#Where the Crow Flies

[second-wife-playbook]

@helluvaoutlaw

Cori got home early that night. She had to.

She had brought home dinner from the Copper Spur Saloon. It had been the simplest option, especially given the recently hectic schedule. But it had another reason. Her face was twisted with worry, waiting.

Waiting for Striker to come home.

He's been pushing himself to the brink, every day- She fretted, twiddling her fingers, waiting with the bag of to-go food on the table. -if he doesn't slow down, he's going to hurt himself.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

wormie wormie wormie wormi-

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

the crows have brought a ✨gift✨

[dickgreyson]

psychology majors r the most fucked up people out there, not johnathan crane tho. thats not why hes like that

[second-wife-playbook]

Cori did recover, and admittedly had to laugh. "I completely reset!" She joked. "I don't remember what I meant to say!"

Sitting down to breakfast of course, eating her meal and enjoying it, it did come back to her. "I wasn't sure what you wanted to do today-" Cori brought up. "-and if you wanted to...um....lay up, a little, I wouldn't mind. But I think I should go into town sometime this week."

The memory of the attack on the mine was still a bit fresh, even if she'd recovered.

"I promised I'd come see everyone when I got better-"

Gimme Shelter

@second-wife-playbook

(((continued from: )))

Striker nodded, his gaze softening as he listened to Cori.

"You're right, Cori. I didn't know ya then, and I didn't know how much I'd change."

He took a step closer, his voice filled with gratitude.

"Thank ya for understandin'. I know it ain't easy to hear, and I appreciate ya takin' it in stride. I reckon I do owe Stolas an apology, though like ya said, it ain't practical. Maybe someday, if the chance comes."

Striker sighed, the weight on his shoulders seeming a bit lighter.

"Although, in my defense, he kept makin' sexual comments when I was tryin' to do my job, so I got understandably angry."

[belleandkurtbastian]

I can’t get over a few weeks ago when my dad suggested that I get an Uber to the train station when I couldn’t get there any other way.

… I LIVE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE! WE DON’T HAVE UBER HERE!

[leighsartworks216]

Puppy

Sylus x gn!Reader

Inspired by the quality time work/study animation when he looks up from cleaning his gun and he just looks so soft and sweet 🥺 And also from the in-game phone call "Crow"

Warnings: swearing, pet names, biting, teasing, fluff

Word Count: 1,142

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Where’s Sylus?”

The temperamental crow looked at you with one glowing red eye, beak turned away coyly. You have to wonder what kind of programming went into making him have so much attitude. It’d probably go right over your head, anyway.

“Wanna make a deal?” You keep an eye on Mephisto as you reach into your pocket, rooting around until cold metal touches your fingers. You lift the shiny metal nut like a prize. “Hm? A nice shiny trinket for you if you show me where Sylus is? What d’ya say?”

His metal wings fluttered at his side, feet stepping unsurely on his perch. But all crows are alike, mechanical or otherwise. He swoops down and snatches the metal from your fingers. You feel the brush of talons, barely escaping having your hand sliced up by an overeager metal chicken.

His caw sounds like a laugh as he leads you down the many halls of the mansion. When he stops to wait for you to catch up, he croons at his shiny new knickknack, pecking at it and staring at it from every angle with his red eyes. He glides through the open crack of a door.

You peek in first. It’s a study, with shelves lined with old paper books and vinyls. There’s a desk with guns neatly laid out on top. Mephisto perches on the accompanying chair. And on the couch, head tilted back and eyes closed, is Sylus.

You wonder if he’s really asleep this time. He’s tricked you before, but as you listen closely you hear the soft snores giving him away.

How cute, you think. A little midnight nap.

The door doesn’t make a sound as you push it open enough to slip inside. You don’t close it back all the way, and Mephisto’s wings nearly clip your head as he flies back outside of the room. That damn bird will always have it out for you, you’re sure of it.

You creep along the elegant carpet to your target, slowly lowering yourself to sit on the other end of the couch. As much as you love messing with Sylus, you didn’t actually want to wake him up now. So, being very careful, you lay down and rest your head in his lap.

“If you want to cuddle, you don’t need to sneak around for it.”

You smack his chest. “You’re such an asshole!” Your heart was racing from the scare, but you don’t get up from your new position. Sylus rewards you by beginning to comb his fingers through your hair. “Were you actually sleeping?”

He hums. There’s a gravel to his voice you didn’t notice before. “Yes, I was.” He finally lifts his head from the back of the couch to look down at you. “Until someone gave Mephisto a shiny new item for his collection.”

You chuckle despite the unimpressed look on his face. “He told on me again?”

“You’re all he seems to talk about these days,” he sighs. He brushes some hair away from your forehead. “At least it’s positive, this time.

“Did you need something from me?”

“Not really. I was just… lonely.”

He smiles slightly. “Well, I’m always happy to keep you company, sweetie.”

It’s easy to doze while he plays with your hair. He seems to know all the right spots, all the right techniques to ease your troubles away. In his care, your hair doesn’t tangle or get caught. It’s heaven.

-

When you wake up, you’re exactly where you were. Sylus’s lap was warm under you, and you wondered if his legs fell asleep at any point during your nap. If they did, he’d suffered through it for your sake.

His hand was nearly still in your hair now. It didn’t move in those perfect ministrations as before. Instead, it was almost completely still, moving at a snail’s pace along the crown of your head. You blink your eyes open to figure out why, maybe even pout and whine about it just to annoy him, but you can’t stop from just staring.

