#but I figured there would be another place it would do well

[scarletcomalies]

the outside world has failed you

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Word count: 6,253

Warnings: 18+ content, mention of cockroaches and bedbugs, mention of contract-killing, Natasha x Reader, I criticize the church a lot, blasphemy, caning as a punishment, manipulation, masochism, oral sex, edging, dacryphilia, strap-on usage, hair-pulling, slamming, degrading, angst, fluff.

A/N: Hi! I'm sorry for disappearing, but in so few months, so much has happened. It has taken a toll on me, and I was in no mood for anything, in many ways. I am recovering, though! I love it here and I'm glad I was able to write a little something hehe. Watching AHS Asylum for the fourth time does things to you. 😮‍💨

A/N ll: I didn't find any pictures of Wanda or Lizzie as a nun, however, if someone with photoshop skills wants to do me the favor, I'll be grateful :)

Sister Wanda Maximoff didn't make your plan to take advantage of the church as easy as you thought it would be.

You were not going to endure another god-awful day in that abyss you called life. You simply could not. Nothing particularly happened, you simply collapsed.

Your job in this economy did not allow you to support rent, food, services, all that went with being independent. So many exhausting hours for so little pay. Just so when you finally returned home, the first thing you saw were multiple eviction notices on your door, reminding you that you were on the verge of being homeless.

So, when you opened your door with push, the inside was not very welcoming either, as the holes in your furniture and under your broken sink were the perfect place for cockroaches to breed in droves, causing you to find a few over here and there. At least they lived rent free, you thought.

You ate microwavable or precooked food, the cheapest you could find, and proceeded to go to sleep, hoping the bedbugs wouldn't cause you any more health problems than you already had from the quality of sleep and food you provided your body with.

And then, you slept four hours, you got up to work, you came back home, you repeated.

Well, the sole exception was your upstairs neighbor, Natasha Romanoff. A Russian immigrant on the run from the authorities for her involvement as an accomplice to Clint Barton, a notorious contract killer. Barton, lacking the courage to face imprisonment with dignity, betrayed his loyal partner, declaring, "If I go down, you go down with me".

Now a fugitive, Natasha cut and dyed her hair blonde and resorted to phone scams to survive. “Fucking cyber education”, you could hear her yell from downstairs, usually followed by the sound of her cell phone hitting the ground (your ceiling). You deduced it was because fewer and fewer people were falling for the bullshit of a $500,000 prize.

The sex with her was good, too good to be true. You weren't happy about her misfortune, but you were grateful to whoever was smart enough not to fall for that classic scam, because you knew that after that, she would get to take out her frustration on you as soon as you got home from work. That was the only means by which you could secrete a little dopamine, a little... happiness.

“I hate this life,” you once commented, clinging to her as she rode out the ground-breaking orgasm she gave you.

“Hmmm, bullshit,” she growled. ”I can't go out and buy fucking cigarretes without the fear of some asshole recognizing me from the wanted signs and ratting me out,” you could feel her back muscles tensing again. “I can't engage in anything too scandalous, legal or illegal, because any false move will take me back to Russia. And don't make me detail what prison is like in Russia,” she added, quickening her movements and panting slightly. Your eyes rolled, and against your will, the need began to simmer inside you once again. “Don't come and tell me your life is difficult. Figure it out! God... damn it!”

“What do you propose I do?” You asked her, once the overstimulation of two orgasms in a row had subsided enough to allow you to formulate something more than whimpers and moans.

“Go to the nuns congregation,” she shrugged, as she buttoned her pants. They were somewhat tight, which made visible the bulge formed by the strap-on she used on you.

“Fuck you!” You exclaimed.

“I'm serious. They love to feel like they're saving souls,” she justified. “Tell them you want to let God into your life, and just like that you get three meals a day and a warm bed. You deserve a chance in life."

Okay, maybe you could have gone on to apply for other jobs and in one of them you might've been lucky to get hired, but your day-to-day life had mentally drained you so much that you didn't think you were capable of making one more effort to survive.

It wasn't fair. The people working in the church enjoyed every comfort simply by feeding people's beliefs in something greater. They stood before crowds reading teachings they often didn't apply to their own lives, but that didn't matter. All they needed to do was make people feel good about themselves for sacrificing one hour of their Sunday to listen. People gave money to the church for this. They granted the church privileges for this, like tax exemption. Meanwhile, you did pay your taxes.

Natasha was right. If a simple practice of a religion was going to give you all that, more than your skills or abilities would, you might as well take it. After all, it was divine justice to privilege yourself from the church that privileged itself from the people.

Everything went smoothly, for you were a master in words and conviction. If only you had the opportunity to go to college, you would be using those skills to build a career of your liking, maybe laws or literature. But there you were, reorienting the reason for the misfortunes in your life to a motive to strengthen your faith. You even talked about a dream where you received a message where God commanded you to serve Him, and you dropped a couple of tears to make it believable. They loved it!

From then on, your days were consumed by correspondence lessons, spiritual readings that stirred nothing within you, and the hollow act of pretending to pray mentally. It was excruciatingly monotonous, devoting yourself to something that doesn’t align with the core of who you were. However, the only solace came from the feeling of a full stomach, the embrace of a bed where you could finally surrender to real rest, and the relief of having left behind the life that once tormented you.

If that weren’t enough, Natasha remained present in your life. There was no love, perhaps not even affection, but there was familiarity. You were each other's person to look forward to after an exhausting, unsuccesful day.

Therefore, every night, she would appear at your window, her wide smile showing beneath the shadow of her hood.

She would fuck you hard, keeping in mind the exciting fact that, despite covering your mouth with her firm hand, a moan could probably be heard if she dared to let go or if you didn't control yourself.

The danger of someone discovering an Aspirant being thrusted deep by another woman whose reward for finding her exceeded a million dollars gave you the most delicious orgasms you had ever had in your life.

All your needs were taken care of, and all you had to do was pretend that this was your calling.

Until Sister Wanda Maximoff noticed your lack of interest. The other Aspirants glowed with marvel, their eyes burning with the will to learn during every lesson. They bombarded her with so many questions that each class stretched at least an extra half hour. But overall, they worshiped her as the living embodiment of what they could only dream to become.

But you remained sitting quietly, your gaze steady but lacking the usual awe radiating from your classmates. It wasn't shyness, for Sister Wanda had taught many shy Aspirants before, it was as if you existed on a separate plane of existence, observing from a distance instead of immersing yourself.

So she deliberately picked on you, persistently directing her questions at you regardless of your ‘fellow’ Aspirants' raised, insisting hands.

What exasperated her the most was your response to her gentle reprimands when you answered incorrectly; your attitude matched, perhaps even surpassed, the apathy you showed toward her lessons. The sole thing you were eager about was to demonstrate how little she mattered to you.

How wrong she was to believe private lessons would change anything. She assumed whatever shit show you were trying to pull would crumble when it was just the two of you, face to face. She thought you showed defiance only because you were among other Aspirants, who would devastate at the sight of their sweet, dear Sister being —justifiably— hard on someone. But no, you were insolent and that was all there was to it.

Unfortunately for you, Sister Wanda didn't have her group of adoring students around to see her now, leaving her free to do whatever she pleased with you.

"Damn you!" She slammed her Bible shut, after she made one last attempt to kindly ask you to make an effort to pay attention. You barely had time to register her words before she was standing—no, looming in front of you. "Listen," she hissed, her breath sharp against your face. The smell of cigarretes was evident. "I don't care why you're here. I only care that you are here. And as long as you are here, you're going to listen to my lesson. You're going to care. And one way or another, you're going to love me for it.”

That was the heart of it, wasn't it? You hadn't knelt, hadn't lapped at her heels like the others, and that was enough to wound her. Enough to make her angry. You could see it in her eyes, controlled fury, a slow-burning arrogance that refused to be challenged.

"Bend over," she ordered, signalling towards her desk with her emerald-green eyes.

You met her eyes, and in that moment, you knew she saw your rage, your disgust, your perplexity barely restrained beneath your clenched jaw.

"Excuse me?" Your voice was trembling of pure impotence, as the room itself seemed to contract around you.

"Bend over," she repeated. “Or… don't. You can always go back to that job—”

And before she could even complete her sentence, you were bent over her desk.

"Normally, I’d let you choose," she mused, her voice thick with condescension. "But you’ve been so bad, you don’t even deserve that.”

The closet doors creaked open behind you. Wooden. Heavy. Old.

The sound pierced the silence, a whistle of something cutting through the air, followed by a firm whip exploding across your flesh.

You sucked in a sharp breath.

It stuck in your throat, strangled by disbelief, both from the action and the inimaginable pain.

Your body jerked forward against the desk, as a high-pitched cry escaped your lips before you could stop it.

The wooden cane struck again, and again, and again.

Sister Wanda was known for being methodical, and her punishments weren't the exception, for she let each strike sink in before delivering the next.

Your fingers clawed at the barnished wood of her desk, intending to stay still, to deny her the satisfaction of seeing you squirm and suffer.

But it was impossible. The burning sensation radiating from your ass across your whole body, had you sobbing openly, with your pride as bruised as your skin.

"Please," you whimpered, choked with pathetic attempts to inhale some air. "I‐I'm sorry, please...”

She hummed with indifference. The same indifference you once gave her during her lessons. Divine justice.

Her cane tapped thoughtfully against your tender flesh, making you flinch. You couldn't take another single one.

"What did Christ say to Peter after the resurrection?” Just another cynical test. You should've seen it coming.

The answer was somewhere within the depths of your distressed mind. But the sting of open skin, made your thoughts slow.

"Well?" she pressed, and the cane lifted from your ass.

"Simon son of John, do you love me?”

Through your sobs, you heard the creak of the cabinet opening again, the soft sound of the cane being returned to its place. Your flesh throbbed in time with your heartbeat, and you knew you wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for days.

With gentle hands that moments ago had wielded the cane, she carefully smoothed down your tunic, her touch now impossibly tender.

"There now, sweet girl," she murmured, her voice honey-like and soothing. Her fingers traced the tear tracks on your cheeks, wiping away the remnants of the evidence of your sorrow. "You took your punishment so well.”

Every alert in your rational mind that would dcream at you to stay away was turned off. You knew it when you found yourself melting into her touch, craving the comfort she offered. And she looked down at you with adoration when she found nothing but submission in your eyes, as she cradled your face between her palms.

"Such a good girl for me now, isn't that right?" he whispered, and the praise… the praise had your earlier fear dissolving under her careful ministrations. "This is all I wanted from you, darling, just to see you truly present, truly here with me."

She drew you closer, letting you rest your forehead against her shoulder as her fingers threaded through your hair. The scent of chapel incense and that hint of cigarettes enveloped you, and you found yourself breathing it in deeply, letting it ground you.

“This is what happens when you let yourself be guided, when you submit to proper instruction," her lips brushed your earshell as she spoke. "Will you be good for me from now on?"

You nodded against her shoulder, unable and unwilling to resist the tempting implication she made. If you behaved, you would have more of these precious moments.

And this alone gave you more purpose than anything else since you arrived to the monastery.

You became aware of it in the same way a candle becomes aware of fire, at first, just a taste of heat, then a flame that tangles in the wax until it consumes it all.

You became an active participant in her lessons, a constant presence who made sure to be seen, to be noticed. You knew Sister Wanda liked your enthusiasm, but it wasn't just her approval you sought. You wanted her recognition.

And so, when you weren't taking her lessons, you were reading, studying, making sure your application made you stand out among the other Aspirants. All so that you would be her favorite girl.

She usually saw you reading under one of the garden's trees. You had chosen the one that was the closest to the hall, she noticed. She couldn't miss it if she was walking out of her office. It was adorable.

If she had time, she would stop by your side, looking at the book in your hands. She would take the tome gently, making sure that her slender fingers brushed yours, even if for a second, and her arm subsequently found its around you in an almost unconscious, protective manner.

"Do you have any questions?" She would inquire. And even though you didn't —unsurprisingly so—, you pretended to need clarification, any excuse to let her closeness linger a few seconds longer, not ready to be apart from her yet.

It had taken hold of you. The need of her touch.

Before, reading and prayer were mere obligations, mechanical routines that you did just because you had to. Now, they had become rituals charged with intention, directed towards something greater; her.

If you prayed fervently, if you participated enthusiastically, if you were everything she expected of you, rest assured she would seek you out every time, just to remind you that you did not go unnoticed by her.

"It was so good," she purred, her hand sliding over your lower back.

And, of course, she noticed your every gesture. Every held breath, every tiny tilt of your body in her direction.

She had conditioned other students to obey her in the same way, but they did not respond to her touch as you did that day after she bent you over the desk. Not only did you not flinch, you melted.

They obeyed for fear of being punished again. But, it seemed you had even forgotten all about it.

You didn't look at her with terror. You looked at her with longing.

Sure, it was normal to look for approval. That's all it was. A conditioned reflex, a survival instinct. To make sure you didn't get any more punishment.

But you... you weren't just looking for her approval.

You were looking for her.

And she didn't know which was worse, the reverse effect it had inadvertently caused in you, or the one it was causing in her.

She should have stopped when she had the chance, when she noticed that her threatening attempts to impose fear, meaning by grabbing your face, squeezing your shoulder or resting her hand on your back, for you were, in reality, caresses. Caresses that you evidently lacked throughout your life.

"One way or another, you're going to love me for it," she had established, but the another way was not the one she usually applied, the one she used to know so well.

The admiration of others fed her ego, and gave her that sense of power and control to which she had long ago become addicted. But you had made that seem insignificant compared to what you provided her.

She was fully aware that you didn't want to be like her. Hell, she knew exactly why you joined the congregation.

It was something far more significant than the admiration she had initially tried to kindle within you.

It was submission.

And therefore every slightest caress became a bottomless pit for her, for both of you. And both, without fear, fell.

It was everything you were looking for.

So much so that, when Natasha touched your window, you felt nothing. And you had reached the point of believing that there was no point in continuing to do something that no longer had any meaning for you.

So, as she was about to climb in, you stopped her.

"I'm reading," you said without looking up from the book in your hands, signaling to her that you weren't going to move from there.

Natasha paused for a second, just long enough for doubt to seep into her expression before pulling herself together.

"I can see that. Good for you.”

And still, she walked in. She did so as confidently as she always did, expecting no more permission than she believed belonged to her.

"I can't do this anymore," you stated, firm this time.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, somewhere between mockery and skepticism. She swept her gaze over you, that quick, almost bored assessment. Then, she chuckled.

"What?" She asked in mock disbelief. "Are you going to tell me that you received a calling from the Lord to give yourself to him? Is this what it is? Are you going to practice chastity?”

You denied quickly.

"No, don't be ridiculous.”

It wasn't faith, not in the way she implied. It was devotion, but to someone who was there, who did respond. There was something greater than mindless pleasure, something more real than the filling of your needy hole. You had found someone to exist for, someone who saw beyond the fleeting instant and looked at you, not just what she could take from you.

She tilted her head, with the same expression of one who already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it anyway.

"You met someone else," she asserted.

"No..." it was an instinctive reflex that, upon reaching your tongue, lost its form, dissolving into something uncertain. "Maybe. I don't know."

Had you, really? Wanda hadn't touched you in that way, the way Natasha did, urgently, hungrily. And yet what she did to you had been more than anything you'd ever felt. Her fingers glided over your skin with a lightness that didn't demand, that didn't take. There was something in the way she looked at you, not with possession, but with recognition. As if you were someone, not something.

You didn't know if it was equal, but it was better. Much better.

There was a second of silence. Then Natasha let out a dry laugh.

"Well, I'd be damned," she muttered with a half-smile, not taking her eyes off you. "Just... think about her if you want. I had a long day.”

And you agreed. It was the only way to know if this bordered on a level of attraction that was new to you.

When Natasha fucked you, you closed your eyes, and you imagined those pink lips, those big emerald green eyes, that unseen body hiding under that habit.

No. Not like this.

If you were doing this with Wanda, she'd be stroking your hair. She'd kiss your cheeks. She'd make sure you felt how much she appreciated having your presence beneath her, pleasing her. Overall, she'd make sure you were enjoying yourself too.

Because you were somebody.

You opened your eyes, and you pulled Natasha's hand away from your mouth, with a movement that was not abrupt, but definite.

"Caress me," you commanded.

Natasha frowned.

"You're insane," she panted between thrusts. You didn't blame her for saying it. Maybe you were.

"Do it," you insisted, with the certainty of one who has made a decision with no turning back. "Or this will be the last time.”

She rolled her eyes impatiently. But she agreed. Without love, without affection, with a mechanical manner that barely mimicked what you had asked.

"No, this isn't working," you growled, nudging her gently. You didn't want to make her feel like this was her fault, it really wasn't. You simply began to crave for something she was no longer capable of giving you.

"I agree, let me do my thing," she replied, slamming deeper inside you to reassert her dominance. You knew she knew what you were referring to, the fact that her flings during the night were no longer working for you. But she wasn't going to admit it, because she wanted to keep using you, seeing you.

