letting you get away with things when you ask sweetly.

Yoongi’s hair is silky and a little sweaty as you run your fingers through it, nails scratching at his scalp the way he likes. His moan is muffled against your pussy and you wriggle beneath him. It feels so good, your stomach in knots. Your limbs begin to tingle and you feel that tight, squeezing feeling in your core, clenching hard. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dig your nails into Yoongi’s scalp and he growls at the pain. You think your breaking skin, nails turned into claws, limbs shaking as your orgasm tightens and tightens until it feels like you can’t breath, like the world is going to crack in half. 

And then it breaks. Your orgasm floods out of you in a rush, your muscle spasming so hard that you scream. Heels digging into the dirt, fingers tangled in Yoongi’s hair, head whipped to the side, cheek pressed into the ground and eyes squeezed shut so hard you see colors exploded behind your eyelids. 

Heavy-limbed and feeling drunk, you drop your legs open a bit. Yoongi’s hands are on your hips, flipping you over. You don’t have the strength to hold yourself up, hands buckling under you, face pressed to the back of your palms. He says something that you can’t hear, your head still swimming in the clouds. 

Every one of your joints feels melted, unable to lock together to support your weight. It doesn’t matter. Yoongi does it for you, lifting you up so that you’re on your knees, thighs spread wide. Air cools the wet mess on your legs. You realize you’re dripping past your knees. 

Yoongi’s palms feel like fire on your flushed skin. He wraps and arm around your waist, pulling you back to his chest, the other looping under your arm so he can grab your neck firmly. This time, he does squeeze, fingers placed perfectly on the sides of your throat. 

Everything around you feels like cotton candy fuzz, fluffy and sweet. Your head lolls back, resting on his shoulder as his teeth find your shoulder, nipping your skin. Behind you, his cock slides gently between your folds, making you hiss. 

“Gonna fill up this pussy,” Yoongi murmurs. “Gonna fuck you full, yeah?”

You nod your head. “Yeah.” The word slurs on your tongue. “Please, want it.”

“You’re already fucked out from just my mouth, omega.” 

“So?” 

He chuckles darkly. His cockhead catches your clenching hole and you whine, hands going to clutch the arm on your waist and holding your throat. “Have you no decency, hm?”

“No. Yoongi please, it hurts. Please just - please.”

“Shhh.” Yoongi places a warm, wet kiss on your jaw. “I’ve got you. You know I’ve got you?”

Words are too hard, so you nod. Yoongi places another sweet kiss on your cheek before he shuffles and thrusts into you, smooth on the upstroke. You gasp, breath knocked out of you as he slides to the hilt. Yoongi’s cock is thick and though you’re soaked, the stretch is intense, your walls clinging to him in a vice grip.

Behind you, Yoongi curses. His hand tightens, and it gets just a little bit harder to breath. Slowly, he retracts before snapping forward again, stroke slow but hard. He groans, focused on setting a leisurely and smooth pace. Every thrust of his hips makes his cock hit deep, punching the air from your lungs. With his fingers pressing against your throat, it gets harder to take in more air, making you light-headed, the forest spinning. 

It feels so good, this blooming pleasure inside of you. Every time he hits your soft spot just right, you feel closer to madness. Yoongi squeezes your throat tighter. His skin is warm and sweaty, sliding against yours, the friction making your eyes roll back.

Yoongi’s teeth scrape your shoulder. Sink in just a little, not enough to draw blood, but you feel the sting. It’s good, pleasure-laced pain. And then he’s telling you to let go, to come around him. You deny your alpha nothing, eyes fluttering shut as you squeeze tight tight tight. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi snarls. You come so hard he has to stop thrusting, your pussy clenching around him with everything you’ve got. You’re not breathing, air stuck in your lungs, blood rushing in your eyes, stars behind your eyes. “Breathe,” Yoongi pants, letting go of your throat. You suck in a sharp breath of air, flooding your lungs. “That’s it. You can take it, yeah? Can take it til I fill you up?”

“Yes, alpha.”

It’s a mumble of words. You’re not even sure if it comes out right. Yoongi holds you to him, doesn’t mind that you're boneless. Your fingers thread his where his hands grip you, squeezing as your head cradles against his neck. You nose him there, drawing all sorts of feral sounds from him as he chases his orgasm, driven to the edge while you scent him. He comes with a loud sound, maybe your name or something else. You’re not sure. 