If he notices you’re awake or watching him, he doesn’t say anything. His thumb scrolls through his phone, probably looking at the latest underground news on shady deals or skimming over messages from desperate people wanting to deal with him. Something that drew his attention away from you, at least.

So you take your time drinking him in.

He’s pretty, there’s no arguments there, but it’s his own kind of pretty. It’s sharp and multifaceted, like a crystal. His eyes are intense, lashes so dark and thick it looks like he’s wearing makeup. You wonder if he does. He’d look even more gorgeous with dark red eyeshadow and sharp cat eyeliner. His lips are pressed into a thin line, soft pink drawing your eyes to them. You quickly turn your attention to the slope of his nose before he catches you.

With a sigh, Sylus closes his phone and sets it aside. His hand in your hair goes back to a normal speed, his fingers scratching at the nape of your neck as he finally looks down at you, And just like that, all that sharp beauty is replaced.

Instead of his usual intense gaze, his eyes are soft around the edges, just a little bit wider, relaxed. His lips quirk up slightly at the sight of you, softening his cheekbones. He tilts his head playfully, eyebrows raising as though asking if you’re enjoying the view.

“Puppy.”

He blinks, and it’s gone. His brow furrows, his lips dropping into a frown, eyes sharpened with suspicion. “What?”

You smirk. It’s rare to feel like you have the upper hand. You reach up and touch his cheek. He leans into it, though his expression remains.

“Sometimes you get this look on your face,” you tell him. Your thumb runs under his eye. “It makes you look soft, like a little puppy.”

He scoffs, but his lips quirk up again. “Just how long have you been waiting to use that on me?”

You hum, running your fingers down his cheekbone to his jaw. “Since I asked you to join me while I study a few days ago.” You traced the sharp cut of his jawline, tracking the movement with your eyes. “I looked up for a minute, and you were looking at me like I’d just promised to scratch you behind the ears.” To emphasize your point, you reach to do just that.

He catches your hand before you can, thumb pressed to your palm to keep your hand open. He brings your fingers to his lips, eyes watching you intently as he bites down on them, one at a time, nipping at the tips and knuckles with a smirk. “Careful, kitten,” he warns. He bites at the soft skin on the back of your hand. “This puppy bites.”

[orchidcourage]

Phil walks out of his house to find two new crows have joined the murder. They're clearly fledglings, smaller than the other crows with some baby feathers still stuck to them. These two have paler feathers than the rest, still black but light enough to almost be grey, and beaks and legs of eggshell white, as if they're partially albino. Phil keeps an eye on them, to check they're merging well with the murder, but the other crows all treat them as if they've always been there, as friendly as they treat the rest of the murder. The pair are never far apart, seeming to instinctively know where the other is at all times. If Phil finds one, he can usually spot the other if he looks around.

One of them loves pumpkins and potatoes, and always flies off to the farms whenever Phil goes to a village to eat any potato crops it can find. Early on, during an exploring session, Phil finds it shredding a pumpkin with its beak and talons, covered in orange gunk. Phil refuses to let it inside the house until it has taken a bath (this does not deter the crow from doing it again). Eventually he just hollows out a pumpkin and leaves it outside his house, where the pair build a nest in it.

The other loves flowers, especially poppies. Phil often finds it sitting or sleeping in flower patches. Often it will bring him the flowers it finds, dropping them on his head if he doesn't notice it offering them politely. One time he takes the offered poppy and ties it around the crow's leg. It seems to like that.

[sillygoofyqueer]

Itd be really funny if the demonic court saw binghe having so many demonic crow feather things (gifted by shen yuan) and thought he was going on a killing spree and binghe being offended since he’d never hurt his a-yuan

I also like to think that shen yuan spends a lot of time in his crow form. Just binghe making a massive dinner for a crow while the wives stare in in confusioned jealousy, shen yuan using binghes hair as a nest to nap in or standing on his shoulder when hes too lazy to fly. Maybe even joining him in the court (cant tell me shen yuan wouldnt find that interesting)

Oh, it'd be hilarious if Binghe starts wearing this crow demon jewellery, slowly building up every other week or so, and the demon court is just like "???" but nobody really wants to talk about it. One day, someone makes the awful decision to ask/congratulate/ass kiss about the "massacre" he has been committing on the crow demons, people chiming in about how irritating said demons were, and how the demon lord is doing them a great service by clearing out the population. Then a crow flies in through the window and perches upon the emperor's shoulder like it belongs there, rubbing its beak against Binghe's face in greeting. Binghe, on the other hand, has never looked more murderous in his life, his touch gentle as he scratches under the crow's chin. The demons quickly regret their attempts at getting onto Binghe's good side. Oh, Shen Yuan most definitely spends a lot of time in his crow form around the palace specifically. The idea of Binghe being in a meeting and everyone having to try and pretend that there isn't a crow making itself very comfortable in his curls, even using its beak to rearrange certain locks around it is so wholesome to me. On one occasion, it tugs a lock out of Binghe's face and the emperor has never in his life looked more affectionate as he follows the curl with his eyes, watching it slowly disappear from his sight. The wives definitely get jealous, the louder ones complaining only to be met with a harsh "Shen Yuan is my biggest priority". There's definitely going to be a scene where one of the wives or something are trying to kill the crow, following it into Binghe's chambers while the man himself is absent, only to find a handsome man preening his wings in there. They have no idea where the crow went.

[second-wife-playbook]

Out West Where the Crow Flies: Western AU

This AU was made in part by my RP with @helluvaoutlaw!