And no, you had a say in this.

"Natasha, I don't want you anymore!" You exclaimed, perhaps louder than you should have in the middle of the night when everyone was supposed to be asleep.

She pulled back, just enough to glance in your direction, as if to silently confirm the truth of your words. Within the depths of your eyes, she found the answer. Therefore she stepped back with deliberate nonchalance and adjusted her pants, maintaining her composure in the shifting tide of the moment.

You thought she was going to refute, as it seemed very important to her to leave her house, to risk being found just to 'take out her frustrations on you'. She could have looked for anyone, but she wanted you. And perhaps the reason would remain a mystery.

"Call me when that cheesiness wears off," she stated matter-of-factly, and retreated from your room through the window.

And with that, you thought you were off the hook.

You thought.

You were under your tree, your now shelter, when you saw Wanda come out of her office. Her footsteps echoed on the floor, quick and heavy, so different from her usual gait. She was furious, you knew.

You didn't alert yourself, you thought it wasn't about you, that if you were doing what she expected from you, without fail, why would she be angry?

But then, instead of taking the path to the hallway, as she always did, she walkes you. Her eyes showed no gentleness. There was no tenderness in her face. But what had happened? Everything seemed to be in order. Why... this?

In one sudden movement, she bent down and, with a violence that made you lose your breath, she lifted you up suddenly, pulling your hair towards her, forcing you to stumble, to stagger, all the way to her office. She didn't care about your whines, and, your desperate pleas to explain what was happening.

And once inside, the door closed with a clang that chilled your blood, and proceeded to bend you over the desk by slamming the side of your face against it. There were no orders. There were no requests. There was no room for choice.

No explanation, not a single word spoken, like you didn't deserve any of that. It couldn't be real. Not again. Not like this. She was treating you... badly. And you didn't know why, or what you had done wrong.

"I took you for so many things," she began, and the sound of the closet doors where she kept her canes chilled your skin just like the last time. "Insolent, disdainful, opportunist... and I thought I'd fixed you."

You choked, your throat closed up with unshed tears. You didn't understand. You couldn't understand.

The prospect of getting caned didn't even occupy your mind at that moment. It was the torture of knowing that you let her down, that everything you had done, all your effort, had been in vain, that consumed you to the core.

"Y-you did!" you cried, trying to cling to some hope, some justification, looking for some way to explain what you didn’t even know you did. "I've done everything you asked, and more! I don't understand!"

The way she dismissed your words with a curt hum, and proceeded to lift your tunic, was a silent communication that everything you did for her wasn't enough to forgive nor forget what she was about to punish you for.

"Yes," she said, caressing your bare cheeks, which still held the memories of your first punishment. "Except for the fact that you're a filthy slut, fucking a criminal every night in your room."

Your skin bristled at her accusation. She felt it under her fingertips, and that made her more relentless.There was no point in applying those impecable lying techniques that had brought you to this point, if ultimately, your body was at her mercy, and it did not lie.

"Who told you?" you could barely articulate. How could anyone ever dare to touch something so sacred to you?

"No one!" She exclaimed.

It had been one of your fellow Aspirants. She was heading to the bathroom that night, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, when she heard the hushed moans and accelerated breaths through your door.

And when she heard your apparent fling was about to slip out of your window, she followed.

She didn’t go far, just enough to reach Natasha out, grip her shoulder, and turn her around to reveal her identity. That cost her a broken nose. However, it was worth it. So worth it.

Because she hated you, everyone hated you. Why were you Wanda's favorite? You hated her lessons, you were rude to her, and when you started doing what everyone did, you got praised for it?

She was supposed to belong to all of them! Equally. So if she had to sabotage your relationship to take back what was theirs, then so be it.

First thing in the morning, she told Wanda everything.

"I don't understand you, (Y/N)!" She continued, whipping you three times in a row, the contact coursing through your entire body. You could have sworn you felt an electric current run from your head to your feet. And worse than the first time. Much worse. Oh, compared to what you felt now, those moments seemed like paradise. "Here, you have it all!"

Wanda's jealousy, the shadows of her anger, made her apply way more force than she intended to. And from your end, the realization that you had failed the one person who had ever made you feel you were worth anything, who had made you believe you weren't invisible, made you the perfect recipient for her fury.

You were vulnerable, not resistant, for you defeatedly accepted this as just a little bit of the hell you deserved for having disappointed Wanda. Your Wanda.

"You got everything you wanted," she continued. "Everything you wanted in exchange for being my good girl. And isn't that enough? You had to look outside for what you could have here, with me?"

Before you could apologize, or beg for mercy, you felt the touch of her face against the fabric of your panties, where she inhaled deeply.

"I should have known my baby girl wanted to be fucked, hm?" She commented, more softly than before. The scent of your involuntary arousal soothed her unlike any other. "My bad.”

“I… I'm so… I'm so stupid,” you whimpered, your words laced with embarrasment. Your tears had already formed a small, glistening puddle on the surface of her desk, reflecting the dim candlelight.

"Shhh, nothing to be ashamed of," she whispered in your ear. Her body pressed against your back with almost reverent care, as though she wanted to hold you rather than crush you. After all, you were someone fragile, someone precious that deserved protection from the claws of the outside world. "Oh, my darling," she cooed, with a gentleness so sincere that it made you forget, if only for an instant, the trust that had been broken. "No more tears," she commanded softly.

She stuck out her tongue and slid it tenderly over your cheek, gathering the salty trace of your regret.

She extended her tongue, moving it with deliberate tenderness across your tear-stained cheek, collecting each salty droplet that marked your sorrow.

The warm, wet sensation of her tongue against your skin, the taste of your regret, provoked her to elicit a deep, satisfied moan that resonated through her whole body and into yours.

It shouldn't have felt like salvation, but it did. And naturally, you yearned for more, as you did with form of contact that she could offer you.

And, with the same quiet desperation of a sinner seeking absolution, you turned your head, parted your lips, and let the tip of your tongue meet hers. She stilled for a moment, just a moment, before answering you kindly. A gentle meeting of tongues, tentative at first, but then so natural and carefree. Like you had done this a thousand times before. In a previous lifetime, perhaps.

The kiss deepened, her tongue exploring yours with the same careful attention she gave to every aspect of your being. Her mouth moved against yours with a rhythm that spoke of ownership, of belonging, each sweep of her tongue claiming territory that had always been rightfully hers. Not anyone else’s.

The taste of her, sharp and sweet like consecrated wine, filled your senses until there was nothing else. No past mistakes, no future uncertainties, just the perfect present of her mouth commanding yours.

Your heart thundered against her desk, no longer from fear but from the raw intensity of being truly seen, truly possessed. Each sigh you drew was heavy with the innate air of submission you emanated, sweeter than any prayer you'd ever offered. And she inhaled it blissfully.

"Out there, they only know how to take from you," she whispered against your lips. "But here, my precious girl, I'll make sure you get everything you need. No need to look outside ever again."

“Yes,” was the only thing you needed to say, and it was the only thing she needed to hear.

She left a kiss on your cheek, both as a thankful gesture and as a silent assurance before she knelt to the level of her desk where you were still bent over, now in front of her.

You felt her warm breath clash against the sensitive skin between your legs as she pushed your underwear to the side.

She trailed her tongue against your folds, making you gasp at the sudden foreign intrusion. No one has ever tasted you before. Natasha thought it was too intimate.

But screw Natasha. There you had everything you’d ever needed.

Her eyes widened in awe. She had just discovered a flavor so intoxicating, so essential, that she couldn’t imagine life before tasting it. And the last ounce of self-control vanished as she lunged forward, devouring your pussy with the desperation of a starved creature finally set free.

She wanted you to interiorize with every fiber of your being that this was where you belonged, under her ministrations, receiving the divine attention only she could provide.

It was overwhelming, not just physically, but emotionally. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes shut tight and your head struggled to process the intensity of it all.

"Oh, Wanda!" You whimpered, your voice thick with need for more. Always needed more of her, didn't you? The words barely made it past your lips before dissolving into desperate gasps.

It was all too much. The cool surface of the desk against your heated skin, the warmth of her mouth claiming you so intimately, the sting from your punishment mixing with rising pleasure until you couldn't distinguish between the two.

"Tell me where do you belong," she demanded, pulling back just so she could speak. The sudden absence of her tongue made you whine pathetically. You felt hollow inside.

"With you, only with you!" You vowed, proudly. "I've always been yours."

Your admission seemed to ignite something animalistic in her. She growled against your flesh, the vibrations making your thighs tremble.

Your hands fisted helplessly against the polished wood, seeking grounding as your body threatened to collapse under the assault of her mouth.

The world outside ceased to exist. There was only her mouth working you with devastating precision, only the building pressure deep in your core that threatened to tear you apart. Your consciousness narrowed to a singular point of pure feeling.

"Give it to me, my sweet girl," she murmured, her words muffled against your flesh.

Your body responded to her command before your mind could process it. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, manifesting itself through your release, and she swallowed every drop of it. She wasn't going to stop until she made sure to dry you out.

Your vision blurred, spots of light dancing behind your closed eyelids as you succumbed completely to her dominance, that didn't seem to cease despite your surrender.

"Oh, p-please..." you gasped, though you weren't sure what you were begging for, to stop or to continue.

Regardless, she didn't stop, didn't even slow down. If anything, your pleas spurred her on, her tongue moving with renewed vigor as she worked you through your release. Your legs shook violently, and if not for her firm grip on your hips, you would have fell down like a ragdoll.

"Mine," she established, finally pulling back to admire her work. Your swollen, pink pussy throbbing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

A rustle of fabric caught your attention, followed by the cool touch of silicone against your worn out hole. She leaned over you, pressing soft kisses along your spine as she aligned herself.

"My precious girl," she whispered, intertwining her fingers with yours on the desk. You turned your head to meet her gaze, overwhelmed by the tenderness in her eyes.

She pressed forward slowly, letting you adjust to the feeling of being filled. Her other hand caressed your cheek lovingly, wiping away the remnants of your tears. You leaned into her touch, turning to kiss her palm.

"Please, I want you," you breathed, squeezing her hand. "Only you, always you."

She began to move with gentle, measured thrusts, each one accompanied by sweet words of praise and affection.

She leaned down to press her lips against yours in a deep, passionate kiss. The new angle made you gasp into her mouth as she hit a particularly sensitive, spongy spot inside you.

"There, my love," she encouraged, maintaining the steady rhythm that was slowly building you towards another peak. "You're doing so good. Always making me so proud."

Her thrusts became more purposeful, but never lost their tenderness. One hand remained firmly clasped with yours while the other wrapped around your waist, holding you close as she fucked you thoroughly.

Your breath hitched as she increased her pace, each thrust now hitting deeper inside you. Her lips found yours again, swallowing your moans as she drove you closer to the edge. The feeling of fullness, of being completely possessed by her, was overwhelming.

Wanda's embrace tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against her body as she continued her relentless rhythm. She delivered sloppy pecks on your lips, gentle brushes against your cheeks, tender touches along your jawline. Despite her agitated breathing, not for a second did she halt her worshipping.

"Let go for me," she whispered against your ear, her accent slipping out.

Her order, combined with the perfect angle of her thrusts, sent you spiraling into another intense orgasm. Your walls clenched around her as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. She held you through it all, her arms secure around your waist, her lips pressing sweet kisses to your temple.

"Good job," she cooed, slowly bringing you down from your high. "You're perfect, absolutely perfect."

As your breathing steadied, she carefully withdrew, turning you in her arms to face her. Her eyes were full of adoration as she cupped your face, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. She pressed her forehead against yours, sharing the same breath, the same space, the same devotion.

"No, never again," you assured her. "I know now, I shouldn't look outside what only you can provide for me.”

"No more fucking that girl, understood?" she asked. It was clear you were never going to let Natasha lay a hand on you again, not after this. Nevertheless, she wanted to hear you say it.

"Hmm, that's how a good girl talks," she commented, pulling away from you, intending to see your reaction when she told you the following. "Well. It's not like she's going to show up again anyway. While I was fucking you, she was probably heading on a plane back to Russia.”

[hauntedhokage]

𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥

Phainon/F!Reader/Mydei

rating: explicit

word count: 2k

warnings: double penetration (vaginal and anal penetration)

note: it's been in the wips for a couple weeks, figured it was time to get it posted

ao3 | masterlist | ko-fi

“Settle a bet for us, my lady.” 

“And we know that your individual relationships with us shouldn’t become a competition, but this time we need you.”

You hum at Mydei’s statement, leaning back against the wall of the bath as you drink from your wine glass. This day was bound to come one way or another, having a much more than platonic relationship with both Phainon and Mydei was destined to result in you being caught in a competition or four every week. They’d done well to keep it to silly things like foot races or eating competitions, but you knew that eventually there would be a demand for something more personal to be used as a basis for determining superiority. For them to appear while you were trying to enjoy a bath, however, was outside of your usual experience with these two. Alone, maybe, but never together as they were aware of your intimate relations with the other but never made themselves involved.  

“So we’re requesting that you let us be intimate with you together.”

“For what purpose?”

“We’d like to see who is better at pleasuring you.”

It wasn’t the heat of your bath or the effect of the alcohol that had your face hot, but if asked you would blame anything but the weight of the meaning behind Phainon’s words. It was quite the request, to have them both there while you had sex with the other — definitely a precursor to something more involved for all parties and not something you were interested in denying. This explained their interrupting your bath, but you were still going to make them work for it. 

“One condition.”

“Name your price.” Phainon is already undressing as he speaks, and you look to Mydei since he’s the one who will remember what you’re about to say. 

“I paid for this private bath time. You’re paying me back for interrupting it.”

“I’ll send a message to the front desk to extend this session and book another for you on my credit.” And he’s pulling out his stone tablet to do as he promised while a fully nude Phainon joins your bath and comes to stand in front of you. 

“Who said you get to start, Deliverer?”

“I’m simply being efficient, Mydei,” Phainon states, a grin on his face as Mydei huffs behind you. “I truly hate to keep such a beautiful woman waiting.”

You don’t have to look to see that the prince has crossed his arms over that broad chest, eyes narrowed at your white haired lover as he says, “You’re only warming her up for the main event, nothing more.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“If you two bicker through this I will call you both losers and take the bath time for myself.”

The stern warning is met with two mumbled agreements to behave, and you push yourself up to the edge of the bath as Phainon drapes your thighs over his shoulders. Kisses are placed to your thighs before he looks up at you, smile wide before he buries his face in your cunt. He’s eager to lap at the essence that has already collected, one of his fingers rubbing at your clit as his tongue works in your cunt to bring you to your first orgasm of many while you’re under his spell. Your hand pushes into his hair, the thick white strands providing you a grounding zone to help manage your volume. 

Mydei’s armor and clothes fall to the tile behind you, his body heat warming your chilled back as he settles behind you with you seated between his legs. Large hands grip your thighs, kneading at the tensed muscles to help you relax as his rival ate you out. He murmurs words of encouragement into your ear, spoken so softly they’re barely heard over your own stifled sounds of pleasure. 

“Let him hear you,” the prince whispers, teeth grazing your earlobe before he kisses along your neck. “He needs to hear how you sound before I make you lose your voice.” 

“S-So arrogant,” you huff, only to arch your back away from his chest when a finger presses to your clit. 

“I speak from experience, do I not?”

That was unfortunately correct, and recent history. He fed on the sounds he could pull out of you, loved when you cried for him because he was making you feel just that good, and was confident that he was the only person who could make you feel like that. Earlier in the month Mydei had fucked you hard enough that it had broken the lounge chair you’d been on, and rendered your voice weak enough that you had to feign illness (and avoid Aglaea completely so you wouldn’t be caught lying to her about the state of your health). It was probably his suggestion that led to your private bath being interrupted, but that was to be investigated later - after they’d gotten what they wanted and were easy to pull answers from.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to take us both together?” Mydei asks, resting his chin on your shoulder so he could see Phainon too. Bright blue eyes stare up at you and Mydei while you feel a gentle probing at your ass, and you can’t help the gasp that escapes you at the slightest push into the tighter hole. 

The additional stimulation is your downfall, your legs trying to tighten around Phainon’s head only to be stopped by Mydei’s strength ensuring that they stay separated to allow Phainon to continue through your orgasm. By the time he’s satisfied, you’ve cum a second time and he looks to be very pleased, his face red and plastered with a dopey smile as he looks up at you.

“Look at you, Deliverer,” Mydei murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder so he can meet the proud gaze of his rival. “You look like you were born to be her chair, perhaps it’s the coreflame of the Furniture Titan you should seek.”

“I think the will of that Titan is in both of your souls,” you murmur, smiling as you lean back against Mydei while Phanon rises to his feet in front of you. Phainon only chuckles, dry but still carrying that fondness that he harbored for Mydei whenever they got into their usual back-and-forths.

“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, my dove.” He doesn’t give Mydei a chance to argue, lifting you with ease over his shoulder and carrying you out of the bathwater and to the lounge chair in the corner. “Taking us both will be no easy task, you should at least be on a comfortable seat.”