Yoongi smells like home. Well - smells like earth and come and sweat and trees and pheremones. But his smell is there, pine and sage. Wild and gentle. Earth and cleansing. You love the smell of him, you have since you met him. 

“Rest.” Yoongi’s voice sounds faraway. “I’ve got you.” 

Weightlessness takes over. You don’t remember moving and you don’t remember Yoongi pulling out of you and picking you up. You’re drunk off his scent, hormones throwing you over the cliff and into a deep lake, where you float aimlessly. Comforted. 

Soft sheets slide against your skin. You turn your face and breathe in, smelling Yoongi everywhere. It’s warm and you smell you too. Rosemary and mint. Your scents linger together, making you feel at home. Loved. Safe. 

Something jostles you a little. You slow-blink an eye open, realizing you’re at home, tucked into the corner of your room you like to use for nesting. Blankets of Yoongi’s are piled eye and there are shirts and hoodies that belong to him. Some shirts that belong to you. Things that remind you of the two of you, that feel like you both. 

Yoongi is tucked behind you, breath puffing against your ear. His eyes are closed when you curve your head to look at him. “Sleep,” he rasps, not opening his eyes. “And thank you for the hunt. I’m not done with you. But I’m tired.” 

You smile and close your eyes, drifting to sleep in the safety of Yoongi’s arms.

[disneyparktournament]

Round 1

Group 1 - The Frontier

[acupofinkedblood]

Katana x cultist reader [Forsaken One]

TW: Mention of blood and violence

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Katana knows that the black sheep will be regarded as a disgrace to the family. Yet, he had enough. He has seen enough of the actual secret within this pit of hell. Joining this so-called ‘family’ for salvation is the worst decision in his life, he should have known better. But now, all he wants is just to get out of here immediately. And of course, when he shows the sight of rebellion, punishment is expected

It’s raining, the lamented rain is screaming against the glass window as if it wants to tear the curtain of nightfall apart in rage. Thunder highlights the visible distress haunting Katana as blood starts to dripping down his blade

The downpour speaks up for Scythe in that very moment

“Traitor! You dare to betray your teacher and friends,” the demon hisses through her pain, “Do you really think you can just escape!? Just you wait, Katana!”

Those were what he remembered before slashing Scythe’s arm off when she tries to get in the way. He barely has the right mind once he gets out of that dungeon bellow the church , and then he has to get Scythe to stop interfering his business with force. Wounded as he is, Katana still manages to ‘repay’ Scythe for all those years of his nightmare. The adrenaline rush is still pumping in his veins, enough for him to know how messed up the situation is. That lunatic’s voice echoes throughout the wall, giving Katana this uneasy feeling of a bad omen. Yet, he keeps moving forward

It is so oddly quiet inside the church, where is everyone else? Katana shakes the thought off his mind, he should have been grateful because of how fortune seems to be smiling at his current state. Less obstacles, less troubles he will have to endure before his escape. He has to leave everything behind, there is no other choice. The corruption is eating everything alive, infecting their mind with false sense of unity like a mindless beehive. As much as he would love to watch everything crumble in satisfaction, he knows that he isn’t capable of that weighing that responsibility by himself

Katana makes it outside, faces the heavy rain against the fresh wound of his skin. Freedom is within his reach, even if he doesn’t know where to go, he still has to make it out alive. He can’t just fail himself now, enough is enough. He has failed himself too many times, Katana can’t—

“Halt”

That familiar voice is the last thing the apostate wants to hear. Without a doubt, he is greeted with a hit directly into his chest. Has he not raises the blade to block it, all the effort to runaway will be all in vain as he won’t even be alive to see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore. He knows how cold you can be. But under this circumstance, Katana just wishes he doesn’t have to see you. Not now

“I advise you to go back, a lesser punishment is considered if you atone for your sin,” you coo, “Father send me to bring you home, Katana. Let us go back home, unless you prefer to only bring your head back?”