In this alternate universe, after befriending Striker at the club he performs at, Striker comes to learn of her miserable existence among the Goetia. On a path of redemption, Striker approaches her with an offer of escape...to fake her death and to turn over a new leaf in Wrath.

Given the circumstances, Coronis found no reason to turn him down.

After abandoning her old name for "Cori", the Goetia becomes Striker's pupil and is trained in all the need-to-know skills of surviving the merciless wilderness of the Wrathian desert. Her death is successfully faked when one of her gowns is found torn and bloodied in Greed, and as she develops into a new woman, she also develops a newfound affection for her teacher.

Through trials and tribulations, Striker continues his steadfast commitment to helping Cori turn over a new leaf. In time, Cori becomes as self-sufficient as her teacher. Excited by this life of adventure, and wanting to provide a service to Wrath, Cori opens her own venture....Cori's Couriers. As Wrath has many locations rich in mineral and metal deposits that are outside of radio-signal, Cori's service provides a much needed means of transporting messages and deliveries to no-signal zones.

Despite this happy lifestyle of adventure and exploration however, Cori is constantly vigilant against the figures of her past, on guard on anyone who might try to return her to the life of Goetic royal.

[penguinmaster9999]

Ca-Caw

*Astro is walking the street, going who knows where as she passes T, without noticing.*

*T, who was a crow, flies over and lands on her shoulder.*

[trashcanplant]

The Harvest

Mob Au to @//clownsuu

Penny to @cherrythepuppet

Vince to @cloudy-dreams

TW: Spooky scary scarecrows send shivers down your spine! Rotting meat.

Grover sat at the bar, keeling over a hearty glass of rye whiskey like there was no tomorrow. He felt miserable, grabbing at his chest and struggling to breathe. His mind spaced out, and when he came back to reality, Penny was sitting beside him.

“Ugh… what do you want.” He groaned, slamming back another cup. Grover let Howdy finish pouring him a new one before he turned back to Penny.

With the changing of the seasons in full swing and clumps of leaves layering the ground, she had now taken a poofy feather boa oon her bare shoulders. The little lady raised her eyebrows at him as a snarky grin graced her lips.

“Hi.” She said quickly, turning to Howdy and raising her finger. He nodded silently and started to prepare a Shirley Temple.

“Doesn’t answer my question.” Grover grumbled worthlessly, sinking into the bar stool like his roots were planting into the ground.

“Well, Scarycrow—“ Penny began before a cough from Grover interrupted her.

“Not my name.” He growled. Penny rolled her eye.

“Yeah, anyway, Boss told me to tell you ‘Feed him’ So. Feed him. Whatever that means. Has he started talking in third person?” She questioned, looking down at the pear bracelets over her opera gloves. Grover perked up. He looked out the window, downed his drink, and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Penny asked, reaching for her drink that Howdy had just finished shaking and topping with whipped cream and cherries. Her eye followed Grover as he grabbed a coat.

“Out.” He said. This piqued Penny’s curiosity. She’d heard from Antoni that Grover wasn’t allowed ‘out’ without permission. She hopped from her barstool, chasing Grover into the night.

“You’re not allowed out! Boss said-“

“Boss told me that I need to go when he gives the word. Where the fuck are those birds..” He growls, eyes on the skies as he listens for a distant cawing. His eye spots two birds, barely visible behind the night sky as they cry from their branch. Grover huffs, turning to Penny.

“You’re helping me make a delivery.” He said sharply, practically dragging her by the arm to one of the cars.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She shouts, struggling against his grasp.

“Help me make the delivery and I get you whatever treat you want.” Grover replies, getting her in the car. It’s not the usual continental that he’d drive. It’s a pickup truck, back covered with a tarp. Penny sits in the passenger seat, holding her arm nervously.

“Fine.”

And they drive off into the night. Penny watched as the lights from the city began to dim. The truck passed by the warehouse that marked the edge of town and drove farther than that and parked at the tree line. Grover got out of the truck and took the cover off the truck bed.

It was a cacophony of flies, buzzing over the top half of a deer. It had been ripped in half, and smelled like it had been a long time since it had died. Its guts had stained the bed red and maggots had begun to creep through the deers skin and pelt. Grover looked down on it, grabbing it and easing it out of the truck. It hit the ground with a somehow wet squelch. Something leaked from the deer.

“Help me.” Grover said, and when Penny got around the truck she screamed. It alerted the crows which dotted the trees, and Grover slapped a still wet glove against her mouth.

“Shut the fuck up. Vince don’t like noise.” He commanded. Penny stared at him with a wide eye, shivering in her unfit-for-weather dress.

“Grab the back.” Grover said, looking over his shoulder into the tree line. Penny squirmed, reaching down to try and carry her half of the weight. It was unfair, Grover had to lean all the way down and walk backwards into the trees with Penny trying to direct him in the dim light. He was pricked by several brambles and stabbed with sticks.

When the pair passed the tree line and entered the clearing, it was like walking into the world’s most terrifying sculpture park. The figures were all in the midst of fleeing. To the untrained eye it would look like wood carvings, but the way that the flies landed on them and how new branches grew from they eye sockets and mouths of these people made it obvious that it wasn’t just sculpture.

Grover and Penny carried the deer, sticks crunching under their shoes. The two approached the center of the field and Grover dropped the deer. He looked around at the stillness, searching for something in the trees. Penny felt uncomfortable, her head on a swivel as she looked through the field. She could have sworn she saw one of the bodies still breathing.

Grover whistled, taking a step away from the dearly departed deer.

