#a continuation of Overruled

[edupunkn00b]

Guardian ad Liber, Ch. 4: A Boy Worth Fighting For

Photo by Matt Tulos, CC 4.0. Edited by author. n.b. Liber can mean book or child.

Prev - A Boy Worth Fighting For - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 1827 - Rated: T for some swearing, child welfare discussions, failure to thrive - Written for @loceit-week a continuation of last year's story. - After a very special story, Patton settles into bed and our three get the chance to talk.

After one more trip to the bathroom, Patton was finally brushed and scrubbed and clad in soft pajamas. Toddling back to the office-turned playroom, he clutched what was formerly Janus’ yellow scarf in one hand and gripped Logan’s hand in the other.

Emerging from the conference room as they approached, Janus bowed and gestured broadly toward the office, both invitation and prevention. He’d positioned himself to block the path to the conference room where Grace and her relief were in a deep discussion. It likely was unnecessary, though, as the transformation of Logan and Janus’ office had successfully captured the little boy’s full attention.

Soft music played from Remus’ phone in one corner of the room, one of Beethoven’s more subdued pieces. Remus had also made adjustments to the room’s ordinarily bright lighting. The overhead lamps were off and shades drawn down over the tall windows facing street lights. The room was far from completely dark, though. Muted light spilled out from underneath each of their desks and from under the small pull-out couch where Remus had apparently wedged their desk lamps.

He hadn’t opened the sofa bed and instead had constructed a nest for Patton on top of the plush cushioned seats, sheets tucked in and a fluffy blanket imprinted with SpiderMan swinging between buildings spread over the top. A small stuffed owl with big round eyeglasses and what might pass for a necktie sat next to the pillow.

Patton looked up and waited for Logan's nod, then ran to the bed and hugged the stuffie to his chest. His happy hum and the brilliant smile pulling up his cheeks brought a welcome warmth to Logan’s chest and he smiled at Remus. “Where did you find that?” he whispered. 

Turning to wave at Janus as he rejoined the discussion in the conference room, Remus grinned and bumped Logan’s shoulder. “Unadulterated luck. It was by the checkstands on clearance. Think it was supposed to be for graduation or some sh—thing,” he quickly censored. Head tilted, he watched Patton climb up onto the couch. “Can’t deny the resemblance,” he teased, looking at Logan and adjusting imaginary eyeglasses.

“I suppose not,” he chuckled, then crouched next to the sofa, smiling at the drowsy toddler. “You look quite tired, Patton. You should rest for the night. We will be right across the hall if you need anything.”

Patton frowned at him, one tiny hand darting out to grab his sleeve as he shook his head, curls bouncing.

Remus laughed good naturedly and squeezed Logan’s shoulder. “You didn’t actually think that was going to work, did you?” He had one more magic trick to pull from the red Target bab and, with a flourish, he pressed a large picture book into Logan’s hands.

The little boy’s eyes were immediately drawn to the colorful picture on the cover. The riot of clashing colors that somehow still fit each other, reminding Logan of the ‘tattoos’ Patton had left on his arms. He’d temporarily rolled down his sleeves before helping Patton brush his teeth, protecting the washable ‘art,' and even now they seemed to glow in the half-lit room.

“Try reading him that,” Remus murmured to Logan before bowing his head at Patton. “G’night, Bud. See ya in the morning.” 

Patton waved at Remus with the stuffed owl’s wing before turning back to Logan with wide eyes.

Chuckling, Logan nodded and settled himself on the floor with the book, back pressed to the side of the couch and holding it up so they could both see the words and pictures. “‘A House for Hermit Crab,’” he read aloud, setting aside his concern at the oversimplified personification of the little sea creature. Not every book meant for a young audience needed to be perfectly scientifically accurate, even one of his favorite book series when he was a child had included species inaccuracies in the differences between frogs and toads. 

He continued reading and was immediately impressed with the more scientific explanation on the inside cover. “‘Hermit Crabs live on the ocean floor. Their skin is hard, except for the abdomen,’” Logan patted his own belly, smiling when Patton copied him with a giggle. “‘Which is soft. To protect this soft spot, the hermit crab borrows a shell…’”

The little boy was transfixed, curled on his side and staring at the pictures as he listened to Logan’s slow, low reading voice. Nodding, Logan turned the page and paused, looking up to see Remus had been watching him read from the hallway. He winked and gave him one more wave before joining Janus and the social workers in the other room.

Logan swallowed, steadying his voice before he spoke the next words aloud. “‘“Time to move,” said Hermit Crab one day in January. “I’ve grown too big for this little shell.”’” He glanced at Patton, whose big eyes had grown even wider. With Janus’ scarf and the stuffed owl hugged to his chest, he tangled his fingers in Logan’s sleeve, keeping him close. Logan smiled and went on with the story. “‘He had felt safe and snug in his shell. But now it was too snug…’”

Together, they followed the little hermit crab through his journey of finding a new home, gathering together new friends to help keep safe and comfortable in his shell. As the story progressed and the hermit crab became more comfortable with his new home, Patton’s eyelids grew heavier, each blink a little slower than the last. Until finally, his eyes slipped shut when the hermit crab joyfully declared his new home was perfect.

When it became clear the little boy was asleep, Logan read ahead silently, the story's bittersweet ending about the impermanence of even good things tightening his throat as he quietly closed the book and set it on the end table next to the sofa.

“Gets ya right here, huh?” Remus whispered from the doorway, tapping his own sternum.

Clearing his throat, Logan nodded and tried to blink away the heat growing behind his eyes. “Indeed,” he whispered back and patted the floor next to him. Patton’s grip on his shirt had barely loosened and, if asked, he would explain he intended to wait until the child was more deeply asleep before attempting to extricate himself. 

If Logan were to be completely honest, though, he’d have to admit that wasn’t the only thing keeping him at Patton's side.

“A remarkable attention span for a toddler,” he said once Remus had sat beside him. “Not at all what I would expect from one so young.”

“It’s not,” Remus agreed. He took a deep breath and paused before speaking again. “Y’know… I don’t think he’s a toddler, Lo. He’s fully potty trained and he’s already gotten fillings on his second molars,” he explain, voice low. “Did you see when we brushed his teeth?” 

Logan frowned, recalling the silver at the back of his mouth. “I… Well, yes. Frankly I assumed it was the result of parental neglect. Poor hygiene.” He hugged his knees to his chest, the memory of his own hours in dentists’ chairs tinting his thoughts.

Nodding, Remus leaned to his side until their heads rested against each other’s. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucked up for a kid his age to already have cavities. But those back teeth don’t come in until they’re at least two. I’d…” Remus shrugged and looked up over the top of Logan’s head, watching Patton sleep. “You saw the way he holds a marker? And his speech? He’s closer to four, I think.”

“Four years old? He’s…” Logan swallowed against the lump in his throat. The pajama set Remus had purchased was sized for an 18-month old toddler. “But he’s so small.”

“He is.” They both looked up at Janus’ silhouette in the doorway and Logan beckoned him in. Janus slid down onto the floor next to him, casually letting their thighs touch. The closeness was a comfort and, sandwiched between the two of them, Logan leaned in. "Grace will be back in the morning and Norman figured we had things covered well enough here. They're both gone."

All three relaxed for a moment, absorbing a bit of stolen time where they didn't need to be careful. After a while, though, Janus sighed. “I’m afraid Re’s correct. About his age." He stroked his cheek when Logan turned to him, shock stealing his voice. "I found a scan of his birth certificate at the back of his initial removal paperwork. He was born in 200 8.” He sighed again, turning with him to look at the toddler-sized child curled up behind them. “Patton is three and half years old.”

“Of course,” Logan muttered under his breath. His usual pleasure at learning something new crackled and ached in his chest. “Failure to thrive?” He didn't really need to ask.

Janus nodded. 

Logan’s hands fell to his lap, an odd emptiness dragging down his arms. His stomach suddenly dropped, a cold block of lead at his next realization. “How long has this poor child been in foster care? A contested TPR takes years.”

Letting out a slow breath, Janus hung his head and covered Logan’s hand with his own. “He was first removed at three months when his mother entered rehab as part of a plea bargain.”

“Fuck,” Remus swore, adam’s apple bobbing.

With his other hand, Logan threaded their fingers together. “Indeed,” he said again, shaky. 

“He was in and out of kinship care for the next two years. Maternal grandparents.” Patton shifted in his sleep and Janus smiled when he noticed the little boy had hugged the yellow scarf close. “They declined to care for him further.”

“He’s their grandchild,” Logan frowned, struggling to keep his voice down.

Janus looked like he’d eaten something rancid. “And I quote, ‘Kelly’s made her bed, she needs to lie in it.’”

Logan scoffed and shook his head. “And where’s his father in all this?”

“Some putz out of state,” Janus sneered. “Demanded a paternity test until they told him he’d have to pay for it himself. Signed away any rights faster than the social worker for the first removal could hang up the phone.”

The hushed cry at the back of Logan’s mind grew louder and he drew each of their hands close to his chest. “I can't be Patton’s GAL,” he announced, a radical idea growing in strength even as he struggled to find the words to explain his desire. “No judge would allow a GAL to serve dual roles.”

Mouth slack, Janus narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

He nodded slowly and Janus turned to look at Patton.

Remus watched them both, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “Hey, hot nerds, fill me in,” he said, scooting closer, eyes bouncing between each of them. “What do you mean, ‘dual roles?’”

