#but i feel like my interests are naturally going elsewhere

[13eyond13]

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[the-scarlet-witch-22]

It's Like Supernatural (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: You didn’t believe in ghosts, so you naturally ignored the warnings that the house of your dreams was haunted. 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Dirty talk, voyeurism, masturbation, ghost sex

A/N: This is a quick one-shot inspired by some behind the scenes looks at ghost!Agatha (the hottest ghost around, truly), my lifelong dream to own a house like the one in Practical Magic, as well as my endless love for Supernatural by Ariana Grande. I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think! :)

Tag-List: @mrsines @chiar4anna

When you heard the house you were interested in buying was haunted, you didn’t think much of it. Locals loved ghost stories, and you assumed this was just another tall tale to spook off tourists. 

Even if you believed in ghosts, which you didn’t, that wasn’t going to stop you from purchasing the home of your dreams. It was a beautiful Victorian house that was arguably far too large for just yourself, with three whole floors to decorate and make your own. There were sprawling gardens and even a large greenhouse already filled with a variety of plants you couldn’t even begin to name.

You wondered if the realtor had been tending to them.

It was perfect, and you couldn’t believe how cheap it was. The realtor seemed far too eager, and a bit surprised, when you settled on it, but you chalked it up to desperation to make a sale. 

When you had moved the majority of your belongings in, you decided it didn’t matter if this alleged ghost was real or not, absolutely nothing would ever make you want to leave. 

If only you knew how very wrong you were.

Things seemed normal, at first. The house was everything you dreamed it to be. From what you were able to get out of the very quiet realtor and even more closed off locals, the house had been abandoned since its last owner died. There wasn’t much information on her, but she apparently gained a rather interesting reputation, based on the horrified expressions on their faces whenever you asked about her.

Agatha Harkness. 

There was a portrait of her hanging above the fireplace in the library. It was one of the things that caught your eye the first time touring the property. She was beautiful, with wild dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes that almost seemed to follow you around the room. There was a locket around her neck that appeared to be a family heirloom, maybe. Her red lips were twisted upwards, forming an almost diabolical smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

Maybe there was a reason the locals all seemed to fear her.

Things changed a few weeks after you moved in. It wasn’t much, at first. You left your laptop on the kitchen counter one morning before leaving, and when you came back home that evening you found it on the dining room table. Maybe you moved it and didn’t remember, you decided as you started your dinner. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 

Only, things you placed around the house kept showing up elsewhere, and the more it happened the crazier you felt. You left a book in your bedroom and found it in your bathroom. The reading glasses you always kept in the sitting room wound up in the dining room. Clothes you swore you folded and set in your dresser were later found in a wrinkled heap in one of the spare guest rooms. 

It finally reached the point where you wondered if someone was breaking in, but surely an intruder would do more than just play little pranks on you. 

You didn’t even take the time to consider if the whispers and rumors of a ghost were real, you knew it was just your overactive imagination playing tricks on you. Work had been more stressful than usual, this was surely just a case of exhaustion. You most likely moved all of those items and couldn’t remember, that’s all.

It was around a month after you moved in when you decided to do some redecorating. You’d kept the majority of the paintings the previous owner, Agatha, had collected. They were interesting pieces, most of them seemed to be hundreds of years old. But there were a few you were looking to swap out, the portrait in the library included.

One rainy Saturday afternoon you grabbed a ladder, trudging into the library. Your eyes briefly flickered up at the portrait, and felt the strange sensation that the haunting blue eyes were watching you. Climbing up, you steadied yourself and made sure your feet were secure as you raised your arms, grasping onto the frame. Tugging lightly, you were perturbed when it didn’t budge.

Odd, but it did appear to be rather old, maybe it was stuck on one of the nails. Readjusting the position of your feet on the ladder you leaned forward, pulling harder than you did the first time. The painting still wouldn’t move. You tried everything, lifting and even trying to turn it, but it wouldn’t move.

Questioning your strength, you attempted to get it off the wall one more time, your feet nearly sliding off the ladder as you quickly grabbed onto the mantle of the fireplace stopping you from toppling backwards. 

“Not very strong, hm?” 

A sense of panic overtook you and you lost your balance, hitting the floor with a loud thud as the floorboards beneath you creaked. You whipped your head around, wondering who said that, whilst coming to the startling realization you weren’t alone.

Maybe someone had been breaking in.

Looking up, you felt your heart stop as you saw a translucent figure floating in the air. You did a double take, looking between the figure and the portrait on the wall while struggling to catch your breath.

It couldn’t be. 

The figure looked down at you, a predatory grin forming on her lips. Her long hair was so pale it appeared to be white and it was draped over her shoulders cascading down her back. The longer you stared at her the more you realized that it was Agatha Harkness.

But that’s impossible. Ghosts weren’t real.

“I…I don’t,” you barely managed to get out, at a loss for words as Agatha let out a loud cackle, the sound bouncing off the walls.

“Not very clever, either,” Agatha mused, tilting her head to the side as she gazed down at you. “I would have thought my rather obvious haunting over the past few weeks would have been enough to make you notice.”

Your head spun as you listened to her talk, and every odd occurrence over the past month started to make sense. 

“You’re less chatty than I thought you’d be,” Agatha observed, floating down until she was inches away from your face. “Although the silence is certainly better than that incessant singing you do in the shower. Ever heard of voice lessons?”

Your eyes widened as you realized she had been spying on you, and your cheeks grew hot at the knowing smirk she gave you. 

Clearing your throat, you managed to stand up, taking a step back to create some distance between you and…the ghost. 

“Is this the part where you send me running so you can keep the house for yourself?” You asked, shocking both yourself and Agatha.

“She makes jokes,” Agatha retorted, raising her hand to tap her index finger across her cheek as she stared at you. “And no, dear, if I wanted you gone I would have sent you away like the others.”

“The others?” You questioned, thinking back to your many conversations with the realtor and vaguely remembering being told you were the first person to have purchased the house.

Agatha appeared to watch the gears turn in your head as she came closer to you, slowly circling you. “There’s a reason no one else ever bought this house. They all wanted to renovate it, or tear it down and build some monochromatic slab. Modern architecture is truly a disgrace.”

She spat, frowning at the memory before looking back at you, an intrigued expression on her face. “But you’re different. I could tell.”

“So you’re a ghost because you want to keep your house intact?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Agatha scoffed, as if that was the craziest question you could have asked her. She motioned to her wispy form. “This was a calculated risk that I plan on reversing. Eventually.”

“I see,” you said, taking in what she said, while also wondering why you were having a conversation with a ghost instead of doing what any sane person would have done. Moved. But there was the doom and gloom that was the current housing market, so maybe you were the sane one. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming up and down your body in a way that left you shivering. “I’m glad you asked, doll.”

You made a mental note to start listening to people more often, especially when they try to tell you a house is haunted.

Agatha Harkness was one of the most intriguing people, or rather ghosts, you had ever met. She was full of contradictions, and you sometimes struggled to decipher if she was lying to you or not. It was clear she wasn’t used to sharing her space, in this ghostly form or not, and had absolutely zero sense of boundaries.

It was also hard to establish ground rules when she could just float through locked doors. 

After a while you got her to stop listening in on your concert showers, although you swore you’d sometimes catch a glimpse of her in the bathroom mirror as you were washing your hair. You didn’t want to explore why the thought of her lurking made you as excited as it did.

She was brilliant, clearly, and you had difficulty wrapping your brain around the existence of not only ghosts, but witches. After your conversation in the library, she instructed you on how to open the passageway behind one of the bookshelves, which revealed a room tucked away from prying eyes. It was filled with countless items you couldn’t begin to recognize, as well as dozens of vials filled with colorful liquids and various animal skulls.

After you nearly fainted from the overwhelming and shocking turn of the day’s events, Agatha casually informed you that she was a witch. A centuries old witch. What led to her current spirit state was unclear, and the light prying you attempted got you nothing but icy cold glares, so you let it go. 

She did seem to have a rather interesting plan to get her corporeal form back, although you understood absolutely none of it no matter how many times she impatiently explained it to you.

You thought it best to leave all magical and potentially illegal activities to her.

Agatha wasn’t kept to the house, a fact you realized one morning a few weeks after her rather blunt introduction. She could come and go as she pleased, and you never questioned where she floated off to, choosing instead to enjoy the welcome peace and quiet. 

She’d come back hours or sometimes days later more annoyed than when she left, so you assumed wherever she was heading didn’t do much to lift her spirits. Pun intended. 

You chose not to linger on why you were beginning to enjoy her presence more than her absence. 

After a while the two of you settled into a rather comfortable routine. You had learned Agatha was able to muster the energy to physically grasp onto objects, hence the rather annoying saga of ‘I thought I left this here but it ended up there’. She enjoyed showing off for you, making a show of stirring your tea or tending to the plants in the greenhouse (it was there you met her familiar Scratchy, the rabbit that was most definitely not a rabbit).  

There was the one time you were getting dressed and your bra was unhooking after you were certain you secured it, but Agatha swore up and down she had nothing to do with it.

You both ignored the fact that you could feel her icy presence behind you as her hands delicately played with your hair. 

It was nice, in a way, sharing the enormous house with someone else. Even if that someone else was a ghost, who was really a witch, who most definitely had murdered countless people. But, there was a different problem that had been brewing since she revealed herself to you.

You were embarrassingly attracted to her. 

It was unclear where the supernatural pull came from, but she soon became the only thing on your mind. You were entranced, completely under her spell, and all you could do was enjoy having her attention. The feeling of her watching you, the almost hungry look in her eyes as she stared at you left you wanting more. 

You couldn’t help but wonder how long she was able to use her hands before fading.

As much as you tried to hide your crush it was becoming increasingly obvious, if the way Agatha leered and smirked at you was any indicator. You had never been good at this sort of thing, and the added complication of pursuing a, possibly temporary, ghost left you reeling at how to make a first move. 

It didn’t help that Agatha was a relentless flirt, saying endless cheeky one liners and innuendos, delighting in the way your cheeks would flush. It sometimes felt like she was testing how far you would let her go before squawking and retreating to the comfort of your bedroom. 

Lately you decided to push her buttons in the only way you felt comfortable trying. Since outwardly flirting wasn’t your strong suit, you decided to take a more subtle approach. You were curious to see if she would take the bait.

After a particularly interesting dinner, which consisted of you eating and Agatha watching you eat, you had left more flustered than before. While Agatha watching you eat was a normal occurrence (she claimed she missed food), this evening was a bit different. You had tried a new recipe she taught you, and couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips at the taste of the vodka sauce.

Agatha’s reaction was different, though. As you were trying to determine if her eyes were darker than they normally appeared, the ghost had moved from her normal spot of hovering over the center of the table to settling beside you. 

Swallowing your bite of pasta you glanced at her, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the way her eyes were locked on your lips.

“Can I help you with something?”

Agatha refrained from commenting, silently vanishing from the room in her typical dramatic fashion. Rolling your eyes, you finished your dinner alone, all whilst replaying her reaction to your moan. 

Later that night you got settled in the bathroom, stripping down and turning on your shower. Steam filled the room, you’d always preferred the water to be just below scalding, and once you were satisfied with the temperature you got in. Lathering your body with soap, you peeked out of the shower to see if Agatha would appear. However, if the ghost was in the room, she wasn’t making her presence known. 

You continued on with your shower, the steam starting to fog up the mirrors. It was then the idea hit you. Your hands roamed down, and you spread your legs. Initial hesitation and embarrassment pushed aside in favor of imagining Agatha’s heated gaze once more, you teased yourself. 

Using two fingers you played with your clit, circling the sensitive nub until you let out a soft moan at the sensation. You were already on edge after dinner, and every time you closed your eyes you pictured Agatha staring at you. Leering as she licked her lips. Letting out another moan, you teased your entrance, pretending that Agatha’s fingers were your own as you slowly pushed your index finger in with ease. 

You were soaked, and not from the downpour of scorching water flowing around you. Adding a second finger, you took your time, enjoying the slight stretch as your inner walls fluttered. You couldn’t help but think about how much fuller you would feel with Agatha’s fingers inside you, her lithe digits hitting the spots you had difficulty reaching on your own. 

The name slipped past your lips before you were fully aware of what you were saying.

“Agatha,” you whimpered, the sound of your voice cutting through the downpour of water. 

Closing your eyes, you cupped your right breast with your other hand. Using your thumb and index finger to lightly tug on your nipple, you imagined Agatha standing behind you as her hands roamed your body. It was far too easy of a fantasy to slip into, as you were lost in your pleasure, increasing the pace of your fingers as you fucked yourself.

Nearing your release, you tilted your head back, the warm water cascading down as you let out a louder moan. You were so close, you could nearly taste it; an earth shattering orgasm just out of reach. Chasing your high, you roughly pulled on your left nipple, as Agatha’s name escaped your lips once more, stronger this time.

“Agatha.”

There was a faint, cool sensation behind you and you didn’t have to turn around to know she was there. 

Of course she was. 

Any self consciousness you would have normally felt being exposed was absent, replaced by an overpowering desire for Agatha to have you in whatever way she was capable of. Your fingers slowed as you made your thrusts more intentional, curling them just right and letting out every gasp and whimper. The knowledge Agatha was watching you pushed you closer to letting go. 

But there was still something missing.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as an uncanny feeling washed over you. It was then you heard her voice whispering in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You look so desperate like this, moaning my name like a filthy whore,” Agatha murmured, and you let out a low groan in response, every word she uttered making you clench around your fingers.

“Agatha…”

“Come for me,” Agatha whispered, voice so low you barely heard her.

The reaction was instantaneous, obeying her words as your cunt spasmed around your fingers. Your legs quivered as you rode out your orgasm, feeling the tight coil in your lower stomach send a sweet sensation you felt all throughout your body. Slowing your fingers to a halt, you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling, Agatha’s presence still looming behind you as you came down from the high. 

Pulling your fingers out they were coated in your cum, as the water began to rinse them clean. Agatha moved, hovering in front of you. Her pupils appeared to be blown out as she gazed at you in a way that had you squirming. 