“You are her seat, Furniture Demigod,” Mydei teases, earning a laugh from you as Phainon huffs at his new title. 

As soon as he’s seated with you in his lap, his length is in your hand while your other holds his shoulder for balance. He knows what comes next, his grip on your hips tightening in anticipation as you rise onto your knees to position yourself over his cock. You choose to tease him a bit, guiding his tip along your dripping slit as your lips claim his in a needy kiss. It’s Mydei’s strong hands that push you down onto Phainon, murmuring soft praises into your ear as you take in his rival. His impatience is matched by Phainon’s, the much more slender hands spreading your ass apart to invite Mydei to take the hole that had been prepared for him. 

“Not yet.” Those hands continue to guide you along Phainon’s length, his lips trailing kisses down your spine. 

“Did I not do enough?”

“You did enough for your size, I’m sure.” 

“Don’t–” your attempt at intervention is cut off by one of the Kemnonian curses you’d learned from Mydei when you feel two of his slicked fingers push into your hole as Phainon starts to fuck up into you. This was where the challenge had truly begun, Mydei’s strokes are slow, fingers carefully stretching you while Phainon’s pace is much faster, and you felt clumsy as you tried to keep your pace between them. 

As if sensing your struggle, Phainon requests that you let him take care of you — his large hands gripping your hips tighter as he thrusts into you. Mydei’s fingers rub at your clit as Phainon fucks you, and you feel yourself getting tighter around them as you feel the waves of another orgasm crest over you and beg them not to stop. Both of their voices are soft as they talk you through it, touch gentle as they try to soothe you through such a strong orgasm. 

“Are you ready?” 

The question sounds so gentle leaving Mydei, as if he’s asking you if you’re ready to go out on a walk through the market rather than have both of your holes penetrated by the two Chrysos Heirs at the same time. And you respond just as sweetly, looking over your shoulder and whispering a “yes, please” to Mydei that has Phainon holding your hips just a bit tighter. 

“You ready, Phainon?” you ask, smiling down at your white haired lover and taking the chance to push his hair out of his face. 

“I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

That you were certain of, as with every moment that passed you grew more certain that this “competition” between the duo was their ruse to get to share you. They’d interrupted your bath, giving you the impression that your body would be their battlefield in this contest; instead your body was the enemy they were working together to overcome. Their bickering matched the competitive spirit, but without the tug of hands you would expect from two warriors trying to see who would be able to pleasure you better. 

“I’m sure you wait for my attention all day, every day.”

“You’re not wrong,” Mydei states, smirking at Phainon over your shoulder as his tip prods at your prepped hole. “He’s smitten.”

“As if you aren’t also.”

“HKS, both of you.”

“Oh really? I had no clue that I was- oh, fuck.” 

Mydei was making his entrance; so Phainon laid back, basking in the feeling that was your pussy getting tighter with Mydei working his way into your ass. You’re biting your lip until he’s carefully coaxing it from between your teeth but pushing his thumb into your mouth as Mydei is whispering praises into your ear. 

“You’re ready to cum again already, aren’t you?” Phainon asks, grinning when you gently bite down on his thumb in response to him rolling his hips into yours. “He’s not even fully inside you yet.”

You can feel your core clench impossibly tighter around them, feel Mydei pressing his face into your shoulder to compose himself due to how tense you were getting with your impending orgasm. Knowing Mydei, you suspected he would try to edge you, but you don't think it’d be possible with how stuffed full you were at the moment. You also don't think Phainon would allow Mydei to deny either of you what you wanted at this point. Where Mydei challenged you, teasing and pushing you that much further to work for your pleasure, Phainon spoiled you rotten with your pleasure becoming his purpose the moment you were ensnared in his arms. 

With a snap of his hips Mydei sends you over the edge, chuckling at the wail you let out as you cum around both men. Phainon is kissing at the skin he can reach while the prince continues to fuck you - both men riding that high in their own way and trying to keep you on that edge and clenching around them for as long as they could.

“And there’s four,” Phainon murmurs, biting into your neck as his own patience wears thin and he's holding you in place so he could fuck up into you at his own brutal pace that matched the prince’s. “Can we get you to five, dove?”

“We definitely can.” Mydei assures, winking at Phainon over your shoulder. “Can’t we?”

[askqueenmoon]

A summary of the rest of the story:

This is late, but better late than never I suppose. I've been asked a couple of times over the years to post the rest of the story, but I never knew how to go about writing it up, so here we go Chapter 3

This was the last one I had a proper script for. I guess partially 4? There was a snippet with Twilight and Spike figuring out how to find element bearers but I dunno if it made much sense. The script here is a bit rough and probably needed some refinement, but it gets the point across. The following are the last pages I worked on, two of which were never posted.

[START SCRIPT] He gives a short laugh. “Sorry about that! Nice to meet’cha. Name’s Nox. I hope those restraints aren’t too tight. You might be a prisoner, but there’s no need for you to be uncomfortable here.”

“…” Fluttershy glares at him.

Wow that’s actually a really great impression of my boss… You’re not related to Brass are you?

I guess you’re not the talkative type huh? That's alright, I can do it for you. How’s about we start with a name?

"Says here you’re Fluttershy. Only child of Cloud Cover and Posey who were prominent figures of the Velvet Carnation Movement until their untimely deaths ten years ago during the Ponyville fire, leading to you dropping out of Cloudsdale flight school. Currently you live in a cottage on the outskirts of New Ponyville and run an animal caretaking service.” Fluttershy is shocked, and he’s grinning “Pretty spooky, huh? The crown’s got eyes and ears everywhere… But it looks like few places are escaping us… saaay… the hiding places of your Red Sun friends?”

Fluttershy raises an eyebrow.

“Look, I get it. You don’t trust me or anypony in the castle for that matter, but you’re here on charges of attempted regicide and that means you’re on a fast track to a short rope. But I know you’re just another pony that’s been twisted by the Red Sun. If you work with us-

“I’ll never work for Nightmare Moon!” She blurts out angrily.

“But you’ll follow the Red Sun? Do you even know what kind of things they do? Because they certainly aren’t the heroes some ponies make them out to be.

“All they want is an Equestria where ponies can live in peace-” “Peace?”He places several photos on the table. ”Blood rituals, bombings of public gathering places, foalnapping and ransoming ponies to fund their activities.” Fluttershy's face is concerned. “Remember the wild weather that destroyed the harvest in Tall Tale last fall? Well the Red Sun’s goons stole the relief supplies our Queen sent. They were alright with leaving thousands to starve.

“Even if that were the case, I didn’t want to do what I did, but someone had to stand up to her. She’s nothing more than a big bully and I couldn’t sit around anymore and watch her hurt more innocent ponies. I had to try, and If that means this is my last day on Gaia, then so be it. New Fluttershy isn’t a coward!” “That’s quite noble of you. Ponies that selfless are hard to come by… which is why I don’t want to see you go down for this. Tell me who helped plan the attack and the Crown won’t press charges. I’ll make it so you never stepped hoof in Canterlot. You could go on with your life… Go back to your cottage… back to your pet.” Slides forward picture of angel. [PAGE BREAK] Fluttershy is thinking of Angel and other animals from back home. "I can’t do that. They helped put my life back together. I won’t let you hurt them. “Would they do the same for you though? I mean… they didn’t come for you when you got captured. They don’t care about YOU, they cared about what you could do FOR them.” “What and you care?” “Fluttershy, I just want to give you your life back. The way I see it, a cult took advantage of a young troubled mare and made you do things you'd never think to do otherwise. If the Red Sun was willing to sacrifice someone as kind as you, who else would they be willing to throw away for their selfish goals?” “They’re not like that…” She looks a bit more unsure this time. [PAGE BREAK] All I ask in return for your freedom is a name. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for the ones that care for you and would like to see you again. Take some time to think about it. He gets up and leaves. Fluttershy looks down pensively. [PAGE BREAK]

Nox exits. “That went well! Wanna grab a bite, Sabre? I’m thinking sandwiches-- Something with peanut butter. Crunchy, obviously. Crystal Sabre is there, looking at Nox, exasperated. She points at him accusingly. “I told you that wasn’t going to go anywhere. You should have let me interrogate her. “Look, until Brass gets back, I have to fill in for her, and that means I’m stuck with a mountain of paperwork. I even had to get up for that emergency meeting this morning! Let me have a little fun! Besides, I have a feeling it wasn’t all for nothing. “The Red Sun’s never been this bold before…What do you think changed?” Fluttershy says through the intercom window thingy “I want to talk to Rainbow Dash!” “…Who?”

[END SCRIPT]

In the end, I got too scared of the idea of backlash from one of my OCs being mean to Fluttershy ^^;; I recognize that it may not have been the case, but after how much hate I got for killing off a random guard, younger me got too scared to stick to this script and I flip flopped between redoing it or leaving it. I came to love the characters I had originally made for the sole purpose of filling cabinet roles. I struggled bring myself to make one of them the antagonist in an interaction with someone as beloved as Fluttershy. I ended up putting off the decision long enough that I lost interest in continuing the story though. This script was not the main reason I lost interest in the story, but it was a factor. My original points stand, and I don't regret deciding to let this comic go so I could branch out.

A chunk I wrote with Twilight: Sunset shimmer was a failed magician that was previously in Night's employ Twilight actually would have talked about here in this chunk: [START SCRIPT] “We know the elements are all part of a system. If they’re inactive, the bond is still there, it’s just faint, like how on a map you might not see a road between a town and Canterlot, but there has to be one because duh, all roads lead to Canterlot. We have pieces of the system and if we can isolate that link between the pieces, we could follow the link from one element back to the others. All we need to do is fine tune Rarity’s gem finding spell so instead of the beacon being any old gem, it’s whatever is on the other side of the link. Spike: “Wouldn’t the mages before you already have tried something like that? Twi: “Well the last one, Sunset or something, (Frowny scrunchy face), destroyed all of the notes from previous experiments so we’re pretty much starting from scratch, but even if they did, we have something they didn’t! A working element!” [END SCRIPT]

Night burned through so many young and eager mages trying to get what she wanted. Once they weren't useful, they got dumped.

Rest of it:

The big bad evil was going to be the guard Fenix who is actually a body hopping spirit of an alicorn from the ancient alicorn empire before it got decimated in the Alicorn-Draconequus wars. The alicorns had purged themselves of their "darkness" and went on a crusade to bring greatness and order to the rest of Gaia. The last of the Draconequus sacrificed themselves to break the alicorns into the three/four pony tribes--essentially exterminating both races. One of the newly minted unicorns had been in the Empress's inner council and refused to die quietly like the others. Since then, he's been taking over other unicorns' bodies as a way of living forever because he's scared of death (Unicorns because he wasn't sure if non-unicorns could do the necessary magic to prolong his life). That's why Fenix's personality changed when his buddy died in the flashback told by his cousin (The hopping usually kills original person. The original Fenix is gone, there's just the rogue soul now. The previous body was going to die, so he jumped ship before it did). The changeling comment by his cousin was meant to be a diversion.

The entity in Fenix's body had been around for thousands of years, just living a regular life. Ever since the rise of the two sisters, he attached himself to their leadership, usually hanging around as a soldier/guard of some kind, because he still believes in the Alicorns' right to rule and wants to help with bringing glory to Equestria and serve the greater good--the Alicorns and the ideals they choose to rule by.

Fenix had been fine living as just a guard, even under Nightmare Moon. Witnessing her uncertainty and paranoia--how the country was being divided by Night's poor leadership in recent years (especially after the whole assassin and Quake dying)--he became disillusioned by Night's rule and would go on to lead a rebellion against her by plotting to take the Elements of Harmony for himself, hopping into the body of the Red Sun Rebellion's Leader- Sunset Shimmer, then eventually hopping into Celestia to become Solar Flare/Daybreaker or Evil Celestia or whatever. The Elements of Harmony were actually ancient alicorn weapons of mass destruction. The enchantment that made them had mutated over the millennia, becoming something completely new, but contact with the soul of an alicorn of old would have ignited something. Not exactly a reset, but they would have recognized one of their original users and their original purpose.

Night is actually the darkness (a shade) that had been purged from the Alicorn Empress in the old days. It gained a will of it's own over years and forged a pact with Luna to help her take over the kingdom. She didn't remember who she was, only fragments because she was all the parts of the Empress that were deemed impure/bad. They were fine being partner rulers for a while, but then an offhanded comment led to Ponyville being burned to the ground by zealots in the Queen's name 15 or so years ago --this had been to destroy the Velvet Carnation Movement which had been a peaceful group advocating for democracy instead of monarchies--and they'd been feuding ever since and only recently made up in the comic.

Night would have freed Celestia from the Sun of her own volition to try to appease the population and show that she is a good ruler and stop all the talk of rebellion. She wanted to use her as a political puppet. Celestia would have been on a short leash.

Night would have died at the end of the comic, sacrificing herself to put an end to the old empire once and for all by holding down evil Celestia as they both get blasted by the Friendship Elements beam. The old ways were wrong, it was time to stop clinging onto the past--Celestia and Luna are left to make up and rebuild Equestria.

There was definitely a lot of middle stuff that I never figured out, but I did like the story. It just grew increasingly clear that it wasn't something I could ever finish.

Here are some of the alicorn designs I never got around to showing:

I feels quite nice to finally have it all out there.

[winterbiite]

pathetic boy

"do you trust me?" you looked down at armin who lay in between your legs, his back to your chest, hard cock out and aching to be touched. your chin was just above his shoulder, breath hot against his ear.

"y-yes, so much.." his voice sounded shaky, almost as if he were nervous or even afraid at that. you'd hardly even touched him, only some light grinding, but the poor boy was so sensitive and gave into you so easily, it was almost pathetic.

at first, he was unsure. you pulled yourself onto his lap, kissed him messily, and he just let you. how could you resist when his big, sea blue eyes sparkled up at you helplessly, his lips slightly parted. though when you started grinding down on his cock, clothed by his pants, that's when you really got a taste for who armin arlert was: a desperate boy needing to be put in his place. one who'd let you do anything to him as long as you gave him attention.

now here you were, your thumb grazing the pink head of his cock. he was at your mercy, completely vulnerable in his position. especially due to the fact that you were more clothed than him. your free hand grazed up and down his abs, which didn't match that cute innocent face of his in any way. his body in general didn't match the way he whimpered and buried his face in the crook of your neck when you slowly pumped his cock, not fully giving him what he wanted.

"faa..ster, please.. please go faster.." he mumbled, kiss-swollen lips grazing your skin.

"tell me what you are, armin" you wanted to hear him degrade himself and acknowledge his place. he was yours, which meant he was yours to do whatever you wanted.

"i'm your pathetic boy, your sweet boy, please, please, i'm yours.." he'd repeated the dirty things you'd told him before.

"so you listened? then of course i'll give you what you want, baby" you began stroking his cock at a faster pace than before, speeding up every few seconds.

"oh my.. oh.. thank you, thank you.. oh my- thank you.." he spoke under his breath, incoherently repeating the same few things over and over again. armin tried to resist his squirming to little avail, especially with the way you scratched at his skin with your nails, providing more sensory to his body.

as his breaths became more rapid and whimpers more frequent, you slowed down, sending a disappointment of disappointment through his body and arousal through yours.

"w-why'd you.. why'd you slow down? i'm sorry, i-i'm sorry" armin didn't know what he was apologizing for, he just felt like he had to. he tilted his head up, meeting your eyes.

"aw, my sweet boy.." you planted a loving kiss on his forehead as you sped up, figuring it was best to give him what he wanted.

by this point, armin had been babbling things from 'i love you' to 'i'm so pathetic' and everything in between. degrading himself, praising you, begging, it was so hot every time he opened that mouth of his.

"can i cum? please, mommy?.." he watched you pump his cock and couldn't help but buck his hips up. your free hand pushed his core back down, not letting his body move.

"no, armin, not yet." you wanted to see just how much the boy could take until he broke and until his whimpers became moans and his mind blank, thoughts of you and only you.

he looked up at you once again, tears welling in his eyes, showing you that he could barely take it anymore. you sped up the pace even more and watched as a tear spilled from his innocent eyes, then another, and another, staining his rosy cheeks. the sight alone had awoken something in you, and you knew that you would break this boy over and over again in the future, not allowing anyone else to touch him. if he wasn't yours then he wasn't armin arlert.

"think you can hold it anymore, armin?" you asked him, making your voice delicate and gentle for him. another tear spilled from his eyes.

armin shook his head rapidly "no, no i can't, it hurts, please! i need to!" he cried out "i'm a pathetic boy! please, mommy, please.."

"bite me, right now, if you bite me you can cum." you craved the feeling of his lips against your skin, and also a sort of pain which sent ecstasy through your entire body, right down to your soaking core.

armin hesitantly obliged, not wanting to hurt you, but if you asked for it then that's what you wanted. he opened his mouth against your neck, teeth digging into your flesh. he couldn't wait any longer, with a loud cry and more tears falling from his eyes, hot ropes of cum shot from his cock with force, as if it had broken out of a cage it'd been in for a cruel amount of time. you tilted his cock just slightly so that it would land all over his abdomen, continuing to pump until he'd been fully drained. his teeth had almost broken skin from how hard he'd bitten into you, now sobbing as you didn't stop jerking him off.

finally you slid your hand away from his cock, fingers spreading his warm load all over his abs.