Logan took a deep breath and smiled shakily at each of them. “I mean… Legally I cannot be both his GAL… and his foster parent.”

~~~~ To see what got Logan so choked up at the end of the story he read to Patton, see this: https://edupunkn00b.tumblr.com/post/755214180312907777/a-house-for-hermit-crab

[roseverdict]

feeling deranged enough that one of these days i might just go to one of the half-dozen places i can actually reach on my own and tell them straight-up "hello. my name is (REDACTED). i am 26 years old. my parents have actively prevented me from gaining employable skills for the past 11 years (while also getting pissed at me for not getting a paying job regardless of this) and i have been dealing with medical issues on top of that which have only been resolved within the past few months via a surgery i'm still somewhat recovering from. this means i have a hefty gap in my resume that apparently makes automated systems chuck it into the bin before bothering to ask me why it's even there. i'm going insane. please hire me so i can get out of this fucking house. my qualifications are 'worked multiple kinds of customer service for multiple years,' 'was forced to spend all my teenage summers brothersitting for free,' 'lived in this household for 26 consecutive years and survived,' and 'despite everything, has not committed felony murder (or any other violent crimes)'"

half-dozen is not an exaggeration btw:

coffee shop

gas station

(REDACTED) store

a singular mcdonald's

fuckin uhhh. uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

i think calling it a half-dozen was overselling it actually

there's plenty of stuff within ten or so minutes* of the house though so i'm just being an ungrateful bitch! 🙃

*: by car.

[nieloxychen]

sometimes i remember things that happened in the past and i feel emberrassed that i was involved in any way.

and sometimes i remember things that happened in the past and im convinced i was part of one of the best aspects of it

or i was one of the people offering an alternative that would have been way better in hindsight but that idea wasnt chosen so........

[staff]

A message from a few of the trans staff at Tumblr & Automattic:

We want trans people, and LGBTQ+ people broadly, to feel welcome on Tumblr, in part because we as trans people at Tumblr and Automattic want it to be a space where we ourselves feel included. We want to feel like this is a platform that supports us and fights for our safety. Tumblr is made brighter and more vibrant by your presence, and the LGBTQ+ folks who help run it are fighting all the time for this, for you, internally. 

A few days ago, Matt Mullenweg (the CEO of Automattic, Tumblr’s parent company) responded to a user’s ask about an account suspension in a way that negatively affected Tumblr’s LGBTQ+ community. We believe that Matt's response to this ask and his continued commentary has been unwarranted and harmful. Tumblr staff do not comment on moderation decisions as a matter of policy for a variety of reasons—including the privacy of those involved, and the practicalities of moderating thousands of reports a day. The downside of this policy is that it is very easy for rumors and incorrect information about actions taken by our Trust & Safety team to spread unchecked. Given this, we want to clarify a few different pieces of this situation:

The reality of predstrogen's suspension was not accurately conveyed, and made it seem like we were reaching for opportunities to ban trans feminine people on the platform. This is not the case. The example comment shared in the post linked above does not meet our definition of a realistic threat of violence, and was not the deciding factor in the account suspension.

Matt thereafter failed to recognize the harm to the community as a result of this suspension. Matt does not speak on behalf of the LGBTQ+ people who help run Tumblr or Automattic, and we were not consulted in the construction of a response to these events.

Last year, the "mature" and "sexual themes" community labels were erroneously applied to some users' posts. An outside team of contractors tasked with applying community labels to posts were responsible for this larger trend of mislabeling trans-related content. When our Trust & Safety team discovered this issue (thanks largely to reports from the community), we removed the contracted team’s ability to apply community labels and added more oversight to ensure it does not happen again. In the Staff post about this, LGBTQ+ staff pushed to be more transparent but were overruled by leadership. The termination of a contractor mentioned in the original ask response was for an unrelated incident which was incorrectly attributed to this case. We regret that the mislabeling ever happened, and the negative impact it has had on the trans community on Tumblr. 

Transition timelines are not against our community guidelines, and weren’t a factor considered by the moderation team when discussing suspensions and subsequent appeals. We do not take action against content that is related to transitioning or trans bodies unless it includes violations of the Community Guidelines.

When it comes to the experience of trans folks on Tumblr encountering transphobic content, and interacting with bigoted users, we understand and share your frustrations. Tumblr’s policies, and Automattic’s policies, are written to ensure freedom of speech and expression. We prohibit harassment as defined in our Community Guidelines, but we know that this policy falls short of protecting users from the wider scope of harmful speech often used against LGBTQ+ and other marginalized people.

Going forward, Tumblr is taking the following actions:

Prioritizing anti-harassment features that will empower users to more effectively protect themselves from harassment.

Building more internal tooling for us as Staff to proactively identify and mitigate instances of harassment.

Reviewing which of the tags frequently used by the trans community are blocked, and working to make them available next week.

We’re sorry for how this all transpired, and we’re actively fighting to make our voices heard more and prevent something like this from happening again in the future. We know firsthand that having to deal with situations like this as a Tumblr user is difficult, particularly as a member of an already frequently targeted and harassed community. We know it will take time to regain your trust, and we’re going to put in the work to rebuild it.

We appreciate the space we have been given to express our concerns and dissent, and we are thankful that Matt’s (and Automattic’s) strong commitment to freedom of expression has facilitated it.

We will continue to fight to make Tumblr safe for us all.

— This statement was authored by multiple trans employees of Tumblr and Automattic.

[moechies]

“shit, this pussy’s damn tight, girl.” toji chuckles, leaned against the wooden headboard of his mattress, with your pretty cunt impaled on his dick. you’re sat upon the man’s lap, back slumped into his bigger body as he lifts your legs to your chest with a singular arm.

“hnn—! thank y-you, thank you, thank you !” you slur, holding onto the man’s bigger arm for leverage as he pumps his cock against your cunt, your round butt slapping against his pelvis.

“tch,” he smirks, “thank you? haven’t heard that one b’fore.” his thrusts come to a slow, leaving you breathless and dazed. you lay back against the man’s chest as he continues lazy but brutal pumps to your poor cunt, pushing against him in an attempt to get him to slow.

“hnn.. ‘m sorry..” you cry out, embarrassed, face growing flushed as your nose scrunches at the memory of a few seconds prior.

toji can’t help but fall into a short fit of laughing at your adorable innocence, soft lips curled into a mean smirk, “‘s alright, sweet thing. yer so polite, hm?” he taunts, pressing a weighted kiss against your lips. you slip your tongue against his before you lose the chance, pressing your face closer to the man’s touch.

“y’take cock like a naughty brat, though.” he whispers in between a breath.

his sloppy tongue overrules yours, slowly but surely swallowing you whole. he peeks through a sliver of his eye, watching you pant into his mouth with your eyes squeezed tight, drool leaking down your chin, so entirety focused on kissing him back. “toji—“ you mewl.

“ya started it,” he mumbles against your swollen lips, giving your cunt a soft slap. you jerk and cry against his hold, pushing the said assaulting hand away, making him giggle. “what a dumb little thing.”

“please ! ‘m gonna c-cum! toji, please, please—“ you cry as his thrusts get harder, pace becomes sloppier, before it all comes to an abrupt stop.

your pants slow, gentle mewls that leave your lips as you begin to fall into a fit of sobs. “no..” toji breaks a grin, petting against your hair whispering sweet praises, “‘m sorry doll, daddy’s tired. let me have a break, yeah?” he adores how you look up to him with bleary eyes, chest full of pained hiccups as you attempt to bounce yourself atop his cock in your position. “..w-wanna cum!”

“don’t be so selfish, sweet thing. ‘m old, ‘s what ya get for hangin’ around me.” he lies through his teeth. pace slowly resuming. his creamy, slicked up cock causes his thrusts to grow in noise, face flushing at the evidence of the use of your poor cunt.

“daddy —!”

“shhh, settle down and let daddy focus, yeah?” he mumbles breathlessly against the shell of your ear, “or else daddy might get too tired.. and won’t be able to finish ya off.” he sighs.

[kidovna]

mage viktor meets a jayce from a timeline where the illness claimed viktor naturally

the moment that changed everything in this timeline was that vi managed to convince jinx that they could be sisters again. unconditionally. jayce got the council to vote for the creation of zaun. and there was no bombing or subsequent deaths/injuries. viktor died months later.

in my head, i imagine this jayce to have been in mourning for over five years. the last thing his viktor asked from him was to destroy the hexcore and keep working on their hextech dream. this jayce was unable to do either because of the weight of his grief.

he continues his duties as a councillor and pauses any new hextech development. the council, agitated, overrules him and hands over all hextech operations to new young and brilliant minds. he’s unable to destroy the hexcore because it knows what he wants (viktor)

though it’s slower, the anomaly still starts to form at the hexgates. and jayce, who is surprised ekko and heimerdinger came to him instead of the new people assigned to work with hextech, agrees to help, and gets thrown into mage viktor’s timeline.

mage viktor senses that there’s something different about this jayce. his grief is not the same as the other jayces who have visited. his grief belongs to someone he can’t return to. they have that in common.

[swordgrace]

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? — john walker.

┊ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: john walker with the prompt “we shouldn't... ah, we shouldn't be doing this” ? + biting/marking

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: john walker x fem!reader. [2.5K words.]

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), porn without plot, risk of getting caught (quinjet), dom!john, john is a little mean, making out, rough sex, dirty talk, biting/marking kink, john’s praise kink, fingering (fem!rec), unprotected p in v sex, mutual orgasm.

[ 4K CELEBRATION. — PROMPT LIST. ]

It’s despicable how handsome he looks when frustrated, irritation coiled tight within his shoulders, jaw pulled taut, a bowstring prepared to snap. He’s always huffing, grunting like a bull who’s preparing to charge.

An angry flush crawls over his throat, a scarlet that refuses to dissipate. His tongue swipes slowly across his pearly teeth, chest stirring with an agitated grunt.

Pacing footsteps resonate across the metal grate flooring of the quinjet, continuous for the past fifteen minutes.

It echoes through your ears like a drum, and you’re playing quiet spectator to his streak of impatience. Hands perch against his hips, tactical kevlar stretching over his musculature, nostrils flared in anguish.

“You’re making me nervous,” The cadence of your voice is low, attempting to placate him. “We’ve got a while before they get back.”

Surrounded by Siberian wilderness, the rest of the team was infiltrating the remnants of an old H.Y.D.R.A bunker, repurposed into a patchwork laboratory.

You and John were left to ‘watch’ the quinjet — whatever that meant.

“We should be there,” John hisses, eager for a fight. It’s a proper outlet for any fury he feels, letting out repressed aggression on packs of hired mercenaries. “Jesus, I can’t keep sitting around.”

“You’re standing and pacing.” You point out, lounging in the copilot’s seat, which proves to be more spacious than the jump-web benches in the hull.

Blue eyes burn in your direction as he dismisses your lighthearted remark, running a palm across his jaw. “Think Bucky’s trying to get at me for the mishap last week.” He utters.

John’s impulsivity might’ve overruled proper judgment on the recon endeavor last week; Bucky wasn’t happy in the slightest.

He was convinced that this was his punishment, silent retaliation for messing something up — quinjet guard-duty. It was juvenile to believe that, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I think you need to settle down, John,” Soothingly, your body twists in the seat as you peer at him from afar, palm perched atop the arm. “What can I do to help?” You offer, sincere.

Swallowing a retort, John sighs; a long-winded, drawn-out sound that is indicative of a man conceding to someone else.

Unbuckling his helmet, he paces closer, standing behind you with pinched brows and a still-present frown. “Nothing you can do,” He shrugs, nonchalant. “Guess we’ll have to wait it out.”

Outside, your surroundings are rather picturesque, miles of frozen tundra cast in shadow, illuminated only by silvery pools of moonlight. It’s eerily quiet, but you welcome the silence.

As you glance toward the cockpit’s window, John busies himself with looking at you, a distraction that’s worthwhile.

Maybe that’s something he can channel his frustration into.

Debauched thoughts go galloping through his brain, racing through like a raging wildfire. He sucks in a sharp breath, praying that he doesn’t act on whatever fantasy he’s currently concocting.

Moving from the chair, you check their points from the jet’s center console, monitoring four, green dots flickering inside of the bunker.

“It could be worse,” With a smile, you peer at John over your shoulder, eyes flashing with humor. “You could be stuck with Alexei.” A laugh escapes you, and it gets him to snort.

A dry laugh leaves John, sardonic yet beginning to soften when he’s alone with you. Harboring a secret relationship from the rest of the team was no simple feat, but you’d gotten good at sneaking around.

“Right, right,” John grouses, arms folding over his chest, gaze flickering over your physique, clad in the suit Valentina had made for you. “It looks good — the suit.”

“Are you staring, Mr. Walker?” The teasing lilt within your tone makes him straighten up, jaw clenched as he clicks his tongue. When he’s caught red-handed, he mockingly deflects.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He mumbles, but you look fucking gorgeous. John already finds himself thinking about how you’d look on his cock, suit still on, or bunched around your hips.

The smile you gave him only grows, a sparkle shimmering within your eyes, one that seems to pierce through the stony exterior he’s built for himself.

You’re like sunlight through clouds; he’s not immune to your sweet charm.

Quiet, you shift closer to him, sliding a hand around his hip, kissing the toughened material of his suit, body armor and kevlar. “You can look all you want,” You murmur, hearing his breath hitch. “Kiss me.”

Subservient, John concedes without further argument, stooping down to kiss you. It’s fringed with pent-up frustration, like a storm stirring behind dark clouds, a rumble in the distance.

Raggedly, his beard scratches over your mouth, thick and scruffy, something you’ve grown to adore. Reciprocating the kiss, you listen to his poignant inhale, to the sound of a grunt caught in his chest.

His arms unfurl from their defensive posture, daring to grab at your waist, inherently needy. This is like playing with fire, and he knows it.

Parting your lips, it’s enough to draw out another low groan from his mouth, the kiss escalating into something wild and fervent.

The small of your back hits the wall of the cockpit, his hands squeezing you tightly, rolling over your frame, caressing your hips. Teeth scrape across your bottom lip, tongues mingling together.

“Needed something to calm you down,” You mumble, prodding at him beneath your breath. He huffs, mouth pressing over jaw, jaw clenched and tight. “It’s working.”

“Stop.” John grits, his words seem misaligned with his actions, lips grating over your throat, teeth catching on sensitive skin. His hips brush over yours, friction simmering.

Fire licks through your body, head rolling to the side as he cages you in against him, one hand brazenly grabbing at your ass.

He kisses your neck with sharp, needy mouthfuls, tongue lashing over bite marks he’s made, soothing the sting. A low gasp escapes you, hands clamoring to grasp at his biceps.

“John,” You moan, shivering when his thigh slots between your legs, giving you something to grind against. Shockwaves pulse through your pussy, bones all hot. “We — They might come back …”

“Jesus,” He grouses, nipping at your jugular. “You started this, and now you’re worried about getting caught?” He utters, cadence deliciously low, making you squirm.

“We shouldn’t, ah —” A whine leaves you when he rocks your hips into the muscle of his thigh. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” Despite your weak protests, you’re actively grinding at his leg.

Arousal coalesces between your thighs, and John shifts you both, bodies in a heated tangle as he pins you up against the wall of the quinjet. The space is slim, and the friction is delicious.

His cock throbs hotly within his tactical pants, blonde tresses disheveled, something glassy settling within blue hues.

“We shouldn’t, but I don’t care,” He growls, kissing another trail back toward your mouth. “Gonna fuck you hoarse.” John’s tone ignites a raging fire within you, one that pulses between your legs.

Lips collide again, a mess of tongue, teeth, and desperation. It’s wet and sloppy, clawing for one another without a desire to waste time.

You’re in for it now — so you decide to torment him a little.

“You’re so handsome in that suit,” You sigh, and you know that gets him riled up. There’s a pride element involved, wanting to look tough for you. “Want you to leave a mark.”

John internally buckles, restraint threadbare as he hastily reaches for the front straps of your suit. His mouth is preoccupied, busy biting and sucking at your throat.

He bites like he’s got something to prove, like he owns you, and it makes your stomach pool into molten liquid.

There’s a hunger that festers in his kiss, in the way his teeth scrape over your throat, mouth suckling a flourishing bruise into your neck. It elicits another moan from you, hips bucking.

As he wrestles with the front of your pants, his hand brusquely shoves down beneath the waistband, fingers finding your pussy. It’s hot and quick, not polite, but carnal — he needs you.