“Suck them clean,” Agatha ordered, a trace of amusement in her tone as she watched you eagerly follow her every command.

The strong effect she had on you was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, to the point where you were unable to think of anything besides the ghost. 

What was she doing to you?

Raising your fingers to your lips, you sucked on them, moaning at the taste of yourself on your tongue. You swore you heard Agatha let out a low growl, but when you raised your head she was gone. Disappearing as quietly as she had earlier that evening.

A wave of disappointment hit you, and you tried to ignore the sting of rejection as your gut churned. Turning the shower off, you grabbed your towel, drying yourself off before wrapping the towel around your body, securing it so it wouldn’t fall.

You should’ve known Agatha wasn’t really interested in you. She was probably bored, trapped in her current spectral state and saw you as an easy distraction.

The house was eerily quiet, save for the creaking of the floorboards as you entered your bedroom, and you were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that it took you a moment to realize that you weren’t alone.

Doing a double take, you found Agatha waiting for you. The ghost hovering near your bed, arrogant smirk painted on her features as she observed you. 

“Took you long enough,” Agatha said, appearing to be lounging on your pillows. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d drowned.”

“Nice to see you’d care if that were to happen,” you deadpanned, shifting uncomfortably as a chill overtook you, and not the type you had grown accustomed to from being in the ghost’s presence.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, but she refrained from responding. As you took a step closer to the bed, you went slack jawed upon seeing what was most definitely not on the bed earlier. A collection of your toys were laying in a neat row, having been sorted by both size and color, and it didn’t take you long to deduce who put them there.

Cackling at your reaction, the sound pleasantly ringing in your ears, Agatha motioned to the toys. 

“Well?”

Gulping, you nodded your head towards your most recent purchase. A purchase that was most definitely not inspired by Agatha’s apparent obsession with purple. The toy in question was one far bigger than what you’d usually use, and a lot thicker as well. It was a deep purple that caught your eye as you were scrolling through the website, and you may have pictured it stretching you out as Agatha cooed filthy praises in your ear. 

“Dirty girl,” Agatha said quietly, gleeful as you joined her on the bed, your towel hitting the floor. Her eyes fixated on your naked form as she instructed you to lay against the pillows. “Work yourself up to take it, dear. I don’t want to break my newest toy just yet.”

You felt yourself beginning to ache again, and the anticipation of what was to come combined with the ravenous glances Agatha kept casting at you ensured you were bound to have another explosive orgasm.

Grabbing one of your smaller toys, a light pink finger vibrator, you watched Agatha settle in beside you. It was just enough feeling her beside you that you could picture what it would be like if she could actually touch you. 

Teasing the toy, you turned it on, the vibrations against your clit nearly causing you to let go far too early. 

Agatha let out a rather guttural noise, as she leaned in closer to you. “So eager. You’re just dripping to be fucked, aren’t you honey?”

Her words only served to motivate you, as you pushed the toy through your folds, quietly crying out as it filled you. This was a toy you used more frequently, and you knew the exact speed and way to make yourself unravel without much effort. 

Agatha appeared to be just as entranced as she whispered absolute filth in your ear, watching you fuck yourself closer to an orgasm with every thrust. It was unsurprising Agatha was so skilled at dirty talk, and you were even less surprised at how every word that left her translucent lips had you more wet than before. Your cunt aching as you neared your climax.

“You’re taking the toy so well,” Agatha encouraged you as you let out another whine. “This pussy was meant to be fucked open. It’ll look so perfect stretched around my cock.”

You couldn’t stop yourself as your vision turned white, hips thrusting as Agatha cooed. You came on the toy, crying out even louder than before. The vibrations quickly became too much as you felt your walls quiver and legs shake from being overstimulated. Your arms felt like jelly but you managed to turn the toy off, leaving it inside you for a few more moments as you enjoyed the afterwave of your orgasm. 

Unfortunately, Agatha was even less patient in the bedroom than she was at any other given moment. You felt something cold grasp onto your hands and with a startled gasp you realized Agatha’s fingers were grabbing onto the toy. With a gentle but quick pull, the toy was out of you and tossed on the floor. You couldn’t help but cry out at being left empty, which made Agatha far too pleased.

You watched with curious eyes as Agatha mustered the strength to be able to grab the original toy you selected, feeling another tingle between your legs at the sight of her holding the large dildo.

“You should feel lucky I’m not in my full corporeal form just yet,” Agatha said, voice low with want as she approached you. 

“I wish you were,” you allowed yourself to say, words becoming more difficult to form from how desperate you were to come again. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Agatha warned, raising the toy to tease your entrance, gently rubbing it up and down and you squealed as it brushed against your clit. “I’m going to ruin you, pet.”

You were soaked, completely dripping onto your comforter, at this point, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you watched Agatha push the head of the toy inside you. You moaned, feeling yourself being forced to take it as she let out a groan as well.

“What I’d give to feel you clenching around me,” Agatha said, eyes glued to your cunt stretching around the girth. 

Your head thrashed as the pain of being fucked with something larger than you had ever taken began to take over. 

“It’s too much,” you whimpered, hips jerking as Agatha laughed again, forcing you to take more of it. 

“You’ll take whatever I want you to,” Agatha informed you, her words causing your clit to throb. “And I want to watch this pretty pussy be stuffed full of my cock.”

When the toy was into the hilt, Agatha gave you a moment to adjust. You had never felt so full and your hips desperately bucked for more as you writhed from the sensation. The pain beginning to be replaced with a carnal desire for her to fuck you senseless. When Agatha deemed you ready, she moved, her hand fucking the toy into you hard and deep. 

The only noise in the room was the sound of Agatha fucking into your sopping cunt, the wet slaps mixing in with both of your moans. Agatha seemed determined to make you come before she lost the ability to command the toy. 

“I know you can give me one more,” Agatha urged you on, increasing her pace, and you knew you would have difficulty walking in the morning. 

All you could do was cry out in agreement, meeting her for every thrust as you felt your head begin to spin. It was too much, and you weren’t sure how anything else would ever compare. 

“You’re going to come for me,” Agatha breathed out, appearing more desperate than before. You wondered how much of an effect this was able to have on her, given her current state. “And when you do, I want you to scream my name as you soak my cock. Can you do that for me?”

Whimpering as you nodded, Agatha gave one more thrust of her hand as you came for a third time, nearly blacking out in the process as your eyes clamped shut. Your back arched upwards as you squeezed your thighs together, keeping the toy trapped inside you as you felt cum dripping down your thighs. 

It was an otherworldly experience, to the point where you briefly wondered if she had killed you from the pleasure she had just granted you. 

Coming back down to earth, you panted as you collapsed onto the bed. Your body was dripping with sweat and you felt sticky and filthy, but too exhausted to take another shower. It was unclear how long you remained there with the toy nestled deep inside you. Agatha had drifted back up beside you, offering you sweet praises as you enjoyed your afterglow. 

Eventually, the sensation was too much and you managed to muster the strength to gently pull the toy out of you, letting out a satiated gasp when it was removed. Your entire body ached as you made a note to clean the toys, and your bedding, in the morning. 

But now, as sleep became imminent, you tossed your comforter off the bed, wiggling under your top sheet as Agatha gazed at you.

“That was amazing,” you said sleepily, head hitting the pillow as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “I’m sorry I didn’t return the favor.”

Agatha shook her head, an unusually soft smile on her face. “Don’t be. I enjoyed the show.’

Drifting off, you blinked, eyelids feeling heavier with each second you kept them open. 

“Besides,” Agatha mused as you felt yourself succumb to sleep. “You can return the favor once I get my purple back.”

You made another note to actually listen to her plans for getting back into an actual body in the morning. Maybe there was something you could do to speed along the process. For no particular reason, of course.

[the-monkeies-girl]

Bitter Sweet. ( Five x Reader Oneshot. )

i have no explanation other than my babies are still alive and that season 4 never happened SEASON 4 NEVER HAPPENED---- Give me snarky, asshole, pragmatic five back before i die. Reblogs/likes/comments all appreciated, thank u.

Title: Bitter Sweet. Fandom: The Umbrella Academy. Pairing: Heavily Implied ! Five x Reader. Rating: T. ( Language, lol. ) Words: 1.2K+ Summary: ( Taking place in an AU after season 4, let me live in my fantasy that's what fanfics are FOR ). You knew how specific Five was about his coffee. You knew he would speak his mind regarding and it was too much fun to let go of.

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Four cubes. 

No, no… Five felt his mouth part in astonishment, crystal clear green eyes peering in languid judgment as your plucked another sugar cube from a pristine porcelain bowl and plopped it right into the white coffee cup that was placed in front of you. It sploshed happily, absorbing the coffee and sweetening the deal for you to enjoy, but that was never the point in the grand scheme. You were ardently aware of how irritating it was, one cube after another. The quantity itself was deliberate and you knew… How you were able to feel his stare hell-bending holes into your face. He was unable to see the liquid despite trying with a narrow gaze but he was willing to bargain much of what he owned that it was pale in color, not even teetering towards tan but more towards plain white.

 A grimace was noticed by Klaus who bargained a chuckle as he looked towards you, seated beside him with raised eyebrows of acute amusement, “You’re desecrating whatever coffee you had, I think Five is going to lunge across the table and take you by the neck---” “Five can shove it.” The innocence that rode against your face was evident as the Hargreeves man  across from you scoffed under his breath at the juxtaposed expression coupled with the aggressive nature of your words. “It’s my cup, not his. We can’t all drink it b---”

“Black like my soul, right?” Five rolled his eyes, shoulders drawing themselves in some minor defense and you were able to see the tightness of which he held himself from the tailored nature of his suit. Five was lanky and skinny, but that didn't seek to say that he was without defined muscles against his sweeping collarbones and it was evident in certain motions that left you reeling back from the hardened words that he responded with.

“Get some original insults, (Name). You’re becoming way too predictable. Boring even---” His voice was incredulous, sticking towards monotonous but still held irate interest in speaking to you, only detectable around the edges and it sang against your ears. 

Flirtatious only to you, aggressive and leaned with hatred to others. A game of cat and mouse, though at times, you were unsure of which one you were playing. “I was going to say bitter just like your personality, but you know me. Predictable.” Klaus held a defensive hand up, grasping at his own cup and pretending he was beckoned elsewhere to avoid the confrontation that was inevitable coming in the way that Five cleared his throat, a hand raising and tightening the bundle of fabric where his tie rested against his throat. 

He straightened it, you noticed with acute mirth, but there was no need to. It was already perfectly placed, part of the morning ritual you imagined he held close to his chest after spending so long cultivating it. Five was… A creature of habit, to many extents. Needless to say, it was one of those simple actions that you enjoyed seeing none-the-less, fingers twitching in a finite need to deshevel the pin-black tie to further push the boundary of where you and Five so often tightroped. No solace was given to either party as his knuckles rubbed against the underside of his sharpened jaw. There was hostility tangling in with notes of attractive coyness as he snapped at you, “You’re a goddamn monster, you know that? Fuck---” “I’m not the one getting angry over how someone else makes their coffee.” You bit back without reserve and another sickly smile placed towards the brunette as you finally picked up your spoon and allowed it to sink into the cup. It scraped -- Horrid, Five felt a shiver run down his spine at the vibrations he could feel against the oak table from your simple movement. Like nails against a chalkboard. 

“Can you even call that coffee?” Five spliced and looked down at his own mug, half-emptied and his saliva still coating and drying where he had last taken a drink against the curve. “Did ya even put any in there? Any beans? Any espresso?” “There’s some in here.” There was a justification with a faux pout which Five remarked as being feverishly unfair. You were good at playing expressions, he was good at playing words. “I think….” You mused and lifted your cup up to your mouth and kissed the rim. Five swallowed hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing which was feasted upon by your eyes before you took a long sip. Control rested in your hands as you refused to let him look away from you. 

Five sneered, your eyes taking in the delectations of seeing his sharpened canines. “You’re going to lose all your teeth from all the shit you put in that. Creamer and then what? Five sugar cubes? Are you a horse? Want me to feed you them straight from my hand?” There was a rustling sound as Five leaned inwards, his suit jacket pulling up with the motion that was placed as he so graciously plucked a sugar cube from the bowl that had been nearly emptied by you and offered it in the palm of his hand. “C’mon, take it. Be a good little horse.” “”Ha-ha,” You laughed sarcastically, smacking his gesture away which sent the cube flying off to be cleaned up later. “I’ll bite your fingers clean off.” “Not if you don’t have any fucking teeth! I kind of hope you do lose them. Hell, take me to the dentist when you get them pulled, I’ll bring them home and make a necklace for you.”

“You DIY things, Five?” There was another laugh from you as you took a sip of your drink, “Never pegged you to be that crafty.” There was emphasis on the word ‘pegged’, Five catching hold of the implication which garnered you that shit-eating grin that was more than infamous at this point. “Just this once.” He smirked, giving you a dimpled smile of feigned innocence to rival the one you splayed for him earlier. Sitting up in his seat, it scooted against the floor below with a loud bellow and you watched with bated astonishment as he leaned against the table to bring his upper half closer to you. Face only inches apart now, you refused to relent eye contact with him and tried to desperately shove down the connotation that you were able to clearly smell the after-shave that he favored. Pinely in scent, you wanted to grasp at his chin and feel the stubble against your fingers but that wasn’t the point here. The point was to be the cat while Five was forced to be the mouse.

“Just for you, a nice necklace and some earrings. Bracelet, maybe? A matching set. You'd look like such a doll."

“I’ll wear the set to your funeral. Clutch them instead of my pearls as I sob, telling everyone what a wonderful ray of sunshine you were to be around before you so tragically died.”

“Is that a date?” 

Five huffed at you as you stood from your seat, his gawk watching the movement with hostility as you craned your body towards him and grasped the base of his tie. Enlightened with curiosity, the disgusting smile of attraction rose along his cheeks, quickly torn to shreds as you pulled the tie downwards, the knot coming undone without reserve. 

“With you six feet under? You bet your damn ass it is.”