"thank you, mommy, thank you, i love you.." he whispered once more, feeding into your ego as he always did.

"you're so hot, armin, do you even know that?" you always gave the boy his well deserved praise after ruining him.

"am i?" a small, lazy smile tugged at his lips.

he slightly lifted himself up to look at you, though didn't have strength to entirely sit up. you cupped his cheeks, angling his face to yours. you kissed his cheek, the salty sting of tears reminding you of his pain and pleasure. he pressed his lips against yours, pulling away shortly after to collapse in your arms.

"are you tired?" you asked, though already knew the answer. you knew he wouldn't want to get up for the next little bit.

"mhm.." he hummed in response

no matter how many times you said it to him, he was pathetic and sweet and needy and cute and you loved him.

i wont lie this is just most of the things im into so its mostly just written for my likings BUT thats ok we ball!!!!!! this could be for anyone really i just chose armin bcuz hes my current obsession. why are sweet and innocent guys so hot what is the psychology behind that. maybe i should actually do research on that i will

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, graphic violence, injuries, blood, Guns, ❗reader does some very violent things in this one so read with caution❗ possible ooc,

Part 21: fireflies electric boogaloo

🔹🔹🔹

”Who the hell is Barnes?”

Well…. Shit. What do you even say to the caped freak? Ten years ago a mistake like that would've had you shot in the head by your handlers right in the field.

“…. Don't worry about it, just…just someone I used to know…long time ago.” it's not a lie, or at least it doesn't feel like one on your tongue. After all, Barnes and Bucky are two very different people, one of them you'd almost call trustworthy. The other one understands you and all your weak failures and filthy successes. no, Barnes is long in the past you've buried.

You hope Batman takes your word for it, there's too much going on at the moment, fire and chaos all over the street while you're both bleeding in an alleyway. But no, Batman scowls at you and tightens his grip on you like a cat pinning a bird, you can nearly feel the claws.

“Bullshit, who's Barnes and why's he hitting you.” you can feel the gripping texture on the palms of his gloves pressing into your skin through the overcoat Alfred gave you, it's like he's subconsciously squeezing the answer from you.

You blink at him and with a quick move you shove his hands off and take a few steps back. Fuck you need to think. “Back off, I'm married.”

The insinuation doesn't throw him off and he steps after you with a clear frown carved on what's visible of his face. “Answer me.”

He reaches towards you again, so without thinking you roughly smack his hand away. “and I said back. off.”

His head tilts down for a second, his lips thinning in a grimace. you swear you can feel the eye contact when he looks back up and widens his stance again.

“Do you intend to use that?”

You look down and freeze when you realize your squeezing the gun in your hand tightly, when did you pull it back out-

You shove it into the inner coat pocket with a tremor in your hands.

“no i-no!…. I'm not a murderer. Batman.”

the lie tastes like ash on your tongue.

“then why are you here?”

You can't say a damn word when he says that, why are you? Were you really trying to help Tim and Alfred by leaving them alone? Or were you looking for an excuse to hurt something…. Would you have shot Batman if the gun was in your hand when he jumped you?

“…the same reason you're here i suppose, someone's gotta do something in this fucking place.”

“you wanna tell me who Barnes is then? Or is he someone who's ‘doing something’ in the past you apparently don't remember.”

“mind your own business, my struggles are mine to deal wi-”

A shot just barely misses either of you, a bullet lodges in the brick wall beside you and showers you in crumbled bits of stone as you duck away and take cover behind a dumpster.

Batman's right beside you a second later, your shoulders rubbing together uncomfortably as he presses in close to you.

“God…. Where did these people even come from? I thought you would've monitored startup groups like them since you're apparently keeping tabs on everything in this shithole.”

He just grunts at you while peering around the edge of the dumpster, his hand slowly and quietly pulling one of his utility belt pouches open to pull out some kind of small metal objects, are those taser discs?

You don't get a chance to question him further before he dives and rolls over to another dumpster while a shots fired off at him, they were close to their target that time. You watch from your position as Batman presses up against the grimy wall of metal and carefully arranges the discs between his fingers, you peek around the corner of your own dumpster and watch as three figures start to cautiously comb down the alley, they're definitely all armed judging by the poses.

You jerk your arm up and hold it there until Batman glances in your direction again, you hold up three fingers and then make a gun shape with your hand while gesturing your head in their direction, he'd be stupid to not get it.

When he nods and shifts his position where he's crouching you decide to make things easier here, you slowly pick up a dented up and rusty trashcan lid and turn yourself around, ignoring the warning look Batman gives you to stand up and throw it like a frisbee as hard as you can, those lessons with Rogers really paid off.

The movement makes the three people jump and when they see something thrown at them they instinctively throw their hands up. Batman throws one of the discs at the lead man, it must be magnetic because the disc sticks to the man's gun and fires off an electrical charge, just as you suspected it's similar to Natalia's. Once the man stiffens up and tries to drops to the ground, Batman charges them all like a bull in an arena, it's kinda amusing to watch how quickly he knocks one out- your jaw aching at the same punch he delivers to the tall one of the trio- you know how badly that hurt.

You straighten up and lean against the wall as you watch, the third one swings his arm around to point his gun at Batman but he just gets kicked in the knuckles, with the steel toe boots too. You wince and rub your thumb up and down your own hand at the sight, not that you can really pity the fools after they shot at you.

the first one manages to stumble back to his feet so, without thinking you bend over to grab a brick, bouncing it in your hand a few times as you judge the weight of it like a kid playing with a baseball, the brick thuds loudly when it hits the back of the mans head.

batman whips around to stare at you once they’re all dropped, his lips curling into a frown once again as he briskly approaches you. “don't get involved in this anymore than you already have.”

you scowl at him and sidestep him to walk out of the alley, shoulder-checking him as you pass him. “what, you get to bench me after busting my face open? until this is over i’m doing what i need to to survive, just like you and your little followers.”

“you’re a civilian.” he murmurs lowly as he stalks after you, it’s like he’s looking for a reason to antagonize you.

you peek around the corner of the building quickly before strolling out onto the street. “are you military? last i knew you’re a vigilante, not a government entity.”

He doesn't reply, good. You're not looking to fight him. Down the street you can see the charred smoldering remains of the car, looking around there's no sign of the two you'd come with so you're taking that as a sign that they did the smart thing and got the hell out of this area.

The guilt of leaving them doesn't lessen.

“…what's your plan?” you call out just loud enough for the vigilante to hear, the crunching of boots behind you telling you he's still around.

“I was looking for stragglers when I….. Found you. I'm getting reports the attacks are focusing a few blocks down so that's where I'm going.”

You hum, damn you wish you had some gear…

“Sounds awful, are we going on foot?”

The rhythmic crunching behind you stops so you do too, batman's already staring at you when you glance over your shoulder at him. His weight shifts foot to foot, is he favoring a knee?

“…you're going to a secure area, preferably home or to a hospital…” he turns his head away quickly, clearly avoiding your reaction, the coward.

You can barely restrain the eye roll. “…that's not happening.”

You turn away from him again and start jogging down the sidewalk, stepping over broken glass and rammed-over street signs. This streets essentially deserted now, empty streets and smashed windows all around you. The patches of grass growing between the cracks in the concrete are blackened and burnt, the air smells even worse than usual, like smoke and gas on top of the faint smell of smog. It pisses you off all over again.

“(name), (name)!” Batman catches up to you and angrily grabs at your wrist to pull you to a stop, his body language angry as he steps in front of you. “Can you just listen to me? This isn't your fight.”

You're angry, what's his fucking issue with you? “it's mine as much as it's yours, hero. I don't need a cape to do something about terrorists.”

He let's out such a deep, disappointed sigh that it reminds you of Bruce scolding one of the many, many children.

“goddamn-(name), can you be reasonable for once today? You're running around with nothing but hopes and dreams to protect you! You don't so much as have a proper mask while you're breathing in all this ash and smoke, don't. Be. Stupid.”

He releases your wrist to pinch his mask as if rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation, he steps back from you to calm himself down, though your next reply does the opposite to him.

“stupid? You're the one wasting both our time arguing with me when I've got four people I'm hoping to find.” you cross your arms over your chest and try to step around him, you could be doing better things right now than fighting with caped weirdos.

He let's you move around him, but he quickly turns and stomps over to you to match your pace. “is Barnes one of them?”

You can feel your eye twitching.

“Oh my God, shut. Up. About Barnes. I'm talking about my husband's butler, three teenagers! Duke and Damian are probably scared at their school while you're wasting my time bitching me out!”

You're trying not to raise your voice, -key word is trying- but for some reason batman's determined to make your walk exhausting as possible and get in your way. Even as you move around abandoned cars and burning shopping carts full of flammable materials his vitriol towards you doesn't let up.

“Because you're going to get yourself almost killed again! You're throwing yourself into danger like you've got spare lives! How do you think those kids you mentioned feel every time you throw yourself in the fire for them?”

You don't know how to reply to that, you hate that he's got one over on you. It's your life to live now it's not, you stole someone's body after you threw yourself off vormir, it's not yours it's not yours it's not he doesn't get to guilt you when you do that enough yourself.

Your silence encourages Batman to continue, his tone taking a calmer edge, almost soft. “I'm not saying it's bad you want to be here, I know that driving anger better than anyone, trust me on that. Do you think your family, your husband enjoys seeing you suffer?”

You open your mouth to reply, and then a bottle of burning fuel is thrown at your feet.

“Shit!”

You jump backwards, stumbling over yourself but it's too late. For a second the gas is cold as it splashes up your calves, then the heat bites into you like a snare. you clear yourself of the burning area on twitching, burning feet then drop to the hard ground, the cotton of your pants turns to ash and rubs against bare raw skin as you roll, even as you put the flames out the gaseous chemicals spread over the reddened skin and seeps into your nerve endings, not even eight seconds of fire and it’s agonizing.

something grabs you and you nearly go for your gun in a blind panic, but then you realize it’s batman. he drags your body backwards by your underarms and pulls you behind a car beside a rusted chainlink fence. he kneels over you and looks at your legs closely, his gloved hands gently pull the burnt and frayed edge of your pant legs up to look at the damage. you hear multiple voices whooping joyously down the street so batman grunts and pulls something out of one of his belt pouches, dropping it in your lap before he stands up and jumps over the hood of the car, your head drops down to see a medkit in your lap.

you can take the hint, you need a second to….process, anyway.

you hear more glass breaking and grunting on the other side of the car but you ignore it, with shaking hands you crack the kit open and grab the bottle of pain meds and a bandage to cover the irritated skin, you’ll properly take care of it later.

you close the box back up and slowly pull yourself up by grabbing the car handle and rearview mirror, you’re so fucking tired at this point…

“grab the bystander!”

Your head snaps over when you hear that, there's a group not thirty feet from you, Batman and two others are in the middle of it swinging wildly at everything that moves, you recognize the girl in purple from the news clip you'd seen a while ago. The other one you don't know, they're petite statured, clad in all black with a yellow bar symbol on their chest marking them as one of batman's underlings. They seem to be having a conversation with the other girl judging by the looks they're throwing at one another. Split off from the main group, a man in a gas mask points at you to three, more nervous looking people in dark coats.

You can only just sigh as they hesitantly start to approach you, ducking down behind the car again and making yourself wait, your starting to really feel all your wounds by now but you don't have any choice but to continue with what you're doing. You're not becoming a hostage to these freaks.

The three jump around the car with weapons up and snarls in their faces to find….. You're not there.

they twist and turn in place looking around, fire-resistant boots scuff the hot pavement as they awkwardly share a look between each other, when one of them kneels at the edge of the car and peeks under it, you kick him square in the face hard before sliding back out on your stomach and hands.

As you come up on your feet one of them throws his arm up - gun in hand - so you grab his wrist and shove it up to point the barrel in the air while kicking your leg out at the other one, hitting him in the general kidney area. It's not good enough though.

You release the gunman's wrist and drive your fist into the bottom of his ribs once, twice, four times. Your knuckles ache in protest of the abuse but you grit your aching teeth through it and continue. you see something out of the corner of your eye swinging at you so you drop to the ground and donkey kick at the legs of the first man that you’d kicked, he stumbles and accidentally hits his companion before falling on his ass. it’d make you laugh if you weren’t so focused.

hopping back to your feet, you back away from the trio and pull the gun out of your inner coat pocket. how it hasn’t fallen out yet or gone off you don’t know. you need to do - something shifts behind you, oh goddamn it!

gas splashes at your feet and soaks into the thin bandages you’d hastily thrown on your calves, making you stumble at the searing pain shooting up your lower body and locking your joints up. god you wish the painkillers kicked in quicker….the man that’d pointed you out earlier stands behind you with an empty glass bottle, his green eyes look bored as he watches you fall on your ass, he adjusts the gas mask on his face and then slowly pulls out a zippo and starts flicking it. the threat is clear.

as soon as he steps closer to you, lifting his hand while making direct eye contact as the small flame dances in his hand…you throw your arm up and pull the trigger.

It's as if Gotham itself falls silent in the echo of the shot bouncing between the buildings, the vigilantes fighting in the background quiet down, the thugs behind you don't utter a word, even the fires around you feel little they're silencing themselves enough that you can hear the faint drip, drip, drip of blood hitting the warm pavement.

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until the masked one stumbles backwards and presses a hand over his side in an attempt to staunch the wound, your breath coming out slowly just as everything gets loud again.

The group of three shake themselves out of whatever stupor they were in and come at you all at once so you have no choice but to get back up and fight. You're gonna need something better than ibuprofen after all this is through.

You immediately kick one between the legs and shove him backwards into the rusted fence, of barbed wire catching on his coat while he squeaks rather loudly and high pitched. It's kinda annoying how they don't seem to learn anything about jumping you hand to hand like this…you grab the other ones wrist and twist it behind his back, forcefully maneuvering him around to smack his head down on the hood of the car with a loud thud.

Where are the other two? Glancing around you spot them limping away, the gas mask clad one being dragged by the other. You intended to just leave them be, let them go and get that wound treated, but when you watch them start to open the gas tank of a car, start pouring fuel all over it and stuff rags inside the fuel tank…. Are they making a car bomb? Right next to the vigilantes that are now starting to zip tie the downed criminals, unaware of what's about to happen to this area?

You know what's coming next, you've seen this play out too many times on agents and civilians alike, you can't just sit here like this. Waiting to watch them blow themselves up while Gotham burns around you.

You pull the makeshift fabric mask back up over your busted lip and tighten it behind your head, the barbed wire strips are long enough…

It's clear the gas mask-clad one didn't expect you to come after him, nor did he expect you to get a running go at him and wrap your thighs around his neck, using your momentum to swing behind him and wrap the steel wire around his throat, metal digs into your hands and rips through the thin skin of your palms when you lean back as if to drape off his frame by your legs and let your weight do the rest.

He struggles obviously, clawing at your legs hard enough to bleed you out and thrashing like a bull on steroids. But you just lock your entire body up and hold on, even as he slams back into a crate, even as he rips the mask off in a desperate attempt to breathe, even as he drops to the ground and tries and fails to slam his elbows into you, his body running off animal instinct as the barbed wire slowly but surely cuts into his tenderest of flesh.

He gags and tries to rasp something out around his swollen tongue, you can tell by the way his jaw moves and his lips click, but you don't care to listen. Whether he pleads for mercy or curses you or bargains, makes no difference to you after the lives he's needlessly taken. The people he was about to burn to death. It's only fitting the murderer puts down a murderer.

However before he can take his final gasp, kick his final twitch, your hands are grabbed and forcibly pried open hard enough to break something and then you're pulled out from under and away from him.

Your first instinct was to bite the hand holding you.

“Ow-Jesus Christ on a cracker! I'm not one of them you frigging piranha!” A young feminine voice yelps out, dropping you roughly on the ground and waving their hand around dramatically.

“Don't give me rabies while I'm just trying to move you away from the fumes! Where did you learn to bite that hard, are you part pitbull? T-Rex?”

You turn yourself around to look up at the purple-clad one, a few strands of blonde hair escaped from under her hood as she bounces around and studies her hand like you just gave her a zombie virus.

“…. Sorry.” Is all you manage to mumble out, voice strained as the adrenaline starts to leave your system. Everything's starting to hit you at once, every bruise and bleeding scratch, the bone-deep ache in your skeleton, the burns and chemical burns, you're all too aware of yourself going into shock after all this time.

The girl says something but you don't quite pick up on it, your head feels heavy and just….. Odd. You hardly even react when batman's kneeling in front of you and snapping his fingers in front of your face…you don't even bother reading his lips before you slump forward and everything goes white.