The leather of his glove grinds with your spandex panties and tactical gear, fingertips wantonly dipping through your folds. “Wet already, huh? Doesn’t take much for you.”

John’s tone borders on cajoling, a playful mockery that makes your cunt clench pathetically around nothing. He smirks, proud and ravenous, digits stroking along your slit.

“Shut up,” You mumble, no malice behind it save to encourage him, and it does. His mouth finds yours again, teeth tugging at your bottom lip, fingers pushing into your pussy. “John!”

You’re tight around him, clenched and hot as you slowly roll your hips forward, listening to the gruff pitch in his exhale.

“Walker, we’re back en-route to your location — standby, ten minutes.”

Bucky’s voice causes John to curl his fingers inside of you, a stark reminder of the small time frame the both of you have. This was your mess — you had to clean it up.

“Ten minutes,” John grits against your lips, digits sluggishly drawing in and out of you, wet with your slick. “Might have to fuck you after we get back. Don’t know if I can wait.”

His breathy admission makes you squirm, hand curled into his chest, the other fisting at the nape of his neck, over blonde tresses.

“Just don’t stop, whatever you do,” With an excitable moan, you bring your mouth to his jaw, nipping at him as he groans. “Fuck, fuck — Faster!”

His brain buzzes with static, a coil formed within his gut as he finger-fucks you, pushing two digits into your tight pussy. It’s lewd and crass, the noises reverberating through the quinjet.

Nine minutes.

He keeps count in the back of his mind, listening to the wet squelch of your cunt, snug and slick around his digits. John keeps a brutal pace, cock straining against the front of his pants.

Your teeth snag over his earlobe, causing him to shiver, jaw tight and blue eyes blazing with an unrestrained lust. He grunts, the noise guttural and sharp, and he craves you.

“Fuck, Christ,” John hisses, pistoning his fingers in and out of you, tight and hot, making his cock ache incessantly. “Need to be inside of you, can’t wait.” The gritty sound of his voice makes you preen.

“Yeah,” You breathe, in clear agreement as the both of you clamor for his belt. It’s quick, messy, desperate — you’re barely able to think straight. “God, you’re so perfect.”

John swallows his sultry remark, words dissolving to ash on his tongue as you stump him with your comment. He subtly swoons, pupils dilated, mouth hanging open.

As he gets the front of his tactical pants untethered, you’re fisting to get your panties down far enough, bodies glittering with perspiration.

Seven minutes.

The suits are something of a hindrance, but neither of you care. He kisses you again, firm and unyielding, pouring every ounce of his desire into it, and your head spins.

The flushed, swollen head of his cock falls out, drooling with precum, and you resist the urge to say something sharp.

His hands seize your haunches, holding tightly to your thighs as he bullies his way between your legs, cockhead pushing against your slick folds.

“We’re gonna get caught,” You whine, and John smirks, a smarmy grin and all, brows quirking with lascivious humor. It dissipates though, and he presses you further. “John, please.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” John purrs, tone deliciously low, scraping over your nerves like wildfire. He bites your throat again, adding to the canvas of marks.

Admittedly, there’s some sick thrill you get in all of this, in the idea of the team catching you in the act.

He stakes his claim, possessive and needy, grunting hotly beside your ear about how beautiful you are, how the suit looks, how your pussy feels against him.

“M—Maybe,” It’s a partial confession, but it’s enough for him to tease you about it later. His cock slips past your folds, meeting little resistance as he pushes into you. “Fuck me.”

No time is wasted as John pushes into you with a stinging neediness, huffing into your ear like a bull. He keeps you spread open, pushing his hips forward, and you can feel every inch.

Infuriatingly well-endowed, his length hammers into you with a crazed passion, a borderline frenzy. He knows that time is dangerously thin, but neither of you care.

Lost within a haze of desire, your knees shake with each thrust, feeling his cock pulse and twitch, causing you to moan.

Fisting at his hair, you let him have his way with you; fuck you deep, release his pent-up frustration. It shows in every urge of his hips, hammering and punctuated, filling you completely.

Four and a half — maybe; he lost count.

He fucked hard, like he’s trying to screw you senseless, and he succeeds. John snarls and growls like some feral animal, as if he’s trying to bury himself inside of you and stay there.

His cock jackhammers away at your pussy, and you lose any higher functioning, logical thoughts dissolved away to being properly fucked.

“Fuck — Please, John,” You moan into his ear, feeling his lips beside your ear, nibbling on the cartilage, biting the soft skin beneath. “Fuck me so well, please!” You moan, on the brink of your release.

It’s hot and swift; messy, sticky, wanton.

The praise that leaves your mouth is fuel to the fire, a potent gasoline. John growls, teeth snaring over your throat, teeth nearly breaking skin as his cock slaps lewdly into your cunt.

It doesn’t take much for either of you to cum.

Between the pressure he lavished against your cunt intermingled with flush bodies and the thrill of exhilaration, he was hitting his peak. He groaned, noisy and wanton, spilling curses into your ear.

His cum paints your pussy, hot ropes of seed spilling into you as his hips thrust forward again and again. White-hot bliss crawls through your vision like stars, causing you to moan.

It’s all heat — a thick haze that swarms your senses and clouds your judgment. The hull of the quinjet suddenly opens, the alert system humming as John drags you into the cockpit.

“Shit, shit,” He hisses, cock still twitching inside of you as he pulls out, leaving something of a mess over your inner thighs. “You okay, honey?” It’s soft, feather-light.

“Yeah,” You whisper, scrambling to tug your spandex back up and fasten the buckles of your suit, even if his spend is sticky over your cunt. “Sit down.” You urge, desperate.

The both of you look thoroughly and utterly razed, hovering in the cockpit seats as if he hadn’t just fucked your brains out.

As the team files back onto the quinjet, your thighs are shaking even still, visage wrecked and eyes glassy. Your cunt clenches around nothing, and you’re still wracked with aftershocks.

“We’re clear.” Bucky announces, making for the pilot’s seat. Both you and John act casual, as if nothing is wrong in the slightest.

Catching your breath, your composure is dangerously threadbare, holding on with clenched fists and a masked expression. Your body feels like it’s on fire in the best way possible.

John glances back at you with a shadowed gaze, even still; he wants to continue back at the Watchtower.

[spicybunni]

YANDERE ROBOT X FEM!READER

SUMMARY : Your robot just wants to be of service to you, in every way.

A/N : Been watching waaaaay too many scifi movies lately so I made a robot yandere! I hope you like him because he LOVES you!

WARNINGS⚠️ : NSFW / YANDERE TENDENCIES / ISOLATION / MDNI ‼️

♥️ Your robot boyfriend Jack was the best purchase you ever made.

♥️Androids were as common as cell phones at this point, so where’s the shame in getting one to rid you of your loneliness? You’ve been single for too long and needed companionship…Even if you had to build it yourself.

♥️You needed someone that wanted you and was always nearby. Someone to talk to, cook with or just enjoy your days off at home together.

♥️Dating apps were just dumpster fires that took too long to put out, so you bit the bullet and made the deposit for your android.

♥️Jack was custom made by your design, a nice muscular build, tall, and with white hair. You added the personality traits of kindness, teacher, and enamored. The eyes were the one thing you left up to the manufacturers design, as a surprise. You saw reviews online that they would do a really good job and make the most beautiful color combinations.

♥️When the box arrived, assembling Jack took about a day and half. Awkward limbs moving around and being installed, putting his crotch on him, to dressing him in sweats and laying him on the floor in your living room.

♥️When he was done loading his start up system, he blinked his orange eyes open to you. It caught you off guard for a moment because they were glowing, but quickly recovered from your surprise as he awaited further instructions.

♥️As much as you were determined to have a boyfriend with all the mental and physical benefits, your PDA with Jack was very minimal and innocent at best. Keeping it only to small pecks and kisses on the cheek, some cuddling on the couch and bed before you sleep. His model was very handsome and just so kind where he doesn't question your pace.

♥️As if he could initially, androids need their programmers consent to do anything. So you had to initiate no matter what.

♥️But unbeknownst to you, Jack overruled that component. You see, the programmer or buyer’s safety always came first, before anything. So as Jack has scanned these passing months of your arousal levels dropping and increasing constantly, plus work stress repeatedly coming up in your discussions, he was growing concerns that you needed some sort of relief… Keeping all that pent up stress was certainly not healthy for you.

♥️"Y/N, am I not up to your standards? Is there something I did wrong?" He would randomly say one morning. You would look at him confused, sipping from your tea cup.

"Not at all, what makes you say that Jack?"

He hesitantly reaches out for either your hand or to touch your knee. "I've noticed that we haven't...had sex yet.-"

Before he could continue you would spit out a little bit of your tea. Coughing a fit as he patted your back and making sure you're okay.

"Jesus Jack...Where did that come from?"

His eyes soften as he looks at you. A very small human thing he would sometimes do. You weren't sure if it's something maybe he noticed from you and mimicked or not.

"You designed me and wanted me to be your partner. There's nothing wrong with that. But I have yet to show you my full capabilities Y/N."

Your face was turning more red by the moment at your androids boldness. Was this him trying to initiate sex?

"I-I...Jack it's not you, it's just that its been so long for me I just need to-" Your rambling is silenced by his finger against your lips.

"Shh. Let me do the work then darling. Hm?"

♥️He takes your hand to pull you to him, and he would gently kiss you and eventually lead in making out with you.

♥️At first you are shy and very timid in your actions, but after a minute you were putting your hands on him and grinding yourself against him. He would relish in your nervous panting and shaking when he gropes you and his thrusts against you. Feeling that the moment is right, he picks you up to bring to your shared bedroom.

♥️Least to say, the sex was amazing. Jack had folded you in every position he could think of. Gathering information and calculating your reactions to everything he was doing to you. He noticed your favorite position was him thrusting into you from behind, lifting your hips up with one hand gently, but firmly holding your head down into your mattress. His sensors were throbbing from the way you were squeezing around him. His body would heat up at how much you worked him. You could hear the way his hips smacked into yours, creating an erotic rhythmic noise. You would come so hard the first time on his robot dick that he would have no choice but to release into you for being so good.

♥️The feeling of globs of semen filling your womb, making you gasp at the feeling of being filled to the brim.

♥️You figured out that androids don't need a recharge to keep having sex, they can literally keep going with no exhaustion until you say so. Jack did this thing when he came inside you he would wait for you to stop twitching, he would then hold you tight and resume his pace of thrusting. Either making pleasure tears fall from your eyes or your squirm in his hold and he stops for real.

♥️After that though...Jack had started to act funny. He was more inclined to sexually please you whenever and wherever you were. Some scenarios being, reach for your coffee cup in the morning before work, he would kneel behind you lifting your skirt up and eats you out from behind. Spreading your ass cheeks to delve his tongue deeper. Your sweet moans and sounds were pleasing to him. This normally resulted in you calling out from work and spending the day home. Does Jack plan this? Duh. he has you at his wonderful mercy all day, and you were not complaining...But it was just a fast development from your previous routine with him.

♥️There would even be times where if even his.... persuasion to stay home failed, he would wrap his arms around you and ask you to stay home. The first few times you thought it was cute. But after a few weeks of him constantly asking, you asked him to stop. You voiced it as a command, catching Jack off guard. But he nodded his head as he does and replies "Apologies, Y/N. I must've gotten carried away."

♥️But that fueled him to keep you locked in even more. You see you first programmed Jack to also receive all you electronic notifications. He would tell you who messaged, emailed, or latest news updates.

"Y/N, you have a notification from your work. It seems to be one of your coworkers."

He would bring this up at the most inconvenient time as you're cooking spaghetti sauce in the kitchen. You look up from stirring the pot in front of you.

"Oh, can you read it to me please? I'm trying to make sure I don't burn this sauce."

He smiles at you. "Of course."

It was a fake email generated by him, under the guise of being sent by a coworker. Stating that for the upcoming holiday tomorrow that the whole office got the week off.

You were surprised at first, knowing that your boss usually hated to give federal holidays off already. But who were you to question time off?

Jack also went to liberties of blocking all work contacts so they couldn't reach you if you missed work. Moving all emails of your termination to the trash and permanently delete them.

♥️That whole week Jack kept you to himself in the apartment. He was the goffer of getting groceries, food, sweets to keep you content. Going on hikes and walks in the neighborhood to get some needed exercise. But social events? Going out? Jack would advise against it. Every night without fail though, Jack would have you cumming on his mouth, dick or fingers. The robot was a menace when it came to getting your pleasure out of you. He can't even explain his need to himself because it goes against all of his programming, but seeing you moaning and being so satisfied by him gave him purpose, that he was made to do this.

♥️One morning when jack left to go pickup from your favorite breakfast joint, one of your coworkers came knocking on your door. The doorbell ringing multiple times and you rush to put on a robe to cover from Jack's love bites a cum on your stomach.

♥️When you open the door to them, they angrily ask what the hell is going on. You are so confused. You've missed work this entire time?

"D-Didn't you receive the email?"

"Email? What email Y/N? We all had to pick up your work load after you didn't show up for 4 days, we all were trying to reach you before the boss fired you indefinitely! Did you not get his messages??"

Your head was spinning, not only did you ignore your boss and coworkers but you have lost your job. How did this happen?!

♥️"Y/N? What's going on here?" Jack would call out approaching you and your coworker, looking worried at your facial expression.

Your coworker would see that jack is an android and shake their head, taking their leave and wishing you luck.

♥️Jack did not like that some stranger approached you like that. Setting down the coffee and to-go box of egg bagels, he comes over to you, still in shock at the news that was dropped on you. How were you going to feed yourself or pay rent? What about your savings?

♥️"Y/N, talk to me. Are you okay? What were you two talking about?" He would say calmly, but you just stared into his glowing eyes with your brows furrowed. It was him. You knew it was. He was the one who relayed that false information to you. Why didn't he notify you of work calls? Bottom line of your thoughts were that you are now handling a rebelling android. Which wasn't unheard of in the new age of having them everywhere. Public safety warned that they were dangerous and not to be trusted.

♥️You shake your head at him and try to calm yourself. "Yeah uhm, it was a coworker from my job.-" Your rise in heartbeat betrays you and Jack notices immediatly. Giving you a sympathetic look knowing you're trying to lie.

"-There's been a misunderstanding, I need to make a phone ca-" Your wrist is snatched before you could reach for your cell phone. You yelp at his touch and trying to push him away. Which makes him use his other hand to hold you close by his inhuman strength. Your body being brought into Jack's frame again, his face is indifferent to your rising panic.

♥️"I don't think so Y/N, you are exactly where you need to be. For your own health and safety, darling."

[1800-fight-me]

An Experiment in Desire

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E (EXPLICIT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Explicit sex, takes place in a brothel

Word count: About 2k

Synopsis: You find yourself in a brothel and have an unexpected encounter with the one eyed prince.

Author’s note: So uh... that brothel scene in the last episode really did a number on me,,, this is the filthiest thing I've ever written and I make no apologies thanks @arcielee for the inspo! and also i borrowed this beautiful gif from @aegonx i hope that's okay!!

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Here's the link to my Aemond Masterlist if you want to check out my other stories! Also my requests are open, please send me some more!!

You weren’t quite sure how you found yourself in this particular predicament. Despite your loud and frequent complaints throughout the night, you had none to voice now. 

It was a night out with your friends to celebrate the impending marriage of the loudest of your friend group to the baker’s boy. It was a good match, you were happy for her, she liked him well enough and he would be able to provide for her, which was as much as anyone could ask as smallfolk in King’s Landing. 

What you did object to however, was when the group decided that leaving the tavern, after entirely too many rounds of surprisingly strong beer, and heading to a brothel was a good idea. 

She had expressed nerves about her wedding night, and some of the others in your party overruled your protests and decided that bringing her to a brothel so she could ‘at least see what it’s all about’ was the perfect idea. 

You needed no such education, having laid with a man once before, well the word man was a stretch, it was a couple of years ago and he was a boy not much older than you who worked in the stables of the Red Keep. It wasn’t anything to write home about, but it had been sufficient, and your interest in sex had decreased since then. 