“Watch em feast.” He said with a little grin on his face. The crows flooded from tree line, swooping at the carcass. Grover laughed, and Penny turned over her shoulder to see a hunched over figure with dark eyes and an elongated mouth. She screamed, grabbing onto Grover who looked down at her.

When his eyes landed on Vince in the darkness, reaching out to grab Penny, Grover swatted his hand away.

“No, Vince. I get’cher real hungry to have someone new join ya but not her. She’s family.” Grover said, staring at Vince as the cut noose swayed around his neck. They held eye contact. Vince opened his mouth and murmured something in a low, unfamiliar tone that sent chill down Penny’s spine.

“Look, how bout next time I bring one here fer ya I’ll letcha do yer tree thing an’ all that. I like them screams too, gotta admit..” Grover said with a low chuckle. Vince had a raspy laugh, not saying a word but staring at Penny. Grover looked down at her again.

“Her names Penny. I needed an extra set a hands pullin’ the deer. I know ya like a bit of a scaredy-cat, but I got reprimanded by Wally when I had brought Poppy out here. You ‘member her, Vince? Real tall bird broad?” Grover said. Penny had a look of horror plastered on her face as she kept a grip on Grover’s pants. Vince did not respond, reaching out a finger to graze against Penny’s skin. The taller of the scarecrows grabbed at the other, holding his gloved hand tightly.

“I’ll see what I can fix up fer ya. But not her. Not her.” Grover said protectively. The crows behind him cawed as they finished their feast and flew back into the trees. The plot was silent again, save for Vince’s ragged breathing. Penny stared up at Grover, then at Vince.

“D’ya need help spreading the bones across the field?” Grover asked. He gave Penny a little pat, a nonverbal way of telling her to head back to the truck. As she began to walk away, Vince turned his head with an audible creak. Grover kept his attention, talking to him calmly.

It took over an hour for Grover to return to the pickup truck. Penny was asleep, her head against the window. Grover glanced out the driver side window at Vince who stood just beyond the tree line. He waved goodbye, then turned around on the road to drive home.

From just under Penny’s opera glove, a small leaf began to sprout.

[windyboi101]

Some V x Reader Headcanons : Signs of Affection

Going off the idea you two have been dating for a while:

V tried to sleep holding you with her upside down, but since that doesn't work with humans, she's adjusted to the 'normal' way human's sleep

She curls her wings around you both for warmth. You've felt her close them tighter around you when you've moved away

Since V has to carry you when she flies around, she won't hesitate to do dramatic 'swoops' and flips.

V may or may not sneak a kiss in too, where nobody can see.

V's not great at gift-giving since she doesn't fully understand how humans used to do it, but she will bring you back anything she finds while hunting that she thinks you might like

Not that different from a crow (ironically) cuz she brings things that are shiny or a trinket in general

Take her on any sort of 'date' and she will be SWOONING for you.

It could be the most expensive day-long outing with multiple stops or a simple moody-lighting dinner, she adores it either way

She's not one for hugs themselves, but she is a helluva cuddler.

Her claws wrap around you but they're so so gentle in their touch.

If you compliment her outfit she's going to be a blushing mess. She's always wanted to be seen as beautiful.

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 2.

Summary: Felix and Y/N's first year of university means being more open with how close they are, while perhaps growing a little more distant than Felix would like. Also the Catton family have bestowed Y/N their own title, which Felix hates, and Y/N and Farleigh have a moment of connection over Christmas.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader with Felix, Venetia, and Farleigh in this chapter. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: Smut (reader bottoming but their gender is not made explicit), Degrading language (reader is referred to as as dog & pet)

A/N: 3071 words. i definitely meant to get to the start of their second year/first run in with Oli..... but this chapter got long enough, so instead we'll meet Oliver at the start of the next chapter and instead we get Felix and Reader at university, best friends who hook up shenanigans, Venetia being a pot-stirrer because she likes to rile up her brother, and Farleigh and Y/N bonding and boning. i feel like the pacing is a bit strange so id love some feedback <3 ALSO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT UK COLLEGE CALANDERS IM SO SORRY LOL

Taglist: @strangemaximoff @renaissance-mama @tsach @malscorner @xhoneymoonx134 @yelchinweasleylothbrok @tarriea @florencediet @butitsbetterifyoudoittoem @belladonnadarksshade @fandom-multiamory @snazzynacho @jubileexoxo @soocore @be-lla-vie @nightingale2124 @willow-sages @null4ndv0id @gracieluvthemoon @day2dream @marvellover98 @navixfr @bitxhinthecomments @daintylovers @alesunsets @noturningbacknow @d0llysposts @alilcloudy @callsignwidow @moviequotes23 @325575 @bonnieblue0606 @osoqueen125 @hot-dino-nuggies @darkness-falls-xo

----

To absolutely no-ones surprise, least of all yours, Felix takes to the social aspects of college like a duck to water. Neither of you missed a single day or night of activities during first year orientation, and you both left the various pubs and bars with a different hook up each night.

Felix sees a poster for a band in town, and crows with laughter as he talks about how his mother would hate if he ever got a piercing, but you know the look in his eye too well, and tell him there's a piercing place a block away.

"God I miss Farleigh," you sigh with a smile, watching him size himself up in the mirror of the tattoo parlour where the piercer had drawn approximate dots to mark his soon-to-be eyebrow piercing.

"Oh he'd love this, wouldn't he?" Felix agrees, grinning from ear to ear, catching your gaze in the reflection. Despite the piercer's reassurance that it doesn't actually hurt that bad, Felix plays up the bit of being concerned, insisting that you hold his hand.