🔹🔹🔹

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A/n: I hope this wasn't too much, I get it if this chapters not to someone's taste. I hope y'all are having a wonderful day/night whatever you are and as always remember to take care of yourself! 💜💜💜

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet @omnivirgo @shirp-collector-of-fixations @spidermanluvr444 @br33zy-blizzardz @lunarapple @findingjaxx @4rachn3 @buckturd @tsxukikami @paastaboi @duskeras @ibelyss @1abi @that-creepy-girl-000 @kaylaphantomhive @viilan

[scarletqueenx]

GREEK GOD

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After a messy breakup you meet a stranger in your aunt Ellen’s bar.

Word Count: 1876

Tags/Warnings: none i think

A/N: kinda love this one, could make a part two if you want

This wasn't you. You never stayed out past midnight, never had more than two drinks, let alone ended up drunk at a bar.

But after another disastrous date where you couldn't help but notice the looks Josh gave every girl who walked past him or gave him a single second of their attention, you two ended up having another argument in the middle of the street. It had been just as humiliating as the other times before. But this time you'd ended up breaking off the almost three-year relationship and going to your Aunt Ellen's bar looking for some comfort.

She and her daughter Jo had always shown their disapproval of Josh. But you never listened. You were in love, they couldn't blame you. But that night, when you finally opened your eyes to all the red flags surrounding your now ex-boyfriend, you couldn't help but blame yourself for how foolish, stupid and naive you had been.

You had forgiven him for an infidelity. You, who had sworn that was the greatest display of disloyalty in a relationship and who had sworn never to forgive after seeing how bad your mother had suffered because of your father's infidelity.

Dean Winchester and his brother Sam were regular customers of your Aunt Ellen's bar, but oddly enough you had never crossed paths before. 

His eyes were on you the very moment he and his brother set foot in the place. Your perfect figure wrapped in that gorgeous red dress, the flawless makeup that brought out your eyes as well as the softness of your lips. 

Dean was mesmerized. And both his brother and his friends kept teasing him all night about the way he was drooling for you.

You begged for another shot of tequila, forming an adorable pout with your lips as you stretched your hand over the counter to reach for your cousin hand. 

“I think it's time for you to go home, honey.” Ellen came up behind you, holding your shoulders gently.

You grunted. 

You lived with Josh. Going home and seeing his face was the last thing you wanted to do. 

That's when you saw him. Green eyes, perfect smile and freckles decorating his face like some kind of magic dust. He even had an aura.

Or was that the neon light on the wall behind him?

You were so drunk you weren't sure.

He was the most beautiful specimen of a man you had ever seen in your life. If they told you he was a greek god you would believe it right away.

A man like that wouldn't even notice someone like you. A man like him would have millions magazine-cover-model girls at his feet. And the fat on your thighs and hips were far from making you a model. That insecurity was one of the reasons you had probably decided to believe Josh when he told you he loved you. Because, deep down, you felt like no one else would.

But the bright green eyes of that greek god were on you. On your eyes, on your lips, on your body.

He wanted you.

No. Impossible. The alcohol was making you hallucinate. 

“I'll call a cab.” Jo's voice behind the bar snapped you back to reality and your eyes fell back on Ellen, who continued to hold your shoulders so you wouldn't fall off the stool.

Letting out another grunt and forming another adorable pout, you shook your head. 

“I'm sorry, honey, but you need to rest. No more drinks for tonight.” Ellen told you.

“I don't want to go home.”

Ellen sighed. She'd invite you to stay at her place, but it was already too small for her and Jo alone. 

“Everything okay?”

Agh, his voice was perfect too. Deep, but sweet at the same time. Full of concern and genuine kindness.

You almost threw up.

Why did you, that night of all nights, have to meet the most perfect man on the face of the earth?

God have mercy.

“Oh, Dean.” Ellen turned to him with a fond smile on her lips.

Wait. Your Aunt Ellen knew him?

“This is the niece I told you about.” Ellen gestured to you as she told him your name. 

“The girl who wore training wheels on her bike until she was 15?” Dean teased with a smile.

“Hey, that thing is pretty hard to ride.” You replied after letting out a small hiccup.

You were so drunk.

Dean smiled at how cute you looked.

“Do you need me to drive her somewhere? I have the car outside?” Dean turned back to Ellen.

As you let out another hiccup and a yawn, Ellen looked at you with pity and then nodded toward Dean.

Truth be told, Ellen didn't know if she could trust a cab driver to take you home or that you wouldn't run out as soon as you were dropped off in front of the door just to avoid seeing Josh. 

All the options she had gave her little to no confidence, so far. Dean Winchester was a good guy. She'd known him since he was a kid, given that his father, John, was a friend of hers. Dean would make sure you were safe and would never take advantage of you.

“I don't want to.” You whined once more as Ellen grabbed you by the waist to pull you out of the bar. “Don't make me, Aunt Elle.” 

You sounded like a little girl refusing to eat the veggies on her plate. It was so ridiculous and adorable that Dean had to fight to keep from letting out a laugh.

“Oh, honey.” Ellen held your wet, tear-stained cheeks. “I'm taking care of you. You'll feel better tomorrow.”

“She'll have a horrible headache tomorrow.” Dean remarked beside her.

Ellen rolled her eyes, leaning down to place a mother-like kiss on your forehead. 

“You're going to be fine. Dean's going to take care of you.” She whispered as she tucked a few strands of hair behind your ears.

Accepting your defeat, you formed a pout on your lips and nodded as you noticed Dean's hand settling on the small of your back.

“Come on. My bed is very cozy.” Dean said to you after Ellen walked back into the bar.

Like a bullet, you turned to him with a defiant look in your eyes. The effect of the alcohol drained off your body as soon as your survival instincts kicked in.

“Say that again, pretty boy.” You dared him, taking a step back.

Dean seemed to realize then how his words had sounded, as he took a step back and raised his hands with his palms facing you.

“That's not what I meant.” He assured quickly. “That's definitely not what I meant. I chose my words poorly. I'm sorry.”

You narrowed your eyes, not very convinced.

“I can go back and get Ellen if you don't want to come with me anymore. I understand. I'm sorry.” He apologized once more, looking around to the bar as if wishing someone would come out to help him.

He'd screwed up big time.

“You don't need to. But you should know she taught me self-defense.” You crossed your arms and took a step toward him. “I'd kick your ass. And your balls.”

Dean chuckled nervously.

“Got it.” He nodded at the seriousness in your gaze.

After a few seconds of studying him closely, you finally let your arms drop to each side of your body and turned to look around the parking lot.

“What's your car, greek god?” You asked, not realizing the nickname you had decided to call him by.

Dean noticed, but decided to keep quiet about it.

“That one right there.” He pointed to a gorgeous '67 Chevy Impala.

Perfect man, perfect car. Of course.

“I want to make it clear that earlier I was referring to leaving my bed to you so could sleep in it.” He added as he walked beside you, at a safe distance but letting your arms brush against each other from time to time, sending shivers all over your body. “I heard you mention that you didn't wanted to go home and I assumed it wasn't just due to wanting to keep drinking.”

You sighed.

“I live with my boyfriend.” You explained.

“Oh.” Dean muttered with a slight tone of disappointment that you were too drunk to actually notice.

“My ex-boyfriend.” You clarified quickly, getting his hopes back up. “I just broke up with him. He's a jerk.”

“He has to be to let you go.”

Suddenly, you stopped on your heels and turned to look at him. Dean almost fell down from the sudden move.

“You don't have to do that.” You said.

“Do what?” Dean frowned, totally confused.

“Pretend you find me attractive.” You replied. “You're helping me because my Aunt Ellen asked, but you don't have to pretend to like me when we both know you'd rather stay inside that bar playing pool with your friends.” 

“Wait, wait.” Dean rushed after you as he took in all your words. His hand wrapped your wrist gently to make you turn around and look at him. “That's what you think is going on here?”

You looked at him puzzled.

“First of all. I asked. And second. Why is it so hard for you to think that someone like me might be interested in you?” He asked.

With another adorable pout, you shrugged.

“I don't know. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"

Dean knew he was attractive. Of course he knew, especially after all the years he'd spent having one-night stands with almost every girl he engaged in conversation with. However, Dean wasn't the type of guy who spent his days in front of a mirror, reducing his life to that, looks.

He wasn't a feelings person either. Or at least not one to say them out loud. Words weren't his strong suit. But you. You seemed to need him to be straightforward. To tell you what he was feeling and thinking at that moment. And for the first time in his entire life, Dean decided to be honest and open his heart.

Because he didn’t wanted to screw this up with you.

“I like you.” He blurted out before you could say anything else. “I couldn't help but notice you from the moment I walked into that bar. And if I offered to drive you home it's because I wanted to get to know you.”

Dean didn't know what to expect you to say, but he certainly didn't expect you to laugh in his face like you were doing right now.

“What?” He couldn't help but slightly chuckle himself as he looked at you in confusion. Your laughter was too infectious.

Dean tilted his head, following your eyes with a glint of amusement in his own.

“I'm too drunk for this, greek god.” You smiled as you turned around to continue walking to his car.

His green eyes followed you, completely mesmerized and bewildered by you. 

God have mercy. Because you were something else. And he couldn’t help but find himself pulled by you like a moth to a flame.

A/N: Jensen has always look like a greek god to me so i had to do this. really hope you liked it.

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[meanbossart]

Astarion and Drow's antics are wonderful and I love them ever so. You've mentioned that Drow is effectively immortal (which makes sense; Bhaal had a lot of work planned for him), and eventually, even those two chaos gremlins will figure it out.

Have you ever thought about what that's going to look like? Who do you think will notice first? Will Astarion be happy he won't be alone? Is Drow going to have to figure out what to do with the idea that friends like Shadowheart will die but unless a lot of things go wrong, he won't? ....If he lives long enough for people to invent it, do you think Drow would like Bubble Tea?

Well, it is exceptionally optimistic to assume they will live long enough for that to become apparent, but not impossible!

It's kind of already in DU drow's nature to not contemplate on death at all. He thinks he's immune to it despite having zero knowledge of his own (potentially infinite) lifespan, so, in a way, he already operates as an immortal. Meanwhile, Astarion assumes he will age like a normal drow despite the godly origins, which means he would get a good 800 years outta him - if they don't both perish for some other reason long before that, which is what he's realistically expecting.

Elvish and Drow (the race) aging also works differently depending on the version of the lore which you're looking at - some places say they completely stop physically developing once they hit 25, other versions - BG for one, I think - implies that they do age, but at a much slower pace. I'm of the the school of thought that elves grow up normally until they hit their twenties, and then things gradually slow the hell down, with them eventually start to look like seniors at around 400-500 years old.

SO, if the fellas make it another six centuries, Astarion would definitely take notice of the way DU drow's body isn't really showing any signs of aging. Changes? Sure. His scars would have probably faded into near non-existence and been eventually replaced by new ones, and his skin is still subject to things like sun damage and his body overall isn't the SAME - but it's not necessarily older. I think Astarion would be ecstatic about this revelation, because if they have stayed together for that long, then that probably means that things are still going well - and that he had likely just started to panic a little bit at the prospect of his partner eventually growing old and dying.

As for DU drow, he would be exceptionally nonchalant about the news. Of COURSE he's immortal, it just makes sense that he would be - he's already got plenty of practice taking his own life for granted at that point.

Shadowheart's mortality would be something he had to deal with long before then. With her being a half-elf, her life expectancy is much shorter, at about 150-200 years I believe. DU drow would have seen her age and pass centuries ago by that point. As long as she gets to go peacefully (and all indicates that she probably will) he wouldn't have as difficult of a time grappling with her death - he doesn't like having things or people taken away from him by force, but nature's course is inevitable, and a concept he can actually wrap his head around and even appreciate.

Anyways, he would really like boba tea, but only the chewy kind.

[minart-was-taken]

A second chance Deleted Scenes and bonus sketches

Please read the comic here first!

This is a sketch from when I was about mid-way done with the comic. I thought it'd be fun to do a post with my headcanons regarding the differences these two have, but I never got around to lining it.

The comic was originally going to stay largely humorous so that I could end it at around 5 updates, but I had wanted to make something long form for this fandom for ages and the reception had been so sweet-- So I decided to go for the long haul and take the story seriously.

...Yea originally Maxwell was kicked in the balls and then transported Wx's soul back into the robo body.

I found the latter joke really funny, so I kept it in as a bonus for the finale!

Most of the comic was actually very easy to write. The cast is already full of things worth exploring and fun dynamics: so I just let them loose. However I did struggle a lot with writing Maxwell, as he is... Mysterious. I wanted his presence in the comic to imply deeper knowledge but I also... Don't know what Maxwell knows. It was a real tightrope.

There was a version where Maxwell fully knew who Woodrow was and brought up the name. However it felt far too disrespectful and in the end... overly dramatic. Considering I didn't actually have anything for Maxwell to be bargaining for, there was really no point to give him such a "big chip" in the game.

Another segment I struggled with MASSIVLY was the ending. From the beginning I knew I wanted a very specific outcome: Wx returns to being a robot but their empathy module is functional again.

Whatever the motives are in canon, in this comic I tried to establish that Wx being a robot is a part of their identity, not just an escape. Wx-78 has a lot of self destructive tendencies, and existing as a human would be a compromise on their identity. SO: The only real happy ending would be best of both of worlds. Wx being accepted for their full self, and them feeling ok lowering the walls between them and happiness (at least a little bit.)

While struggling to figure out what to do, I considered a dream sequence where the Wx we follow in the comic meets Wx-78, and later also Woodrow from the disconnected animation. I didn't ever really consider this a real option as it felt so out of place with the down to earth tone the comic had so far, but it was an interesting exploration.

There was another sequence between this segment and the finale that was cut out as well.

I found the idea of SHOWING that Wx put the Empathy Module in to be a very emotionally powerful idea, but although I sketched it many times I never felt satisfied... Given a few more months maybe I'd found a way to fit it in, but I wanted this comic finished. I have so many other things I'm doing, and this comic deserved an ending. I do like the one I made, I just... Its hard to not ponder what could've been!

But wait! There's more! Here's some additional deleted scenes that didn't quite fit the above chronological recollection.

This scene was what originally happened after Wx drank some of Walter's hot "chocolate."

It got cut since it kinda felt like writing Wx into a wall. However you can spot things from this scene in the finished comic! Like Wx claiming the others were helping them just because they were human, Wilson and Wx having a convo about fee fees, and Wx's wild laugh.

The next deleted scene was meant to occur sometime after the one above. It was then later turned into a few scenes, such as Maxwell and Wx's talk.

I got rid of this one because it felt wrong to have Wx just... leave and figure everything out. I wanted them to keep interacting with other characters and... Well, this was too soon! They wouldn't drop their guard that fast!! Nuh-uh!! You can see a lot of it was kept for later tho!

Before redoing those parts, I drew a bit about Wilson and Wx planning to go into the caves.

However I had no clue why I'd take them into the caves, and it just felt off pacing wise. This idea was reused too, though! I just sent Winona and Wigfrid into the caves instead.

Finally, a few deleted panels. You can probably guess where they used to be.

[erenjaegerwifee]

The Selection

Chapter 2

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Tawakmi!Reader

Warning: explicit language, mentions of injury and lots of blood. (Please be aware of you are trigger by those types of things)

Word Count: 3.1k

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged up! If that bothers you, feel free to scroll and do no interact with my account or any of my post. Index: mawey - calm

~ Hi everyone! I know it’s been a minute but I’m back with my second chapter! I’m in uni and it’s kind of difficult to manage both my degree and this but I am very passionate about writing and if I disappear I promise I will always comeback! No worries but I do appreciate your patience on this so so so much n I love you all!

Series M.List | Main M.List

It has been a week, an entire week at the Omatikaya clan. Your hair was not having it, everyday you would wake up extra early jus to make yourself look presentable and not a frizzy mess. You would call your mother everyday while you did this and talk about the day before and all your activities.

For the pass week they had you all settle in properly and get a layout of the clan, which for lack of better words, was incredibly beautiful. You had met some hardheaded chicks who were clearly sour about the fact they no longer had the chance to wow Neteyam, not that it worked out for them before otherwise why would they have held this competition in the first place? But everyone was mostly kind, it truly would be an amazing clan to be apart of if Neteyam choose you.

Today was different though, today you all got the chance to leave the clan and go on a hunting trip, it was only a few hours and close to the clan considering none of you knew the terrain. But other experienced omatikayan hunters which included Neteyam and Lo’ak would be accompanying you. The clan was not in dire need of meat otherwise why would they choose now to take you. Considering not all the girls were hunters they figured they wouldn’t come back as much. You’d finally get to explore the forest up close, to say you were excited was an understatement.

To keep the hair out of your face you braided it in the omatikayan style, thanks to Kiri, and it fell beautifully down your back, because of how full naturally curly hair was, the braids looked full as well. You dressed in a simple halter style baby blue top that held your chest properly for all the activities you’d be doing today and a loincloth to match, not that you cared to much, but it definitely enhanced your curves a bit.