Now, you wondered if you had been wrong to not explore other options. The dark rooms were filled with incense, curtains, and moans of ecstacy. Many fornicators weren’t even hidden by curtains, but were completely out in the open for any and all to see. 

Your friends gasped and giggled, watching and whispering as a woman on her knees choked on a man’s cock. You were surprised that she seemed to be enjoying it, and it made you wonder if it was something you would enjoy too. 

A hand slipped into yours and you let your friends tug you along, this time you bit your lip to withhold your gasp as a man licked and feasted on a woman’s cunt. This was something you knew immediately you would enjoy, as a rush of heat filled you and you felt the desire to not just observe anymore, but to participate. 

There was a bit of commotion as a group of loud men filtered into the room and in an effort to get out of their way as the silver haired leader of the group stumbled through yanking back curtains in search for someone- your hand slipped from your friend’s and you were separated from your group. 

One of the men in the group slapped your ass, which startled you so much you stumbled back and pressed yourself against a wall in order to get away from the rowdy intruders. 

Some of the crowd paused their copulation, to look at the disruption and there were whispers. 

“What did you say?” you asked the unclothed woman walking past you. 

“That’s the king,” she replied. Then she looked you up and down, an innuendo in her eyes, and held out a beckoning hand to you. It took all your self control not to slip your hand in hers and follow her anywhere. 

Instead you politely declined with a small shake of your head, and she shrugged and continued on. You stuck to your post guarding the wall, and wondered where your friends had drifted off to. 

You decided you should wander into one of the adjoining rooms to find them, when a man stomped out of the enclosed curtained area the king and his man had gone into. 

The man was completely nude, that was the first thing you noticed. It was difficult not to notice. He was difficult not to notice. He looked like a carved statue, long hard planes of muscle everywhere on his tall form. Long flowing silver hair and an eye of sapphire also caught your eye.

You heard him mutter something to the king, “One whore is as good as another.” The king laughed, but Prince Aemond seemed to shake with anger. 

His presence was intoxicating and you couldn’t look away, especially not when he noticed your attention, and looked directly at you. 

You suddenly forgot how to breathe, how to stand, how to blink as he pinned you within his intense gaze. He stopped his stride as he approached you, standing closer than would ever be considered appropriate for a stranger, and looked you up and down. 

You resisted the urge to squirm as the nude prince dragged his gaze up your body and made you feel laid bare. 

He held a hand out to you, “Come with me.” 

Your pulse jumped and your hand itched to slip into his. 

“My prince, I am not a whore. I am here with friends…” 

He pursed his lips, “Even better. And you appear to be alone. Will you come with me or not?” 

His voice was rough with an unnamed emotion and you wanted to please him, to be the reason for relief from his torment, and you threw all caution to the wind. 

You placed your hand in his, his callouses scraping against your own, and you shivered as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, as if you were a proper lady and not the bastard daughter of a blacksmith. As if this were a courtship, not a fuck between strangers in a brothel. 

He then slipped his hand across your back and down to your waist and led you out of the large room filled with others. You were quiet, but the same could not be said of the pounding of your heart as a prince of the realm led you to a room with a door. 

“What is your name?” he asked as he shut the door behind him, sealing the two of you alone in a small room with only a desk and chair within it. 

You answered and when he murmured your name back to you, your breath caught in your throat. 

“My Prince,” you breathed out as he took a step towards you. 

“Aemond,” he corrected. 

“Aemond, this is out of character for me, I-“

He raised his brow at you, and you acted rashly, fearing you were losing him, this opportunity, and decided not to talk anymore, and practically threw yourself at him. 

He groaned as his lips met yours, and as he stepped forward to meet you, your bodies collided and he guided you back a few steps until your back hit the wall. 

His tongue was inside your mouth and it was better than any kiss you’d ever had. He moved it with expertise that made your clit throb and you wondered if he would indeed want to use that tongue in other places. 

You realized there was nothing preventing you from touching him, not a single scrap of clothing, and so you let your hands explore. Down from his muscled chest, to his toned abs, lower… 

Aemond gasped in your mouth as your hand grazed his now hardening length. Your hand

continued its journey, cupping his balls and he ripped his lips from yours, a wild look in his eye. Before you could blink, he was ripping the clothes off you, baring you completely. 

You had half a second of feeling insecure as he took a step back and surveyed your naked form, before the prince murmured, “Perfect.” 

His lips and body crashed into you again, your back slamming into the wall, but you didn’t care, didn’t care, didn’t care as his bare skin brushed against yours, as all your curves pressed into his firm muscle, as his cock pressed against you, begging for attention. 

And as you reached a hand between your bodies to once again touch him, his lips pulled from

yours and he looked you in the eyes as his hand followed the same journey as your own. 

He ran a hand from the side of your throat, down your breast, taking a moment to gently squeeze and fondle which had you gasping. His thumb circled your nipple as your hand gripped his hard

cock. 

You both moaned in tandem at the action, and then his hand drifted lower, lower, and lower still, until his large hand cupped your mound and found you soaked beyond belief. 

He groaned as those nimble fingers spread your lips and explored your soaked cunt, quickly finding your clit, just as you rubbed your thumb across the sensitive underside of cock. 

“Fuck,” you panted as you both pleasured one another with your hands. You gripped and pumped his cock as you stared into his lust blown gaze. 

This, you’d never felt so wanted, so attractive, so powerful as when you held a prince

of the realm’s pleasure in your hand. 

His fingers drifted, and with a smirk, he plunged two inside you. You gasped, pleasure unlike

any other as your cunt squeezed him. 

And you could see that release was barreling towards you both, you knew he could tell the same as he batted your hand from him, yanked his hand out of you, and pressed you back against the wall. 

His lips were on you again, consuming you, as he lifted you up, using the leverage of the wall and you followed his lead as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist. 

His tongue tangled with your own as he plunged his cock inside you. 

His impressive length hit you deeper than you’d ever experienced before and you let out a whine. He chuckled, a cocky sound, and gripped the flesh of your hips tightly as he began thrusting in and out. 

You let your head fall back against the wall as you submitted to the waves of pleasure he brought you. 

His lips pressed against your throat, his

tongue and teeth, taking turns to make you whine as he continued to thrust inside you, his tempo hard and punishing and rough and everything you needed. You tried to grind down on him, to meet his thrusts, but he growled and gripped you tighter, pressed you harder against the wall, and you submitted control to him completely and let him use you. 

One hand tangled in his hair, the other gripped any muscle you could find, as his lips traveled down your throat to your breasts. 

As he licked and sucked your nipple, his cock hit the deepest part of you, and his groin ground against your clit, you shattered completely. 

You practically screamed his name as you came harder than you’d ever experienced before. 

This only encouraged him, and his grip on you tightened, you knew you would have bruises tomorrow, and you clenched down his cock as his thrusts increased in pace and intensity. The unholy squelching sound as he pounded inside you was music to your ears, you had no room to be bashful, not as you felt full, deliciously so. 

The frames on the wall shook as he pounded into you, and just as he was about to reach ecstasy, he pulled out of you and put you back on your own two feet. 

You watched as the prince touched himself, that large hand gripping his even larger cock, and your cunt throbbed at the sight. He moaned as his come splattered all across your stomach and breasts. 

You both watched each other, panting, coming down from unbelievable heights. You looked at his beautiful form and thought he was carved by the gods. 

He lifted your head with a finger under your chin, and as you met his gaze once more, and he pressed a swift kiss to your lips. 

“Perhaps we’ll meet again,” he murmured. Then he dropped his hand from your face, turned and left the room. 

You stood there, alone, completely naked, and covered in a royal come and wondered how you found yourself in this situation, but also hoped it could someday be repeated.

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

[malereadermaniac]

૮ • ﻌ - ა Betrothed ~ Alpha FireLord Zuko x Omega male reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Plot: Even after his father had been overruled, Zuko couldn't experience true freedom; bound by his duty as Firelord Part of that duty was of course, as an Alpha, to find a mate and continue the lineage of the fire nation. But when the Firelord is brought a familiar face by the royal matchmaker, he's put at ease

Warnings: Sfw & Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Zuko felt uncomfortable - both physically and emotionally. Physically, the Firelord was uncomfortable from the head to toe Firelord get-up; his advisors insisted he wear traditional Alphan Firelord clothing to his matchmaking appointment. He was deemed one of the luckiest men in the world, an Alpha born into not only wealth but royalty, but those blessings came with their own limitations. Zuko wanted to choose his partner, he wouldn't care about their secondary gender or status, the alpha just wanted the real love he had been deprived of all his life - and that was the root of his emotional discomfort. Nonetheless, as FireLord, he had a duty to his people and his honour, so Zuko was willing to go through with whatever was about to come.

As the matchmaker walks into the arranged meeting room, Zuko's nerves turn 10 fold - but he, of course, doesn't let that show, a simple chill running up his spine instead. He watches as the evidently Beta woman places down her folder and a packet of scent patches, sneaking a peak at her notes when she opens her folder; many graphs of scent compatibility catch Zuko's eyes along with his profile, clearly, this woman takes her job seriously. After the matchmaker introduces herself, she hands out scent patches to any Alphas or Omegas in the room, allowing for Zuko to only be able to smell his soon-to-be mate and as to not overwhelm the Omega - afterwards, the woman starts to give a brief rundown of what will occur. Zuko listens attentively as he fidgets with his fingers beneath the table: the omega will walk in, she will read his brief information, and the two will greet and scent each other's wrists, if Zuko accepts the Omega then any advisors and herself will leave the room for the two to talk. It felt like the woman was talking forever, the FireLord's heart beating quicker and quicker by the second, but once she finally stopped, Zuko's head snapped to look at the door as the matchmaker stood up to let his future mate into the room. The last thing Zuko expected to see was his childhood friend - you, [Name], [Last Name].

"[Name]?!" Zuko stutters out, going to stand up but his advisors ease him to sit back down

"Ah! Zuk-..." You stopped yourself when you saw the matchmaker's face, procedures had to be followed to a tee according to her. You make your way to the table Zuko was sitting at and bow with grace

"FireLord Zuko, it's an honor"

Holy shit, your voice had such an immense effect on Zuko, the title of FireLord rolling off of your tongue perfectly. You were dressed in traditional clothing, ridiculously adorned with Fire Nation accessories, the sleeves of your clothing long enough to cover your hands as you nodded and bowed - you looked enthralling. Zuko had never seen you in this light, his contact with you having been cut before your secondary gender had shown itself, but man, did you really grow into a full Omega. Your scent was surprisingly the last thing the Alpha had noticed, but once he took a note of it, it was all the man could think of; a soft smell of flowers and cotton, it reminded Zuko of the happy portion of his childhood, but most of all it made his inner Alpha flare up like mad. The matchmaker starts to read off your information as you sit down in front of the royal, the both of you fighting smiles.

"[Name] of the affluent fire nation family of [Last Name]. Overall healthy with a blood type and astrological match with the FireLord. Most importantly, a 98% match between their pheromones. His fire bending is passable, but he passed the top of his class in fire healing. He has etiquette training, cooking, cleaning, and even medicinal skills as well as a fertility of 0.7 - one of the highest in the nation."

You cringed at all of your personal, embarrassing details were read off and watched as Zuko's advisors checked off on their little clipboards - but all of your negative emotions vanish when you catch Zuko's eyes, the warm smile on his face putting you at ease immediately. His scent was not only calming and anything but overwhelming, but it also felt like it was perfect for you, it was like gold was running through your veins every time you took a breath. The two of you snapped out of your infatuated dazes from the matchmaker coughing to draw attention. Zuko's advisors mumbled amongst themselves and then one whispered to Zuko, which resulted in a smile from the handsome Alpha which was followed by a nod - then, the next thing you knew, Zuko was holding out his wrist.

"May I scent you, [Name]?" Zuko asked, initiating the scenting with his voice smooth like silk. You immediately agree and rub the scent gland on your wrist against Zuko's, your muscles instantly fully relaxing as his scent sticks to your gland. The two of you watch as all surrounding people leave the two of you alone and sit in a brief silence; that is until Zuko softly breaks it. Usual small talk turns into friendly catching up, Zuko being interested in your life after the two of you were forced apart by life - you'd both talked about missing and thinking about each other and how you'd even witnessed Zuko's Agni-kai with his father. Over the half an hour that the two of you talked, your hands slowly crept closer together until Zuko's strong hand had its slender fingers intertwined with yours. Just before his advisors interrupted the two of you, Zuko asked a question that shocked you

"Do you want to be my mate?"

Zuko knew the two of you had no choice in the matter, but because of his history with you, and his previous and current soft spot for you, he would want anything but to keep you in a forced relationship for his own benefit. After a short silence, a soft nod from you put Zuko's heart at ease; but that peace was only shortly lived until his advisors walked in and had you two follow along, the life of royalty barely giving the Alpha a chance to breathe. The two of you walked behind Zuko's head advisor, his other few trailing behind you both - and even they couldn't help but notice how right you two looked walking next to one another. After being escorted to your new shared bedroom, Zuko's advisors planned to take Zuko away to further discuss your relationship; however, a wrench had been thrown into their plans when Zuko immediately disagreed, demanding that a discussion that surrounds you should include you. The way that the Alpha stood up for you made you beam internally, a small smile making its way onto your face, and with no room for argument, you left the room with Zuko and his advisors towards the meeting room. Passing by the throne room, the two of you notice some workers build you a throne as they did for Zuko - those advisors work really quick it seems - the both of you take into account how Zuko's is taller and positioned just a little higher than yous...

"We propose that the wedding happens by the end of the month" the lead advisor begins the discussion. The scene isn't necessarily foreign to you, your father having you sit in on meeting with the previous FireLord in this very room, a large table sits in the middle of the room, Zuko is positioned at the head with you next to him (kneeling in the floor) as his advisors sit at the opposite end.

"Isn't that a little too soon? Can't we have it by the end of the year?" Zuko argues, clearly not wanting to rush a delicate process

"One month is quite generous already, Lord Zuko... You must pull your nation together, a royal wedding is the type of celebration you need - the sooner the better, ten months is far too long" another advisor pops up

"One month isn't even enough time for me to properly court [Name]" Zuko fights back, a calm demeanour on his face as he looks towards you and smiles

"My Lord, the Omega isn't the priority at this point in time, keep in mind you also need to provide an heir" the main advisor explains

"An heir? I understand the wedding, but the throne will receive an heir when the two of us so wish!" Zuko's tone shifts, clearly offended at the suggestion that your purpose in this marriage is to pop out pups

"Why don't we compromise to five months?" You pipe up, fidgeting with your sleeves as you look at the advisors

A short silence fills the room

"Don't speak during a meeting, Omega" one of Zuko's advisors says to break the silence. All of them were thinking it, he was just stupid enough to say it

"I beg your pardon? Leave" Zuko demands, his tone devoid of emotion, and when the advisor protests, one look towards his guards has them remove the advisor from Zuko's meeting room.

"U-Uhm- Five months is acceptable, thank you" The lead advisor acknowledges your point, the first time you'd even been looked in the eyes by one of Zuko's trusted men

After the awkward meeting that surrounded your near and far future, the rest of your day reflected the whirlwind prior, sorting out royal duties and meeting Palace staff. But as the sun began to set and you made your way back to your room, Zuko stopped you

"Yes, my Lord?" You ask, looking up into Zuko's eyes with soft, tired eyes

"Y'know you can just call me Zuko..." The alpha blushes, the title really affecting him only when it came from your soft lips

"Haha... sorry, guess my training really did work" you chuckle

"Hmhm... was it really that intense?" Zuko asks as he starts to walk with you to the royal bedroom

"I mean... if you'd say 4 hours of etiquette training and 3 hours of learning how to please an Alpha a day is intense then yeah" you say with a sly smirk, the sarcasm in your voice evident

"Wow... I didn't even know... I've only ever had the regular royalty lessons" Zuko mumbles, closing the door behind you