[uracutieraka]

awkward

I know you hurt me, but (hey) This is more than a friendship

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Iwaizumi Hajime x F!reader

Tw! Smut(ty-ish), mutual pining, being used (or so reader thinks)

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synopsis ; Hajime heard rumors about you, and since you were his close friend from childhood, he obviously has to go out of his way to see if they're true.

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it's your third year and obviously that means rumors are still being spread by any and everyone who enjoys gossip.

this time the rumor was about you.

"She's been with over 5 of the guys on the volleyball team"

"She's had 15 boyfriends from what I heard."

A bunch of bullshit really.

You had never been with anyone.

At least that's what your life long friend Hajime had thought.

But now that he's thinking, the past year you've been really strange and distant.

Disappearing and reappearing at odd hours of the night, to strange locations.

Hajime only knows this because he has your location, naturally, he's your best friend, he's got to watch out for you however he can.

At least that's how he explained why he needed your location to you anyways.

You on the other hand, had found an interest in photographing run-down and nearly abandoned parts of your home town.

Sneaking around at 2:30 in the morning made it easier to get into these odd, sleazy places.

That was until a few weeks ago when a group of boys from the school caught you walking around a risqué club chatting with a few older men who you knew from your first year when they were third years.

And that's how you ended up in this situation.

4 large men towered over you, spouting off a jumble of questions.

“How come sawaka says he saw you mingling up with some shifty old guys at a strip joint?”

The tall dark haired boy, issei, asks. His arms are crossed and hes giving you a near parental eyebrow raise.

“W-what?” You stutter out. Genuine confusion on your face.

“You heard him! Now answer!” The tone of oikawas voice almost sounds like a whine from a child more than a demand.

“Gah! You guys dont control me!” You gather up your things and stand.

“And just where do you think youre going?” Makki now opens his mouth, but you know hes just antagonizing the situation, he probably couldnt care less about whatever you got up to in your own time.

“Away! Forever!” You say dramatically, leaving the classroom to enjoy your lunch elsewhere.

That night your phone rings, around 12:30 am.

Your eyes look up from your notebook that youd been doodling in for the past 4 hours.

Answering it a gruff voice speaks out

‘Can i come over? We need to talk.’

Iwaizumi seems upset.

‘Yeah of course, ill meet you down the street.’

10 minutes role by and you make it to the little park down the street from your house, just as Iwaizumi arrives.

He looks good, he’s starting to fill out and looks more manly than ever.

“Hey…??” You say in a questioning manner. You couldnt tell how he was feeling right now and then pit in your stomach was growing ever since he said those words.

“Your parents are still out of town?” He asks making his way past you to start the walk back towards your home.

“Yeah, for another 5 days i think? Who knows.. hah..”

Smooth, jackass, real smooth.

“Ah! Thats lame, i dont know how you stay home alone all the time like that.”

The mood lightens a bit with his goofy tone coming out slightly.

Hajime had always been the more serious one out of the two of you but that was never the case when it actually came down to being just the two of you.

He always was cracking jokes and acting like a fool, just to get a smile from you.

“Yeah, me either, i just stay up in my room now, i guess.”

“Seems boring.”

“Eh.” You shrug your shoulders, unlocking your front door.

You two make your way up to your room, not before raiding the kitchen for snacks and drinks first though.

This felt normal.

Like old times.

You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you two had hungout like this.

Over the past year you had drifted away from him, only because you couldnt help yourself.

Your once innocent thoughts about the boy youd grown up with had started becoming more and more…colorful.

The way his hands looked when writing, all the years of volleyball had definitely done good things for the man.

His arms were veiny as well as his hands.

His shoulders were broad and made him looks 10 xs more masculine than he already did.

Not to mention his voice had significantly dropped and his voice cracks had almost completely disappeared.

He was becoming a man and you were becoming a woman. And women have needs.

So instead of being selfish you separated yourself from him.

“So, you wanted to talk?” You ask, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth, sitting crisscrossed facing him on your bed.

He shifted to sit criss cross to face you now.

“Yeah, about the stuff going around school. You know, the things people are saying about you.”

“What about it? Its not true. If thats what youre wondering.”

“I mean- i didnt think so but…” you cut him off before he can say anything else.

“But you just had to figure it out for yourself?”

You knew him too well.

You saw something in him shift, a sudden energy overtook the room, one you hadn't experienced before.

He looked at you, "Yeah. You could say something like that."

"What do you mean?"

The way he looked back up at you after you had asked that sent a warm heat through your body.

"I mean, I've seen your location, why are you running around dirty parts of the city in the middle of the night? Are you really down there...doing things?" He seemed upset for second but then became stern again.

"Things? Like what? Partying?"

"I guess."

"No.," you sigh rolling your eyes as you lift yourself off the bed, reaching for your laptop. "I've been doing photography of the nightlife and shit."

He takes the laptop from you when you offer it to him, clicking through the hundreds of photos you'd accumulated over the past year.

After a bit of silence he speaks up.

"Wow, y/n, these are," he looks up at you and gives you a huge smile. "amazing! Holy shit dude! Why didnt you tell anyone about this?”

“Because i wanted it to be my own thing that i do for myself.”

He hands you back your laptop and you close it moving to set it on your desk.

A sudden change in energy yet again settles around your room.

Hajime is looking at his hands fiddling with his thumb and index finger, youre re-situating yourself on your bed when you look back up at him.

You know third year is coming to an end, which means he’s going to California soon.

You open your mouth to speak to him.

“I got into UCLA.” You say confidently.

He now looks up at you eyes wide.

“What?” He asks, wondering if maybe he misunderstood.

“I couldnt just let you go to the US without me. That wouldnt be fair y’know!”

He lifts off his side of your bed and tackles you down in a hug.

Positioning himself to hover above you now he has a giant grin on his face.

One only youve ever seen, hes goofy, and totally a sports nerd, well mannered, and sweet. This is a side of him only youve ever gotten.

“Youre not pulling my leg are you?” He give you a near-disappointed face.

“No. Im serious.”

“Ok.,” His eyebrows furrow and he turns his head for a second, a blush spreading on his face, with a huff he looks back at you. “Im…im glad youre coming. And im glad youre not out partying and getting with other guys.” He looks more serious than before.

“Other guys?” You raise a brow at him.

His face gets even redder than before.

“Well, yeah. I just figured you knew that i liked you….”

“You just ‘figured’ that i knew that you, hajime, liked me, y/n? And how exactly would i have figured that out?”

He rolls off of you now laying next you looking at your ceiling.

You’re nervous. He likes you? The guy that you’ve spent your entire life with like you…back?

“I dont know. The guys said it was obvious so there was no way you didnt know.”

You give him a blank stare into the side of his head.

“You are the biggest idiot i have ever met.”

He now looks at you, you can see him visibly shrink in on himself.

A few moments go by and you turn your head back to look at the ceiling.

“I love you.”

He sits up turning to look at you laying down.

“I love you.”

You sit up and your guys faces are so close you can see the faint scars on his face from all the roughhousing over the years.

Hes looking at you blankly, unable to comprehend that you might actually love him.

You roll your eyes at him. Knowing exactly how hes reeling in his own head.

“Im not lying, i love you.”

He gives you a raised brow.

You huff and lean in closing the distance.

He kisses you back, his hands snaking up around you, under your tshirt.

Hajime had been with a few girls before. He had told you about it, obviously.

Honestly you shouldve been more upset at the fact he was being a total hypocrite right now.

Things had heated up, he was between your legs, caging you beneath him, you had your hands in his hair, holding his lips to yours.

He was grinding up against you, you were moaning into his mouth.

Next thing you knew he was ripping your clothes off and you were pulling his off of him.

He ran himself over your wetness and let out a groan.

Pushing himself into you, you let out a loud gasp at the sudden splitting feeling.

He kissed your jaw whispering in your ear.

“You ok?”

You moaned and rolled your hips forward a bit, to signal you wanted him to move.

He began moving back and forth, slowly at first, until you begged him to go faster.

Soon he had your leg up on his shoulder and was leaning over you, leaving kisses down your jaw and neck.

“H-haji-,” he leaned up, not slowing his pace. “M’ gonna- m’gonna”

He threw his head back pulling your hips to match the pace of his thrusting, he was going deeper and harder than before, the knots were tightening in your abdomen.

“Do it.”

With that you let go, seeing fireworks fill your vision.

“F-fuck!” He pulled out cumming on your stomach.

He got up and retrieved a washcloth from your bathroom, cleaning you up.

Getting dressed again you laid back down, him in his boxers next to you.

But he was facing your wall. You felt a ping of hurt in your chest as you crawled back into your bed, where the boy you loved had just deflowered you.

“Haji-“ you spoked but stopped when you heard a soft snore leave his mouth. A sigh left your lips as you faced the other way and closed your eyes. Youd just talk to him in the morning.

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Morning rolled around and you found yourself in the middle of your bed. Looking around you didnt see hajime or his things. You stood out of bed and looked to your clock.

5:45 am.

You grabbed your phone, opting to call him instead of search around for him.

No answer.

You thought back to the night before and felt sick to your stomach.

Maybe you messed everything up.

These thought filled your head all the way to school.

When you arrived in the classroom you saw him sitting at his desk. Right next to yours.

You made a slow approach towards your usual seat, eyeing him like he was some sort of monster that would spot you at the slightest movement.

Sitting down you finally turned towards him.

“Hey.” You said soft enough for him to hear it.

He looked at you then turned away quick. Not answering.

You looked down at your lap, where your fingers were twirling anxiously.

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

This act kept up for 3 whole weeks. Not one word said between you two.

This was becoming a problem for your mutual friends on the volleyball team.

You had stopped coming around to practices and ignoring the other boys. It was lowering the whole teams morale.

Finally oikawa had enough and cornered you against a corner with the other 2 boys.

“What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On.”

It wasnt a question. It was a demand.

“Nun ya.” You said crossing your arms and rolling your eyes.

Maki smacked the wall next to your head leaning down to make eye contact with you.

“Tell us now.” He was dead serious.

“Fine.,” you huffed looking away from them. “Hajimeandihadsex3weeksagoandheleftinthemiddleofthenightandhasbeenignoringmeeversince.”

“Woah-woah- you and haijime WHAT?!” Now mattsun spoke up shaking his head in disbelief.

“We had sex. And then he rolled over in my bed and went to sleep. And now hes ignoring me. And hasnt talked to me in 3 whole weeks.” You were looking at your shoes, tears had finally built up in your eyes.

Oikawa put his hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” it was soft spoken, unusual from his normal behavior. “Hes a dick for that. You didnt deserve that.” He patted your back and motioned for the other two boys to follow him.

They made their way to Hajimes classroom telling him to come with them for an impromptu club meeting. He followed unknowingly.

They found themselves in the club room.

Hajime in a familiar position that you had been in by the same boys just a bit prior.

Oikawa, Maki, and Mattsuwaka had evil and dangerous looks on their faces. Hajime was scared.

Mattun spoke. “Whats your problem?”

Then oikawa through gritted teeth. “Youve got some explaining to do.”

And finally Maki, “How is it you bag the hottie whos our number one supporter and somehow you manage to fumble her?” Hes popping his knuckles in a threatening manner.

Iwaizumi gave a few dumbfounded blinks then spoke up.

“I uh-,” he was cut off by the three boys leaning over him more than they were before, closing out any light from the corner he was in. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “I came really quick. And uh. Im embarrassed to talk to her.”

The three boys all exchanged glances before leaning back up.

Hajime leaned all the way back up as well.

Maki reached out and landed a hard punch to the cornered boys stomach.

“You fucking idiot!”

Oikawa now spoke, “you know, y/n thinks that you hate her? She was crying over it earlier!”

Mattsun pushed hajime towards the door.

“You better go fix this. Fucking dumbass.”

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It was 8:30 pm.

Hajime knocked on your door, hoping your parents were off somewhere for work.

You answered the door.

Hajime took you in.

You had on a too large Tshirt he knew to be oikawas, one you had stolen a year prior, during a group sleepover at mattsuns.

Hajime remembered you had been baking cookies in the kitchen with the tall setter when he caked you in flour and eggs. In exchange he offered up his sleep shirt, feeling bad afterwards about the mess he made.

Looking down a pair of his own boxers sat on your hips. Folded down a few times so theyd fit you.

They mustve gotten mixed in your laundry at some point. Who knows.

“Haji! Hi!” You gave him a wide-eyed stare. Caught off guard by his sudden presence after weeks of missing him.

He looked at you then down at his feet, kicking a small rock he shoved his hands in his pockets, looking back up to you he spoke.

“Im really fucking sorry y/n.”

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

You had only seen him like this twice in your entire life.

Once when he and oikawa broke your brand new guitar that you spent a whole summer babysitting and doing odd jobs to save money for.

Hes still doing chores for his mom to this day to pay off the debt of buying you a new one.

The second time was 2 summers ago when you and the other volleyball team members went camping for a summer bonding trip.

Oikawa and hajime were sitting next to you rough housing when the black haired boys elbow flew back and hit you square in the nose.

A quick *crack* sounded on impact.

He slowly turned his head to look at you, blood rushing down your face from your nose, your nose was already purple and crooked to one side.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, holyshit. Holyshitholyshit.” You panicked.

The other team members gathered around you, unsure what to do.

“We… we need to go to the hospital.” Hajime spoke up.

“You fucking broke my nose!” You were crying, trying not to touch your nose.

“Oh fuck!” Oikawa now said bring everyone back to earth.

With a rush you were in a coaches car with haijme holding you stroking your hair.

“Im sorry” was all he said to you for the 30 minute drive.

He never lived that down. But you werent too mad.

You got a free nose job and hes still paying off his debt for breaking your nose.

✭・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

“Wha-“ you were cut off by him speaking again.

“I really really fucked up y/n. And im so sorry. I love you and i was embarrassed and didnt know what to do.”

“Not ignore me, maybe?” You huffed now annoyed.

“I know. Im sorry.,” he looked around then straight abck at you, now straightening his posture. “I love you too.”

You blinked a few times then began shutting the door.