You walked down the stairs following Ni’alu who wore a cute green top and loincloth, it was causal Ike your choice of wear. The other two girls, along with Neteyam, Lo’ak and their parents were waiting for you both. "Finally, we have been waiting forever!" Ma’via said in a sharp tone, “we are going hunting there is no need to get all dressed up” Lei’wa added.

“We look less dressed up than you, and maybe you should worry a little less about us and a little more on your hunting skills” you smile sarcastically at them both. Lo’ak turned his head and covered his mouth to stop from laughing, but Neteyam like his mother did a much better job at keeping composure. Neytiri who decided it was enough banter ushered us all out out the hut to go on the hunting trip. It was sunny out but still a bit cold since it was so early in the morning, so you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Maybe I should have dressed warmer” you laugh softly and Ni’alu joined in knowing exactly what you meant. “Do not worry ladies, when you start tracking, you’ll feel much warmer.” Lo’ak who overheard us butted in.

We started our journey into the dense forest that seemed to have no path but the omatikayan knew the terrain so well, navigating was not a difficult task. Neteyam and lo’ak introduced us to another man who hunted with them for the clan, just to have an extra set of hands and protection. His name was Ralu, he was tall like Neteyam but built more slim, his hair sported short braids.

The three men decided amongst themselves to split us up into groups in hopes of handling the terrain better. Neteyam took Ni’alu, Lo’ak settled for Lei’wa and Ralu was left with you and Ma’via. It was not a secret that the other girls including you, were sour about the fact that Ni’alu got to go with Neteyam, but we all split up into our assigned groups

As the hours passed, it became easier to make it through the forest. It was just as dense if not more, but it was equally as beautiful. It had just as much green as your own forest back at home, but you could clearly see the difference in diversity. The sun was close to setting through out our entire day of tracking we never actually came across an animal. You wondered if the other groups were having such bad luck. You weren’t mad about it though, you did enjoy getting to explore the forest.

“You know it’s impressive how well you’re keeping up, considering how you’ve never done this before” Ma’via said over her shoulder to you. “Never done what before?” you respond not knowing what she was implying. “Oh, you know, hunting, tracking like this in the forest, I’m sure being a performer and all you’d never want to do this type of stuff.”

“I’ve tracked before. I’ll manage” you say as you move a big leaf to walk on the path. Ralu who walked in front of us did not speak much just quietly lead us through the terrain. “Well see how long that last, tracking is not as easy as you think.” She says in an undermining tone. “You know you’re right; tracking isn’t easy. I guess that’s why only one of us will be able to keep up” you reply dearly challenging her in a calm way.

Your response seemed to have shut her up for a while, whether it’s because your words got to her, or she just couldn’t think of anything to say, you weren’t sure. But it didn’t take long for her to start testing your patience again, “woah did you see that?!’ she exclaimed, I raised my head to see what caught her interest.

“What? See what?” you start looking around in the direction she was facing. “I don’t see anything" you say as your eyes dart around the area. "Something just moved over there,” she pointed in the direction we were already looking but you saw no movement. “We should check it out” Ma’via suggested.

“I don’t see anything, we shouldn't stray from the path anyways, Ralu mentioned earlier we might be getting close to so actual prey” you told her, but she was already in her own head and didn’t hear a word you said, either that or she just ignored you. Your eyes dart from her form that was slowly straying and the leaf that Ralu just moved to continue on the path, disappearing behind it. You wanted to call out to him, but you had doubts, what if she did see something and your raised voice agitated it? Or what you scared away any close prey?

You groaned softly before following Ma’via on her side quest. “Ma’via, we should go back to the-” she suddenly cut off your sentence with a firm shush and you rolled your eyes. Your ears twitched softly against your braids trying to hear anything other than the rustling of leaves in the wind. Then you heard it, a low growl coming from some where in your vicinity. You weren’t exactly sure where and you briefly turned to Ma’via who had the same idea and you both made eye contact. You both silently agreed you heard it and your eyes dart back to the path hoping to see some sliver of Ralu.

Ma’via reached for her knife that was tucked away on her hip and you did the same simultaneously. Your eyes dart around nervously and your ears strained and twitched to hear any sound at all from the creature. You knew that neither of you were a match for one of the Omatikayan's forest creatures, especially since neither of you had any idea what it could possibly be. “I told you, I knew it was worth it,” she says, glancing over her shoulder.

You force a tight smile, your hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of your knife. “I didn’t know we were hunting for danger.” Before she can respond, the growl comes again, louder this time. Low, menacing, and close. Her expression falters. “I think it’s getting closer”

“I’m starting to think it’s not something we want to find out.” Your voice is steady, though the hairs on your neck stand on end. She brushes it off, clearly playing tough. “It’s probably just an animal. We’re fine.” But you feel the weight of the silence that follows the growl, something in the air shifting. Then, another growl—closer this time. Your voice firm as you take a step back. “That’s no animal I want to meet.”

Before she could say anything, a massive black creature pounces out of hiding, a palulukan. You’ve heard they inhabit this part of the forest, but you had never seen one in real life before they were incredibly terrifying up close, with their shape teeth and the way it menacingly blended into the surroundings. You take another step back, the creature looked as if it were readying itself to strike. Before you could get a word out to Ma’via the palulukan charged towards you and you instinctively jumped to the side landing on your stomach.

Ma’via however, was not so quick. The creature knocked her to the ground with terrifying force as she used both her hands to keep it from biting her face off. She let out a loud scream which only seemed to infuriate the creature even more. Before your mind could catch up with your body, in a blur of motion, you launched yourself at the creature showing it of her with your body weight.

You hit the ground so hard it sends you rolling tangled with the palulukan. Your fingers that still gripping the knife jammed it into the tough skin of the creature's side. Quickly you repeated the action as fast as you could until the creature was lifeless. Now that you could catch your breath, you noticed all the blood that oozed from the creature that was at least 3 times bigger than you.

The creature's body lies still, the only sound your labored breaths You sit up scanning for any more threats. Ma’via is still on the ground, her wide eyes fixed on you, too stunned to speak. For a moment, there’s only silence, the forest holding its breath. “Are you okay?’ you ask her.

Then, she blinks rapidly, as if trying to shake herself free from the shock. Slowly, she pushed herself up, her hands trembling slightly as she brushes the dirt off her legs. Her gaze flickers to the beast’s lifeless form, then back to you.

She looks away quickly, brushing dirt off her arm as if it’s nothing “you can handle yourself, I’ll give you that. But don’t think this changes anything. You’re still not getting Neteyam." Her voice was firmer again, her pride dearly intact, but something about her stance, the way she avoids meeting your eyes, suggests the guard she’s trying put up isn’t as strong as it used to be. You just rolled your eyes, “your welcome”

The sun had already set at this point and you both had no idea where you were, or how to get back to the clan. Everything looked different, every plant and flower, even some insects glowed beautifully in the night sky, like the stars somehow reflected down onto the forest. You couldn’t even find the path and back track as nothing looked even a little bit familiar, maybe it was because you felt distracted, adventure of being lost still pumped through your veins, you had no idea how you planned on making it through the night.

Ma’via sighed, “great, just great were lost. This is pointless" you roll your eyes scanning the area, “we just need to retrace our steps” you said quiet enough to not attract attention but loud enough she could hear you. Ma’via scoffs, “right because that’s so easy in the glowing forest when everything looks the same and different at the same time.”

You sigh, bringing your hands up to rub your face but quickly dropping them after you remember the blood they are still stained with, “look, arguing isn’t gonna help. We need to move before something else tries to eat us, at least find shelter and somewhere to clean up and keep warm.” Ma’via huffs but doesn’t argue, “fine, but don’t slow me down.”

You give her a dry look, “right cause I was the one getting attacked by a predator." She glares at you but doesn’t have comeback. Instead, she gestures ahead, "whatever, let’s just go.”

After what feels like hours of walking, the round of trickling water reaches your ears. You push past the glowing foliage, stepping into a small clearing where a narrow stream winds through the fore its surface shimmering under the bioluminescent light. Ma’via sighs in relief, "finally. Something useful” she kneels at the water’s edge, cupping a handful to drink.

You scan the area before crouching beside her, dipping your fingers into the cool stream. “We should stop here for a bit. Rest, start a fire.”

She hesitates before nodding, “yeah…. I gross that’s smart.” There was no biting remark, no smugness. Just agreement. You gather some dry wood while she arranges the stones, and soon, the flickering orange glow of the fire dances against your skin, a contrast to the cool blue hues of the forest. For a moment, it almost feels peaceful.

But then, a rustle in the underbrush. Ma’via stiffens, eyes darting in the dance direction as yours, towards the trees, “…did you hear that?”

Another rustle. Then, a low growl.

Not this again.

“Please tell me that was your stomach” you say without looking away from where the growl and rustling was coming from.

Ma’via shoots you a sharp look. “Do I look like I just swallowed a hexapede whole?” the underbrush shifts again, the sound closer this time. You pick up a long branch from the floor gripping it tightly in your hands as you slowly rise to your feet, “I was hoping for a yes”

Your relentless rival follows suit, her posture tense. “It’s probably just-” A deep snarl cuts her off then from the shadows, something moves. The growl deepened, it multiplied, there was more than one creature, they blended in so well you couldn’t see them.

The sounds vibrated through the air, the glowing foliage trembles as something stalks just beyond the fire’s light. You grip the branch tighter, shifting your stance. “More than one, and whatever they are, it’s getting closer”

You take a deep breath as your so-called competition says, “we can handle it, we did it before” you could hear the uncertainty is her voice, “you mean I, have done this before”

"Whatever, you really wanna show off now?!” she exclaims, and you roll your eyes. You know she doesn’t feel very confident right now and you don’t blame her.

The creature lunges and swiftly you swat the small, 6-legged creature away with the branch, it made a small whimper as it hit a nearby tree. Although before you could catch your breath, another creature attacked, jumping directly on you, you fell to the ground before you could retaliate.

The creature scratched and bit at your leg making you scream out in pain, at that point you didn’t care what you attracted, you wanted this thing off you. Ma’via swift kicked it off you and kneeled down by your body, now, you finally saw some hunter instinct in her. As the creature lunged back at her she donged, sending it flying behind her protecting your crying form beneath her.

She stabbed it as it came back killing it, “are you okay?!” her voice was panicked. “Do I fucking look okay Ma’via?!” you cry out holding the top of your thigh. She was about to an over, but the growls turned to snarls, nasty, scary snarls. Our eyes darted around us to see an entire pack of the creature circling, ready to pounce at any moment.

Just as a creature tense to pounce-

THWIP!

An arrow whips through the air piercing the creature mid leap. You barely register the blur of movement before Neteyam steps from the trees, bow drawn, another arrow already nocked. His golden eyes flick between the two of you, sharp with relief before it darts back up hitting another creature who lunged in our direction.

Ma’via and I stayed shocked on the ground and eternally grateful Eywa lead Neteyam to us when she did. Before he could pull another arrow, one of the creatures lunged at him, neteyam swung his bow swatting the creature away. He fired another arrow forcing the creatures back. Neteyam hisses, low and sharp at the creatures, it was loud and powerful, a clear warning to the pack to back off. Hesitating, the creatures slinked back into the darkness.

Neteyam kneels down on the other side of you instantly, cars flattening as he sees your tears, his brow forgotten as his hands hovered over you, “hey, hey, I’ve got you. Just breath” his voice was steady, but the worry was evident. His fingers gently grazed your high before hesitating afraid to hurt you more. “I’ll take care of you, I promise."

Your gasps become unsteady, and he cups your cheeks in an effort to calm you down, “Mawey, you are safe now.” He reassures me.

Ma’via steps closer, her usual arrogance gone. “She’s bleeding a lot.” He voice tight with worry, “it all happened so fast, I-I, is she going to be okay?” neteyam glanced up at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods, “she’ll be fine, but we have to get her back. Now.” He assures her but his tone was serious.

He doesn’t waste another second. Carefully, he slides one arm beneath your knees and the other under your back. “This is going to hurt,” he warns gently. Then with effortless strength, he lifts you into his arms. You grip his shoulder, wincing with a cry of pain but he holds you securely, his warmth steady against you.

Ma’via quickly falls into step with him making sure to stay close. Your head rocked back as you started to feel lightheaded. Neteyam pulls you up slightly so your head rest on his shoulder. “We’re almost there, stay with me” he says. You try to respond, but your body feels heavy, the pain in your leg throbs, a dull, dragging weight, and your eyelids flutter.

The forest lights start to blur together and fade. In your weekend state, his scent and warmth wrapped around you like a blanket and the last thing you hear is Neteyam's voice, lower now, urgent but still impossibly gentle. “I’ve got you.” before everything, went black.

🪸I again want to thank you for your patience in this wait for this new chapter and I promise more to come! I love you all and I promise to try harder to push out more work cause I have so many ideas for stories that I must get out of my mind! Please any feedback are welcomed and appreciated along with any idea you guys think I should put into the storyline! Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated and welcome!

Taglist: 

@rivatar @delusionalwh6re @strongheartneteyam @xylianasblog @nilahsstuff @inlovewithpandora @neteyamsoare @m1tsu-ki @xrollingmyeyesx @goofygremlin123 @quicktosimp @r11k4 @its-jennarose @anonymuslydumb @winterhi09 @teymars @kylimarz @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @unholycheesesnack @pandoraslxna @pandorxxx @majestickitty @plantgirliewholovespandora @thisaintredwine @kodzuminx @avatarobsessedgirly @kdacase @dayyzlol @beautifulglitterwombat @finnickswifeeee @shikiinkm @spideyweirdo @bakugoswaif @angelita-uchiha @wawauwe @himikoquack @inutheangel

[live-laugh-legolas]

Hi! For a request could you do The Fellowship as parents? Like reader has a kid with them what would they be like? Have a great day!

Cute! This has just been sitting in my drafts

The fellowship as parents

Aragorn:

-This might be controversial

-Because ik we know Aragorn is daddy (hehe)

-But

-He’s not the best father of those on this list

-He’s a great dad don’t get me wrong

-He’s very patient and guiding

-But he’s also not the uttermost hands on

-He wasn’t raised like that

-He kind of lets his kids figure stuff out on their own while supporting them and making sure they don’t die

-Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing at all; just compared to the others I’d rank him lower

Legolas:

-I have a hard time picturing him as a dad; more like a cool uncle

-But he would be the dad that’s kinda on the same level as the kids

-I think elves are kind of feral growing up so his parenting reflects that

-Yes they are elegant and poised; he is a prince so his kids need to know manners

-But he will join them in eating things they shouldn’t

-Climbing places probably not good for a child to be

-I don’t get the vibes that he particularly dreams of being a father; but he would take on the job to the best of his ability should it happen

Gimli:

-Father of the year right here

-I just think dwarves are generally good parents and if we consider his father; well let’s just say he’s got a good relationship

-Won’t stop talking about his children

-Will go to all the tea parties and talk to the plushies

-Yes he is wearing a tiara; obviously

-A goofy dad; no problem embarrassing his children for his own entertainment and to keep their egos in check

Boromir:

-A very good father

-He doesn’t take after his father; and instead treats his kids kinda how he treats Faramir

-Literally the most love and pride

-Please give this man a daughter

-He would spoil the shit out of his little princess

-He would also be sooo excited to be an uncle

Frodo:

-Another one I can’t picture as a father; but he would take a kid under his wing

-Let’s kids tag along with him for anything

-Talks to them the same way he would anyone; which makes the kids think he is the coolest

-Like he doesn’t coddle anyone and is very honest (with maybe a bit of cheek)

-He kind of co-parents with all his friends

Sam:

-Another top tier dad right here

-It’s always been his dream to have kids (a lot of kids)

-I’ve been living for the bunny comics made by @rutobuka2 and Sam literally embodies a bunny in the sense of family size

(I’m a definitely more a LOTR person than Hobbit but damn it if this isn’t some of the cutest art I’ve ever seen)

-Anyway; I’ll stop fangirling and get back to the hc’s

-He is super gentle with his kids; but also is very good about discipline

-Definitely teaches his kids to take care of their mom

Merry:

-Super involved with everything

-Gets his kids whatever they want but they do have to work for it; more like rewards and gifts

-Loves to build things for his kids; like a treehouse or wooden boats

-Takes his kids on rides and fishing trips

-Makes sure they know basic life skills

Pippin:

-He’s a fantastic dad

-I feel very repetitive in saying that but it’s true; the fellowship of good dads

-So engaged with his kids

-Will go above and beyond in their games

-Takes dress up very seriously

-I imagine him also being very scheduled with bed time

-He probably riles his kids up before bed with silly bedtime games (which is what my dad did)

-Seems counter productive but it made me excited to go to bed so I never really fought it; genius

Gandalf:

-Grandpa energy

-But chaotic

-We know he is good with kids; or at least that kids love him

-Can keep anyone entertained

-You can trust him to babysit

-This is in moderation though

-He will grow tired and want a break so he will dump them on someone else for a bit

[gracefireheart]

Time for yet another Sea Grunkles adventure, 'cause this one I've had in mind for a lil' while. It's a long though, so I'll put it under the keep reading line.