The fact that they send you out of all people. What a cruel joke. If this is how they spit onto his face, then they have done such a great job. Just because his master isn’t present in the cult at the moment, they drag you into this mess to take care of his matter. You, his partner that share the same master as his. His master have trained you before he even stepped into the picture, that alone has explained his respect for you, both in strength and as an individual. Those time he spent with you, it brings him comfort. He misses that all-knowing smile of yours, that cold expression is just so…cruel. How unlikely is that usually, that gaze of yours will fall on anyone but him. For a moment Katana wants to beg you to not look at him like that, but he has to mentally slap himself to keep his determination

But the one thing that aches his heart is the realization of how he will have to step over his loved one’s body if he wants to survive. Not to mention when you are stronger and more experienced than him. What he has done to Scythe, that alone won’t be able to stop you. The thought of killing you makes him sick. But is there any other choice? You have become his enemy, even when he has prayed to himself that he wouldn’t have to face you specifically while he is on the run. This is the price he has to pay, it’s either you or him in this tango of tragedy

Standing in front of you like this, Katana bites his tongue as he keeps his gear up, ready to fight you if needed. That hit you charge at him still leave an impact on his body, to say it simply aches his muscles is such an understatement. Seeing that your refusal has been casted away, you don’t even spare him a moment to breathe before sighing

“I have warned you”

He knows he isn’t the match for you in a fight. The outcome is expected, yet he can’t help but to feel ridiculed at that twisted irony. It’s not like he hasn’t been beaten up by you before in training. Under other circumstances, it brings him back to the old days when you act all high and mighty subtly after winning against him, yet still insisting on helping him bandage up again. Typical you. But now?

The rain has washed the blood on Katana’s body away, falling down against the harsh sand as he has to rely on his blade to keep himself up. He barely injures you at all, as you still stand tall like a punisher in front of him. Like a butcher cornering the poor injured animal that will soon perish, so little pity is thrown at him in this very moment. Katana knows that the finally killing blow will be struck anytime soon, or maybe you want to bring him back alive. Either way, he knows that it all depends on you now. But there is one thing that he has noticed: You have been holding back, or else his is probably presented on a sliver plate already. Why is it that even you choose to defy your order? If you are following Father’s instructions, won’t you just drag him back whether he wants to or not? Maybe Katana is delusional, but he just wants to believe that you aren’t so blind like like other. After all those years together, there might be a thing that you should consider before killing him like a pest underneath your shoes, right?

“Why,” you sigh, “Why is it that you have to do this? We can just go back and start over, why are you so stubborn?”

“…I have to go”

“You wish not to tell me of your purpose? Does it worth the pain for running away, o black sheep of the family?”

Your words hurt like a sharp knife into his heart. Why does he fixated on leaving? Katana doesn’t understand himself anymore. But there is a voice inside his head that tells him to run and never look back. How can he explain it to you when he knows how preposterous it sounds like? If only he can take his own heart out and show you instead, it will be much easier than putting incoherent nonsense together into a full sentence. He looks up at you, those eyes look as if they are silently begging you to just understand him with desperation. You take a deep breath, not wanting to see that look on his face, yet you force yourself to. It pains you as much as it pains him, maybe even more than one can weigh

“The corruption is running too deep, I have to go. They aren’t what they seem, I shouldn’t have— Just listen to me,” he pleads, “Please”

Katana opens his mouth, tries to figure out what else can he use to excuse his actions with you while the downpour washes over him. Time is running out, he needs to do something about this before everything in his plan falls apart. The adrenaline is slowly fading away, leaving that exhaustion slowly taking over his body. Katana can understand how pathetic he must have looked like under your judgmental eye. His scars and bruises are scattered everywhere, even the wet blood running down his face is still warm no matter how much the rains try to erase the traces. The evidence of your violent works on his skin is as clear as day. How does it come into this? Usually you are the one that is supposed to patch his wounds up, not causing it on your own. How did you have the strength to do this to him? Even you start to question your very own sanity at this point

Why his lover has to become one of enemies? If only you are on his side instead, if only he can convince you to think again…Maybe he is doomed from the start when falling for someone in the cult, what a shame. Or he should have convinced you from the start. But Katana is scared. He doesn’t know if you will approve his point of view or will you call him an apostate like others. He fears the idea of you turn against him, but now that fear has already become the reality. If he just braces himself and tells you the truth, will it change the outcome? Different beliefs will never work out together, he bitterly reminds himself. He just wishes for a way to get you to open your eye and see the actual reality