He stopped you with his foot.

“Wait!”

You groaned loudly then reopened it.

“What? You really hurt my feelings and now you just want me to be like ‘oh ok, cool youre embarrassed you fucked me’ and move on?”

“No! I- i want to explain myself.”

You leaned against the door and rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

“I uh, i camereallyfastandthiughtyoudhatemeandbeembarrassediwasyourfirsttime.”

You now stood completely infront of him.

Your eyes yet again wide in surprise.

“So you ignored me because you came quick?”

He was now giving you the same dumb look you had just given him.

“Yeah.” It was quiet. Like a scolded child.

“So what? I came too, i dont know how all this sex stuff works exactly but i think were even.” You now had an eyebrow quirked up at him.

“Oh…”

“Yeah ‘oh’ you ignored me for 3 weeks because you came quick or whatever you just said.”

He now looked extremely embarrassed.

“How are you going to make it up to me?” You asked.

“Uhm,” he stood there thinking for a second. “How about a date? Tomorrow? 7pm? Wear something nice?”

You felt a smile grow on your face.

“Sounds good.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Masterlist

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

AHHHH HIHIHI !!

just wanna start by sayinh youre like one of my fav people on this platform i live and die for every post 😭💞

And i finally caught the requests so !!

Headcanons for various jojo characters with a reader who has a healing stand mayhaps?

Feel free to put whoever else in, i dont mind, but i'd love it if you could do bruno and diego, my bbgs fr 🙏

Hihihi!! Aaaaa thank you so much I am SO honored!!!! And when u mentioned Bruno and Diego r your bbgs I had a “did I just send MYSELF a request??” Moment lolol literally I had to physically restrain myself from calling Bruno my wife when Jojo came up while I was chatting with some people irl the other day lolol-

I love him and Diego so much! And YES, I can do this! Sounds interesting~

Bruno’s takes place before Giorno joins the squad

Content: for Diavolo and Diego: possessive and controlling behaviors, light depiction of injury

Various jjba characters x reader with a healing stand:

“Doctor! Doctor!”

Characters: Rohan Kishibe, Bruno Bucciarati, Diavolo, Diego Brando

Rohan Kishibe: You cannot BELIEVE he sometimes argues with you over healing him. Rohan has had a difficult personality for as long as you’ve known him, but really…you must insist you accompany him on his travels despite his protests. You’ve seen on more than enough occasions he’s liable to put himself in dangerous situations and get hurt. So you’re going with him.

He’ll always fight you on it, claiming it’s much easier to travel alone; but he has SOME nerve saying you in particular are difficult to travel with, because he always has some sort of grievance about almost everything when you go anywhere together.

You tell him if he didn’t put himself in harm’s way all the time you wouldn’t have to follow him around.

And even if he claims he won’t this time, you both know that’s not really a claim he can make. His inquisitive nature will Always get the best of him, so you will be there for when that curiosity inevitably gets him terribly injured in some way.

Thank goodness your man is difficult to kill…but he really needs to stop pushing his luck, it’s bad for both of you.

And despite him pretending your presence doesn’t change anything on his trips, he will try to be a little bit more careful when you’re involved. He thinks it’s because your constant worrying is irritating, but honestly he can’t bring himself to willingly lead you into something too dangerous. Most of the time.

Bruno Bucciarati: He will always consider himself responsible for the safety of his team, and the nature of your stand ability means you ease his mind when you’re near. You’ve seen his gang. They’re reckless, quick to get into fights, even with each other-there’s no need to worry about him but PLEASE do whatever you’re willing to do to make sure the others aren’t bleeding out from stab or gunshot wounds, or limping around with broken bones.

At Bruno’s request, you would always prioritize healing the injuries of the people he’s in charge of, but when the opportunity arises you will offer him some healing too.

He might not get nearly as bloodied and beaten as Mista does all the time…but you’ve noticed your dear Bucciarati seems to get chronic headaches, that especially intensify when he’s stressed about his work or managing the team. You never make a big deal out of it, don’t even mention it really, when you use your stand to ease his pain.

But he’ll always make a point to thank you. And gently remind you that he’s fine and you should focus your energy elsewhere.

You can only try to respect that for so long though. I mean, the reason your stand heals is because it’s in your nature to severely hate seeing your loved ones suffer.

And it’s not like he can be mad at you for caring about him. It’s just an unfamiliar feeling for him…he’s used to focusing all his attention on others and shouldering their burdens and taking care of them…so having you around trying to ease his pains…very unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

It will take a while, but eventually he’ll grow comfortable enough to even ask for your healing touch when his pain is a little too much to bear on his own. But more often than not you’ll have to nag him to not push himself too hard and let you help him.

Diavolo: He considers it very fortunate you stumbled into his path. You consider it very Unfortunate. The Boss of Passione is an extraordinarily demanding partner, expecting absolute obedience and loyalty from you in return for his “love” and protection.

You’re not sure when you even wanted to be in a relationship with him, but you’re in too deep now. Defying an obsessive and paranoid man like him at this point would only get you in even more trouble.

He’s smothering, constantly breathing down your neck and making sure you’re not planning anything, and when he does let you leave wherever he’s decided to hole himself up, Doppio is always accompanying you. You’re expected to heal him if anything should happen, but you know Diavolo only says that in a weak attempt to veil that Doppio is actually the one watching you.

Daring to reveal your stand in front of anyone that is not him or Doppio will get you in hot water with the entire Italian mafia.

But it’s not like Diavolo needs your healing…he’s never around anyone who can hurt him anyways! You really are some just in case tool he keeps in his pocket; so your life is incredibly boring, even if it’s safe. And moving around all the time for his anonymity’s sake is annoying and uncomfortable. What’s the point of your stand if you can’t use it to help people?! He Really hates that compassionate nature of yours. Makes sense, given how thoroughly selfish he is…The two of you do not click at all, but he doesn’t care. You don’t need to like him, but he’s not letting you leave as long as you’re an incredibly useful tool.

Diego Brando: He does so adore how useful his partner’s stand is…To cure any sort of fatigue and injury…such a boon to him! He wants you all to himself and he will NOT be sharing you. So don’t even THINK about flashing your stand to anyone other than him, he won’t forgive you if you do that! He’s definitely using you a bit to his advantage. But he takes care of you in turn, making sure you live a comfortable life and giving you whatever you ask for. All you have to do is follow his easy rule and he’ll be a sweet and doting husband for you. Simple, right?

It tugs at your conscience sometimes though. To sit quietly on the side while someone suffers, simply because your husband demanded it. But a part of you can’t bear even the thought of upsetting Diego, after he’s been so good to you…and all he asked for was one simple thing.

And he was just looking out for you by telling you to keep your gift a secret…He cupped your cheeks in his hands so gently as he reminded you how bad it would be if an evil person found out about your powers. You could be in a lot of danger, and he might not be able to save you. So please, don’t needlessly endanger yourself like that. He couldn’t bear it if anything bad happened to you.

Deep down you know he’s just saying that to keep you under his control, but you love him…and you honestly believe at least a part of him also loves you.

So you’ll bend to his will usually. But what Diego doesn’t know can’t hurt him. If you mend a broken bone or ease a sore throat on occasion he might not find out. And even if he does find out, how mad can he really get at that? (Pretty damn mad, but you have too much value in his eyes for him to deal Too harshly with you, despite what he might say in the heat of the moment).

-

Ngl I kinda blanked when coming up with additional characters, so I just went with some more faves, haha, the POWER of: “feel free to put whoever else in”!

[greater-than-the-sword]

Inspired by a post about aliens within a Christian worldview, I wrote this short story for the @inklings-challenge Christmas challenge. Well, 10 pages, that's as short as it gets from me. Genre: Sci-fi Takes place at Christmastime? Well, it's set in space, where Earth dates are unclear, but sure, why not.

The Blind Astronaut and the Sun

(title under revision...)

              They hung silently in the orbit of the pulsar. Below them, the star made a noise like a hundred million atomic bombs exploding all at once, but none of them could hear it.

              Soft beeps and hushed radio static were the only noise on board the ship. It was as much night-time as it ever was in space.

              Judd and Roberts floated by the window. It wasn’t a very large window, only a couple of feet in diameter, and slightly bowed out. Roberts stared pensively.

              “So tell me,” he asked. “How does a blind man get interested in space?”

              Judd chuckled softly.

              “I mean, you’ve never even seen the stars. Let alone this star. And yet here you are.”

              “Well…”

“A sight that plenty of people would kill to see, right in front of you. And you can’t even see it.” Roberts paused. “I don’t mean to be rude, I’m sorry…”

              There was a tinted screen on the window that made it possible to see the pulsar. It was a roiling sea of fire, too vast to comprehend. Dots of swimming red wave-tips speckled an ocean of gold light. The patterns shifted continuously, never quite the same.

              “I’ve been awake twenty hours,” said Judd, in his deep, swelling voice, the one that Roberts always found so calming, like that of a documentary narrator. “Nothing seems rude to me at the moment. I suppose you might as well ask. I can hear them.”

              “You mean you heard about them?”

              “That’s what I told everyone at university. But no. Just between you and me. They make a sound.”

              “Ah, you’re talking about the wavelengths…?” Roberts sounded uncertain.

              “That’s why I became a radio technician. Yes, there’s the radio waves. The shortwave frequencies and the microwaves and every wave you can think of. But that’s not what they really sound like.” Judd smiled faintly.

              Roberts did not inquire further, he was almost creeped out. Judd did unnerve him at times, with his strange romanticism. He changed the subject back a little. “But don’t you wish you could see it?”

“Oh, every day. Unimaginably. So bad it hurts. I want to get closer.”

“You are closer now than most people will ever be to a star, Judd.”

“Closer. I need to be swallowed. Consumed. I want to take that light into my body and let it burn my eyes out, until I can feel the sound that they make in every cell of my body and I want to be closer than a human can be and see more than seeing.” He paused, and Roberts frowned. “Besides,” he said, “I can’t see it now, but I can feel its heat.”

Roberts put his hand on the window. The shielding was functional, of course. It was cold. “Well. Perhaps it’s time to go to bed.”

Hendricks came around the corner, interrupting them. “Hi Hendricks,” said Roberts. “You’re finally awake.”

“Anything from the pulsar?”

“Other than the usual… no.”

Hendricks was what they called a “true believer”. Roberts was not.

“I keep telling you,” said Roberts, “We’re not going to get anything to prove your theory. At best, some more novel particles or wavelengths or something –”

“Is that how you describe our communications with Alpha 1? A novel wavelength?”

“Well, no, but it doesn’t really resemble anything we recognize as—"

“If alien life evolved elsewhere in the universe, it would have been under such a vastly different set of conditions than earth that humans may not even be able to comprehend it as life.” Hendricks did a slow cartwheel in the air, his arms lively.

“Evolved? This is a star. How could it evolve? What were its parents? What kind of natural selection- predators – death- genetics-” Roberts protested.

“That’s just it, isn’t it? It’s so alien we can’t imagine. Perhaps it’s an ascended form of some other life-form that evolved elsewhere… passed on to a kind of immortality…” Hendricks spread out his hands.

Roberts, and now Judd too, looked skeptical.

“Can you imagine what kind of intelligence such a race must have had to evolve like that? I wonder if it knows we’re here. It must. And what sort of powers might it have? I wish we could communicate with it.”

“I have sent the transmissions you asked for,” said Judd.

“Oh yes, I know. But either it can’t interpret them – or more likely in my opinion – we’re simply beneath the notice of such a vastly higher being. An entity of pure light—it really makes you think. Judd, if there was alien life, would it affect your belief in God?”

“Hmm… I’m not sure,” said Judd. “I don’t think so.”

“It would go to show that humans aren’t the center of the universe, wouldn’t it? Shatter all of our little delusions about our significance.”

“Maybe.”

“And those aliens, what do you think they believe in, hm?” Hendricks raised an eyebrow like this was the most groundbreaking question ever asked. “If they’re more advanced than us, perhaps they’ve reached enlightenment and don’t have a need for such belief systems anymore.

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” said Judd, but his tone indicated that he wasn’t really looking at it.

Hendricks’ theory wasn’t completely groundless. The pulsar was something of an impossibility to begin with, it should have been pulled apart by two neighboring black holes, but the scientists at Alpha 1 had noticed that it exerted something of a stabilizing force, self-correcting pulses of energy that kept the star together when mere entropy should have dissolved it a billion years ago. The seemingly intelligent behavior had led some scientists to believe life-forms might be repairing their star. But when expeditions had ruled out life on any neighboring planets, a new theory formed. Some believed the star itself housed some sort of alien intelligence. And so, the expedition that had gotten all three of them on a research mission to analyze radio waves coming out of a pulsar had been launched from Alpha 1.

***

It was some hours later that Judd awakened. He was being lightly shaken by Hendricks.

“Wake up. Wake up, bro. There’s a new signal.” Hendrick’s voice was a whisper, but it was full of excitement.

Judd’s body, dull from sleep, came to life. He pushed himself from the bunk room and through the portal to the comms. He donned the headset, bidding Hendricks be silent, and listened.

Roberts was still sleeping. He could hear the faint snores from the far bunk. There was also radio static; the massive barrage of junk signals that a star generates by virtue of its existence. These had to be damped and modified until they were faint. And of course, as usual, there was the steady drum of the pulsar, like a heartbeat, pounding again and again like waves against a shore.

But underneath all of that, there was something new. It was soft, almost musical. A complex, weaving sound, up and down, back and forth. But as Judd listened, he realized this too was repetitive, despite its complexity. It kept perfect time with the pulsar’s heart. But it was faster – no mere byproduct or resonance of the electromagnetic fields. There was something asymmetric about this— with internal congruencies—

“We couldn’t hear it before,” started Hendricks tentatively. “We weren’t close enough. I think it must be coming from a deeper place inside the star, maybe towards the core.”

“This is a language,” said Judd.

“What?!” Hendricks hit his head on the ceiling. “How could you know that?”

“Trust me, I know. It’s complex, repetitive—it’s—well, just a feeling, maybe—but it’s a message. I know it is.”