It revolves around the whole "I'm still on your mind" poem, to which- a few months into Stan and Ford's sea venture- Bill finally finds out how to get back into Stan's mind again from the Theraprism.

The only problem? Well... Bill's essentially powerless there too. Can't really make Stan's dreams chaotic and distressing like he wants to (besides just being there himself, which seems to at least annoy Stan a lil' bit), can't really make a deal with Stan even if he wanted to, can't even float around this damn Mindscape! It was frustrating to be there, especially with Stan laughing at Bill's uselessness. However, it did make him feel immense joy to know that Stan haven't slept well because of him- coupled with the fact that Stan doesn't want to tell Ford about this- so he continued visiting as often as he could.

Of course, Ford eventually notices that something's wrong with Stan. Despite getting more sleep than Ford (old habits die hard and all), Stan still looked more and more tired the more days pass. He wanted Stan to tell him what was going on without any prompting from himself, but after about a week had passed with nothing from his younger twin, Ford tries to confront him himself. Of course, Stan brushed him off.

Being two stubborn old men, they do end up arguing out on the deck of the ship. A lot of "I just want to make sure you're okay!" and "I don't need someone to take care of me, I'm completely fine!" and so on, until Stan spots something out the corner of his eye. Looking over- and upwards, upwards, upwards- Stan looked up to see a massive pink axolotl, staring down at them with a smile.

"Ah, there you are." Echoed through the air, yet the axolotl didn't move it's lips as it spoke. And of course, Stan screamed at it as he had no clue what it actually is nor why it's here.

Ford, however, looks at Stan in confusion- wondering why his brother was suddenly screaming out of nowhere. They very quickly find out that Ford can't see this giant axolotl- which was very unfair, in Ford's opinion- because, apparently, it had come here to kinda see Stanley, not Ford. Something about how Bill is breaking some rules by half leaving the Theraprism- several times- without an authorized figure with them or even knowing about it, and this axolotl's here to try and fix that. Also, Bill wasn't allowed to visit the Pines Family (or any of the Gravity Falls residents) at all to not make them relive old trauma- or give them any new trauma.

As this big axolotl spoke, Ford wanted to hear from Stan what it was saying, but of course, Stan doesn't want to say shit considering the subject matter. The Axolotl, having paused it's speech for a moment, looks sadly at the two twins- telling Stan how despite how happy this boat adventure seemed to make them, they still want to do everything in their power to "be better" for their twin. Whether by not being an inconvenience, or trying to pay back for past mistakes.

No matter, this wasn't why the Axolotl was here- the twins would have to figure that part out themselves once the Axolotl was done here. They shake their head before informing Stan that they need to be in his Mindscape for a bit to figure out how to get Bill out of there. Stan had no clue what to say to that, but even before he could try to say anything, the Axolotl surges forward and goes into his head- making Stan fall into Ford's arms, his eyes glowing bubblegum pink as he went unconscious.

This was pretty alarming for Ford to see- yelling out a distressed "STANLEY!" as he held his younger twin- but he quickly realized what was happening by the glowing eyes and remembered one of his own journal entries that could help in this situation. Carrying Stan's body to their shared bedroom, Ford places his twin's unconscious body onto the lower bed before he sets everything up with the lit candles. As Ford held his hand to Stan's forehead, it took a couple of tries to recite the exact latin words he needed to say. The moment he got it right, Ford was transported into Stan's mindscape- ready to face whatever was going on with this Axolotl he had heard high praises about in his travels through dimens--

"Hey Fordsy." "Hey. ... YOU--"

[lyonnerileyauthor]

So I Married an Alien

this is coming out in July, but I'm an asshole so here is a teaser from the first chapter.

They didn’t mention that the husband they were sending me would have four arms. I feel like the number of arms is an important thing to bring up when pairing you with a potential life partner. Would the extra arms have made a difference if I had known? I’m not sure.

But I should have known before we were supposed to get married.

Said extra arms are folded across his chest as we stand there on opposite sides of the meeting room, the lower pair hanging at his sides. The arms aren’t the most arresting thing about him, though. His skin is a bright blue-purple, like the night sky right after sunset. A pair of short stalks on his head twitch and bob as he regards me. Does he really have freaking antennae?

In the next room, we’ll get married, or so the matchmaker told me. But it’s really just a ceremony, and we won’t sign the papers until the thirty-day trial period is up—er, actually, I think it’s one of those fancy tablets all the aliens have. 

Then we’ll officially be husband and wife. If we make it that long.

My groom is dressed in a smudged-up uniform that covers his shoulders and thighs, strapped around the middle with a belt. It’s the same sort of thing the matchmaker is wearing where he stands between us, and the same thing that most aliens who visit Earth seem to wear.

The galaxy has very mid fashion sense.

Gazargo, who is also a weird alien but not quite as weird as my new husband, hops off the stool that keeps him at eye level with us. Now I have to peer down to look into his squat face.

“Roth’kar, this is Amara,” Gazargo says, gesturing at each of us as he names us. “Amara, this is Roth’kar.”

I hold out a hand to shake, which seems like the polite thing to do. Roth’kar stares down at my hand with his strange, ethereal-blue eyes, then back up at me.

Gazargo clears his throat. “They do not have handshakes in Karthinian culture,” he tells me. “She is trying to greet you, Roth’kar. How do you do it where you come from?”

The four-armed alien—hmm, I should probably try to call him by his name—brings both pairs of hands to his chest and lifts his chin, closing his eyes briefly.

“That is how we greet one another formally,” Roth’kar says in a deep, booming voice.

Wow, is that voice even stranger than his eyes. It’s almost hollow, reverberating through my bones. I’ve never heard anything like it, as if he’s playing an instrument.

I imitate his gesture, placing my hands on my chest and lifting my chin, and say, “It’s good to meet you, Roth’kar.”

The corner of his mouth tweaks upward. That’s good. I think that’s a smile, though I can’t take anything for granted with an alien. Wish I’d gotten some kind of primer on his species before this so I didn’t look like an idiot, but here we are.

“Now that you’ve met, let’s get on to the ceremony,” Gazargo says. He waddles away to the adjoining room, and Roth’kar nods at me to walk through the door first when we reach it at the same time. Up close, I realize how tall he is, almost whole head higher than I am, and I’m a fairly tall girl.

On the other side of the door is yet another dimly-lit room, this time with a small window that looks out onto the docking bay. This is where spaceships come and go, a port that was built not long after first contact was made. 

The first aliens we met were all like Gazargo—small, gray, and kind of wrinkled with a face like a turtle. They’d gotten a permit from the Intergalactic Association of Civilizations to make contact with us so they could try to sell us… well, stuff.

That was how it started, anyway. Those aliens, the Frahma, opened the door for other alien species to take note of us. We had a unique plight here on Earth after the RVS plague, one that called for out-of-towners to be imported to fill the need. And so eventually, Gazargo established his matchmaking service.

That’s what the Frahma are good at. I think they could figure out a way to sell you your own clothes.

Gazargo leads us to a pedestal, gesturing for each of us to stand to one side of it, about two feet apart. Then he climbs up steps on the back until he’s about eye level with us, and pulls out a tablet to read.

“On this day, the twenty-seventh of May, on this year of twenty twenty-nine, I hereby match Amara Knox, with Roth’kar the Fifth of His Name. These two will join in matrimony, to build a home together, and—”

As the words go on, outside thoughts start to pour in. Roth’kar isn’t looking at me. He’s glaring intently at Gazargo, as if willing him to get to the end of his schpiel faster. At least we have that in common. I want this to be over just as much.

I was so excited about this, so ready to finally have a companion in life and a chance to fall in love. But now that I’m seeing Roth’kar with my own eyes—all four arms of him—I’m second-guessing myself. He looks unhappy to be here, and I hope he wasn’t compelled or coerced into coming. I know nothing about Karthinians, so I’m going to have to start from scratch on that front.

I got a futon for my office, since we don’t know each other yet and inviting a strange alien into my bed seemed like we’d be moving a little too fast. But imagining it in my head, I’m sure the futon won’t nearly be big enough for Roth’kar. I’ll have to trade with him and sleep on it myself while he has my bed.

“Amara?” Gazargo asks, startling me out of my thoughts. “It’s time?”

Time for what? I search my mind for what’s entailed in a wedding ceremony.

“Oh! Right.” I had rings made for us. The one thing the matchmaker did give me was Roth’kar’s ring size. I pull out the box and remove both rings, which earns a curious look from Roth’kar’s freaky blue eyes.

“What are these?” he asks, peering closer at them.

“It’s an Earth tradition, one of them,” Gazargo says, plucking the rings from my fingers. He exchanges them, so now I’m holding Roth’kar’s ring, and my new alien husband is holding mine. “Now put the ring on her hand, Roth’kar.”

The alien grunts, never looking up at me as he reaches for my hand. At least he only has five fingers—I don’t know how I’d handle six or seven on top of the double arms.

Carefully he slides the ring onto one of my fingers, the index one.

“Wrong finger,” I say gently, then wiggle my ring finger. “It goes on that one.”

With a huff of impatience, Roth’kar does as I tell him, removing the ring and then plunking it onto my ring finger, instead. He pulls away, and the simple, silver band shines in the low light.

“Your turn.” Gazargo offers me the other ring. Roth’kar holds out his hand for me as I slip the ring onto his ring finger, pushing it down until it’s seated at the base.

When I stand up straight again, Roth’kar is pointedly looking away from me, his cheeks stained a dark bluish color. He retracts his hand, flexing his fingers before it returns to his side along with, well, his other hand.

Gosh, so many hands.

Then an unbidden thought hops into my brain. If he has two sets of arms… does he also have two…?

I can’t think like that. We’re strangers. It will take some time for us to get to know each other, which we’ll have to do before any funny business can happen.

“And now, you say your commitments,” Gazargo instructs.

“Commitments?” Roth’kar’s brow pinches. “I am committed now.”

“Yes, yes, they are just nice things to say before you agree to the marriage.” Gazargo waves a hand dismissively. “Come up with something.”

“I’ll go first,” I interject, because I actually wrote something down and rehearsed it at home. “Roth’kar.” I address him directly. “I promise I will be honest with you, sometimes even when you don’t want to hear it. I promise to be loyal to you, unless it’s at a game of Bullshit. I promise to cherish you, and have no others, until death do us part.”

Roth’kar’s mouth drops open.

“Until death do us part?” he repeats, horrified.

“It’s a common phrase in human matrimony,” Gazargo says. “Now, yours, Roth’kar.”

The alien flexes his throat like he wants to speak, but all the words he had are gone.

“Uh,” he says, then curses something in his own tongue that the translator can’t pick up. “I will also, erm, cherish you, and be loyal to you.” He doesn’t mention anything about honesty. “I will do all my due diligences as your husband, as they are called for.”

What? As they are called for? What is he talking about?

“Oh, all right.” I try to smile. “That’s nice.”

“Do you take Roth’kar to be your lawful husband?” Gazargo asks me.

I nod. This is what I signed up for, after all. “I do.”

“And do you, Roth’kar, take Amara to be your lawful wife?”

Those glowing eyes settle on my face, and I wonder who he is under that indifferent expression, and if he’ll show me.

Eventually, he nods and says, “I do.”

[refeverie]

CAN I REQUEST ANGST WITH WANDERER?? - reader is in love with a guy from the academy when the wanderer truly loves the reader and understands everything perfectly.. But soon it turns out that the guy the reader is in love with turns out to be.. not a good person and wanted to hurt the reader. I really ask you to make an angst with a good ending where the reader will be together with the wanderer. I will be glad if you accept my request

everything he did, he did for you.

slight hurt/comfort. gn!reader × wanderer. wc 660

note. nothing is specified, but i should say, that if you experienced anything like in the prompt, it by itself is a trigger warning for readers / it's also not entirely written like requested since i don't really know how to write it in my style (but i wanted to do it), so i tried not to stray from myself and wanderer.

(i don't take requests anymore, only ideas—i figured i can't write under pressure)

love is such a complicated concept. to some, it is a warm home; a safe place you return to at the end of the day. to others, an intense feeling of affection for a person you trust. for someone else, it is just a complex cycle of triggered hormones. … et cetera. 

and to wanderer? it is either a nonexistent idea for most days, or a specific name at times. yours, in particular. 

he is not one to confess, not one to possess, but one to suppress. wanderer is used to subdue the swirling hot emotions way easier than he should, or he would want to. he does not enjoy having certain feelings, yet, without them, he would not feel as human as he is. 

the thing is, you do not see him like that at all. well, that is what wanderer thinks anyway when he watches you take another’s hand. he notices the enamored look you give to that special someone, and it churns in his stomach. 

if his body had natural blood circulation, he would say he feels like all of his limbs are tied up firm—cutting the flow of oxygen to his brain; going all blue from pain and shortness of breath; said limbs being severed altogether with crimson red vital fluid drizzling into a pond underneath his trembling feet. 

the boy you like is sweet-talking. he gifts you expensive accessories, treats you to dinner, gives you flowers daily, always sneaks an arm around your waist, kisses your face, and never leaves your side. it is borderline perfect. 

he suffers this thing called ‘love’ like it is an incurable sickness. it eats him whole; gnaws at his heart. however, one fact is clear to him: he cares about you to an extent, so he understands your feelings well enough as well. letting you love someone else instead of him is one thing he can do for you beyond question. because you deserve to be your own person. 

wanderer ponders if it is what you like. he is the complete opposite of that guy—intimidating and teasing; all about give-and-take; not into intimacy nor gifting, but words and time; not around you every time yet always there for you when you do need him. and whatever you prefer. 

everything he did, he did for you.

despite all that agony, wanderer still lived, or rather, existed. 

it was not that long into your relationship before his ears perked up at the sound of your hushed name being mentioned when he strolled at the library of akademiya. he recognized the man you like. he is not alone and neither did he talk nice about you. some worm in his chest bit him hard.  

the house you are in is dark and unfamiliar; uncanny. it feels unpleasant. the guy you like mentioned he would be back soon, he just had to pick up something down the street. you assume it is flowers like every day. though, it has been quite a long time.

as you hear a bell ring, you go to welcome him back. in truth, after you open the doors, you are met with someone else instead—wanderer. he is not alone, his right hand is holding your boyfriend by the scruff of his neck, and the left grips another boy you saw once or twice before at the library. you are confused, but not for long. 

shortly, you are clutching wanderer’s chest, teary-eyed, and feeling so small in this huge scary world. if not for him, what would have happened to you? he holds you close, tracing soothing circles with the palm of his hand on your back. he found himself kissing the top of your head secretly, too.

you never appreciated wanderer that much before today. he earned your trust, your gratitude, and your love. he felt like he just sacrificed a lot of his energy, but it did not matter. 

because everything he did, he did for you.

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

"Uh...." Kisho had that look. He took a look of pause with a smile on his face. Taz blinks. "Uh....Kisho, you're okay."

"Err...well..." Kisho laughs, "Give me a moment, would you?" He excuses himself and walks over to Megumi. He placed his hands on his shoulders. "Hey, Megumi. I need help in setting down rules! Can you help me out here?"

"Yeah, I can help you Kisho....It's not that hard to think of some rules just simple ones." he said.

The others blink to see this but Raito said nothing confused to what was going on. However, Miko sighed. "Question ummm Raito? Can I set a rule too?" she asked .

"Since your the closest to the summon of course. What is your rule?" he asked.

"......Well I wanted to set ally rule. You can't harm anyone of the curses spirits lingering around." she said speaking of Wilson, Anaconda, Dennis, etc. "Or demons that come here if they are our friends. That includes, Mr Sukuna and Miss Kinie and others we know. I can tell or feel your curious.." she asked yet Raito thinks to sigh.

"I understand but don't worry. I couldn't do that even if I was forced to. I already knew the dangers of many lingering here. I won't attack unless they are a threat. Second, it goes for other demons in different areas. I remember one Azure phoenix that is within or out of NYC that is a friend. So I won't harm anyone that is your ally or friend." he said understanding the second rule.

"Wait...your friend?" she asked.

"Yes. She is another demon phoenix that that is the watcher over the demon one named Willow Phoenix. As I stated, I am the god of all the phoenixes....including her and others out of japan to America or all over the world. I figure you know that.."

"So wait..you mean you know about the demons in NYC?" Yuji asked.

"I do.....In and out of NYC or all over the world. I figure Vanity said something about that..or the other demons but seems not." he said.

"..O..Oh.."

"Though, since your making a rule, I'll add a third one.." he said lowering his head that Raito looks or faces Miko. "I'll be sure to protect you if he is not present. Even if I am a summoning god under his oath, I'm also to watch over you. So..think of it as having a third ally. And for him a second one. I can teach you magic and other things that will help you later in the future like to him as well." he said.

"You...You can?" Miko asked with a sweatdrop.

"Of course. If he summons me I can help him if or when he needs me or if he wishes, I can stay with you in some way to help aid you if possible.. Maybe leaving an little ally with you that is just as dangerous as me." he said. "Though I am bonded to him, I'm also bonded to you too." he explains.