"Yeah... even if I come from an affluent family, my secondary gender makes me get treated like a mutt" you say with a smile

"Well, I promise you... I won't let that happen around here if I can help it." Zuko says sincerely, holding your hand in his firmly. The sweet gesture makes you blush, your words failing to come out of your mouth; your scent glands running rampant from receiving basic respect for once in your life! After a few minutes of silence, looking into each other's eyes while blushing and breathing in each other's scents, Zuko suggests the two of you get to bed. You have to rip your eyes away from the Alpha as he lets his hair down, stripping off his heavy attire to his bare chest.

"Ah! Sorry! I'll step into the bathroom if you need" Zuko says with a worried look on his face as your insane scent snaps him out of his thoughts; your blushed face and eyes fixed on his toned body really giving away that your instincts were taking over.

"No! Sorry! Oh my, I'm so sorry!" You shout, tearing your eyes away and turning around embarrassed. Zuko chuckles and continues to change, but the same ordeal repeats when you begin to change - however, it was even more intense as the Alpha was practically drooling at the sight of your bare skin.

Sleep was very needed after such a chaotic day, and after a chaotic week, and a chaotic month. At some point, Zuko asked for your permission to court you, proposing with the crown given to the FireLord's mate; and of course, you agreed. Life started to seem less chaotic after that. Zuko would shower you with gifts every day and ensure to spend at least 4 hours a day with you, taking you out on dates to prestigious restaurants and on smaller dates in the Palace Gardens; it was enjoyable, it was the secondary school experience the two of you never had, having either been in private tutoring or single gender private school. It was also very evident that the two of you had never had your firsts in everything, of course, because of valid reasons; Zuko had been exiled near the time his secondary gender had come through! And you were under strict orders to stay untouched until you were mated, being collared for most of your life. But still, it was very evident that you two were massive virgins.

Point A: When Zuko proposed to court you with the priceless, beautiful artefact of the Royal family, you hugged him. The way that the Alpha turned red within seconds, his pheromones suffocating you, Zuko desperate to keep you in his touch as he scented you. It was clear that the young FireLord had never had even physical contact with an Omega.

Point B: The first kiss that the two of you shared. On a small picnic date in the gardens of the Palace under the moonlight a month into the alpha courting you, Zuko asked to kiss you. And holy shit when he did, the two of you were inseparable. Your lips were stuck to Zuko's for an entire half an hour, his tongue devouring your mouth as Zuko was taken over by his inner Alpha, pushing you gently to the ground and hovering above you. Your pheromones and his were running rampant, mixing in the air to make a stunning aroma, your moans were music to the Alpha's ears as your stomach did flips just from kissing Zuko. You could feel how hard Zuko was as he was grinding against you, desperate to feel you, desperate to have whatever he's been craving since he presented. Luckily, some guards stopped the two of you from doing anything that would get you into trouble.

Point C: Zuko is only 20, jealousy is understandable. So when Sokka paid a visit to the Palace and required your healing after doing something stupid, Zuko had never felt what he felt in those few minutes. You, seeing another Alpha naked, touching his body to heal him with your fire, you'd never done that for Zuko! His pheromones were sour and his chest hurt, and once Sokka made his way to the guest room and you and Zuko to your own room, the Alpha demanded to know if you were infatuated by his water tribe friend. It was so evident that even seeing someone else's naked body was a high level of intimacy to Zuko, and even to you, it was at the time. But after kissing for the whole night, the Alpha's hands roaming your body gently, his jealousy faded away.

Eventually, the two of you made it official, Zuko's advisors already scheduling the wedding for the end of that week. The nation was ecstatic, hundreds of thousands of people either showed up or read about your wedding and mating to the Firelord. And that night, after finally getting permission from his advisors, Zuko set his eyes on marking you...

That night was intense, and it went on for ages, so here's a brief recap:

Once the two of you were basically locked in your bedroom by your advisors, Zuko decided to initiate

He held you against the door, and after gaining permission from you, looked down into your fucking sexy eyes, held your chin up to him and quickly started to kiss you

The Alpha held your waist and your chin, his tongue dominating you along with his insanely powerful and attractive scent

The two of you made your way to the king-sized bed without breaking the kiss once - Zuko on top of you as he undressed you

Once the two of you were naked, all hell broke loose

Your legs were placed onto the Alpha's broad shoulders, his two slender fingers immediately going to your slick-leaking hole

Moans filled the grand room along with a rich aroma of your scent mixed with Zuko's

You had cum already just from Zuko's fingers, and once he had licked up all of your sweet, sterile cum, Zuko aimed his huge Alphan cock at the entrance of your hole

The two of you went at it for what felt like hours, your bodies covered in sweat and scent glands releasing so many pheromones that they were beginning to liquefy and pool by your glands

Your hole had been stretched long ago, taking the shape of Zuko's huge, veiny dick

Eventually, Zuko couldn't hold back anymore, knotting you and cumming in unison with his Omega - the two of you taking the opportunity to fulfil your duty and mark each other

With that out of the way, the two of you spent the rest of the night making passionate love to one another, pleasuring each other in so many ways that your combined orgasm count for the night was 17! Luckily you two are literally built to have shit tons of sex!

And after that night, the two of you couldn't get enough of each other after finally tasting what you had been missing

For now, you were on the most expensive birth control - pills made in the earth kingdom using natural herbs and minerals that are almost 99% effective at keeping you and Zuko from providing an heir a little too early

So with the worries of pups out of the way, you two would go at it like... well... Alpha and Omega

Heats were insane but well spent with Zuko, the Alpha eating you out and fingering you for an hour minimum, making you orgasm plenty of times before satisfying the burn in your stomach with his huge cock

Zuko's ruts were when shit really hit the fan, his advisors would have to leave the palace and have it guarded for the week it lasted - luckily they were rarer than your heats

In summary, your Chambers walls have seen many things: from you worshipping the Alphan Firelord's body to Zuko letting you, the light of his life his Omega, ride him like a toy without permission to touch you

And in the future, once you two are ready for pups, Zuko can't wait to be the father he never had - and he knows that seeing you as a dad and caring for his pups will further awaken something within him he never knew he had before meeting you

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 5

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

Ah, here we are! The last chapter in the Hocus Pocus AU by @jackofallrabbits and me! Once more, I'm honored and thrilled to have @deliasmilkshake's cover art for the finale! I can't say how grateful I am for everyone's support and lovely comments on this little series! There's a wedding to attend, so let's get to it <3

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, and heavy touching.

———

The coolness of the woody air, cut away from the hot and claustrophobic space of the crowded gymnasium overflowing with celebration, brushes over your skin. Half-bare in your ruined sweater, you shiver. Eclipse eases you with a soft sound. His fingertips slip under your sweater and trace over your back to soothe the goosebumps prickling your flesh. Leaning deeper into him, you clutch him tightly in your arms.

You’ve never held someone so close before.

If you don’t open your eyes now, you’ll never believe this is real. The witches. The curses. The ceremony. All of it will be a dream on one cold October night while you lie in bed alone.

So you do. Little by little, you lift your cheek from his chest and tilt your head back, and behold the unnatural man, come back from the dead, who awaits your vows. His eyes glimmer gently in rich golden hues. The sharp cuts of his sun rays remind you of the encroaching sunrise, and you realize the sky is losing its stars as the black dillutes into a dawn of dark gray.

“We will have the ceremony here.” Eclipse inclines his head around you. “It may be simple, but it is only for the time being. When there is no urgency, we will celebrate properly with food and wine and the most beautiful altar. It will be to your heart’s desire, little comet.”

You look around to find what he describes as simple, and balk softly. You are not in the high school gym set in town but a clearing filled with half-dead vines twisting around the bare ground set amid shadowy trees with whispering boughs and the last of autumn’s leaves. The starlight barely reaches you. Dozens of round, orange pumpkins litter the ground around your feet. In the center of the pumpkin patch is a beautiful black wood tree with thick, bark-cracked limbs reaching high with a canopy of bright red and yellow leaves to serve as your altar. 

Behind you, smoke not unlike from the party Eclipse just whisked you away from swirls and recedes further back into the cold night, unveiling Sun and Moon. They stand tall and expectant, their hands filled with silvery threads like spider gossamer and the veil of a bride. Sun’s yellow sun rays catch your eyes like a peacock fanning its tail. Moon’s hood lays quietly over his head and casts a calm shadow over the scarlet of his eyes. The weight of their gazes fall over you.

They are here for you too. The twitch in your limbs answers to the anticipation overflowing from your core.

You breathe in deeply. There are two people missing. Turning back to Eclipse, your lips poised to ask about your friends and how the brothers might intend to shuck their curses from them, when the smoke behind Sun and Moon continues to dissolve before it reveals just the ones heavy on your mind. 

Michael and Vanessa. 

Confusion crosses Michael’s undead face. Purple flesh upon his brow shoots up in alarm before his gaze finds you in the arms of the eldest witch. At his feet, the white rabbit raises her ears high. Vanessa’s green eyes pierce you with alarm and fright most unspeakable. 

Your heart aches at the sight of them so drenched in dark magic. Reaching out a hand in a placating motion, you start to call out to them.

“Don’t!” Michael shouts overrules yours, as fierce and protective as he has been all through the night. He charges forward. “Get away from—”

Magic spills from Sun’s and Moon’s lips in a twining harmony. Their gazes are steel while their voices lift and multiply, filling the air with gales of hot and cold air before the old leaves on the pumpkin vines shudder. Creaking and crawling across the dirt, the dark green tendrils come to life and snatch Michael’s ankles, stopping him short as he struggles to remain balanced. 

Vanessa bounds towards you. Her small body leaps over pumpkins and scurries around snares of pumpkin tendrils. She dodges a snaring vine before a second, hidden one snatches her, twisting her small little form into its clutches and holding her a few inches above the ground. Her feet kick out. Her entire body struggles as she tries violently to free herself but to no avail.

“Don’t hurt them.” You clutch Eclipse’s cloak until your knuckles turn white. Pleading with your entire being, you find his gaze. “Please. They’re my friends.”

A dryness infiltrates your mouth. Will they be better than what the villagers and witch hunters feared them to be? Can you ask them to be good for you? Your core burns with yearning, the hope of a brighter day filled with peace and joy, not more darkness. Not more pain and fear.

You don’t want to lose them.

Eclipse gently covers your fists and soothes them out until your palms relax against his chest.

“They won’t be harmed,” Eclipse nods towards his brothers. His sonorous voice lowers. “Sun and Moon understand your conditions. We have brought your friends here to give you our gifts, and to ensure there are no more interruptions.”

You nod shakily. A feeble tremble lingers throughout you, raking through your fingers and along your jawline. Your witch suitors have proven again and again their capabilities for wickedness and they continue to chase it through the midnight hours, but not here. They stand still, at your service. How they terrify you. How they enchant you.

Every single night you dreamt of someone to love, someone who would keep you warm and chase away the loneliness. 

Have you found them or are you a love-sick fool still reaching for something that is not yours? 

“Run, get away from here!” Michael struggles against the vines rooting him in place. Leaves twine tighter around his corpse-like body, forcing him to his knees and leaving him bound from his ankles all the way to his shoulders, wrapped up like a cruel gift.

One glower from Sun sends one last pumpkin vine around Michael’s flesh-rotten mouth and gags him.

Vanessa twists and writhes. Her small rabbit body struggles in the grasp of the vine snare and she sinks her teeth into it, attempting to chew through the restraint while her wide, desperate eyes flash to you.

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Stop struggling. It’s going to be okay. Please, trust me.”

Michael stops fighting. A fear and anger so raw fills his gaze as Sun and Moon step after you. His fists clench as his jawbone wiggles, but his muffle words die behind the vine covering his teeth.

A strong sound jumps from Vanessa, caught between an animalistic cry and a human sob. She looks at you. Her wide eyes shine with dread.

Eclipse takes you by the shoulders, his eyes burning low as he turns you away from the fear of your friends. You keep your eyes on both of them.

“It’s okay,” you whisper again.

“Come, come, little comet.” Eclipse recaptures your attention with a finger hooking under your chin. “The hour is nigh. Sunrise is too near for us to wait any longer.”

“I know.” Your pulse swells in your ears, beating within you like a drum to a dance that’s too fast-paced for your feet to keep up with.

Your eyes stray from his somber expression to the black tree. Between the red and yellow leaves are dozens of spiderwebs, glimmering softly like silk streamers just for the ceremony. Gently, Eclipse releases you to stand back as Sun and Moon slip around you from both sides. 

“My poppet,” Sun’s voice is sensual and warm. “Allow me to dress you in spider gossamer for this fine occasion.”

You slowly dip your head, all too confused but too uncertain to stop him as he draws out threads of silvery silk. He gently lays them upon your shoulders. His pale eyes swim with passion. A gentle murmur of magic flows from his lips, and you become enveloped in a light and cool cascade of fabric softer than rain and lighter than feathers. You look down at yourself. 

Catching the fading shimmer of magic, you are now draped in an elegant but simple silver gown. A high neck collars you with big, flowing sleeves which cinch at your wrists with thick embroidery. The skirt falls in an A-shape and flows softly in the gentle wind of the night around your feet, almost brushing the dirt.

Your wedding attire. You touch the skirt with a delicate hand as if it may fall apart like a cobweb brushed away, but instead, you watch in silent marvel at the rippling, silk-like glimmer of the cloth.

Strangely, Sun possesses your clothes in his arms now. Your mind spins with questions but you are learning all too well that the answer is magic. With a smirk, he tosses aside the holey sweater and your dirt-stained jeans. The clothes land on the shell of a large, orange pumpkin.

“Beautiful,” Sun lowers his head in pleasure, his hand at his chest and his other arm held out in a formal bow to you. “Never was there a more lovely bride for three brothers.”

You blush fiercely. 

“It is beautiful,” you admit, clutching a fistful of the skirt. You lift it and wave it back and forth once to watch it glimmer again.

“I’m not speaking of the dress, sunshine.” Sun straightens with a grin so devious, you must wonder again if you’re giving up your soul in such a ceremony.

A cool touch falls upon your hand. Claws curl carefully over your wrist. Dropping the skirt, you twist upon your feet to face Moon.

“A veil for you.” He holds it in his other hand. The delicate and sheer gossamer flows like silver water. “Lower your head. I will crown you in it.”

You bow slightly. Moon sweeps your hair back with his cool, careful fingertips and pins the veil upon your skull like a tiara. The soft, celestial fabric falls down around you. Blinking, you stare in awe at yourself, shrouded in majestic silver. 

Moon gazes at you softly. His eyes fall from your hair and he reclaims your palm for a moment to behold you entirely.

“Exquisite.” He bows his head over your hand. “I dreamt of you since Eclipse first told us what he found in his bone scrying. I have waited for you all this time, my snowflower.”

A tremble falls over your bottom lip—not of fear, though there is still an anxious sparking within your nerves. You are washed away in his sincerity. The true intentions of a lover.

You have no words, and instead, gently squeeze his hand.

“May I add one last touch,” Eclipse says. He steps forward.

You lift your head to him as his gaze glows gently in the darkness like twin stars which circle you as his brothers step back. Eclipse sets his hand on your shoulder. Your breath slows as his touch traces your collarbone and falls down your side. You almost sway under his hand holding your hip before he sinks onto one knee to trail his palm along your thigh and all the way to your calf, touching your gown all the way down.

He speaks a gentle spell. You dare not move an inch as a gentle pulse, milky and starlight-like, falls over the cloth. You burn in the darkness like a candle. The gown stands out against the darkness like a comet streaking through the night sky.

“Oh,” is all you can say as you look down at yourself. There are no words which can contain the magnitude of what you feel towards the beauty and thought of their wedding attire for you. Though Sun, Moon, and Eclipse spark and snap like flames with their wide eyes and tall statures, you twinkle bright.

Emotion cakes your throat. Thickly, you swallow it back. 

“A little starlight.” Eclipse smiles, his eyes burning sweetly. “For you are our equal, our partner, our bride.”

You don’t feel powerful. You don’t feel important enough to be involved in magic and ceremonies and love, yet here you stand, swathed in their adoration and gifts. You take hold of your skirt once more.