“But it’s repeating. A repeating message. A broadcast?”

“Maybe.”

“A distress signal?”

“…….not sure.”

“But if it’s being intentionally broadcast, why can we only pick it up from within close range?”

“Mmmmm.” Judd puckered his lips. “I don’t know.”

Roberts was finally coming awake. He saw them both huddled over the comms panel. “What is it?” he mumbled, rolling midair.

“Judd thinks it’s a broadcast.”

“Your words,” said Judd.

“A language. A message.”

“From who?” Roberts asked.

“The star.”

Roberts looked askance, ever the skeptic. “Saying what?”

“I don’t know,” said Judd.

“How can you say it’s a language if you don’t know? Tell me what it says, if you’re so sure. Decode it.”

“Hand me my tablet, then.”

Roberts handed Judd the tablet. It was not, in fact, a device, but the wax tablet that Judd used to write on with a small stylus.

Judd sat there for some time, scratching away.

Hendricks and Roberts didn’t have too much time to waste, they eventually had to get busy on the daily maintenance tasks of inspected the EVA suits, for damage, checking the food stores for spoilage, composing briefings and reports, and cleaning particulate matter off of practically everything.

Later in the day they eventually got back together. It was around lunch, or what the ship time said was 2pm. The time was neither Earth Time, Alpha 1 time, nor related in any way to their orbit of the pulsar, but it was necessary for human sanity to maintain a consistent day/night cycle.

“I’m not really a linguist,” said Judd finally, crunching his freeze-dried strawberries. “There’s not much to go on, anyway, since the message is so short. I’m not really sure what you’re expecting me to turn up.”

“Fair enough,” said Roberts.

“We could try to communicate,” said Hendricks. “Send something back, you know.”

“We already tried that.”

“I mean, maybe we’re in range now.”

“Maybe.” Judd looked unconvinced.

Suddenly he got a funny look on his face, and sailed back toward the headset.

“What?”

He didn’t say anything, just slipped the headset on. A moment later he took it down. “Closer… we are closer, that explains it.”

“What?” asked Hendricks again, patiently.

“It seems to have gotten… clearer. There’s more in between. More…” he waved his hands. “Some parts of it are still too faint to make out. Maybe if I had more… we need to get closer.”

“We can’t,” said Roberts.

They both turned toward Roberts.

“We’re as close as we can get now,” said Roberts. “If you bring the ship any closer, our shields will be overwhelmed and we could burn up.”

              That was the end of the discussion, at least for the time being.

              They went back to their work, and even Judd left the transmissions alone for a while, choosing to clean the air filters instead.

              It was later in the day that Roberts saw a bright flash outside the window. Immediately a number of small beeping noises commenced from all quarters of the ship.

              Hendricks kicked off and started moving from panel to panel, checking the light indicators.

              Judd swore. “What’s going on?”

              “Solar flare,” said Roberts. “Came pretty close to the ship. All our antennae have got misaligned. That’s the beeping. Checking for possible damage now.”

              A minute later, Roberts had gotten the readout. “It looks like we lost part of a solar panel. It hit the siding and knocked off a panel cover.”

              “That’s all?” said Hendricks. “Could have been worse.”

              “Could have,” said Roberts, “but if we don’t cover the panel, the wires could corrode within a day and we’ll have damage to the cooling systems. It’s caustic out there.”

              There was silence for a moment.

              “All right,” said Judd. “Fine.”

              They both looked at him, though he didn’t perceive it.

              “Fine what?” said Hendricks, finally.

              “I’ll do it,” said Judd.

              “Are you s—”

              “You know damn well that I’m the only one who can. That’s the reason they sent me. It wasn’t just for my transmissions expertise. I’m the only one who doesn’t risk going blind.”

              ***

              Judd donned at last the helmet of his EVA suit. Roberts and Hendricks had finished the inspection, and now stood ready to operate the airlock. He clutched the tool kit. It was time to go.

              Through the airlock into the decompression chamber. The door shut with a sucking thud. The sound of the vacuum came on. It took about 2 minutes for the chamber to empty of air, as much as it could be emptied, and Judd felt his suit puff up.

              When the outer door opened, he pushed off, one hand on the toolbox and one on the tether, as he lightly brushed the wall. He swung around the corner and caught the grip rung. Bingo, right on target. He began to climb.

              He could feel the sun at his back instantly. It was warm, even with the shielding fields about 5 feet away from the hull, almost too warm for comfort. If he could see—no he couldn’t. It would have been a blaze of white, enough to burn anyone’s eyes out. Roberts or Hendricks could have come out here with eye protection, but they’d have had to do the job blind anyways, and they were hardly as practiced in it as he was.

              Judd moved from antennae to antennae, straightening them where they’d been pushed aside, bent or even flattened against the hull.

              As he adjusted the last one, the radio crackled on in his helmet.

              “Radio’s fixed,” he said. “Testing. Over.”

              “Receiving,” said Hendricks. “You good out there? Over.”

              “All good so far. Over.”

              The sun seemed to flush hotter against his back. He thought of it again. This was as close as he could ever come… wasn’t it? He was frightened of it. Terrified, even. But he wanted more. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to see it, even though he knew that even seeing it would be a futile endeavor because it would be the only thing he’d ever see in his entire life. But it would be worth it. Probably.

              He had made it all the way up to the panel. Sure enough, the cover was torn off. The sharp edge of mangled metal scraped against his gloves. He opened the tool kit and found the roll of aluminum tape.

The sun seemed to pulse in its intensity. It was as though he could hear that same musical pulse through the radio… But not quite. Surely not.

“Found the panel. Covering it now. Over.”

He stretched out the tape and cut it, stretching it piece by piece across the space in the hull.

The sun was calling to him. Hot at his back. With a feeling of brightness that he could not see, but still almost sense. The siren song seemed to pulse through his body, through his ears, he felt that the radio static was echoing it, it was there, surely he was not imagining it.

“Do you hear that? Over.”

“Hear what? Over.”

              It was not, strictly speaking, that Judd was certain in any way the voice was calling to him directly. And yet it was. It was the voice that he had heard all his life. It was the voice of the stars that he’d heard when he was a child on Earth. Now he felt them begin to align for the first time in his mind: the age-old voice; the transmission from the star. They were one, they were the same, but he hadn’t recognized it before.

              He put the last strip of tape over the panel. A strange excitement, a strange and fierce joy seized him. Oh, I can’t be doing this.

              “Judd,” Hendricks was saying. “Judd, do you copy. Over.”

              “I’m… I was just…” He hesitated.

              “Judd.”

              “I can hear it.”

              “Come back to the airlock.”

              This is what I was born for. This is what I was created for.

              “Judd! Judd!!!”

              He let go.

              ***

              Hendricks’ last cry trailed off.

The two of them sat frozen in dismay inside the ship. The empty radio buzzed in their ears. There was no sign of whatever Judd had heard. They had heard no signs of distress from him; but he was suddenly either out of range or—

              Destroyed, Roberts thought. His comms had been destroyed, his vital signs tracker had been destroyed as well.

              There was a heavy silence, laden with grief and a strange horror.

              “He’s gone… We lost him…” he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

Closer to the surface, Roberts began to foment a more selfish sort of fear. Judd was gone for good—and how would they get home without a 3-man crew? It was technically possible— maybe.

“He let go,” said Hendricks.

“He must have,” said Roberts dully.

“On purpose,” said Hendricks, like a child stating the obvious. “He let go on purpose.”

Roberts wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t argue. The sun beneath them suddenly felt alive, and its presence ominous. It had swallowed Judd, and its open maw was waiting for the rest of them as well.

              ***

              Judd was falling through the sun. Faster and faster he went, until he was streaking like a meteor past dust and particles and ever stronger solar winds.

              He hit the surface with a gaseous splash, and a sensation that he felt, but not in the way that he might have expected. It was cold, or so-hot-it-was-cold, like the shock of falling through ice, but with an afterglow like alcohol and mint that spread through his entire body.

              His EVA suit was destroyed. It had been melted or burned away. But he seemed to be breathing—though he wasn’t entirely confident that what he was breathing was air. Not only was he not in pain, he seemed to be more alive every moment.

              The world was hotter, cooler, and hotter again. He wondered how long he would have to fall before getting to the core. He wondered if he was close now. He had lost track of time, but it seemed as though he had been falling for an age. Somehow he knew that he was close. There was something here. A presence. A being.

              He saw light.

              It wasn’t an image of any sort. It was just like the light had finally become so strong it had pierced to his very soul. He was conscious of being in a very bright space. He knew that he was intruding. As best he could explain it, he had the sense of being in somebody’s house.

              But he was still falling.

              Judd understood something now about the nature of the Star, for the star it was. It was not lonely. Neither was it bored. It was happy, although happiness felt too trite a word. This Being, whatever it was, had lived in continuous and incomprehensible bliss since the beginning of time.

              And the Star noticed him. It felt like a spotlight turned directly on him in an instant, which was something that he could only now describe.

              WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE.

              Judd was dumbstruck, he could not answer.

I HAVE EXISTED FOR 4 BILLION YEARS. NEVER HAVE I BEEN REQUIRED TO DO ANYTHING EXCEPT SING MY SONG. UNTIL NOW.

Judd stared at the light.

WHY HAVE YOU COME.

He spoke, barely able to form the words, but knowing with a sudden certainty what he wanted to say. “Your song. What does it mean?”

ARE YOU NOT ABLE TO UNDERSTAND? AH. I WILL TRANSLATE IT INTO YOUR LANGUAGE.

***

Roberts and Hendricks had picked up where Judd left off, testing the connections on the control panel and recalibrating for the new positions of the antennae. They worked as silently as they could. Neither of them wanted to talk about what had just happened, but they couldn’t bring themselves to talk about anything else.

The mood was depressive. Judd was dead, and they were alone. Alone with the sun.

Coolant systems were online, everything was working. Hendricks wanted to have some sort of ceremony or something, but he wasn’t sure how. There wasn’t even anything to bury.

It was dinner time, a scant 30 minutes allotted for a square meal. They sat, as it were, reluctantly near the minifridge, but neither of them wanted to eat.

There was a flash of light.

When the flash subsided, Judd was standing there in a t-shirt and shorts.

Roberts screamed and kicked the mini-fridge, throwing his mandarin through the air, almost hitting Judd in the face, though he didn’t notice. Hendricks made a similarly undignified noise and awkward flail.

Judd was rubbing his face, and breathing heavily. He was trembling; he looked as though he might have stumbled; but given the lack of gravity he simply rotated haphazardly until his head was down.

“We thought you were dead,” Hendricks managed.

“Don’t freak out,” said Judd. “It sent me back.”

“You… spoke to it?”

“Yes, it said—” Judd opened his eyes.

The two men screamed again, and recoiled in horror.

“Your eyes!” Roberts yelled.

“What?!” Judd demanded. “What about them? I’ve always been—stop freaking out, I know I startled you, but I’m not a ghost, it’s just me—”

Judd’s eyes were like the high beams on a Ford F-50.

“Don’t you want to know what the transmission said?” he asked, confused.

It was Hendricks who pulled himself together first. “What did it say?”

“Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, and goodwill toward men.”

[katuschka]

So Pretty When All Alone

Josh Kiszka x gender-neutral reader 1.260 words

Yeah, I know what I said, but I just enjoy this way too much. AND I got really inspired by something @its-interesting-van-kleep said. So thanks babe, this one's dedicated to you.

It's also my first attempt at the 2nd person narrative. Not really fond of it, but I always wanted to at least try it, and it seemed quite fitting and "natural" here.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): voyeurism (in an established relationship), masturbation, alcohol consumption, Josh being his usual sexycutiepie

People change. 

And that’s the reason why you left the party early, using a tension headache as an excuse. They understood; and you suspected that it was only common decency which prevented them from saying that you were no fun anyway, so… off you go. They’re friends, and – let’s be honest – you didn’t act like one tonight. 

Therefore, sitting in an uber on your way home, you felt both relieved and strangely remorseful. Booze often did that to you, making you overthink and wallow in contradictory emotions. It was just like any other night spent out with them, nothing had changed. But you had. A new job, some new hobbies, and most of all, a new man. Josh didn’t really fit in your group of buddies and they had never tried to make it any easier for him, so he stopped coming with you eventually and you were slowly losing interest in spending time in their company ever since. You wanted to be home instead. Home… 

It wasn’t really home yet, you just already had the key. He gave you this token of his trust just two weeks ago, and while you were still keeping your old place simply out of convenience (and common sense), you had spent all of those fourteen nights in Josh’s bed, watching him fall asleep and kissing him awake every fucking night and day. Why would you want to be anywhere else, when Josh’s bed felt like the center of the Universe and him the Sun? And yet he kept telling you that you were the interesting one. See, he’s funny, too. 

You didn’t believe him, but it felt good anyway.

Still feeling more like a visitor, you were a bit unsure whether it was a good idea to get back to his place earlier than expected without texting him first. Too late. You missed your chance thanks to booze brain fog, and there was no point in letting him know when you were already standing on his driveway. His car was here too, meaning he was already back from the studio, but the lights were out. Was he already asleep? Unusual, but not impossible. 

Careful so as not to wake him, you unlocked the door and silently entered, immediately noticing a sliver of dim light coming through the half closed door of his bedroom at the other side of the long entrance hall. Thinking that he had probably fallen asleep while reading, you crept up closer, just to have a look to confirm your suspicion. And then you heard it.

A barely audible, breathy moan. Unmistakeable. You were quite familiar with the sound. That’s why it made your heart beat wildly in an instant and the gasp that escaped your lips almost gave away your intruding presence. But he didn’t stop, and while you waited with bated breath for him to call your name, you could hear the rhythmic sound that gave him away fully. You had to have a look. It was imperative.

Peeking through the crack of the door, you had to bite your lip to keep quiet. There he was, sitting on the bed with his back propped against the pillows. What a marvelous sight! One which you hadn’t had the opportunity to really see yet. You were quite familiar with all those beautiful details from up close, but this was something new. And extremely exciting. 