'It's true.' Kinie Ger speaks, coming out of Taz's head. "The cursed energy from the bird is flowing within them." She said, confirming. Taz hoped Rin and Yukio wouldn't freak out about this. If Kisho got the book from one of them, she hoped they wouldn't get in trouble or worse, give Kisho such a hard time.

"Hm, I'm sure they won't do anything when finding out. Maybe shocked but that's mostly it. I mean who wouldn't freak out knowing someone used a ancient book like that?" Gojo asked.

"Not helping sensei." Megumi and Nobara said.

"Alright, now we know about your abilities. Let's go over some ground rules." Kisho begins, "The Friend Rules!" He smiles. "First rule: everyone here on campus of Jujutsu Tech is your ally. Now, I'm not saying to extend your bond to everyone or share your cursed energy with everyone, but I want you to keep them safe and treat this place as your second home, okay?"

"That's a good first rule," Taz said.

Raito looks or has his four eyes facing him ti sign. "That seems like a fair rule for me to follow. Understandable human Kisho. Was their another one you wish to set?" Raito asked.

[boooweirdo]

Radio Statics

Pairing: Alastor x Female!Reader

Description: Since joining the hotel, you haven’t spoken a word to Alastor. The both of you knew each other from past human lives and it slowly comes to haunt the both of you. Maybe words being spoken that were once unsaid.

Warnings: violence (choking, fighting), arguing, and mentions of murder.

A/N: Hello! I hope y’all doing well. It’s been a real while since i posted about Alastor so it’s time for him to make a little return. This is a little different on what I’m used to but I hope y’all love it (and maybe hear your own interpretation of the ending) anyways enjoy!

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

The night was quiet.

Quiet as a dead mouse much would say. Inside of the hotel it seems to lock away all the disrupted noises and explosions that occur a few miles away from the city of Hell.

Even standing out on the balcony and observing the pure mess that is drawn out below us. 

You can always feel everyone’s anger out in the street. With their own mindless story that involves a sprinkle of trauma and death in it. 

Yet I suppose that’s what Hell is all about. Their own lesson that ended up here.

With days of trying to convince the people in the city to redeem themselves to get to heaven it seems to question a bit on everyone’s beliefs, or bring a dilemma of a past that you try to set behind you. 

And for me all I have been doing is running from the past. Dying alone was the best part of anything, yet knowing half of the people you loved weren’t exactly good beings was the worst part.

Ending up here was hard enough to accept; but knowing the true reason of being here was harsh.

Knowing a sick man in the past that you trusted and stay loyal with—was killing people for fun.

And now he’s in the damn same place in the same damn hotel as I am.

Looking at each other, passing each other, and not sparing a word to each other.

Small looks and glances that send me revolting with pity, sadness and anger that have held since I found out about his death in the woods.

Finding out the truth from the detectives as they tell you the amount of bodies found. Turn my stomach sick the next few days not being able to eat.

It was at least a decade ever since and even with much time helping to mend those wounds; It never seemed to be enough seeing his face appear with such a sadistic smile.

My feet were worn tired after staring outside for a solid moment. Staring down below of Hell raging on with all committed sins right down there.

For a second I felt a breeze hit my back. And clicks that sounded almost like shoes walking on the hardwood floor. These flickers of unnerving radio statics that peak in the middle of silence.

The clicks became ever more present. A figure next to me with a cane and smile that tucked into his real personality. Sharp as ever with a suit.

He stood still.

I stay still. 

So still someone may have called me a statue.

His presence was noticeable and I knew that the longer time went on, I couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there. 

“It's certainly an interesting view isn’t it?

First words to break the silence. Only coming from Alastor.

My eyes seem curiously glance beside me. Catching the sight of him. I couldn’t seem to believe the fact he was clearly ignoring the undeniable tension that grew once stepping into my room.

He was so tall. He always was but here in Hell, it looks like he took up some couple of inches. With a sewn on smile on his face and signature radio like voice that he emitted.

I look away and focus on the view again. Drowning out the emotions and thoughts merging.

“Looks awfully pretty, but horrible.”

A chuckle came out of him hearing my response. “Oh come now, don’t be so harsh. Hell has its own…unique charm.”

“Sure. If unique charm is probably getting harassed or assaulted by every living thing here.”

The corners of his lips seem to be tugged into a makeshift amused smile. Another spike of radio static came through.

“My dear, that’s exactly the unique charm of Hell. The chaos, the violence, the absolute anarchy that reigns supreme. You know this very well yourself.”

A pause took place. Alastor peeks to see me before continuing.

“After all, haven’t you experienced it firsthand?”

My hand gripped the rail of the balcony and faced away from the view. Getting the hint of my emotions getting angrier the more he spoke with that aggravating tone and radio statics of his.

“I would say the same to you too, asshole.”

Facing away from the balcony, I saw him tilted his head with a slightly mocking smile. I knew inside of him he enjoyed revealing the anger out of his sick amusement in it.

“My, my. What vocabulary you have there. I wasn’t aware you were such a potty mouth, darling.”

He chuckled, the radio static becoming more pronounced for a moment. He knew he was pushing my buttons, but he couldn’t help himself.

“And you’re still the annoying prick thinking he’s better than anyone else. That radio show sure made you jerk.”

I spat out with a taste of venom. That kind of venom that sits inside for a long time and comes out hot.

“Someone’s particularly moody today. I must admit, I’ve missed that fiery side of yours. Still, such rude manners are unbecoming.”

He tutted, circling around to stand in front of me, his gaze fixed on me. “Besides, dear, even with my radio show you never went running away from me.”

“You didn’t either. The both of us never ran away from each other.”

The sentence suddenly made him went silent for a second. Unsure if it made him think or angry. In the midst of it, I made my way to the dark fill of my room to sit on the edge of my bed. 

I couldn’t help but frown as I saw him still in the same position. Standing out and staring at whatever caught his eye in the city. Thinking about all those memories that seem to be blurb of mess that didn’t interlock with each other. 

“I have to admit, I’m surprised that you’re even here in first place,” said Alastor. “Makes me think why you ended up here in the first place for such perfect morals for a person like you.” 

“You thinking?” I scoffed. “I thought you had to stop doing that, especially after killing those people.”

He lets out a hum that almost seems to vibrate inside of me and sends shivers that crawls down my skin. His walking getting heavy, with each step that weighed down on the old rickety brown floors, and his head trying to peek at my face to get high on how much I despise him—with every fiber that strung in me.

My fingers tangled themselves in my bed sheets and my courage built up once his eyes had met mine. 

Alastor continued to smile. “Don’t act so dumb. For a smart girl like you, don’t ever try to insult your own intelligence over mine.”

I furrowed my eyebrows but his radio statics were muffler louder.

“You knew. You always knew and you didn’t try to stop me either, right darlin’?”

My brain was clouded. Before I could function, I stood up and my hand grabbed one of the vases with red roses on my nightstand and threw it. Landing and crashing into bits of pieces, an inch closer it could’ve landed on Alastor. 

The roses landing right in the middle between us and there was pause of just me catching onto my breath.

Alastor stood there completely unfazed. If anything, a small chuckle spurt out of him. “Careful darlin’, or someone would get the idea you’re trying to kill me.”

He teased and stood directly in front of me, crowding me on the edge of the bed and forcing me into him.

“Kill you?” I spat out. “It will be the last thing I would do to you if I ever had you.”

Alastor's smile never falters. His eyes twitch.

My chest begins to heave and my hands tremble. 

“What do you want from me?” I cried out. “You’ve stolen everything that I ever had with me when I was just human? I gave everything to you and cracked almost every singular part just so for you to be reminded of me. I gave up every ordinary thing and yet you couldn’t get enough of it last time!”

My face flush and my head begins to reel into my emotions and my hands push him. Taking more steps, taking up the space that had left between us.

I continued. “So why again, huh? Why? Why do you love torturing me? Did you get high from it? Do you love seeing me being fucking possessed from you? Do you think about me all alone when nobody isn’t there to bother you and you can’t help but imagine me alone in a room with you?”

The amount of pushes and my yelling, his ears twitch and smile begin to crinkle. His fingers dented into his cane. The longer I stared at him, I felt woozy and each deep breath felt shallow making my feet stumble.

“Torture you? I would never—“

“Oh please. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You love it,” I interrupted him.

I push him again pressing on his chest and he stumbles backwards this time off guard. 

Alastor still smiled but through his little wrinkle inner corners of his eyes, I knew his irritation was growing more present.

“You think you know me so well, don’t you? You act as if you know my every word and intention,” he said.

“Like you said, we are good pals and I think I have rather good painting of who you really are. I knew you when you were nothing but a man with dreams.”

His eyes narrowed and his smile became tighter, for a split second with light leaking into the room, a shadow passed by behind him. 

“You think merely knowing my past makes you better than me, Is that it? You believe that you are the only sinner here that knows the real truth of the Radio Demon, simply because you knew me when we were just humans?”

Alastor bent down to my level and his eyes drowned in some kind of mockery, and something else. 

“You want that,” He added. “You love the idea of being the only being to ever understand a man like me with such gruesome intentions. This isn’t about me but really, you.”

My eyes flicker away from him and a tight ball develops in my throat. It suffocated me and it made my eyes teary

“Now don’t lie to yourself, I’ll only start to pity you,” Alastor smiled. 

Alastor stood up properly. Bringing the space back and letting the cold air hit me once again. He dusts himself off from his shoulders and fix his bowtie. His eyes flicker down to me if I was gonna say anything back to him, but I didn’t. My gaze was stuck on his chest and it was clouded by thoughts that led to remembrance.

It’s been a decade. I have swore to never let myself sink to the slight nostalgia. It made me feel sick and guilty that it lasted in my body for hours. It felt too nice, too reassuring. Nostalgia is meant to be a warm blanket for buried truths, but now it feels like im standing with a shovel in hand

Alastor twirls his staff and hummed a tune, preparing to leave and making his way to the closed door of the room. A couple steps in and he wears a winning smile that stretches over his face.

“You didn’t have a microphone.”

Alastor stops halfway. His back faced away from me. Alastor peeks behind his shoulder. 

“Say that again, dear.”

“You looked everywhere and even attempted to steal one from town market shops. It was risky and I remember you chicken out, but with the money troubles—you stole it. It was…Mister…Mister Brody. That was his name. The man that owns the shop. He made sure you never came back. Yet he never wanted to admit how proud he was of you.

I watch him stay there, no catch of any wind or movement of him.

“You had a suit. A raggedy suit that had fabrics falling off and had to be patch up with a sewing kit. It was only suit you ever own and given to you by your mother—“

His fists clenched and my wrists were pulled by green mist created by thin air. I yelped from the sudden pull and there I could see it was magic turn into chains he had finally got me. 

Yet I push.

“You were so insecure that everyone thought you would look bad, but with your charm and humour—it didn’t matter if you wore a bad suit or not. If anything it made you a man who only wanted to give people simple entertainment from the struggles people had.”

The green chains weigh heavy, causing me to fall to the floor. I didn’t react fast enough by then there was one wrapped around my neck.

“You were—shining! Everytime you—got the chance—“

His hand pulled the chains and I was dragged on the floor. I struggle to stand up or try to run, he dragged me harder. By then I was laying on the ground, and he tighten the chain around my neck.

“Everyone called you sad and pathetic! I always remember those words being told left and right—no one had any chance of believing in you, no one care!”

The metal on my neck dig deep and by any chance I knew it could rip through my skin enough for it bleed. The oxygen was slowly being suck out of my head and I gripped on the chain.

“You thought for the longest maybe,” A dying breath escape out of me. “Maybe they were right—but they weren’t.”

“You were never sad and pathetic,” I continue with the last breath I could contain. “I believe you weren’t sad and pathetic—you were my best friend, Alastor. No one could’ve done anything to change my mind about you, even how awful and cruel you were to the end.”

My voice begin to break without the air. Tears begin to distort the last bit my vision. The last bit of being able to see Alastor, and his sinister smile that was slowly crumbling.

Inside, I slowly gave up and my weight became almost limp. My hands were nearly pale and blood was being drawn out. 

I didn’t know if there was no “afterlife” for the after life. Maybe I can picture the black void. Maybe that’s enough to comfort me now.

Before I could imagine anymore of the black void, the chains went loose and nearly fell through thin air and disappeared for good. 

The green mist flowed against the hot air lingering in the room and Alastor almost fell to the ground as to where I was. 

I try to catch a glance or peek of him—yet his arms soon found around me. Alastor dug his head to my neck and his ears appeared out from it. His body pressed against mine and his radio glitchy statics became sorrowful the longer he hold me tighter.

Alastor didn't speak or do anything as he kept me closer between his hands placed on the small spot of my back.

Only the radio statics fill the silence. 

[bluepandaears]

I am not a dedicated author and haven't written anything approximating a fic in longer than I care to think about, but this just sort of happened. I figure if I was going to put it out into the world there's not much better place than this.

Smile

When Charles was 9 his dad gave him a black eye, it wasn't the first and certainly wouldn't be the last. It was summer holidays and he'd lost track of time playing outside and missed curfew. He only ever got visible bruises when school was out and the first of the season never failed to surprise.

As soon as he was allowed out of his basement room he walked down to the park and sat on a bench enjoying the fresh air and openness of the grass field. After being locked up he would always seek out the most open, outdoor space he could find. Imagine he could dissolve into the wind and float away with the clouds.

Today he's across from a playground. From where he's sat he can see some kids playing. Looks to be a group of siblings, each with an ice lolly. As Charles watches the middle child stands at the top of the slide waiting to go down. In an act of dominance the oldest one runs up the slide blocking it and in doing so drops his lolly. Anger flashes across his face before he grabs the ice lolly from his younger sibling. Hurt the middle child lashes out, but not at her older brother. She doesn't go to their parents either, not paying attention a little ways away. No, she runs over to the youngest and snatches his ice lolly from his little hands. Charles watches as tears well up in his little eyes, unable to retaliate or deal with the loss of a treat. Charles wonders if maybe now the youngster will turn to the adults. Instead he watches as the young boy, no more than 5, wedges himself into a crawl space under the climbing frame and cries alone over his loss.

It is at this point that Charles resolves to never treat others the way his father treats him.

******

When Charles is 12 he has his first crush. A girl named Hazel. She has blue eyes and light brown hair and barely knows he exists. She's a few years older and speaks in that self assured way people do when they know exactly what they are talking about and don't care what others think.

Charles hasn't learned to talked like that.

He never gets up the courage to talk to her.

******

When Charles is 14 he meets a boy that he is absolutely sure he will be best friends with forever. Elijah laughs at his jokes and doesn't mind when Charles watches him study. Charles is older now, and wiser, so he's positive he knows what he's talking about. Even if he still can't always talk like Hazel used to. They hang out nearly every day and it's brills. Until his dad finds out and decides Charles should stop putting so much effort into another boy. He gets a good lashing and a sprained shoulder and wears one of the many dark red polos his mum bought incase his back bleeds through. The next time he hangs out with Elijah he flinches away from touches and doesn't smile when Elijah tries for a joke. Charles won't explain because home life isn't something he knows how to talk about, and the whole afternoon is just a bit uncomfortable. They don't hang out as much after that and eventually Elijah stops trying.

It is at this point that Charles resolves to alway keep smiling. Even if he's hurting. People have left before when he flinches away but it's never hurt to loose someone like it hurts to loose Elijah.

******

When Charles is 15 he gets sent to boarding school. He thinks it might just be the best thing ever.

Then he learns how poorly he actually fits in. That's ok though, Charles has had a lifetime of learning how to fit in. He has his smiles, and his red polos, and his easy way of brushing off bad things and not passing them on.

It'll be fine.

Until it's not.

******

When Charles is 16 he dies.

In death he meets Edwin. Edwin has brown hair and eyes that Charles is sure change colour with his mood. He talks like Hazel and laughs like Elijah. He studies and doesn't mind that Charles watches. He doesn't leave when Charles forgets and flinches because Edwin flinches too.

Charles still smiles when it hurts because he can't risk loosing Edwin, but then Charles finds things don't hurt as much as they used to.

He still wears his red polo because it's habit by now innit? And he can never be sure that when things get bad his back wont still bleed from memory.

He finds it's easy to be nice to Edwin and protect him from bad things. Edwin had been through Hell after all so Charles figures he deserves someone to protect him from bad things now.

******

Over three decades later when Charles is still 16 he learns that he doesn't always have to smile. That the people who matter to him now will not leave just because he's hurting or having a bad day. That if he's hurting and doesn't smile they will actually stay closer.

He learns that he no longer wears the red polo in case his back bleeds through. He wears it because at some point in their friendship Edwin once said he looked good in red. And Edwin's opinion matters more than anything.

He learns that he likes being good because he is good and not because he is trying not to be his father.

Charles no longer worries about when it will be summer holidays and the first visible bruise. Instead he and Edwin go on walks through parks and along the river and enjoy being free.

And freedom with Edwin is better than brills.

~ fin