It's easier in this environment to be affectionate. Perhaps its the way that all nights liked to blur together, lips and teeth and tongues and hands, and you find yourself invited to parties and into bedrooms and Felix is in the crowd, pupils wide and drugs in his blood and knowing you can take care of yourself.

Fruit flies mistaking his light in the night for the rot they're used to.

That being said, while of course Felix is gorgeous and the life of the party, your own magnetic aura and love features draw in your own crowd of admirers; you proximity to Felix was merely a perk.

You yourself find yourself blooming at college; with a far stronger sense of identity than you'd had for most of your teenage years, you shed many of your adolescent insecurities and begin to embrace yourself and the people around you as more than just Felix's friends.

"I miss you," he teases, eyes shiny and pupils huge, looking at you with that look that made everyone else weak in the knees. The two of you are crammed too close in a booth at a club, everyone else having left to dance or find something interesting to snort in the bathrooms.

"I'm always around, Fi," you murmur, just as high, lips twisted into a bleary smile, your finger beneath his chin to lift his face to you.

"They love you here," he grinned, lips inches from yours, skin glowing with sweat from the adrenaline and high of the night, "knew they would," it's not especially jealous, more proud, and you sigh against his lips with the kind of warm contentment his praise always brings you.

"Don't care if they love me," you say, very tellingly, voice low and flirty. Anyone could see the two of you, but the unspoken rules of high school had fallen away; the rules of college seemed to prioritise a lack of judgement, especially with the people you surrounded yourself with. Felix giggles, flushing red, leaning into your touch, leaning even heavier against you in the little, otherwise empty booth.

"You miss me, Fi?" You prompt, letting his face go as you wrap an arm around him, drawing you in close to him. Despite his height, he folds himself up to lean into you. Felix giggles again, mostly to himself, clearly shitfaced, without answering, he angles his face up to press a kiss to your neck, "we see each other every day, we still fuck around, we -"

"Do you think I could live without you?" He asks suddenly, and surprisingly frankly. His chin is on your shoulder, eyes wide and demanding an answer. It's not a joke, nor some strange attempt at flirting, and your throat turns dry as the lights spin around you both.

"You're drunk," you tell him gently, "and high."

"Why would I ask that?" He frowns, suddenly, sitting up, as if he's talking more to himself than you, "that's a fucked question actually, sorry Y/N, I shouldn't have -"

"I think it's more about how you feel about it." You tell him gently, "we should get water. You sit here, I'll get it."

You're unsteady on your feet when you head to the bar, collecting two cups of water, almost overflowing, from the end, trying not to think about it all. It didn't matter either way, how he thought or felt about it. It was a foolish, drunken question, it doesn't matter. Right?

Except he's bopping back and forth in his seat, tapping the rhythm with surprising success on the table top, eyes shining in the light where all he seems to look at is you. Felix grin wide and bright, thanks already in his smile before the words reach his lips as you sit back down next to him.

You could live without him, but you know you'd never want to, so long as he'd want you around.

"Think I'd rather die than live without you," he says with little prompting, holding the cup with both hands as he downs half in a single gulp. What?

"What?"

He turns those perfect, brown eyes upon you like you don't already live your life in his shape, like he hadn't validated every choice you'd made since you'd met him. He smiles.

"You're my best mate, you're always good to me and help me with shit and never get mad at all the dumb ideas I have and you've made sure I haven't gotten kicked out of any schools, even if I probably deserved it," he rambles and takes another drink, this time choosing to look out at the nauseating crowd of haze and lights and bodies, "I love you, I don't think I could live without you."

"Is that why you miss me?" Your voice is barely audible above the music, but Felix still hears it. Putting his mostly empty cup on the table, he shoves his shoulder against yours, refusing to let up until his full weight is against you, the two of you toppling down in the booth, him draped over you wearing the absolute goofiest grin. It's a good reminder that you're both incredibly drunk.

"Just miss you."

You stumble out of the bar together, and back to the dorms. Felix is insistent that you stay with him.

"No funny business," he mumbles against your ear, breath hot and smirk in his voice, "promise."

"You couldn't get it up if you tried," you snorted, "whiskey dick." Though he tries to protest, you gently elbow him in the ribs and he sulkily admits that you're probably right. Still, in the warmth of his room and the two of you stripped to your underwear, it's kind of irresistible to not make out like teenagers for a good while. You get you both glasses of water to put on the nightstand, and Felix tells you he loves you while on the brink of sleep.

"Love you too, Fi."

"Couldn't live without you, meant it," he hiccups, cracking an eye to smirk up at you from where he's splayed out on the bed, "probably."

"Don't think I could live without you either," you shuffle yourself into the bed beside him, letting him roll over to wrap an arm around you, "even if you are a fucking wanker sometimes," you grin, and hear him laugh into his pillow.

Felix has more game than anyone you've ever met without even trying, stealing and breaking hearts from all areas of the university. You watch it happen with amusement as you find your own slew of pretty guys and girls to keep you company when you feel like it. Still, for all the charisma and charm Felix had been blessed with, his touch-starved nature becomes both a blessing and a curse when he finds himself drunk and tactile and desperate for touch.

A desperate, affection Felix loses all of those carefully-curated social barriers that the two of you had put between yourselves as teenagers in public. Girls are more open and supportive around here; perhaps you should be offended, that many, once they learn he's prone to clinging to you, to kissing you, they end up rationalising it. It doesn't count.