Josh was completely naked, with only his feet and shins hidden under the duvet to keep them warm. The sight of him pleasuring himself made the muscles under your navel spasm with craving and need. 

Surely, if you revealed your presence and apologised for the intrusion, Josh would be eager to help you with it, and you would be just as raring to reciprocate. However, something about the scenario that was in play right in front of you made you want to keep holding your breath. 

He was so pretty when all alone. 

Lost in his pleasure, self-induced by his languid strokes, he had tilted his head back and let it rest on top of the upholstered headboard, panting. You watched, entranced, how his parted lips quivered ever so slightly, as if he was chanting a silent mantra. In a way, he was. Hadn’t he already told the world that this was the universal truth? Uttered in jest, but the truth is that he really meant it. That’s probably why his moans sometimes sounded almost sacral. 

And you worshipped him for it. 

Only Josh could transform a simple, vulgar act of jerking off into a religious experience. With his eyes closed and his brow lifted, he looked as if he was praying. A praying angel who could invoke the most sinful thoughts in your head even without saying a single word. Just listening to his moans made you feel like your fluttering heart would jump out of your chest. It was intoxicating. 

And that’s how you felt while watching him. Lightheaded, you took it all in, starting with his face, now tilted slightly towards you, and you were secretly begging him to keep his eyes closed. He furrowed his brow just a bit, bit his lower lip and let out the most delightful nasal whimper. You savored the sight for a little while before letting your gaze travel further down to his own heaving chest. He was literally fucking the air around him. In and out, in and out, and you were getting slightly jealous of every molecule of oxygen that had that pleasure. But you weren’t willing to give in yet. You probably couldn’t have even if you wanted to. You felt hypnotized. 

In the meantime, Josh quickened his pace and tightened his grip, and you had to pinch the skin on your hand to keep yourself from moaning along as you watched his left hand slide up his toned stomach. He pinched his nipple then, and groaned loudly, before he let the hand travel back down, scratching the skin along his happy trail with his fingernails. You were yearning to lick the stripe all the way up that irritated flesh. That perfect line of fuzzy hairs was your happy place; starting right under his navel, it was groomed right above his dick, as he was keeping that area delightfully bare. 

You didn’t really care, or mind, but the truth was that it made his pretty pink cock look even more prominent. Especially during moments like this one when it already looked like it was going to burst. Sure enough, his swollen head was glistening with precum, looking like a giant, dew-covered berry. 

And no doubt just as tasty. 

You were already ravenous. While still fascinated and mesmerized by the sight of his tensing muscles, visible tendons and protruding knuckles as he continued to pump himself with new-found frenzy, you seriously considered finishing his job for him. Before you could make up your mind, his breath quickened and his moans grew both in pitch and intensity. He swirled his palm around his weeping head a few times with shuddering breath, before he slid all the way down one last time. You shrunk back a bit when he finally opened his eyes and with a long, loud and high-pitched moan, he came. 

You leaned against the wall right by the door, willing your heart to calm down slowly, when you suddenly heard him whisper: “Hello darling, didn’t see you there.” 

“Fuck,” you muttered, which only made him chuckle. 

You learned two things that night. You loved to watch. And Josh loved to have the audience. Always.

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @takenbythemadness   @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @scarabsinthestardust

[slut4megantheestallion]

Chloe, Max, & Rachel with a Earthy s/o Headcannons

Warning ⚠️: fluff, cute, wlw x reader, fem!reader earthy s/o vibe, black!reader.

Characters: Max Caulfield, Chloe price, Rachel Amber.

- Max Caulfield

● when max first met you she was really captivated by your earthy, natural vibe. Whether it's the way you wear your hair, bohemian fashion sense, or your deep connection to nature, she finds herself snapping photos of you constantly.

● "I swear you look like a goddess in every shot." She says, showing you her camera roll filled with your photos.

● Max loves how you embrace nature, whether it's your love for the outdoors, your collection of crystals, or your passion for protecting the environment, she's really fascinated by how grounded and genuine you are.

● Max loves how your music tastes reflects your earthy side. Soulful, R&B, neo soul, or smooth jazz, and she'll often ask you to share playlists. She'll listen to them while editing photos texting you, "This song totally reminds me of you."

● Max is fascinated by your hair and often compliments how you style it. "You make it look so effortless." She'll say watching it an awe as you twist or braid it. If you're comfortable, she'll let you help put oil on it or detangle it, even if she's nervous about doing it wrong.

● Loves taking pictures of you when you're in nature. She'll set up her camera and take pictures of you under a tree, surrounded by flowers or near a calm body of water. You become her muse.

● Max admires how grounded you are, especially when her anxiety creeps up. You always seem to know the right thing to say to calm her down. "You're like my own personal anchor." She tells you with a soft smile.

● loves going on hikes or walks with you. While she's snapping pictures of the scenery, she's secretly taking photos of you admiring the trees or sitting in a field of wildflowers.

● Max asks questions about your culture or hear stories about your upbringing. She's really curious and eager to learn, whether it's trying your favorite dishes, watching movies you grew up with, or just listening to your stories.

● Max loves that you have a creative, artsy side that aligns with her own. You'll spend hours drawing or painting together. Max finds it incredibly soothing, and the two of you create beautiful works of art side by side.

-Chloe price

● Chloe was blown away by how calm yet confident you are. Your earthy vibe was totally different with her chaotic energy, but she loves it. "You're like my opposite, but in the best way." She says.

● Huge tease always cracking jokes about your love for nature. "Do you like talk to trees, or are you just one with the earth?" She jokes, but she secretly thinks it's amazing how in tune you are with the earth.

● Super defensive about your natural hair. If anyone dared to touch it without your permission or make a comment, she's ready to throw hands. "You don't just go around touching people, dumbass." She snaps at that guy once.

● Chloe loved to poke fun at how calm you are and she'll often poke fun at herself saying, "who would have thought the most chill girl like you end up with someone chaotic like me, but somehow we work."

● snaps back at anyone who says something rude about your style or interests, Chloe is quick to step in. "You've got a problem with her vibe asshole? Maybe you should take that bad energy elsewhere." She'll snap back protective of you.

● Chloe loves sitting with you in silence or just having deep conversations about life. Whether it's about the future, your past, or anything spiritual, she feels like she can open up to you without judgment. "I never knew I needed someone like you." She admits quietly.

● While chloe has a rebellious streak, she enjoys taking breaks in nature with you. Whether it's a trip to the beach, a quiet hike through the woods, or just simply watching the stars together, she finds peace when she's with you in the nature world.

● Even though she doesn't show it, chloe is super thoughtful when it comes to surprising you. She would pick up a handmade necklace or a new plant for you, showing that she really cares about what makes you happy. "I saw this really cool plant, and it made me think of you." She says with a sheepish smile.

● Chloe loves when you wear golden jewelry or accessories like a crystal necklace or beaded bracelets. She'll beg you to pick some out done for her, too, so you can match. " Look at us badass couple goals." She says, showing off her new bracelet you made her.

● She'll playfully tease you about your outfits. " Are we going to Woodstock or something?" She says, tugging on the fringe of your flowy jacket. But deep down, she loves how unique and authentic your style is.

● if you enjoy cooking, Chloe loves watching you make food from your culture. She can't follow instructions for shit, but she's 100% down to help chop veggies or stir a pot while you lead the way.

● Chloe loves seeing you embrace your culture and hyped you up about it all the time. "Hell yeah, babe, show 'em what real pride looks like!" She says, beaming as you wear something meaningful to you.

- Rachel Amber

● Rachel was really captivated by your earthy energy and natural beauty. She constantly tells you how radiant you are, whether you're dressed up or rocking a casual, effortless look. "You dront even have to try, do you?" She says as she stares at you in awe.

● Rachel sees you as her muse. Whether it's planning a photoshoot in nature or creating outfits inspired by your style, she's always finding ways to incorporate your vibe into her art. "You're like my walking pinterest board." She teases as you sheepishly smile at that compliment.

● Rachel is fascinated by how you connect with nature, your calm nurturing demeanor, and the way you seem to carry the essence of the earth with you. "You're like a goddess." She says, eyes shining with admiration as she watches you tend a garden or sit peacefully behind a tree.

● Compliments you 24/7. Rachel compliments your natural beauty, whether it's your radiant skin, glowing smile, or hair no matter how you wear it. "You make effortless look so chic." She teases, always in awe how stunning you look.

● Rachel is super curious and respectful about your culture. She'll ask questions and is always down to try new things - whether it's food or music. "Teach me everything." She says, completely sincere.

● She loves matching your vibe. She'll start incorporating more earthy tones, flowy fabrics, or natural elements into her wardrobe to complement your style. She just wants to feel connected with you.

● loves your hair whether if it's straight, coily, curly, braided up or natural. She always compliments and asks you if it's ok to style it sometimes. " Your hair is like art, you're art." She says, touching your hair (only with permission).

● Rachel loves doing self care routines with you. If you do anything like deep conditioning your hair or using natural skincare products, she'll want to join in. "Teach me your ways." She says, slathering on a face mask made from scratch.

● Rachel would take you out on a lot of outdoor dates with you. Whether it's visiting a garden, going on picnics, or just sitting in a park together. She calls you her "earth angel." And always insists on taking photos to capture the moment.

● She loved how your mind works. You'll talk about topics like spirituality energy and the power of the earth, and she finds herself getting lost in depth of your words. You inspire her to be more mindful and aware of the world around her.

● Loves surprising you with little gifts that reflect your connection with the earth. She'll get you crystal necklaces, handmade jewelry, orba bouquets of flowers.

● After a long, busy day, Rachel loves curling up with you under a blanket with a view of the sky. She rests her hand on your lap, enjoying your soothing energy. "I'm so lucky to have you." She whispers, tracing on your hand.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Chaotic Night CE: Darius Vogel

This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy is not guaranteed. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not re-post my translations elsewhere. Thank you so much for your support, and I hope that you enjoy the story! ☾.

Worried over the effects of consuming the Queen of the Night extract, they each returned to their rooms.

However, there was one person who ignored the warning —

Kate: Darius! It’s dangerous to go out. Victor said you all should be careful tonight, didn’t he?

Darius was cheerfully leaving the palace, so I frantically stood in front of him, blocking his path.

Darius: Why should I listen to what he says?

Darius: I’d like to enjoy an English Halloween.

He smiled brilliantly, like an angel, not paying any mind to my persuasion.

(I can’t get through to him!)

Kate: Please, please refrain tonight. This is for your sake too.

Kate: We don’t know what kind of changes may happen.

Darius: If you say so, then you will entertain me Miss fairytale keeper.

Darius: I know, let’s go to your room, Miss fairytale keeper.

Kate: What?!

Darius: We can lay low in the fairytale keeper’s chambers.

Kate: B-But.

(…..I can’t let Vogel simply enter Crown Castle.)

It was strongly admonished to keep Crown’s secrets safe.

But I can’t say that.

Indifferent to my worries, Darius slipped past me and walked briskly towards the entrance.

Kate: Oh, wait!

(W-what should I do….what would Darius be more interested in?)

Darius: …..It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this excited.

His murmur struck me with an idea —.

Kate: Queen of the Night! There’s a place where it grows wild in the garden!

Darius stopped suddenly, and looked back with interest.

Darius: Oh?

Darius: I’d like to see it.

[Transitions to the garden]

Kate: It’s somewhere around here.

(…..It’s a good thing there’s no full moon or new moon out tonight.)

Darius: What, how boring. I was hoping that maybe at least one flower would bloom.

I turned around when it sounded like he lost interest—.

Kate: ….[Gasp],Darius, you look

Noticing my gasp, Darius touched the top of his head.

There, were very prominent horns popping out.

Darius: Ohh, I thought my head felt itchy for some reason. So, it was because of this. (Bro, wdym? You didn’t feel them growing?? 😭)

His reflection in the nearby pond looks so innocent, as he happily strokes the curves of his horns.

Darius: In any case — I feel somewhat liberated.

Darius smiles in the moonlight, and coupled with the horns that appeared, he looks so divine it’s almost awe-inspiring.

— Like he were a messenger of God.

(…..Which reminds me.)

Harrison had fox-like ears.

His ability became so strong that he could detect lies just by listening to others.

If Ellis’ briar thorns that appeared on him was due to his sin of bondage, and his ability to restrain has strengthened then —

(Darius’ change in appearance may have to do with the nature of his curse)

(…What kind of curse does Darius have?)

Darius: What is it? I feel a hole will open up with you staring at me like that.

Kate: Ah, sorry. It’s just a bit strange ….

Darius: …….

Silence falls, and his honey-colored eyes look down on me with carefully.

With a gaze that seemed to see through everything, as if they were declaring it.

Darius: Would you like to touch them?

Kate: Huh?

Darius: If it’s so strange that you’re staring at me, then perhaps it would good for you to touch and examine them yourself.

He tilts his head with a smile, while looking down at me.

The overwhelming atmosphere didn’t allow me to refuse, so I reached up to gently touch Darius’ head —

Darius: ….Heheh.

Right as I touched a horn, Darius’ chuckled.

Kate: …

My hand let go immediately,

For some reason, I felt an indescribable anxiousness as Darius continued to laugh cheerfully, and I instinctively stepped back.

Darius: Oh, there, if you step back any further —

Kate: Oof!

I got caught by a hole in the ground, and fell hard on my bottom.

Darius: I see you really don’t disappoint, Miss fairytale keeper.

Not even offering me a hand to help me up, Darius just stands there with the moon behind him, smiling as he looks down at me.

When I tried to stand up, pressed by the uneasy laughter—

I felt a throbbing pain.

Darius: Ohh dear, you twisted your foot.

Darius: —It’s because you directly touched me.

Kate: Huh…what does that mean?

(When I made direct contact this happened to me….So, perhaps this is Darius’ ability.)

Darius: Shall I guess what you’re thinking right now, Miss fairytale keeper?

Darius: Something like, does this mean — that if I touch anyone then they will suffer misfortune?

Kate: ….

Darius: Ah, bullseye. You truly are so easy to understand Miss fairytale keeper.