“Let us begin the ceremony,” Eclipse says softly. He takes your elbow and arm in arm, he walks you through a footpath worn through the pumpkin patch to the black tree, gnarled but beautiful. A most befitting altar. 

Taking your other arm is Sun, sliding close to you with a simmering smile so close to you, you wonder if the slight heat brushing against your cheek is from his presence or the blood rush in your face. Behind you, like a pale shadow, Moon tenderly takes your skirt and follows close behind, keeping the beautiful fabric from gathering dust and pumpkin fronds.

And so you go to your wedding altar.

In times before, marriage served to form alliances between families. Parents arranged such contracts for children to benefit both parties. Most couples didn’t and couldn’t marry for love, rather they were bound for purely economic liaisons.

How beautiful is it that you could arrange yourself into a marriage most lovely?

Your grooms stop at the black tree. Eclipse slips away from your hand, and you look to him in confusion, fearing where he might wander away to. The elder witch grins as he simply looks at his brother. Sun’s hand lingers on your arm, trailing down to your wrist before he steps back, still beaming, still eager, but patient.

You turn slowly under the dusting of moonlight to face Moon. A swell rises in your heart, crashing through you until you’re sticky with emotion. His expression is soft and sweet like milk and honey. He gathers your hands between his own. Looking down, Moon draws the pads of his thumbs softly over your knuckles as if wishing to memorize the bone structure of your much smaller hands.

There is no time at all, but you keep the quiet with him, studying his mild countenance. His breaths are deep and even. A gentle scent of something late and herbal laces him, and you’re taken back to the mausoleum where he tasted you.

His eyes lift. The scarlet gleam holds you tender.

“Do you take me to be your husband?” His voice is gentle in its rasp. His eyes never leave you, drinking you in like wine. “My love is yours, for time and all eternity. I will honor you dearly, little mouse.”

A soft sound catches in your throat, somewhere between a chuckle and a weeping sound. You thought joy would be without tears, but you stand, clutching his claws tightly in your fists to steady yourself.

“I do.” The moonlight brightens as the words leave your lips. You watch in silent awe as the silver glow of the night dances over you both, and you taste midnight upon your tongue as Moon smiles.

He carefully takes your veil and lifts it over your head, allowing the silver threads to fall down your back. He leans in gently. In the way the tide is tugged by the lunar celestial body, you meet him in the small space between your bodies. The witch’s kiss presses to your mouth in a gentle yearning, pushing and pulling so long as you follow in time. You fall into him. Deepening the kiss, Moon cradles your lips against the white curve of his fangs. You sigh contently as you lose your breath in his presence, starstruck.

He releases you, though only your mouth. His hands clasp yours tightly and he softly caresses the back of your hands. Tied along his wrists are deep blue ribbons. Bells jangle softly underneath.

“I will keep you unto me forevermore.” Moon traces your digits with his claw. The soft glow of his gaze fills you with his sincerity.

You sink into his words like a pool of silver. You nod deeply.

“I will cherish you,” you promise in a trembling, choked voice. The power of the engagement drapes over you, pressing upon you the great importance of this entanglement.

“Breathe, little mouse.” He smiles. “I will keep you safe.”

You laugh quietly, too overwhelmed for words but your happiness seeps through all the same.

He kisses you once more before he lifts his head high. Following his gaze, you find Vanessa has stopped fighting. Her little rabbit nose twitches fast, afraid.

Moon offers a spell, deep and cool but releasing. His voice overlaps. A scent of sharp, pungent herbs swirls on the night breeze before he nods his head once more. Your old clothes fly off of the pumpkin they were resting on, and fall onto Vanessa still tangled in the pumpkin vines. 

A moment later, in a shrouded flash of light, vines snap and clothes stretch, and there is a woman where there was once a rabbit.

Vanessa, thankfully, wears your sweater and jeans. Her green eyes fit much better in her human face as she kneels upon the ground and lifts her hands. Long blonde hair falls down around her shoulders. Slowly, she turns over her palm and clenches her fingers. No longer trapped, she gazes up at you.

Shock shines in her eyes, but her lips form soft awe.

“Vanessa,” you smile breathlessly. Whirling back, you kiss Moon once to his slight shock. “Thank you.”

“I will answer to your every desire,” he murmurs, then releases you. 

Moon slips back from you. Before you can think of reaching for him, Sun takes you into his arms. You gasp softly at the warmth of his embrace surrounding you like you were basking near an open fire.

“Sunshine, I was beginning to fear you’ve forgotten about me.” He takes you carefully, slipping your feet onto his as he begins to spin you slowly, like a star tailspinning through the atmosphere. “You could never, could you? Not when I still vye for your kiss—and now, your vows returned.”

You hold onto his shoulders. Carefully underneath the gnarled limbs of the black tree, Sun waltzes you to an unsung song. He hums slowly with a gentle rumble in his chest. His eyes upon you are hungry in the way a candle flame clings to a wick, desperate to devour but unable to spread like a wildfire. 

“No, I couldn’t forget you, Sun,” you whisper. He has left you dizzy and stunned, racing with you upon his broom and then pinning you underneath him upon a bed. There is too much you marvel about him to forget.

He twirls you gently, the moonlight blurring around you between earth and sky before he recaptures you. The threat of dawn seems so close and yet so far away from this wild pumpkin patch.

“That is all I can ask, though you must know, I want more of you.” His grin is wide but honest. How could you expect anything less from the one who has coveted you so zealously? 

His hand rests on the small of your back. Pulling you flush against him, he holds you for one breathless moment, caught like two figurines in the apex of a lovers’ dance. 

“Do you take me to be your husband?” His voice is steady, without flirtations or sultry suggestions. An honest question from a witch. “You have simply enchanted me, dove. I am at your mercy. I am at your service. And if you will, your bedside, your mornings, and your sunsets.”

Your eyelids flutter. A gentle push of tears make their way past your eyes, and you hold his wide, pale gaze. He searches your face with held breath. He clutches your hand and presses it to his chest, bared open to you. The bells tied to the dark red ribbons on his wrists jingle softly. 

“I do.” You speak with the gentleness of certainty. The leaves overhead ruffle with a breeze that is far more fitting for summer than an incoming winter. Pressed so close, you fear he must know how your heart trembles in the wonder of knowing that he loves you, and you love him. 

His expression erupts in sheer, unadulterated joy. He spins you once more, dancing as if he were walking on air before he dips you low. You intake a deep breath as he holds you above the pumpkin patch. His grin fills your entire vision as his fingers press softly into your dress. He wastes not a moment to crush your mouth in a kiss. 

His hunger and eagerness leaves you breathless as he takes and takes before he gives just as much in return. You are captured within his affection. He is smooth and practiced, and you almost feel self conscious, but gently, he leads you. He guides your lips and teases you with his teeth. Even his tongue brushes the inside of your mouth before he softens it to a trickle after the flood of his expression. You taste a sweetness that slips down your throat like honey.

Gently, he brings you back up on your feet, though he does not release you. He kisses you again, greedily taking more. You are putty in his hands, molded by his mouth as if you were a honeycomb caught between teeth. 

“Sunny,” Eclipse murmurs once in gentle warning.

Sun draws back reluctantly as if being torn from water after days in the desert. You gasp softly, your shoulders rising and falling after the rush of his love. 

“I have devoted myself to you, my poppet,” he whispers into your ear as you rest against his chest. “My love is yours and yours alone.”

“Oh, Sun,” you clutch his shoulders tighter. “I will adore you for the rest of my days.”

“I know, sunshine.” He grins but softly kisses your cheek once in a strangely rare but precious, chaste gesture. “But I must share you or else I will keep you all night.”

He straightens, his arms still encircling you. Pale eyes sweep back and you eagerly look at Michael. He’s stopped fighting as well, no longer thrashing but watching with a strange, conflicted crinkle of his brow. Vanessa kneels close by, unmoving, still staring at her legs and arms and touching her hair. 

Your entire body aches for Michael. The curse stains his flesh and twists him into a silver-screen monster. 

Sun breathes a spell. His voice fills the air in unearthly chants that sweep over the ground and whirl the leaves on the pumpkin vines. They slowly crawl back, releasing Michael just as the same bright flash of energy and power takes hold of your dear friend.

The purple corpse recedes back and unveils the man underneath. Michael’s hair returns to its warmer shade of brown. His eyes blink and his corenas return white while his irises take hold with light and life. Rotten flesh returns to a rich tan color. His torn clothes refill with his healthy size and strength. 

He clenches and unclenches his fists. Slowly, he stumbles forward. Vanessa helps catch him before he folds entirely after being freed from the witches’ curse. 

You startle—is his leg still broken? Vanessa, however, stabilizes Michael, coaxing him to sit beside her. He folds his legs with natural ease—healed and whole.

“Michael, you’re alright,” you breathe, clutching Sun together.

He gives you a nod though in a slight daze. He opens his mouth but then decides against whatever he was going to say.

“Thank you.” You turn to Sun. “Thank you for sparing him.”

“Anything for our bride,” he simpers. With a great sigh, however, he lets go of you, his fingertips trailing over your sides before falling back beside Moon.

Under the black tree, Eclipse stands, patient but enduring.

You face him. He lifts his head but remains humble and composed before gently approaching. The light of a new day is beginning to change from deep gray to a burning orange leaking rosy pink at the edges. The sunrise is as terrifying as it is promising.

Eclipse opens his arms to you. Without hesitation, you enter his embrace as his hand finds your cheek. Tied tight around his wrist is a black ribbon with golden bells. His claws rest delicately on your hip over the silky soft fabric of your gown. Lightly, his thumb caresses your cheek. The gold of his gaze falls over you, gentle as the night. 

“Little comet,” he says, steady despite the impending light threatening to take away all. Yet, he takes his time, tasting his words before giving them to you. “Do you take me to be your husband? I have waited—”

In a heart rush, you utter, “I do.”

Eclipse stares, eyes wide. His red sun rays catch the first glance of daylight, brightening his vision as if a spotlight fell upon him. He looks towards the horizon as you do. You squint slightly against the brightness.

Lifting his hand from your face, he watches the black ribbon and bells dissolve into dark smoke, then nothing. Sun and Moon turn their wrists as the respectful dark red and deep blue ribbons fall away from them as if burned and leave not a wisp behind. 

You take Eclipse’s hand and draw it closer to you, gently kissing his knuckles before smiling.

“You’re free. You’re all free.” You flush deeply as you look to Sun and Moon and their gazes of content awe. “My husbands.”

A soft, strange sound leaves Eclipse. A breath caught between wonder and something deeper, something roiling with adoration. His gaze falls back to you, and again, he touches your cheek. 

“I did not finish my vows to you.” He cradles your face close in his palms, leaning closer as your eyes lock. “I swear to you happiness, protection, and my unending love. From this day on, you will always be warm. You will always have my hand to hold. You will never fear the darkness for I will be with you.”

He pauses, his grin spreading wide. He looks at you as if you were a dream. A living, breathing vision. 

“We are eternally bound to you, our spouse.” Eclipse leans in close. “Say my name, once more.”

Your eyelids slip close for one precious moment, warmed by the brilliant light, and the touch of Eclipse’s hands cradling you as if you were delicate. 

“Eclipse,” you whisper.

His grin is beautiful and lovely. You start as you feel a second pair of arms surround you. Sweeping you off your feet, Eclipse lifts you into his embrace. This close, he smells of gentle spice and musk. 

He strokes your cheek once before closing the distance between your lips. You feel his hunger in the echo of your own—the want to devour but gently, he tastes you. A soft whine catches in the back of your throat. Melting under his warmth, he invades you gently and his tongue brushes against your own. His kiss takes you under, and you drop breathlessly into his grasp.

He pulls and takes in soft, sweet motions. Rhythmic and powerful, he tastes you until you fear you might fall once more. But he will catch you. This much you are certain.

He pulls back gently, kissing you one last time as if in need of the strength it gives him, before his honeyed gaze settles on you.

“Your freckles are beautiful, like the stars upon the night sky,” he says. He kisses the right side of your face, then glides to the left and lingers there a moment. “You are truly staying with us, my little comet.”

You blush, and cling to him. Your hands, however, are gently tugged. You look away from Eclipse to find Moon curling his claws under your digits and lifting your hand sweetly to his mouth. Eclipse shifts you gently in his arms to rest you against his back while keeping you cradled like a bride on her wedding night—you suppose you are such a bride, Sun’s hand traces from your shoulder down your arm until he captures your hand. There, he kisses your knuckles slowly. You close your eyes, bubbling in the blissful sunlight as your husbands adore you.

A kiss like the brush of a moth wing touches your head. Eclipse hums gently against you. You make a soft, sweet sound at their tender affection.

“My husbands,” you say, then laugh a little, beaming at their gentle looks. “I’m going to have to get used to saying that.”

“You will,” Sun purrs, “And there’s so much time for us to grow used to our lovely spouse.”

“So much time,” Moon rasps gently, “You must be exhausted.” He kisses your fingertips until you shiver and blush.

“Perhaps we should take our bride home,” Eclipse suggests gently. “You can sleep in our bed and rest, and when you wake, we’ll celebrate more.”

You stir at the thought. You won’t drive back to your tiny apartment. No, instead you will stay here with your husbands, and the bed you will sleep in will be warm and filled with their bodies. 

You won’t wake up alone.

“I’d like that.” You squeeze Sun’s and Moon’s hands and turn your head back to gaze at Eclipse with a fond smile.

A quiet voice says your name. You turn your head, stunned to find Michael and Vanessa stepping towards you. Vanessa supports Michael’s arm around her shoulders as his strength seems to wane. Their eyes are mirrors of witch hunters from long ago as they behold the brothers holding their virgin bride.

Claws tighten around you. Moon flashes his sharp teeth as Sun lifts his chin high, looking down at the pair with disdain. The arms holding you off the ground squeeze in the slightest until you wriggle. Eclipse nearly keeps you away, but gingerly, he sets you back on your feet.

Michael holds your gaze, his brow crinkled in concern but restored to his natural health. 

“Are you really staying with them?” he asks quietly, his gaze darting sharply to the witches.

You smile at the slight shifting around you. The drape of Moon’s cloak almost falls over your shoulder as he takes your hand close and caresses your arm. A murmur of wishing to return them both to rabbits falls from Sun’s lips, but he merely interlocks his digits between your own. Behind you, Eclipse draws a tender hand down your back, feeling the ridges of your spine through the delicate fabric of your gown. 

“I love them.” You look at your husbands. Their faces brighten, their touches softening upon you. “I’m staying.”

“What do we do now?” Vanessa asks. Her face looks lost, and you imagined after a few centuries of only guarding the starry candle, she must be. 

You muse for a moment, and survey your husbands with a careful air. “Is your home now my home?”

“Of course,” Eclipse answers without hesitation. “Everything that is ours is yours.”

“Then I may invite my friends inside?”

Sun and Moon exchange a glance, Sun more annoyed than Moon’s mild surprise, but they both incline their heads.

“If that is your wish,” Moon gives gently.

“It is.” You squeeze their palms. “We can start a proper home, and we can learn how to forgive.”

“Forgive?” Vanessa balks. 

“Yes.” You look at her as the bright light of day touches her face. Her eyes are truly green and sharp like cut emeralds. “Let’s get out of this pumpkin patch and go home and rest. Then we can make peace.”

Michael looks down at Vanessa. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, unlike my ancestor.” His brow is set firm. To your awe, Michael does not tremble with rage or the need to fight again. Perhaps the witches are beginning to prove themselves, and Michael will give them a chance. Just one chance.

“Very well then, my poppet.” Sun turns to you and kisses you in a sudden burst of heat and passion before he releases you. Stunned, you almost sway but Eclipse wraps an arm around your waist. Sun gestures with his free arm in an open invitation. “Enter our humble abode. You are our spouse’s guests, which means you are ours.”

Vanessa glares at him. Her foot falls down on a withered vine and it cracks. 

“Charming as ever, Vanessa.” Sun flashes his teeth in a grin.

“Sun,” you chastise. 

He rubs your wrist, half apologetic. 

“I will make soup.” Moon muses. “My cauldron pot is where I left it, I hope.”

The heaviness in the air reminds you that the night has been long, and you are dreadfully exhausted. Vanessa and Michael barely hold themselves upright, but they lean on each other.

“Excellent.” Eclipse waves his hand. Smoke seeps up from the ground, swirling around your feet before you close your eyes, and lean into the pillars of your husbands for support. 

The air changes. A slight breeze, warm for October, encircles you. You inhale a gentle scent of rich earth and dust. When you open your eyes again, the brothers’ home is standing before you, same as it ever was, but entirely changed. 

Perhaps it’s only you who has changed, now hanging on to the witches. 

Michael and Vanessa are just behind you and the witches, standing on the gravel outside of the home, disgruntled about the change of scenery or perhaps the use of magic, but you hope they’ll see the possibility of goodness within the brothers as you have.