Or perhaps they think they can shift the affection to themselves. Felix always learns to be more affectionate to them, but will find himself with you more often than he's not.

And those girls don't even know about the sex.

"I think about you," he huffs between short, jagged breaths, with you bent over the end of his bed, "is that weird?"

His latest breakup isn't even twelve hours old yet, but when you'd showed up at his room with a six-pack of beers and the offer to let him vent, he'd taken it without hesitation. While they hadn't been going out for long, she'd been pretty, but an apparently lousy fuck. When you'd jokingly offered to remind him what a decent lay was like, Felix had genuinely jumped at the chance.

"A bit - ah," you mused for a moment, hips rocking back to meet his in a pleasant rhythm. He takes a pause to tap one of your ankles with his foot, and you adjust your stance to be a bit wider, "what context? Just in general - fuck, Fi, there," and you find yourself lost for words as he presses his hand against the small of your back. His pace remains steady as he fucks you, and you obliging lean further down; he knows you well, know how to fuck you just the way you both enjoy.

Then you're in his bed, straddling him, riding him with his hands on your hips, your thighs, bouncing as his nails dig pleasantly into your skin.

"Think about me?" You finally continue, breathless, and something about the way he holds you steady, lets you pause as he laughs, flushed cheeks growing even more read, makes you grin too, "you mean like this, don't you?" And you rolled your hips, eliciting a groan from him that was like music to your ears.

"Shut up," he'd laughed, giving you a squeeze, unable to meet your gaze.

"Did you ever call out my name?" You lean down, across him, and for a moment his hands slide up your body to wrap around your neck, bringing you in for a gentle kiss.

"Thankfully not."

"Still, those poor girls," you teased.

"Poor me," Felix argued, "having to try and power through terrible sex while thinking about someone who's not even there, just because I know you're better at it," and he played at pouting for a moment, looking for sympathy.

"You really didn't have to tell me all this," you laughed, sitting back up and setting a gentle pace, smiling down at him, "you're such a perv." When his fingertips trail down your body, a shiver runs down your spine. There's this look in his eyes for just a moment, something knowing, something teasing, something you'd seen on occasion that made you feel so wanted and seen and -

He likes you knowing.

"You gonna give me something to think about?" That tone of voice, the teasing, the faintest hint of authority, like he's pretending like he doesn't know all the ways you'd debauch yourself if only he asked.

Venetia gets you a collar for Christmas, and Farleigh's already been kicked out of several universities by the time your first Winter break had arrived.

"Oh Pet, that's so cute," Elspeth coos at the designer, velvet collar that Venetia had smugly handed over while Felix had scowled, "is that Cartier?" Much to Felix's dismay, Elspeth and Sir James have apparently taken to calling you Pet as a pet name. He blames his sister entirely.

"Pet's easier, sweetheart," Elspeth had tried to argue when you'd sat down at your first breakfast of the Winter break at Saltburn, and she'd asked Duncan 'don't forget about our dear pet'. Naturally Felix had frowned the entire time while arguing with his parents, who insisted it's easier to use Pet than a whole new set of names and pronouns.

"It's been years mum, how have you not adjusted?" He demands, while you have shrunken in your chair and tried to divine life's secrets from your breakfast.

"What do you think, Pet?" Venetia said with a venomous kind of sweetness. Looking up at her, she's wearing this smug kind of smile, directed not at you but at Felix next to you. When you look to him, you see Farleigh across the table trying to hide his amusement in several pieces of toast eaten with no break in between.

"I think," you paused, looking past an annoyed Felix to his mother at the head of the table, "that if you want to call me Pet, you can, I think it's sweet, but please don't expect Felix to refer to me as such," you said with a surprising amount of firmness. Then after a beat of surprise from the rest of the table, you took a deep breath, "and for events and guests, I really wouldn't appreciate being introduced as such."

"Of course," Elspeth quickly amends, adding, "Y/N," for good measure.

"It's a pet name, Pet," Sir James gives an awkward little smile, nodding in agreement. Farleigh met your gaze for a moment, and you could see only the bread was keeping his laughter from spilling out. Beside you, Felix relaxes, and finally you look at him. Dark, serious eyes, with something grateful shining faintly in the morning sun.

Of course you let him throw Venetia's collar gift in the fire in front of her, despite her protests.

You get used to the sweet way the Cattons refer to you as Pet; as much as Felix despised it's connotations when it came from his sister, there was something comforting, something almost secure about the way the whole family had picked it up so easily.

"Was wondering where I'd find you," Farleigh's voice is warm while you're raiding the expansive kitchen for some kind of easy midnight snack. You could have asked one of the many staff members who reside on the property, but you hadn't wanted to bother them over probably some crisps.

"Farleigh!" You light up upon hearing his voice, turning, refrigerator door still open in your hand. He approaches, and you close the refrigerator, hugging him tightly, "oh this is great, it's been so long since it's been just us!"

"Darling pet," he says with a surprising amount of gentleness.

"You should come to Oxford, Fi and I miss you terribly," you tell him, leaning into his touch with a sincere smile as he holds your face gently, while you still hold him is a loose embrace.

"I've already been accepted into another college; you'll be fine without me," and he grins, kissing you on the nose, pressing a kiss to each cheek, "pet." He adds, almost to himself, and your face falls as you think about what he'd said.

"Everything's better with you," you insist, "and you'd love it; we could party like we did that Summer in France, but every weekend -!" Farleigh cuts you off with his lips against yours; you can taste the sweet smile he's wearing before he deepens the kiss.