Kate: ….Do you really have that sort of ability?

Darius: Ahha, should you be asking me?

Darius: Remember, that just because you ask a question doesn’t mean you’ll get an honest answer.

Darius: But all right, I’ll give you a special test, Miss fairytale keeper.

Darius: Since I’m feeling very good right now.

It felt as if Darius was looking down from a lofty place, when he crouched down in front of me, who was still unable to move after falling backward.

The sudden closeness made my heart skip a beat.

Kate: Oh, please wait, no more misfortunes.

A gloved hand mercilessly grabbed mine, and pressed it against his horn again.

Kate: —

(W-what’ll happen now….?)

Darius: ……

Although I braced myself, there was no sign of anything happening, so I sighed in relief.

Darius chuckled and pinched my cheek.

Kate: Uhf.

Darius: ….Is this also a “misfortune” for you, Miss fairytale keeper?

His fingers slid from touching my cheek to lifting up my chin.

His platinum blonde eyelashes slightly lowered, as his gaze fell upon my lips.

His beautifully arched lips slowly approached me —

(I-is he going to kiss me?!)

Kate: W-wait ….!

When I raised my voice, he finally stopped moving.

The reflection of my face was bright red, in his very close, deep, honey-colored eyes.

Darius: Hmph, “wait.” ….You don’t want to?

He was so close that our breathing overlapped, and he smiled even more beautifully.

Darius: You’re as kind as ever. If you’re planning to refuse me, then you should push me and runaway.

Darius: —Ohhh, but you twisted your ankle.

Darius: You can’t run away even if you wanted to. That’s your misfortune right now, Miss fairytale keeper.

He suddenly dropped my hand and stood up, as if to say the prank was over.

Darius: — I guess that you won’t be able to escape from Crown either.

Kate: What?

My heart was beating wildly.

Darius: Would you like my help?

Kate: W-what do you mean —

Darius: Your foot’s sprained, isn’t it?

(He’s talking about that….)

Kate: N-no, that’s okay…..

Frankly, the pain was getting worse, but I didn’t want to show him any more of my pathetic side.

Somehow, I managed to stand up.

Darius: I see.

As I brushed the dirt off my skirt hem, Darius glanced at me from the side and then flipped his coat.

Kate: Oh, where are you going?

Darius: I’ve no further business here. I’ll do as I like for the rest of tonight.

Kate: Well, wait a…..nghh!

Even though I wanted to rush after him, I couldn’t because of the pain.

Kate: Y-you can’t leave the palace! Please lay low no matter what….!

I couldn’t do anything other than call out after the white back that was walking away.

“— I guess that you won’t be able to escape from Crown either.”

Darius’ words swirled around in my heart.

(….I wonder at how much Darius knows.)

What did he mean by that.

At any rate, what is Darius’ true ability….

— As my Halloween night went on, the aftertaste of Darius’ prank lingered.

[Event Master List] Dividers: @.natimiles

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger

Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed from tags!

Well, well, that was interesting. This is my first full event translation for Darius...I don't know him as well as others might, but I hope I did okay. I'm sure I'll get better with his character over time. But, really? You're telling me you didn't feel those horns growing, Dari??

[hellishfig]

just finished listening to episode 34 of worlds beyond number, "something to remember you by," which is the end of arc 3 of the wizard, the witch, and the wild one, and i feel sick from how incredible it was. the physical reactions my body made to some of the words and music in this podcast really took me by surprise. i'm still reeling.

some thoughts:

i'm so happy that suvi is questioning the citadel, her reaction to silver's letter was inspired, and i LOVED her interactions with the quartermaster. she's so clever and intimidating (holy shit that was HOT), but i'm worried about what's happening to silver. i have an inkling that the witches may have already started making moves alongside the man in black, and i wonder how that will affect suvi going forward. and going to try and save silver before returning their "precious cargo" to the citadel... i hope suvi can keep questioning, and that whatever she faces, she doesn't let the justification machine run its course any longer.

eursulon meeting up with tefmet was really cool. i enjoyed the return of the strongest man in silbury immensely. it was extremely funny. and then, when eursulon asked to help and succeeded on his persuasion checks, it was solemnly touching. i love eursulon's power being in steadfast support and protection, and how to him, it's not about opposing the citadel in its entirety, it's about saving spirits, great and small, from those who would use them. and that's something he can do while still protecting his true friends.

ame let the chaos OUT this episode, and it was delightful and nerve wracking and thrilling to listen to. she's very bossy and it's so funny to hear how immediately eursulon goes along with it, despite not knowing what "it" is. growing up watching grandma wren, she seems to have gained a natural authority that makes people who love her listen to her when she asks them to perform innocuous menial tasks. but that's also interesting, because her chaos is focused, if imprecise. she knows what she needs to do and will do it, damn the consequences. as long as she can get away, who cares what she leaves in her wake? that's a problem for future ame.

they stole some brass knockers and a lion! they kidnapped nif to save her from being killed by indri! tof burned bright to free a vrock! suvi heads to war, eursulon and ame TO TOMA! (i almost cried when eursulon said those words and the music swelled. what the fuck, lou. what the FUCK taylor and jared. i'm not okay!!!)

and then of course, brockvale. holly hill. the resting place of sir curran of the hawthorn, who unknowingly sent eursulon on a quest that would lead him to our story. the man in black, the pilgrim under stars, the king of knight, the stranger, holds sir curran's shield. he comes to make an offer. will this poor old guard bid a weary traveler to step over this threshold?

this is why worlds beyond number feels so different to me from other dnd shows and podcasts. these artists have come together with the shared goal of not just playing a fun game that they all enjoy, but with the express aim of crafting a brilliant story. i love a goofy campaign full of shenanigans as much as the next person, but i adore how every choice in this show is given weight and meaning. there are no decisions made for laughs. it doesn't feel like playing a game. it feels like living in the story.

and there are also moments like the ending of this episode. a snapshot of elsewhere in the world, something the players don't know, but the audience gets to. it fills out the edges of the story and provides a richer tapestry of lore and reasoning behind the machinations of those who oppose our heroes. it gives life to the tale.

my heart is beating so fast. this show is incredible. thank you, @worldsbeyondpod , for the world you're creating.

[dhampling]

one mine, both yours bard gn!reader, 1.6k

‘Is my resident corvid lacking ample opportunity to thieve elsewhere? Surely not.”

His gaze wavers slightly, but his own smile remains firmly wide. He wants information. By right of him finding these pages, he sees himself as entitled to it.

-

astarion's habit of visiting your tent leads him to your hidden pile of sonnets. your secret is out.

word count: 1,675

a massive THANK YOU to the beautiful anon who sent this my way - 'bard reader writing countless sonnets about Astarion, and him finding them' - I had a lot of fun figuring out the dynamics here, so hopefully it's something a little different!

as always, read the tags and decide your fate!

“How long have you been here?!”

You, wholly aghast, pinned at the mouth of your little tent by those playfully accusatory eyes. Loose ink-laden pages in both hands as he flickers them in the air. White scintillates against the amber of the fire outside.  

He sits cross-legged in the corner by your keepsake pack, grinning ferociously; tongue denting with the tip of a fang in pure salacion. 

“I’ve found your little stash, sweetling! How far back do all these go?”

You look to him with a hint of unease you’re aware needs to go. Offer up your own coy grin and straighten your sagging shoulders.

Astarion coughs with the flare of an announcement as you fail to respond.  

“Beneath the moon, we weave a tale,

In weighty whispers, light as lead,’

A magistrate working a courtroom. The quirk of a brow. Not once do his eyes leave you.

‘A silent yearning, a hidden trail,

Those labyrinthine corridors, we now tread.”

“You’re rifling through my things, now?’

Your churlish grin rivals his. Arms fold over your chest.

‘Is my resident corvid lacking ample opportunity to thieve elsewhere? Surely not.”

His gaze wavers slightly, but his own smile remains firmly wide. He wants information. By right of him finding these pages, he sees himself as entitled to it.

You and Astarion have - remarkably - been as thick as thieves since the moment he held a dagger to your throat beside the wreck of the nautiloid. Through your time on the road so far your own banter often supersedes general group conversation, with his quick wit and deprecating humour delighting you in their scathing execution. He gives you a sounding board to tread against whilst out in the relative wilderness of the Sword Coast and for that, you thank the stars each evening. 

You know little of his own background. You know he worked in Baldur’s Gate as a magistrate long ago. You know you offer him your own blood whenever he needs it, and that those who were displeased with his condition were told in no uncertain terms by yourself that they were welcome to leave the party.

He continues boldly on. You watch his performance with silent glee, moving from the mouth of your tent to sit lazily astride your bedroll.

“His raffish laughter, euphony so sweet,

Resounds within, stokes passion's fire’

He stops and holds a finger in the air. You lean in with mock enthral.

“So we know it’s a him.”

“Very perceptive, Astarion. Pray tell - you have considered a career with the Fist, yes?”

He playfully taps you on the leg. You roll your eyes.

‘In friendship's dance, a heart starts to beat,

As adoration emerges, a burning desire.”

Whilst notoriously catty, he has a depth to him which allows for enjoyable discussion. He’s a natural performer - with which you resonate - and yet he has layers that you haven’t quite been able to penetrate yet.

It sometimes feels almost like he’s a little surprised that you want to. That you care enough to show interest in his blatantly miserable background to press him on it. Compassionately, but still insistent. 

He jokes about it. You and your ridiculously unfounded want to listen to him. To hear his thoughts, rattle them about in your own head and give a considered response in return. A gift, he’ll smile and reassure with mirth in those late night discussions; cupping your face in one hand as you bat him away in laughter. 

“Are we quite done?” You interrupt with a smile. He senses your want to move on.

Astarion drops the page from his face and rests back on his palms.

“Did you ensnare him in the end?” 

“Hm?”

He picks up a chalice and looks across to you. 

“The subject. Did you beguile him? Love unrequited no more?”

A beat of silence. 

“I haven’t, no.”

A noncommittal shrug, but a hopeful look in your eye. You’re whimsical, ever-the-optimist; you can survive this.

“You haven’t?”

His eyes are awash with scandal. Leans back, swirls his wine and purses his lips with an impish tut. Scans over the page once more from afar.

“Tentative hearts paired on the floor,

One loosely mine, but both now yours.”

Another beat of silence.

It’s been a fraught time so far, but his company has made it easier. 

You’ve enjoyed multiple messy nights under the stars together, come undone at his hand more than you’d care to regale him with; laughed in the early morning sunrise as he basks in the light and continued on as the closest of wayward friends. Drunk bottles and bottles of fine wine (finessed from Gale’s tent, obviously) all the way from the Emerald Grove to Moonrise, and now back again.

“Well. I liked it. The last full stanza was a little messy, but-” 

“Is that why you omitted it?’

He sniffs. 

"How long have you been sat in here?” 

You’ve caught him out, just as he has you, but there’s no urgency in your voice. No judgement nor malice. He has seen your secrets now. You’d intended on sharing them eventually, but a forced hand is better than an empty one.

“A small while. I came looking for you, realised you were elsewhere; and just found your pack open.” He smiles a little, wiggling his fingers.

“Read it to me, then. The last stanza.” You rest your chin on your palm, elbow on your crossed leg.

Astarion looks at you and surprisingly, there’s no guard. 

No triumph, no teasing in his discovery. Inhales.

“If I read it, then it’s real. Or it isn’t, but you’ll know I’ve read it.’

He sighs, muttering.

Oh.

Oh.

“Go on! Read it.”

He looks at you. Really, carefully looks at you. Inhales once more. 

“In twilight's embrace, where secrets reside,

In the quiet, ardour awoken,

A subtle shift, devotion now bides,

Astarion and I, our bond unspoken.”

“Brilliantly told. You’re a natural.” You smile, tilting your head to him.

Astarion sits and watches you for the longest of moments. Meets your eyes with his own.

“That’s it? You’re not mortified?” He queries. 

You frown.

“Why would I be?”

Astarion looks at you like you’re insane. Completely and utterly insane. His tone remains temperate but his eyes are almost frantic.

“I’ve just found your sonnets - pages upon pages, no less - all regaling our bond. Read one, aloud; to your face. You don’t recoil. You’re not ashamed?”

All bravado drips from his face like a wet cloth. His shoulders sag a little. 

You loll your head back as you sit, reaching for his chalice and taking a big sip as you ruminate. The wine steeps your teeth and tongue in a deep heady nectar. It’s good.

“You’re a good muse, Astarion. I’m fond of you.’

You lean in and whisper.

‘I may even go as far as to call you my favourite travelling companion, but don’t tell the others.”

His lips quirk softly. He’s slow to speak.

“I was looking forward to teasing you about this, you know.” He tuts and shakes his head, face statuesque in the low light.

“Then why don’t you?”

A genuine question. You still nurse his goblet of wine.

“Don’t make me say it, you brute.” 

You look at him with a quiet mischief settling across your features. His gaze remains narrow.

“You already have.’

A quiet sip. A smile.

‘Our bond.”

Gods. He is beautiful. Eyes foxlike in their stasis, defined by thick dark lashes; lingering on the strewn page in contemplation. Hair perfectly coiffed. Lithe fingers frozen in midair as he exhales.

A few beats of silence. 

Outside the tent, insects chirp and the fire crackles. The river floats languidly on. 

“I don’t know how to do this.” Astarion speaks quietly.

“What?”

“Gah- I don’t know. This. Any of it.” He confesses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I think we’re doing a good job as we are, no?”

His gaze turns to you, hands reaching to eagerly grasp your wrists in affirmation.

“Yes! Yes. We are.’

He grimaces.

‘I didn’t expect to… I didn’t expect I’d meet someone like you again in my life. Now that I have you here, I’m rather reluctant to let you go.”

“It’s a good job you don’t have to. Provided I never catch you rifling through my things again.’

You take one last sip of your pilfered wine as your eyes meet his in the low amber. 

‘I love you. There’s no rush.”

He takes his chalice from you and downs the remaining contents.