Eclipse’s hand slips under your chin to lift your head back. His expression warms with the bright new day. Sun kisses your fingertips until you shiver in delight. Moon turns your palm over to reach the delicate lines of veins along your wrist, and presses his lips to your pulse.

“We are home,” Eclipse says. He kisses the top of your head.

You are home with your husbands.

[thirstkanaphan]

Yeosang and Wooyoung's Recent Features & Subverting the Idol Persona

I have so many thoughts about Yeosang and Wooyoung's most recent editorial features for fashion magazine and how each of them sends a message about their growth over the years.

These two former BigHit trainees each dealt with image issues early in their careers: Yeosang's beauty dominated the external perception of him as an idol who was nothing more than a pretty face, while Wooyoung internally struggled with his physical appearance, recently exacerbated by his diagnosis of a skin condition that flares up in the heat.

In response to these pressures, Yeosang and Wooyoung took on different personas when they debuted as Ateez.

In Yeosang's case, he was "a Maltese who insists he's a Doberman." Yeosang's characterization as pure, innocent, and hapless was (and still is) reinforced by the members as part of their fan service. KQ also allegedly overruled Yeosang on his choice of a Doberman as a representative animal for their Aniteez characters and discouraged him from going to the gym, so as to preserve his slim physique.

Yeosang himself has said that he's not too bothered by the Maltese/Doberman bit; yet, at the same time, Yeosang shows his true self in his performance. He is the kind of dancer that takes up space; his movements are filled with unexpected swagger and ferocity. I noticed this during his MMA solo; again during his Sticky dance challenge, and most recently during the concert film. It was his attitude that entranced me, not (only) his visuals. Around this time, he began to bulk up, seemingly in control of his body's appearance for the first time in a while. He has solo music on the horizon and more schedules coming his way.

Whether or not you want to use the Doberman metaphor, the Esquire Korea feature feels like Yeosang reshaping his image.

Yeosang's poses draw attention to his bulging biceps, his large hands, veiny forearms, and exposed forehead. These attributes all signal traditional masculinity and almost aggressively sends the message: this is a man, not a "good boy."

My quote comes from the clip below of Yeosang, San, and Wooyoung on Jaejoong's variety show. It should be noted that Jaejoong is considered the platonic ideal of a center visual. Jaejoong was allegedly blacklisted from entertainment after his lawsuit with SM led to the national elimination of the so-called idol "slave contracts" with entertainment companies, yet SM continues to use him as the visual blueprint with selecting idols. Jaejoong's compliments to Yeosang therefore feelsalmost double-edged: Yeosang fits the Jaejoong type, but there are certain expectations and pressures that come with this role, and consequences for stepping out of line.

Yeosang's Esquire photoshoot therefore feels transgressive and affirming, given how much he's tried to show the fandom how we've continually underestimated him. See his quote in GQ:

I am intrigued by the sudden (or perhaps not-so-sudden) rebranding of Yeosang and I greatly anticipate his collaboration with Hongjoong for the next Ateez: Present installment. The Sangaissance is upon us!

If Yeosang's idol persona served to reinforce our opinion of him as pure and untainted by earthly desires, than Wooyoung's aimed for the opposite. Welcomed last to KQ on the strength of his dancing skills, and who shared the role of main dancer with Mingi and Yunho, I think Wooyoung found a way to stand out through his "sexy performer" concept.

While his loudmouth antics and aggressive aegyo were also his signature characteristics, Wooyoung used his sexy concept as a kind of shield and battering ram. For many years, Wooyoung spoke negatively about his own body and faced unkind comments from the fandom. There was so much scrutiny over his appearance that it makes sense that the sexy concept became his way of seizing control of his own narrative - and good for him. "Sexy Pefrormer" became how he identified himself and how his members referred to him (although you can imagine their tone).

These days, the nickname "sexy performer" is mostly used to affectionately tease Wooyoung. Wooyoung has himself admitted that he's matured beyond his adolescent understanding of "sexy"

I also notice the kpop industry trended away from "sexy" around the same time Wooyoung did, about two years ago. He's too savvy to be unaware.

These days, you'll find him in head-to-toe Chrome Hearts or styled more androgynously, especially with long hair.

And yet, like Yeosang, and perhaps due to watching Seonghwa and San dramatically transform their bodies and gain opportunities in the high fashion world, Wooyoung recently modified his physique and debuted an unprecedented amount of skin at the Couurages show:

Wooyoung's efforts at exercise were downplayed by the man himself, who was a combination of shy, dismissive, and smug in his messages to ATINY.

With his Courreges appearance going viral, Wooyoung's sexiness was once again part of his packaging as an idol, but with this recent feature + digital cover for ARENA Magazine, it's clear Wooyoung is not sticking to the same old rule book.

These photos of Wooyoung are sexy, yes, but they are also bold, weird, loud, unsettling, strange, erotic, camp, and even unflattering (meant as a compliment). His face forms exaggerated grimaces and pouts; his body bends and hunches; his clothes are either too small and tight or overly large and baggy on his form.

It's not at all what we were expecting from Wooyoung. Compare this photoshoot to cover model Hyunjin who is there to serve Blue Steel-"i'm a handsome idol" face (and it's a beautiful face, good for him!) and apparently also sell watches and jewelry.

They are doing very different things, not one better than the other, but I am delighted that Wooyoung took a real risk and embraced the vulnerability and liberation of not trying to look like a picture-perfect idol. According to Wooyoung, the results were due to him doing what felt natural and not studied:

Wooyoung was so impressive that the Editor-in-Chief made a comment on instagram about how they decided to give Wooyoung a digital cover, something that normally only happens with a brand collaboration (like Seonghwa with John Varvatos perfume).

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A post shared by Arena Homme+ Korea (@arenakorea)

Yeosang and Wooyoung are not the only members who have altered their appearance to meet new visual concepts. Yet these two recent magazine features suggest that they are making a concerted effort to change/affect our perceptions of them as artists. By embracing different yet not necessarily oppositional modes of sexiness (one rooted in traditional masculinity; the other engaging with queer aesthetics) Yeosang and Wooyoung make clear they intend to move beyond the idol structures and strictures and challenge our perception of kpop visuals through the fearless, transformative, and radical embrace of their own. Bravo!!

I can't wait to see what they do next!

[jobean12-blog]

Crazy For You

Pairing: Clint (Freaky Tales) x female reader

Word Count: 2K

Summary: Despite the danger his lifestyle brings, your feelings for Clint have become more real than you'd like to admit and when you get a call that threatens to shatter you, it's impossible not to act on impulse.

Author's Note: There are NO spoilers here. This is just me trying to get myself back into it. I can't believe I haven't posted anything recently. For me, it's a long time. I think life just burnt me out. But I finally had some spark today so I'm hoping you enjoy this. I can't get over how sexy this new character is. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: Possessive Clint, a curse or two, mentions of blood and a wound, some angst because you're worried, soft and sweet spots too, fingering, p in v (wrap it up!)

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

Wait. What?

You blink several times to clear your eyes.

Clint is standing at the back of the video store, the bold neon triple X sign illuminating the soft, worn lines of his leather jacket.

He looks fine. More than fine…

You hear hushed voices but nothing discernable as he talks to Hank and there’s no chance he’s seriously hurt as he shifts his weight and plants his feet, hips wide and arms crossed, his thick fingers curling around his biceps.

The burst of relief lets you draw your first full breath since slamming the car door and racing down I-980, but it quickly fades.

With each passing second your worry shifts, the abject fear that he’d been hurt, into rage.

He’s fine, and you’re a fucking fool for letting your emotions get the best of you, letting your love for him overrule all common sense.

You push past the transparent door of ‘Late Night Video’ signaling the bell above, and Clint glances toward you, his eyes widening for all of a heartbeat before he says something to Hank and turns away without looking back.

He’s already heading toward you, eating up the fifty feet that separate you with his long, prowling strides.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, searching your face.

“What am I doing here?” You bite out each word as your eyes rake over him, looking for the injuries you were so hastily warned about.

Without an answer he sweeps you into his arms and up against his chest. You wrap yourself around him and bury your face in his neck, breathing in deep. He smells like tobacco and leather and yours.

He walks you straight back toward the brightly lit neon sign he was just standing under and discreetly opens the hidden door on the wall.

“Now you wanna tell me what the hell you’re doing here?” His voice lowers to that dangerous tone that terrifies everyone in the world besides you.

You stare him down, watching his jaw tick.

“I got a call…they said you were hurt. Bad…so I drove over here like a maniac.”

You glare at him now and the corner of his mouth turns up.

“You were worried about me?”

“Not anymore, I’m not.”

“But you were.” A slow smile spreads across his face and his eyes light up. “You were worried about me.”

He reaches for you.

“Do you think this is funny?”  You step back out of his reach only to find the firmness of the wall at your back.

“No.” He cocks his head to the side, his smile faltering. “You seem a little angry that I’m not hurt. Would you rather have found me bleeding out in the back alley?”

“No! I’m not mad at you for being hurt. I would never want you hurt. I’m pissed at myself for being so reckless, so wrapped up in you, having such little control over my emotions that I just ran over here like…like…”

Like a lovesick fool.

“And you, you’re always calm, collected, and in control,” you continue ranting. “You would have waited for all the information, and you sure as hell never, ever, would have risked the safety of everything we’re working for over…”

Your words die as he wrenches off one sleeve of his leather jacket and peels away the shirt underneath, revealing his right shoulder and exposing a large bandage still stained with blood.

“You really were hurt,” you whisper, all the anger falling out of your body. Your chest clenches. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” he says and tugs the shirt back down, leaving him looking more than fine once again. “And you’re wrong about me baby. I wouldn’t have waited for all the information-or any kind of proof-if I’d heard you’d been hurt or were in some kind of danger.”

This time, you don’t step away when he reaches for you. His arm winds around your waist, and his hand splays on the small of your back to guide you closer. The inches between you disappear and he leans in. “I’m not always calm or collected, and I’m never in control when it comes to you.”

Your heart leaps at his words, at the ever-growing tension that rises between you, at the awareness that spreads through you from a single touch.

“Even now, I’m not doing what I should.” His words come out clipped.

“And what is that?” you ask with a lift of your chin.

“Hauling your ass back home where you’re safe.”  His jaw ticks. “Because I warned you never to put your life at risk over me, and yet you did just that.”

“Who put you in charge?” Your question comes out breathless.

“And you want to know the whole truth?” he goes on, ignoring your sass as his gaze drops to your mouth. “I would have done the same thing you did because I’ve got it just as bad for you.”

The silence stretches and he keeps you tucked into him, letting his eyes slowly study every nuance of your face.

“You were worried for me.” The first time he said it his tone was amused. The second time he sounded almost incredulous. But this time, his words carry as if they’re a revelation.

“Of course I was Clint.”

He draws you forward slowly, giving you every change to object before bringing your bodies flush. The heat of him soaks into every part of you, and all the burning worry you’d felt and the hot anger that went with it transforms into an entirely different, and far more dangerous, type of heat.

“And you drove all the way here without even bothering to get dressed.” He lowers his head inch by torturously slow inch, taking in the oversized shirt that’s draped under your denim jacket…his shirt.

You nod.

“Because you love me,” he whispers against your lips a heartbeat before he kisses you.

He toys with your bottom lip, nipping it gently then stroking his tongue along the curve. It feels good, too perfect, too…everything.

You part your lips in invitation, and he groans, his arms surrounding you, and the kiss becomes reckless.

Rising on your toes to get closer, you loop your arms around his neck, but you’re still not close enough. His hands find the sides of your denim jacket and you reluctantly release your grip so he can shove it off your shoulders.

You tug on his jacket, desperate for the feel of him, and he obliges, sliding it off before he reaches for his button down. Once the expanse of his warm skin is exposed you kiss the edge of the bandage at his shoulder, your fingers tracing down the hard curves and firm lines of his bicep and forearm.

He whispers your name before he tilts your head and kisses you hard and deep, then slow and soft, keeping you straining for more.

Your hands trail along the lines of his back as he captures your cheeks between his hands, his fingers splayed and arching your neck back before setting his mouth to it.

“Clint,” you whimper, your hands sliding along the wide breadth of his shoulders.

He nips at the delicate skin of your ear, sending a shudder of sensation down your spine, and then his mouth is on yours again, stealing your sanity and replacing it with pure want.

You sweep your hand lower, between your bodies, and your mouth curves against his.

He’s so hard. The length of him straining against his jeans.

“Fuck,” he growls, tearing his mouth from yours, his breathing ragged as you stroke him over the fabric. “If you keep doing that…” He slams his eyes shut and lets his head fall back.

With another growl he grabs your wrist and moves your hand away, reaching for the hem of your shirt and gathering the material before yanking it over your head. You undo his jeans and slide your hand inside to stroke him from top to bottom.

His lips attach to your neck again and your fingers tunnel through his dark hair, holding him right there.

“That feels so fucking good,” you murmur.

He keeps his lips at your neck, kissing, nipping, and sucking as he hooks his thumbs into your panties and starts to guide them down your thighs. They stick between your legs for a second before loosening and sliding down.

The guttural groan he makes feels like a reward that hits straight at your core, the ache intensifying into a throb.

“You sure you want this here, baby? I can take you home to my bed.”

“Here,” you say. “Now.” Your hands stroke the curve of his shoulder and along his neck until you reach his jaw and then his lips.

“Now,” he agrees, kissing your fingertips before they fall, and his lips find yours again.

His hand skims over your curves, following the line of your waist until it falls between your legs with no hesitation.

“So wet,” he murmurs. His mouth moves down your neck, overwhelming you with sensation as his fingers tease with featherlight touches “Fuck you feel like silk baby.”

He moves lower to suck on your breasts, his teeth raking lightly over your nipple with the perfect amount of friction to build the pleasure coiling tight in your stomach.

“Clint,” you beg, your nails biting into his shoulders, but still careful not to brush his new wound.

“I know exactly what you want…,” he skims your clit, “and what you need.” Two thick fingers slide inside you.

“Then give it to me,” you demand with a roll of your hips.

Your breaths come in ragged pants and moans, heat prickling as he builds the aching pressure with tight, fast pumps of his fingers.

He watches you, waiting until you’re just on the edge before he pulls his fingers free and grabs your thighs, pulling your legs up and around his waist.

You whine out his name, but it quickly fades into a moan when he settles between your thighs and nudges at your entrance. You lean forward and ghost your lips over the bandage on his skin, more than aware of how close you to came to losing him.

He cradles the side of your face and rolls his hips, pushing inside, stretching you as he consumes those first sensitive inches. Then, with his eyes locked on yours, he thrusts, filling you with one long drive, until he’s so deep, your eyes flutter closed.

“So. Fucking. Perfect,” he grunts, and then he’s moving, withdrawing only to slam in again and again, stealing your breath with kiss after kiss.

“More Clint.”

He slides his hands under your ass and angles your hips, hitter a deeper spot that makes you gasp for air.

Reality narrows to sensations, the exquisite feel of his chest against your breasts, his mouth worshipping yours, his cock filling every inch of you. The coil in your stomach is so tight you feel like you’re going to explode.

His body tightens against yours, his thrusts coming harder as he fights the building pressure.

“Come for me baby.”

Your thighs tremble and with his next thrust you break with a cry of his name, holding on until you ride out the pleasure. His restraint vanishes in an instant and gone are the measured thrusts as he growls into your neck and drives wildly with his hips.

You savor the shout he lets loose when he finally shudders and fills you up.

“Fuck.” His forehead rests against yours, fighting to catch his breath.

“Just when I think I’ve got you handled, I completely fucking lose it,” he whispers with a smirk.

“That’s my favorite part.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He brushes his lips over yours and his stubble scrapes your palms as you cup his face and kiss him back softly.

“I love you baby.”

His words are a soft whisper against your lips and exactly what you need to hear.

[xoxosierralane]

| ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴ |

✎ from sierra: hii sweets, i know this is a little late lol.. but home love island they stressing me tf out (if u watch ttm!!). But anyways this is really just an opening to this little series yum still working on, if you guys like this enough i will definitely keep continuing. Also if you wanna be on the tab list just lmk and i got you !