Later, in Farleigh's bed, bathed in moonlight and the afterglow, you light up a cigarette and open his window.

"Fucking freezing," Farleigh mutters.

"Sorry," but you don't close the window. Silence stretches out between you both. You hope Farleigh enjoyed himself, hope he's happy -

"You don't need them," he says quietly, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, you breathe out a lungful of smoke and turn to him with a frown, "this family; we all know where you're from. You don't need them." There's something strange about his tone, clearing his throat when he finally looks at you, "but you still want them to love you."

"They're good to me," you finally say, dropping your gaze as you reach back to offer the cigarette, "to us," you tell him, and he hums with the smoke in his lungs. Then, taking back the cigarette, you inhale the sour-sweet smoke and tap off the ash off the window sill.

"I'm not their fucking dog, Farleigh," you mumble, surprising frustration escaping you, anger you hadn't even realised you were holding on to.

"I know, pet," he says softly, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, "you'll let them think they have you kept, but you're not their dog, I know."

"I like you, Farleigh," you say with a faint smile, leaning back to see the way he's grinning too, "and I love you a bit as well I think."

"I know, I love you too, Y/N."

"We miss you a lot." There's something about the quiet that follows your words that you know all too well; Farleigh's about to tease you for something. Probably Felix related.

As if on cue;

"Does he know you like being his dog?" Grin widening, Farleigh gives you a slight shove, though the truth of his words has you hiding your own embarrassed smile.

"He thinks it's an insult to me, which is sweet of him," you chuckled, and Farleigh eases the cigarette from your fingers, "but it's like he has no idea the effect he's had on me for over a decade now. Yeah, I'm my own person, I have hobbies and friends outside of him, but -"

"You're a service bottom and desperately in love," Farleigh cuts in with a surprisingly sage tone, nodding like he hadn't absolutely called you out. Shocked with his vulgar kind of accuracy, you practically shove him out of the bed, laughing that he needs to fuck off, and the discussion is left at that.

The next morning, sitting down to breakfast, Duncan quietly informs Sir James that there had been a disturbance during the night. Immediately you throw Farleigh under the bus and declare that it's his fault.

"Hey!" He shouts back, grinning, "it takes two to fuck in the kitchen!" Which has all four of you, Venetia, Felix, Farleigh, and yourself, cracking up with laughter as Elspeth and Sir James were exasperated by your collective antics.

There is so much affection in Felix's eyes in this moment, this simple, strange moment of admitted sexual deviance. Except it's never felt like that to either of you. It's one of the ways you've both shown love, and he loves that you love those closest to him.

And you love to make him happy.

Farleigh was right, not that you'd ever tell him.

[joelalorian]

Masterlist

Series

Tides of Desire

Complete: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter One - A Prelude to the Open Sea

Chapter Two - The Adventure Begins

Chapter Three - The Cut of One's Jib

Chapter Four - Cut and Run

Chapter Five - Red Sky in Morning

Chapter Six - Edging Forward

Chapter Seven - From Stem to Stern

Chapter Eight - As the Crow Flies

Chapter Nine - Close Quarters

Chapter Ten - On Your Beam Ends

Chapter Eleven - All at Sea

Chapter Twelve - Turn the Corner

Epilogue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader, ongoing

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

Chapter Four: Until I had met you there was no sun in my sky

Chapter Five: My whole world came alive

Chapter Six: And I knew my heart wasn't mine

Chapter Seven: I'll Catch You Darlin'

Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Petals of Affection

Complete. A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

Part I

Part II

Part III

One-shots

Lost Cause

Summary: Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree. Oneshot.

Warnings: Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope.