But little does he know, you too have soon figured the actual truth of the cult yourself long ago. The only reason you decide to stay all those years is to wait for the perfect moment to handle the personal matter you have with this goddamn ‘family’. You were like him, young and foolish until your master found you. Until you saw it with your own eye, the gruesome truth lying in this hell. Misfortunes soon followed you afterwards, one after another. You soon realized what you have tied yourself into, and the horrors it brought was purely agonizing to you. You are a black sheep yourself, yet unlike Katana, you chose to hide under the cover to blend in. From the start, you have felt this burning desire to make this cult pay for everything, but you tell yourself that you have to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike your weapon as well. There is nothing that will change your goal of destruction, no matter what

But Katana is the distraction you regret. You loved him truly, something that you swore that you would never do inside the cult. Your love was delaying your own plan of vengeance, yet you couldn’t help but watched over him and enjoyed that love you deserved to feel. You have been dragged into this mess in the very beginning. Now, seeing your lover is actually an apostate makes you feel so many conflicting emotions inside your heart. You should be happy, knowing that he is on your side, though at the same time he has acted too rashly. If only you know better, you can convince him to wait with you instead of making such an unredeemable mess like this. This isn’t supposed to happen if you just figure out the unspoken hints he has kept inside his chest

The rain doesn’t help the current situation any better. The two of you look pathetically pitiful in your own ways. Katana is too tired to defy you, almost as if he has accepted you as his punishment. In his mind, at least you are the one who does this. He doesn’t want that responsibility to fall onto you, it will be so cruel of him, but it has to be you. There is no other way he will just accept it like that if it is anybody else that comes for his life. So many regrets, yet he can’t even bring himself to hate you. His love for you has blinded him from all the pain you have caused to his heart. If loving you is his demise, then he will accept your punishment with open arms

But to his surprise, you hold onto his blade instead. Before Katana can understand what are you trying to do, his eyes widens in pure shock when you force his hand to stab through your stomach. Blood spills out from your wound in front of his yes in horror. You bite back a pained noise, holding onto the blade until your hand also bleeds all over it. Katana immediately pulls his gear back, holding onto your bleeding wound as a poor attempt to get it to stopped

“What the hell? Are you crazy!?”

He hopes that he won’t have to kill you, and you just literally do the very opposite thing of what he wishes not to do. Even force him to do this to you, do you want to die for honor or what? Katana is more than just confused to the point that he has forgotten his own pain and can only feel yours instead. Anxiety overwhelms in his mind with a hint of panic, he doesn’t know what is going on anymore. Without a moment of hesitation, you pull your hand away from his and cups his face. Your blood has stains all over the face of the man you love with all your heart — and this, putting yourself in danger — this is an act of love you do for him. You make him stands up on his feet with you. That confusion is so ridiculous when appearing on his face. You know that you will miss that. Your voice is barely a whisper when you hisses out in pain

“Leave,” you look directly into his eyes, your face gives away the calculation inside your mind of when will the other make their way to aid you, “Never look back, never even consider of going back. I can distract them”

And just that, you push him away to another direction, urging him to run while holding onto your bleeding stomach as you steady your breath. That wound isn’t fatal, but it does hit quite the nerve that makes you winces in pain. It’s not like you wants to make this farewell memorable in a traumatic way, you have your own reason to do this. You have to create that wound so that when your fellow cultist comes over, they will think that you have been through a bloody fight with that apostate and lose with this wound. You have to make it look as real as possible, to deceive them and make it looks like he has won his freedom by attacking you, his beloved, all fair and square

Katana has come to understand your intentions. How foolish of you to do all of that for him, yet he knows you, so stubborn and insistent to your own way, he can somewhat understand it. It’s in your nature to do such things. It pains him to know that this might be the last time he sees you, with a wound caused by his blade that he doesn’t even want to. Katana is hesitant, not wanting to leave you alone with those monsters. Not even spending more than a second to think, he reaches out for you. The raindrop feels like bullets against his skin, yet he doesn’t care anymore. Your back is still turned against him

“Come with me,” he offers you a hand, “We can run away together”

“Leave me, o forsaken one. From this day on, you shall be stripped of your relation with your mentor, your friend, your brothers and sisters. Leave this place, apostate. We shall not welcome any black sheep back in our herd,” your breath hitches a moment as you cough aloud, “My business is yet to be finished, I can’t come with you”

“But—”

He loves you. He can’t leave you like this. All those time he felt alive around you, he can’t just give it up like it was nothing at all. In this moment, Katana just wants to grab your hand and drag you with him, to somewhere fair where they can’t find the two of you. If the price of freedom means loosing you, then what’s the point anymore? His thoughts are interrupted he can feel someone is getting closer, probably the other members of the church. Tick tock, the time is running out in the hourglass

“Katana,” your voice turns into a softer tone as you murmurs at him, unlike that cold tone of earlier. You glance back, your eyes filled with unspoken regret and sincerity. There it is, that smile that he adores so much. But why instead of that usual sense of comfort, Katana feels like his heart is sinking down to the pit of unknown?