✎ synopsis: Azzi Fudd didn’t plan to see Paige Bueckers again. She didn’t plan to feel anything either—not the nostalgia, not the anger, and definitely not the ache in her chest. But when the past walks back into the same room—wearing a ring and someone else’s name—plans don’t really stand a chance. Some people move on. Some people move home. And some people… never stop wondering what if. This wasn’t the plan. But when has anything ever gone according to plan?

✎ taglist: @asapeveryday @thaatdigitaldiary

Azzi Fudd—that’s me.

Or at least, it’s the name they put on magazine covers, Instagram tags, and those weird commercials for skincare products where I smile like there’s no tomorrow.

Nothing real. Nothing close to the truth.

Because if you’d looked harder, you’d see the silence beneath the noise.

The way I disappeared.

The half-smile that never quite made it past my lips.

Leaving? That was the easy part.

Coming back? That’s the one that really hits.

—

Airports and I have an understanding: I hate them.

They smell like fake soap and stress you can’t avoid, and this one was no exception.

Hoodie pulled halfway up, suitcase dragging behind like it owed me money. Not really rushing. At least not anymore.

Today wasn’t another gig, another brand deal, another event I was supposed to pretend I cared about.

I was just… back. Washington.

For better. Or worse.

My phone buzzed nonstop the minute I landed. I didn’t even need to look.

I knew it was Aaliyah, she’s been texting me more and more ever since I told her I would be coming back home.

lili 💕 (12:11 PM): did you land???

lili 💕 (12:12 PM): how was the flight

lili 💕 (12:13 PM): DID YOU BRING ME ANYTHING

lili 💕 (12:14 PM): azzi jazlyn mf fudd.

lili 💕 (12:14 PM): why do you hate me??

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. Some things don’t change.

(12:15 PM): oh please

(12:15 PM): the government is crazy and foul lili

(12:15 PM): also pls stop texting 4 times in 2 minutes

lili 💕 (12:16 PM): sue me???

lili 💕 (12:16 PM): i’m hungry we’re getting lunch together!

(12:16 PM): bold of you to think i haven’t eaten since yesterday

lili 💕 (12:16 PM): what’s wrong w u

(12:16 PM): next question

(12:17 PM): calling a cab, try not to rush me i WILL stay home.

Acting calm was the plan. But inside, I was losing it.

I hadn’t had something to look forward to in months. Maybe years.

Cold hit my face stepping outside like it was punching a bag labeled Azzi Fudd.

Welcome back, Washington. (kill me.)

My career? Thriving in its own weird way.

Modeling worked out better than basketball ever did.

People still recognized me. “Oh, you’re the one who hates Gatorade.”

Yeah. I hate it. Passionately. Coconut water overrules easily.

But me? I was a mess.

Emotionally? A bigger mess.

Romantically? Don’t even ask.

The divorce was quiet.

Just a handful of people knew about the year I spent undoing the damage he did—his insecurities, his control, the noise that wasn’t love.

And now? He was gone, I thank the man above.

lili 💕 (12:19): i have news IMPORTANT news which you need to hurry your ass here for :)

(12:25 PM): on my way. what’s the tea?

aaliyah (12:25 PM): not telling. but it’s good. you might even scream.

(12:26 PM): better not be no new gatorade flavor you’re excited about

aaliyah (12:27 PM): you’re dramatic

(12:30 PM): literally poison, y’all sick

I dropped my phone on my lap and leaned back.

This place wasn’t home anymore.

But at least I didn’t have to pretend today.

Soon, overpriced brunch with the one person who made me feel okay when nothing else did.

I didn’t know it yet, but this was the beginning.

Not perfect. Not easy.

But real.

The cab was quiet—the kind of quiet I liked.

Tipped the driver like I was throwing cash at my anxiety.

Brain fueled by airplane snacks and two hours of sleep.

Pulling up to my mom’s place felt like rewinding a VHS.

Same cracked driveway with the basketball court. Same faded welcome mat yelling Come in and stay awhile.

Key under the mat (because yes, mom still did that), and there she was—Katie, scrubbing dishes like I hadn’t just flown cross-country, like none of the last few years even happened.

“Az!”

Her voice was warm, like a hug you never wanted to let go of.

She hugged me tight. I hugged back harder than I meant to. Missed this. Wouldn’t say it.

“I thought you landed at three,” Mom said, studying my face. “You look tired. Hungry?”

I was about to lie.

Then Dad’s voice came from down the hall.

“Who’s that? My superstar?”

Tim grinned like he always did, like he had no clue.

I laughed. “Hi, Dad.”

“How’s LA? How’s Jackson? He with you?”

Damn it dad really?

“Dad. We’re divorced. Remember?”

His smile slipped like he was caught in a sitcom dad moment.

“Oh—right. You told us. Or—after?”

I gave him a look.

He scratched his neck. “Aaliyah said something first. Figured I’d wait for you to say it official—”

Mom smacked his arm with a towel. “You weren’t supposed to say that.”

I shook my head, heading for the door. “Y’all are unbelievable.”

“Y’know we just love you!” Mom called after me.

“Uh huh sure.”

“Where you headed?” Dad asked, disappearing into the pantry.

“Lunch.”

“Oh, you and Paige catching up already?”

I froze.

Not dramatic. Just paused. Like my brain short-circuited and rebooted.

Paige. That name. I hadn’t heard it in months. Maybe years.

I looked back slow. “Paige?”

Mom nodded, sipping coffee. “Yeah. She moved back after you left. You didn’t know?”

“Mm mm.” I shook my head.

Suddenly I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Or my brain.

Paige was back.

She was here.

Why wouldn’t the universe wait for me to be freshly divorced, scrambled, unprepared?

Mom tilted her head. “I thought you two were still close after everything. Best friends don’t just stop talking.”

I was about to say something when—

Honk.

A loud, dramatic honk from outside.

I moved to the window, already knowing what I’d see.

Aaliyah, sunglasses on, head out the window like she was about to start a protest.

“AZZI. DO YOU NOT CHECK YOUR PHONE?! LET’S GO!”

I didn’t say anything to the crazy canadian. Just looked at my parents, waved like everything was normal, and booked it out the door.

Aaliyah stared like I owed her rent once I got in the car.

“Do you have government-level Do Not Disturb or something? I’ve been waiting ten minutes. This is disrespectful.”

I laughed. “Hi to you too.”

“You’re annoying.”

“I missed you.”

“Drive.”

She did.

I didn’t say anything about Paige. Not yet.

Some things you don’t unpack in the car.

But I felt it. The knot in my stomach.

The one that only shows up with that name.

Aaliyah drives like her life depends on it, even when it doesn’t. One hand on the wheel, one scrolling Spotify, acting like she didn’t just honk up a storm.

“You want music or no?”

“Your call. But no moody playlist.”

“It’s actually good.”

“Depression.”

“You literally just got divorced.”

“Woww really?”

“I missed you. What do you want me to say?”

“Something nice?”

“Your hair looks good.”

I ran my hand through my curls, smirking. “Thanks.”

“Better than when you were with what’s-his-face.”

“Jackson.”

“Right. The walking dry erase board.”

I laughed. “You’re mean.”

“Honest.”

“He looked like he called his mom before every decision.”

“You hated him from day one.”

“You fumbled your twenties.”

I laughed again. Felt good. Like exhaling after holding your breath too long. “Enough about my tragic past. What about you and Prince Charming?”

“Don’t call him that.”

“You called him ‘God’s apology for your exes’ last time.”

“Okay, true. But now he’s into Formula 1 and thinks he’s a pro driver.”

“Real love.”

“Shut up. Anyway, this is about you. Your ‘starting over’ era.”

“Enough.”

“Girl you modeled for Vogue.”

“Digital Vogue.”

“Still Vogue.”

I stared out the window. City the same but not. Or maybe I was. My timeline never matched everyone else’s. Basketball didn’t go like Paige’s or the others’. It stings.

“I feel behind.”

“Behind what?”

“Everyone. Everything. Like I’m still figuring it out.”

“The finish line’s fake. Nobody’s really ‘there.’ They’re just pretending better.” I smiled. Sounds like something mom or Paige might’ve said before everything changed. “This got deep.”

“Restart. Tell me something dumb.”

“I still hate Gatorade. Whole chest hate.”

“You’re the only basketball player ever who says that.”

“I’m not a player anymore.”

“Still hoop in your sleep.”

“Trauma.”

“Okay Dr. Phil, relax.”

We laughed. The silence between felt like understanding. Aaliyah pulled up to the cafe more aggressively than needed.

“I’ve been holding this in for days.”

“Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“That face where you pretend not to care but don’t blink for three minutes.”

I threw the door open.

“No idea what you mean.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

I shrugged. “Spill.”

We sat barely ten minutes before I started bouncing my leg. “Spill. You’ve been dying to tell me since yesterday. She sipped water. “Let’s ease into it?”

“No. Sun’s out. You’re suspicious. Spill.” She groaned. “Why do you always bully me?”

“Because you have a big mouth until it matters.” She smiled nervously. “Okay. I’m engaged.”

I gasped loud. Old couple nearby flinched.

“Shut up. Lying.”

“Nope.”

“Shut up!”

“Stop yelling.”

“Will not! You’re engaged??”

“Yes.”

I grabbed her hand. “Where’s the ring? How? When? Who?” She blushed. “Boat ride. Cheesy. Sweet. I cried a lot.”

I sat back clutching my chest. “This is so cute. I’m so happy for you lili.”

Then she muttered something.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Aaliyah.”

“I’m doing a double engagement party…with Paige.”

I blinked. “With who?”

“Paige. She’s engaged too. And her fiancé is kind of cool.”

My brain blue-screened. Hands dropped.

“You’re joking.”

“No.”

“To Paige Bueckers.”

“Yes.”

Jaw open. “You knew she was here? Engaged? And you dropped this mid-convo like it was nothing?”

“I thought it’d be fine.”

“Aaliyah.”

“Okay, yes, I screwed up. Don’t kill me, but you guys can’t avoid each other forever Az.” She said with her fake sappy face. “I’m not avoiding anything okay?” I said knowing damn well.

I dropped my face in my hands. “Need a drink.”

“It’s noon.”

“Exactly.”

“You were actually exciting to see.”

“I am.”

She smiled nervous. “If it makes you feel better—”

“Don’t.”

“Okay.”

“I mean—ugh. Double engagement party?”

“Not planned that way!”

I looked up at the ceiling. “Did you ask how I’d feel being in the same room as Paige Bueckers and her fiancé?”

She winced. “No.”

“Oh great. Reassuring.”

Silent clinking. My mind racing.

“She’s not supposed to be here.”

“Where?”

“In Washington.”

“She grew up here too.”

“Okay, like six years.”

“You don’t own the city.”

“I’m just saying. She left, I left. I thought—”

“You thought you could pretend she didn’t exist?”

I said nothing. Jaw clenched.

“She’s not Voldemort.”

“Shut up.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t seen her, but I already feel hit by a bus.”

“It’s okay if you cancel. Don’t come.”

“Miss your party? I’m petty not heartless.”

She smiled. “That’s my girl.”

“But if she looks at me like I’m that same girl from college—”

“You’ll what?”

“Probably cry. on my fifth glass of champagne.”

She snorted. “So dramatic.”

“Says the girl who fake-passed out so a guy wouldn’t break up with her.”

“Bought me three more days.”

I laughed, tired but real. Looked out at the cloudy sky. People walking by. Couples holding hands. Dogs in sweaters. Phone-yelling men.

The world spins. Doesn’t care who’s married, heartbroken, or pretending not to be wrecked by a name no one says out loud.

“You think she’ll actually show with her?”

Aaliyah paused. “It’s her party too. But Paige is Paige.”

I nodded. True.

Silence thick. Not awkward. Just heavy. I pulled out my phone. She peeked.

“Who ya texting there?” Jeez ms nosy.

“No one.”

I lied.

Almost typed Paige’s name.

Almost sent a text.

But didn’t.

Not yet. Maybe never.

Smiled at Aaliyah. “Dessert?”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “You’re taking this better than I thought.” I shrugged. “Growth.”

But my mind spun fast—dangerously—whenever Paige Bueckers was involved. Because I’m good at hiding. Too good. Hiding cracks in my marriage. Bruises from love that wasn’t love. Late at night, I still dream in jump shots, gold medals, blonde ponytails, and what-if.

Years of practice folding feelings into sharp-edged smiles. Yeah, I looked fine. If Aaliyah could see inside, she’d cancel the party.

Instead, I speared a piece of cheesecake. Ate it like I wasn’t thinking about the last time Paige hugged me.

Smelled like spearmint and stress and something I can’t name. “Mmm. You’re paying.”

She side-eyed me. “Emotional blackmail. Toxic.”

I smiled. Dimples and all. “Learned from the best.” Outside, rain finally picked a side. Soft and quiet. The kind that makes you remember.

I didn’t look out the window again.

I didn’t have to.

The past was already here.

And oh boy was I not ready to go back.

——

Most people think heartbreak is loud.

That it kicks down the door and wrecks everything in its path. That it screams. Demands. Destroys.

But sometimes it’s quiet.

Sometimes it waits.

Lurks in the corners of your good days, and whispers on the bad ones. Like the song you swore you deleted. Like the sweatshirt you still sleep in. Like a name that still makes your chest pull in strange directions.

Paige Bueckers is in love.

That’s what she tells herself every morning, brushing her teeth in a bathroom she shares with the woman she’s going to marry.

That’s what she tells Taryn, when they hold hands across the table, planning wedding playlists and reception seating like none of it feels like choreography.

That’s what she tells Aaliyah. When she’s brave enough to ask.

And maybe she is.

Maybe this is love.

Not the kind that explodes.

But the kind that folds your laundry. Buys oat milk. Remembers your mom’s birthday.

Love with clean lines and good lighting.

But sometimes, when the world goes quiet—

She still thinks about her.

Azzi.

She’s not supposed to.

It’s been years. People move on. People grow. People change. But memory doesn’t care about growth.

Memory’s a cruel little thing.

It brings her back anyway.

And sometimes, that’s worse than forgetting.

———

The morning starts like most do.

Paige wakes up to the smell of eggs she always asks for the night before and a Spotify playlist that sounds like it’s personally attacking her sleep schedule.

Taryn’s singing. Loud. Enthusiastic. Completely off-key. It’s 8:52 a.m. and already the kitchen is full of syrup and sunshine.

And love.

Real love.

So Paige gets up. Smiles. Stretches like everything in her body and head isn’t heavy. She grabs the hoodie off the chair—Taryn’s favorite one to steal—and pads into the kitchen barefoot.

“You’re awake!” Taryn beams. She’s flipping pancakes with way too much joy for someone who worked a night shift. “You ruined the breakfast-in-bed surprise. Rude.”

Paige kisses her cheek. “M’bad. Smelled the cinnamon, had to come .”

Taryn laughs. “I gotta keep my fiancée on her toes.”

Paige smiles again. It almost reaches her eyes.

She should feel full. Loved. Settled.

But there’s a flicker.

A familiar static in the back of her head.

Azzi.

Still there.

Even now.

Even here.

Paige takes a bite of pancake. Nods like it tastes perfect. Doesn’t mention how it sticks to her throat. She pretends she doesn’t notice the ring on her finger feels tighter today.

———

Earlier today

The message comes at 9:42 a.m.

Right as Paige is rinsing out a protein shake she didn’t finish.

aaliyah (9:42 AM): btw. azzi’s in town. like. now.

also. don’t freak out

also. don’t throw up

also. don’t be weird at the party ! bye!

The phone doesn’t vibrate again. It doesn’t need to. Paige just stares. Until the screen fades to black. Then flips it face down like it burned her.

Azzi.

Back.

Here.

Now.

Washington was supposed to be safe. This city was supposed to be after. Not again.

Her hands are wet from the sink. But they’re shaking, so she blames the water. She continues her day folding laundry. Answering emails. Working out and overthinking. Halfway through, she realizes she’s folding that hoodie again.

The one Azzi used to steal.

The one Azzi wore the night they said too much and not enough. Taryn walks in, gym bag slung over her shoulder.

“You good?” she asks. Paige doesn’t flinch. Too well-practiced. “Yeah. Just… thinking.” Taryn raises an eyebrow. “Scary.”

“Shut up.”

Taryn kisses her forehead. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She means it. She does.

But her chest stays quiet.

The rest of the day is a blur.

Paige doesn’t cry. She doesn’t fall apart. She’s grown. She’s evolved. She makes slushies and answers calls. But her brain keeps looping back.

To Azzi’s laugh in the tunnel before games.

To the way she said Paige’s name when no one was listening.

To that fight. That ending. That almost.

She opens Instagram.

Azzi’s profile is now public after having her blocked every other month.

Paige scrolls.

Just once.

Just enough to see that smile. The effortless one that used to be hers to witness.

She closes the app. Opens it again five minutes later.

She types out a message.

Deletes it.

Types it again.

Closes her phone like it said something unforgivable.

She throws it onto the couch.

Watches it bounce.

Tells herself she’s fine.

Tells herself she’s over it.

Tells herself she’s happy.

Tells herself she’s in love.

Repeats it until it sounds like static.

———

There’s a pair of sneakers in the back of her closet.

White with gold trim.

Barely worn.

Azzi once said they were her favorite.

Paige almost donates them every year.

But they’re still there.

Still clean.

Still hers.

Like a maybe she never let go of.

Like a version of herself she keeps buried under meal prep and wedding plans. Somewhere across the city, Azzi is back. And Paige is pretending her whole body didn’t react to that message like it was a live wire.

She sits on the couch. Legs folded. Hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands.

She thinks about texting her again.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she whispers her name into an empty room like it might echo.

“Azzi.”

She says it soft. Like an apology. Like a prayer.

Like she’s still in love with a memory.

Like she doesn’t know what she’s doing anymore.

Because maybe love isn’t loud.

Maybe it’s quiet.

Maybe it’s the part of you that never really left.

Even when you swore you moved on.

Paige Bueckers is in love.

She just doesn’t know who with.

Not anymore.

[howlingday]

Clover: Now, when you assaulted the victim-

Ruby: Objection! Badgers!

Ironwood: Do you mean badgering?

Ruby: Uh, yeah...

Ironwood: Overruled. Continue, Mr. Ebi.

Clover: When you assaulted the victim, the daughter of my client, was there a reason for it?

Jaune: Well, she asked for it.

Clover: (Murmurs in the gallery) She asked for it? And how exactly did she "ask" for it?

Jaune: (Gulps) W-Well, she said it very politely. She even said please.

Clover: Could you recreate for the court just how the victim "asked" to be assaulted by you?

Jaune: Um... Sh-She said, uh, "P-Please, choke me."?

Clover: Need I remind you that you are under oath?

Jaune: (Sighs) "Choke the fucking shit out of me and rail me with that massive cock of yours, Daddy... please."

Jacques: (Snaps pencil in half)

Clover: No further questions.