Inspired by the song Save Me by Jelly Roll. Some of the lyrics have been woven into the story.

~~~~~~~~~

Fevered Flame (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

[authorred]

Power Struggle | Sylus x gn!reader | Love and Deepspace | Part 1

➺ Preface: Having fallen into the hands of the leader of Onychinus himself, it's obvious he enjoys watching you squirm and try to run from him. He has the power to make you yield, to make you stay. But little does he know; you have the same power; you just don't use it nearly as often. How will he react when you grow tired of being his plaything?

➺ PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED THIS MAN CARNALLY, RELIGIOUSLY, BIOLOGICALLY, INNATELY, INHERENTLY, GENEOLOGICALLY, MENTALLY, PHYSICALLY, EMOTIONALLY, I NEED HIM TO DESTROY ME I NEED HIM TO RUIN MY LIFE, MY HOUSE, MY JOB, MY POSSESSIONS, MY PUS--

I'm so sorry Zayne I love you pookie pls forgive me but FUCK!

➺ Part 2 (coming soon)

Warning(s): None

Your eye twitches when you see the familiar red gleam of Mephisto’s eyes. No matter where you go in the N109 Zone, that crow is always following you. Why Sylus feels the need to keep an eye on you 24/7, you have no idea. It’s not like you’re doing anything. Perhaps it’s a security thing. To make him feel better. Either way, you’re hyperaware of the influence he has on the entire zone. Just his name alone is enough to spark conversations—good or bad.

You walk up to Mephisto and stare at him. “Are you going to follow me everywhere I go as long as it’s in the N109 Zone?” You ask.

Mephisto caws and tilts his head, his beak clacking together. Almost as if he’s saying ‘yes’. You give him a flat look before sighing. “Guess you can’t help it. You’re stuck with Sylus too, huh?”

~ When you enter Sylus’s base (or whatever it is, you never bothered to ask) Mephisto flies through the open door and past you. You assume he’s going to find his owner. You sigh and shut the door behind you, walking deeper into the foyer. It was typical of Sylus to be rather secluded—you don’t ever recall a time where he greeted you. Not that you expect it, per se.

With Sylus doing God knows what, and you not having to do anything, you decide to entertain yourself. Trotting off, you head to Sylus’ boxing ring. The last time you went there, your ‘lesson’ with Sylus happened, and though informative (you supposed) it wasn’t anything you didn’t know. Sometimes you graced him with the ability to feed his superiority complex. You walk over to a locker and open it, grabbing some red hand wraps. Having done this so many times before, you quickly wrap the cloth around and between your knuckles and fingers. When they're secure and you get everything else ready, you step into the ring and start lightly jogging in place to get your blood up. You hop over to the punching bag and wait a moment before beginning to lay out into it.

Your punches connect cleanly, the impacts crisp and strong. The punching bag swings from where it's hung from the ceiling via chain. You can feel the burn in your muscles begin to grow after several minutes of punching, and you take intermittent breaks to work out until failure. About twenty minutes into your workout, you pause your actions when you sense an intense, heavy gaze on you.

"Well?" You call out, sliding your gaze to him. "Are you impressed?" Your tone is slightly sardonic. It's not like Sylus to just give compliments with no backhanded comment to boot.

"You applied what I taught you," he replies in his usual baritone, melodious voice. "It seems you're not the little kitty I think of you as."

You roll your eyes and take a few steps away from the punching back, turning your body to face him. Sylus is leaning on the doorway of the gym, his arms crossed. He's wearing his usual black and red shirt with black pants, and his red-tipped dress shoes. As per, he looks like a posh asshole. "Are you interested in sparring this 'little kitty', or are you busy committing crimes?"

You can see something close to amusement flash across his face at the comment. "You're worn out," he replies. "You're soaked in sweat, and your breathing is heavy. It would be unfair to spar you in this condition."

"You scared?"

A beat of silence passes.

And then, Sylus lets out a sigh--and if you listen closely, it almost sounds amused. "It seems the more you're worn out, the cockier you become." He steps closer to the ring, hands reaching for some wraps. "Very well."

You watch as he wraps his hands and steps into the ring with you. "Try to go easy on me, sweetie," he says, gazing at you.

"Yeah, 'cause you'd definitely return the favor," you mutter to yourself, getting in a relaxed stance, shifting your weight back and forth between your feet. Sylus remains in a steady stand, weight distributed evenly between his feet.

Sylus' jab is quick, and you barely manage to dodge it. Ah, shit, I forgot how good at boxing he was. Goddammit. For the first several seconds, you remain on the defense to his swift and agile hooks and jabs.

"You will never win on the defense alone," his rough, baritone voice rings out. "I thought I taught you this. Seize your opportunities!"

He sends a nasty left hook, clipping your jaw a little. If you didn't snake out of the way, that would've surely sent you to the floor. "It seems you've gotten tired, Kitten," he says, and you're not sure if he says that as a consolation or a way of mocking you.

You let out a small huff. "Just shut up and keep going."

A soft scoff leaves his lips, "As you wish, Sweetie."

You two continue to box for a few minutes, with you on the defense and him on the offense most of the time. In between each jab and hook, he makes side comments--and you're still not sure if he's mocking you, or if he's attempting to spite you into completely dominating him. Either way, he's irking you.

After a particularly hard hook to your jaw, you stumble back onto your knees, holding yourself up with your hands. You let out a soft grunt and shake your head, attempting to pull yourself together from the small impact your brain just suffered from.

"I think you've had enough," Sylus says, relaxing from his stance. "It's clear your stamina is at its limit. I would rather you not suffer lasting effects due to your stubbornness." He walks up to you and offers a hand.

Seize your opportunities. With a low grunt, you take his hand and pull yourself up a smidge before quickly pulling his unassuming form forward. With deft movements and lower-body strength you have no right of possessing, you roll onto your back and pull him with you. You raise your legs, wrapping them around his neck in a triangle choke.

Sylus grunts and grips your thigh in an attempt to pry your legs from around him, but you squeeze tightly, keeping his arm hugged against your torso. It doesn't take long for his face to turn a concerning red, and he struggles to get onto his feet for a hint of respite. His body weight presses into you the longer you hold him there, his eyes growing distant and hazy. You don't wait out the time it would take for him to pass out. You quickly release him from your legs and push him back before hopping back up to your feet.

He stays on the ground for a few seconds, taking in the needed oxygen. His complexion slowly goes back to normal as his blood flow is restored. He's silent, and for a moment you believe he's going to retaliate, but instead, a low chuckle leaves his lips. "A submission hold," he says, more to himself than anything. "It seems this kitten has sharper claws than I thought."

You squint at him. No way he was just going to take it and let it slide without retaliation. Nah, this was Sylus. He'll get his get back. You slowly stand and back up, knowing his reach was longer than yours, and his legs are even longer. If he wanted to, he could easily sweep you off your feet with a single flurry of his leg.

Slowly, Sylus stands up, brushing dust off of his shoulders and arms. "Impressive. It seems your knowledge of combat extends further than I originally thought," he praises. For some reason, you feel wary whenever he compliments you--like he's planning something.

"Yeah," you reply slowly, "I'm a 'kitten' around you because I choose to be." You watch as he turns to look at you, his ruby red eyes set ablaze with. . . arousal?

"So, it seems," he replies lowly. "Things will be getting much more interesting, Sweetie."