“You promised that you will see the cherry blossom in Thieves Den. Do it for me, mesmerize the color then tell me once fate let us cross paths as normal people instead”

He remembers that time when you went drinking inside his room with him to relax, you have asked him such out of pocket question: “What is the color of Thieves Den’s cherry blossom?” At that time, Katana didn’t know either. He made a bet that it is white, while you on the other hand bet that the color would be pink. A childish argument broke out between the two of you in a playful manner, but he had promised you that if he could, he would go to Thieves Den and see the color for himself so he could see whether you would win or not. A drunken promise, so to speak. He doesn’t think you will remember it

He has made a promise with you to go to Thieves Den and see the cherry blossom, and you want it to become his next destination. Thieves Den will welcome him, you have a gut feeling about that. Although you have more to say to him in this solemn goodbye, all you want is just for him to make it out alive successfully. You can’t weigh him down

“Go”

For some unknown reasons, Katana’s body reacts to that command as he pulls his hand back and runs away to a different reaction. He keeps running for his life, not giving a damn of the cold rain slashing through his skin. To live and to survive under the oath he has made you, he can’t just accept defeat anymore. As much as he is regretting his very own decision of leaving you, he still stays focused with his track. This all happened because he isn’t strong enough to take the matter on his own. If only he is stronger, he can easily take down those crazy psychopaths within the church and brings you with him. The thought of hiding you in a safer place is almost humorous, if it isn’t so out of reach now. He has lost that privilege of protecting you, all because he isn’t strong enough. Under the rain, he vows to himself that he will come back for you, once he has the strength and courage to face the corruption directly

You keep your eyes on him for a moment before your vision starts to daze out. Too many blood losing, but it will be all worth it in the end. All you want is your lover to live, if this punny little wound is the price for that, then you have claimed such a deal, no? You will miss him, a lots. This goodbye is far from perfect, but to see him make it out alive is all you can ask for in the very moment

Love is such a puzzle, yet different person has a different way to solve it. We can’t really judge their solution of loves, the same saying goes for you as well

Ironic, isn’t it?

Soon, Thieves Den has welcomed a new neighbor. And odd one, if they may add. Katana keeps everything to himself. But there is one thing people have noticed: If you want to see the strange neighbor that just arrived, just waited until the cherry blossom season. There is no way he will miss that event ever. Even now, whenever spring comes, people often see Katana sitting in front of his yard with a set of sake served beside him as he watches the blooming cherry blossom. Sometimes they can still hear him mumbling to himself when they get close enough

“It’s pink,” Katana set his glass down, “Just like you have guessed”

If only you can see the beauty of it as well. The wind gently making its way past the tree, bringing some of the petals falling gracefully into the palm of his hand. Somehow it reminds him of you. Katana’s eyes linger on the few petals on his hand before put it in his other wine glass, one that is supposed to be yours. You will love the soft color of it, he is sure of that fact

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: I don’t think this is one of my best works so far囧

[novaursa]

The Black Dragon's Claim (runaway)

- Summary: Daemon steals you on your nameday, and the realm is never the same.

- Paring: targ!reader/Daemon I Blackfyre

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The night air stings against your skin as Daemon’s horse thunders across the darkened plains, carrying you further from the Red Keep and deeper into the heart of rebellion. The wind howls, the stars above bright yet cold, as if they bear witness to the scandal that has just unfolded. You clutch Daemon’s cloak to keep from slipping, your body pressed tightly against his. Each thunderous beat of the horse’s hooves mirrors the frantic rhythm of your heart.

His men ride close behind, a shadowy army escorting their prince and his prize—the Targaryen princess now stolen from the very heart of King’s Landing. You know that soon the news will spread like wildfire. Every noble house, every smallfolk in the streets will hear the tale: Daemon Blackfyre has claimed you. The realm will break in half, some in outrage, others in fervent support of the man who now holds you close.

You should be terrified. You should be furious. And yet, a part of you feels alive, more alive than ever before.

The ride is long, the silence heavy, save for the pounding of hooves and the distant howl of wolves. You finally dare to speak, your voice trembling just enough to betray your shock.

"Daemon, what have you done?"

His grip on the reins tightens, and for a moment, he does not respond. Then, in that voice that has always unnerved and drawn you, he answers, “What was necessary.”

You narrow your eyes, your breath coming faster. “You’ve stolen me. Do you think the realm will let this stand?”

He laughs softly, a sound dark and dangerous. “Let the realm try to stop me. They’ve always wanted to see us broken, but now I hold the most precious prize.” He glances down at you, his gaze burning in the moonlight. “You, my love, are the symbol they will rally behind.”

You want to argue, to fight against the fire that rages between you. But deep down, you know he’s right. You’ve always been loved by the people, a daughter of the dragonblood, the one untouched by the ugliness of court politics. Daemon taking you as his bride will divide loyalties across the realm. But what is most unsettling isn’t that fact—it’s the realization that a part of you is willing to let it all burn.

You travel through the night, and by the time dawn breaks over the horizon, Daemon leads you toward a sprawling camp at the edge of a river. Tents rise like a small city, banners bearing the Blackfyre sigil fluttering in the wind. Soldiers pause in their tasks, watching with wide eyes as Daemon dismounts, pulling you gently down with him. His men bow, their loyalty unquestioning. They don’t see you as a prisoner—they see you as their queen.

He holds out his hand, and for a moment, you hesitate. Your whole life has been defined by duty, by what you must do for the crown, for the realm. But as you look into Daemon’s violet, storm-filled eyes, you feel the weight of something different—desire, freedom, and the thrill of the unknown.

You take his hand.

The men cheer as Daemon pulls you to his side, lifting your joined hands high for all to see. “I present to you,” Daemon declares, his voice carrying over the camp, “the woman who will stand beside me as I take back what is rightfully ours. My bride, the trueblood of Targaryen lineage.”

Your stomach twists at the proclamation, but you lift your chin high. You know that what follows will be perilous. You’ve stepped into the eye of the storm, where there is no turning back.

Daemon takes you inside the largest tent, which is lavishly adorned compared to the rest of the camp. The flickering light of the braziers casts shadows against the walls, giving the space an almost ethereal glow. Once inside, he turns to you, his eyes softer now, yet still filled with the intensity that defines him.

“You may hate me for this,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “But I will not apologize. I’ve wanted you from the moment I knew of your birth. You were meant for more than a hollow life in the Red Keep. With me, you will have fire, blood, and the world at your feet.”

His words stir something deep within you, something primal. The court had always tried to shape you, to contain you within their expectations of what a princess should be. But with Daemon, there are no limits. He offers you a crown not forged by duty, but by power.

You meet his gaze, and the space between you seems to shrink. “You’ve risked everything,” you whisper, your voice a mixture of defiance and awe. “The throne, the realm, even your life—all for me?”

His smile is slow, dangerous, but genuine. “I’d burn the world for you.”

There it is again, that reckless flame that burns inside him, drawing you in like a moth to the fire. And now you’re in the center of it, your future bound to his rebellion, to his ambition.

But a thought crosses your mind, one you cannot ignore. “The realm will come for us,” you say, your voice low. “My brother Daeron, the royal court—what we’ve done will not go unpunished.”

Daemon’s expression darkens for a moment, but his confidence never wavers. “Let them come. I’ve waited long enough to make my move. The rebellion was already in motion, but with you, it has become unstoppable. They will either bend the knee or fall.”

You shiver, not from the cold but from the realization that this is your life now—standing beside the man who has stolen you from everything you once knew. You are no longer just the beloved Targaryen princess. You are the queen of the Blackfyre rebellion, and the realm will bleed for it.

Daemon steps closer, cupping your cheek with surprising gentleness. His thumb brushes over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “You are mine now,” he whispers, his voice low and possessive. “And together, we will carve a new legacy.”

You close your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest as you lean into his touch. You know that this path will not be easy, that it will be filled with blood and fire. But as you stand here with Daemon, in the quiet before the storm, you find that you no longer care.

You are his, and the realm will know it. Let them come.