“Minus the very real possibility I’ll watch you succumb to ceremorphosis, or vice versa; I suppose.” He mutters through closed teeth. 

You shove him with your shoulder and sigh.

“Now then. I’ve just been absolutely humiliated by my closest friend in this whole camp. I’m tired, my back hurts, and I need to rest. Can I help you with anything else?”

Astarion’s eyes linger on yours momentarily before skimming over your lips. You swear your heart skips a beat.

“Can I?”

“Gods, yes.”

Your first shared kiss unfettered by the marrings of carnal pleasure alone is beyond anything you’d hoped for.

He cradles the back of your head as his lips press softly against yours, over and over; until he’s verging on hungry with his movement. His tongue tastes of wine and he smells so overwhelmingly of him - herbal with sweetened clinical notes of brandy - that you want to bury your head into his shoulder and spoon him until the sun rises once more. 

“Oh songbird. I couldn’t tire of you if I tried, could I?” His voice heady and deep, forehead pressed to yours,

“Can I test that theory?” You tilt your head, leaning in for another small kiss. 

“Hm?” His eyes are heavy lidded, burning in the low light.

“Stay here tonight. Let me hold you.”

He stops for a minute.

“Just… hold me?”

You hum and nod, bringing a hand to his hair and carding through it softly.

Astarion smiles.

“I’d love nothing more.”

[draconym]

Hello! I’ve been interested in park ranger work for awhile— but since researching the institution a little deeper, I’m worried that park rangers are essentially forest cops. I noticed on one of your posts that you mentioned that you were a a park ranger law enforcement officer— and I was wondering if you could go into a little detail about park ranger work and it’s connection to law enforcement? Another reason I feel weird about pursuing park ranger work is I feel that national parks have a non-ignorable history of stripping land from indigenous people. If you have any thoughts or experiences related to the career— it would be extremely helpful for me to hear since I am trying to sort out what I would like to do after college. Thank you for reading. If you don’t want to answer this question either, I completely understand.

There's no singular institution. There are rangers who work for the National Park Service, for State governments, for local governments, or for cities and towns. And there are many different types of rangers: enforcement, interpretive, wilderness rescue, the list goes on. Different sites have different needs, and different positions will have different duties. Many rangers have zero law enforcement authority, and most I've spoken to prefer it that way: they prefer to focus on education and conservation.

I was an enforcement ranger, but never a law enforcement officer--the primary authority I had was the ability to issue fairly cheap citations for animal-related violations (fishing, poaching, off-leash dogs, harm to wildlife, etc.) through local Animal Control. Though some rangers elsewhere carry weapons and receive law enforcement training, my department never did (the latter, frankly, was often to our detriment).

Certainly the NPS has a history loaded with racism, land theft, land desecration, even genocide. The very inception of the NPS was predicated on the myth that the lands to be designated as National Parks were uninhabited wilderness. But don't assume the problem lies solely with NPS: any institution with even a small amount of power has the potential to abuse it, and smaller parks are no exception. I've never even worked for the NPS (my state doesn't even have any national parks), but local agencies often have histories of segregating parks or enforcing segregation within them.

I've heard people say that park rangers are the "only good" law enforcement, and that's a generalization I absolutely wouldn't make. Yes, there are laws and regulations that are necessary for the sake of conservation and our ability to safely access natural areas. That doesn't mean those laws are always universally fair or fairly enforced.

If this leaves you feeling dismayed, well, yeah. Me, too. But there are also quite a lot of positions within parks that are not rangers at all, and quite a lot of jobs within conservation and nature education that are not parks jobs. I've found both park maintenance and trail crew to be just as rewarding in many ways, and if you can live with the low salary they typically offer, I do recommend giving those positions a try. The salary was ultimately a dealbreaker for me.

I haven't been a ranger for several years. I left because the agency I was working for was undeniably a toxic work environment. This isn't intended to put you off working for parks: it's a valuable, rewarding career to educate the public about the natural world and to help maintain wild spaces. I'm grateful to still be involved with parks in other ways. But even the small agency I'm currently working for struggles to right itself. It can be rough out there.

I've already discussed a few of the above points before in my #park ranger tag, so I encourage interested folks to read there if they're interested in more of the mundane, day-to-day stuff.

[hannahbarberra162]

hOrnithology for Beginners, Part 6

on Ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Note: there's a loose end I forgot to write into this chapter so I'm gonna do an epilogue.

I mentioned this elsewhere, but my work picks up a lot in the fall / winter. I'm still writing, I just have less free time. I liked writing this story a lot, I thought it was fun. Just a lil silly for some laffs.

Marco POV

“Marco, what the fuck.” Thatch was genuinely upset, which was a rare occurrence. Marco grimaced. 

“I know, I know.” He put his thumbs on his temples, rubbing his forehead with his index fingers. He knew he was playing a dangerous game by not telling you that he was the Phoenix, but he didn’t think it would end like this. 

“No, Marco, really. What the actual fuck?” Thatch was gesticulating wildly with everything he said and getting louder with every word. Marco needed to diffuse this situation before they got kicked out of the restaurant and caused even more trouble for Etta. She’d excused herself quickly after the scene unfolded, picking up your section to work them both. She was trying to hold herself together, but he’d seen some tears on her face. You’d all fucked up, but he’d fucked up the most and had to fix it somehow. 

“Let’s go yoi, I caused enough trouble here.” Marco threw money enough to cover the bill down on the table and stood up, walking quickly out the restaurant. Thatch rose immediately, following Marco closely, continuing to berate him. 

“That’s just evil, Marco, how could you?  You knew that poor girl didn’t know who you were and you lied to her? Both ways? And you were going to her house tonight? That’s messed up, man. That’s low.” Normally Marco would have stopped Thatch’s rant, but he knew he deserved it. He didn’t know how to make amends, but he’d find you and try to get you to understand that he didn’t do it to be mean or spiteful. Things had spiraled and he hadn’t taken control of the situation to suit his own interests. He didn’t think you’d believe him, but he wanted to try. He had a good guess of where you’d go - he took off towards your waterfall.

Your POV

You quickly made your way to your house, grabbing only the essentials you’d need for a few nights out. You’d rather suffer in nature than sit in your house and brood. You couldn’t go back to that job and face the scene of your complete humiliation. Not only that, you really didn’t want to see Etta. Her betrayal had hurt worse than anything else. You expected pirates to be terrible, that wasn’t anything new. But to have your best friend double cross you made you feel like a bullied child again. 

You grabbed your supplies, some food, a change of clothes, strapped your blow dart gun to your thigh and hit the road. You knew no one was coming to find you, but you wanted to be gone in case someone saw you on your way. You didn’t want them to get their last laugh while you were still upset. A few days by yourself and you’d be back to the way you’d always been - alone and aloof, but this time bitchier than ever. You walked past a building with wanted posters plastered along the side wall. You’d never really looked before, you didn’t care about any specific pirates. But glancing along the wall of wanted criminals, you quickly saw Marco, his picture showing him half transformed with wings instead of arms. He had a really high bounty - in the billions - he seemed like a big deal. All that meant was that everyone else but you knew he was The Phoenix and no one bothered to let you in on that little secret. You ripped it off the wall in anger. Fuck him. 

Making your way to the waterfall, your mind kept returning to Marco’s face as you put everything together in the restaurant. He didn’t seem to have a “gotcha” look like you’d expected. He’d looked shocked, like a deer caught in the headlights. Maybe he was a good actor, maybe he really felt that way. Ultimately it didn’t matter since he was the one who hadn’t told you he was a Zoan devil fruit user and let you think he was just some pirate and an unrelated phoenix. You set up your camp rapidly, going through the motions without thinking. You shoved your sleeping gear and food in the tent. You stepped into the pool, swimming towards the waterfall, going through the cascading water to the alcove behind the falls. It was large enough for a few people to relax, or you to wallow in your misery. 

You’d chosen to go behind the waterfall for a few reasons. One, Marco wouldn’t be able to follow you, if he wanted to come rub his victory in your face. You weren’t exactly sure about Devil Fruits and water but he probably couldn’t make it through the pool and definitely couldn’t make it behind the waterfall. Two, the loud droning sound of the waterfall was relaxing and drowned out any other sound. Like the sound of crying. You hadn’t cried in years, you always felt that your life was okay compared to a lot of others in the world. You felt guilty crying over something small like your articles being rejected from ornithology journals again when there were people being enslaved the world over, birds being hunted to extinction, and children starving on every island. But in the back of the waterfall, hidden from eyes and ears, you finally allowed yourself to cry. You cried over your lost friendship, your romance gone south, and your memories of the phoenix being tarnished instead of the highlight of your life. You cried for your loneliness, your broken heart, and for finally realizing you’d never fit in anywhere. You sobbed, letting your tears fall while the waterfall concealed you and your sorrow. 

You felt exhausted. The adrenaline from earlier had worn off and combined with your crying jag, you felt completely spent. You leaned back against the alcove, hugging your knees. You weren’t hungry or thirsty, you just sat there dazed for long enough that the sun started to make its descent. You thought about coming out from behind the waterfall but lacked the motivation to do so. It was so seldom that you allowed yourself to really dwell on your feelings that when you did it was all consuming. Even though the waterfall was loud, you could hear a little from behind. Loud sounds like shrill bird calls, monkeys howling, and one familiar voice. 

“Where are you yoi? I know you’re around here, I see your tent. Please, I just…I want to apologize.” Marco was looking for you, which made you suspicious. You didn’t say anything, he could rot for all you cared. 

“Please, I know what I did was wrong. More than wrong, it was cruel. I should have told you from the beginning. Please, let me make it right yoi.” You snorted, you couldn’t think of anything he could do to make it right. He just wanted to apologize to make himself feel better, not you. It was like when adults made kids say sorry, you knew it wasn’t really sincere.

“If you’re behind the waterfall, that’s really clever. I can’t get to you. But…I can outlast you yoi.” You looked towards the sounds as if you could see him. Outlast you? What was he planning to do? Lay siege? Confident in your ability to get him to fuck off, you stayed where you were. He’d get bored of picking on you and leave.

“I have to say, you have nice camping gear yoi. I could use a little rest. And I see you brought more pineapple for me. I’m going to enjoy it since you’re still hiding.” Hiding?! Marco was trying to use your anger against you and irritate you enough to come out so he could talk to you. Well, it wouldn’t work. You had good reason not to talk to him, even if your stomach was growling and you wanted your pineapple. “And you left your sketchbook here, I can finally see your drawings yoi!” You felt your blood boiling in your veins. He had the audacity to use your things and eat your food and look at your private drawings? After he set you up to look like an idiot? Well, you weren’t the only one who’d look like a fool.

“FINE!” you yelled angrily. You went back under the waterfall, heading towards Marco. He hadn’t been lying - he really was eating your pineapple and sitting on your camping chair, looking at your sketchbook. Such a dickhead, you thought to yourself. Coming all the way out of the pool, you stomped up to Marco, grabbing the sketchbook from his hands. You gave him a dirty look and crossed your arms over your chest, protecting your favorite possession. You walked back over a few feet away from Marco, putting space between you. You had nothing to say to Marco, so you just glared at him.

“I deserve everything you’re thinking and more yoi. You can let me have it,” Marco said remorsefully, hand on his heart. So you obliged him and did just that. You shot him with your blow gun. 

Marco POV

Marco was a seasoned pirate. He had fought thousands of opponents and was the first Commander for an Emperor of the seas. Marco was known for his lethal fighting style and ability to recover from attacks, which was reflected in his billion Beri bounty. And yet, you had managed to hit him with your blow gun. To your credit, for a civilian you were incredibly fast. And he hadn’t been expecting you to attack him and was caught off guard. The dart itself didn’t hurt him much, but it didn’t feel great either. Marco yanked the dart out of his left thigh, looking it over. Something appeared to be dripping off the tip that wasn’t his blood. He started experiencing mild itchiness around the wound site but ignored it.

“Ow,” Marco muttered. “I deserved that yoi.” You were smiling like you’d won the lottery.

“You did,” you replied, pleased with yourself. “You might want to go home now,” you continued. Marco wasn't worried, he healed the puncture wound instantly.

“I’ll be OK, the dart didn’t hurt that much -” Marco paused as he caught himself scratching his thigh. It was true that he could recover from almost anything, but not quite everything . Marco hoped his intuition was wrong. “Was there anything on the dart?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“Of course there was. Darts wouldn’t be an effective poaching deterrent if they weren’t poisoned.” You smiled even wider.

“Ah. It wasn’t that Peel Rhino venom, was it?” Marco secretly sent a prayer to every god he had ever heard of, trying to keep his fingernails from digging into his skin. You huffed. 

“Even I’m not that cruel ,” you said, throwing his earlier words back in his face. You gave Marco an indecipherable look.  “You’re going to have a rough time, but no, it wasn’t an aphrodisiac. If you fuck with me again, next time it will be. You’re going to have round bulls eye rashes that are hot to the touch and are incredibly itchy. Lasts about 8 hours. Hope you have zinc oxide and ferric oxide.” Marco was thankful you’d shared that information with him, he was already feeling more spots starting to bother him. He wondered if shifting would help but he doubted it. Like Ace had discovered, some toxins couldn’t be helped by Devil Fruits. He’d probably be able to clear it faster than 8 hours, but it depended on the specific toxin. Marco sighed heavily. This conversation would be uncomfortable physically and emotionally. 

Your POV

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to be like this, I should have told you from the beginning. I wish I could go back and change things.” Marco was contrite, having dropped his act to irritate you. At least he had the decency to look remorseful for you, that was a nice touch. But he might just be more open to being nice now that you’d shot him. His hand kept drifting down towards his muscled thigh as the itching got worse. You’d accidentally pricked your finger once with the toxin and it had felt like ants were under your skin.

"Yeah, I don’t forgive you. Leave me alone” you interrupted. You didn’t give a shit what he felt, you wanted him gone and you thought the toxin would do the trick. Marco was powering through much longer that you expected him to. You were a little glad he’d stayed, getting your anger out felt good. He stood in front of you and you could almost watch the rash developing in front of your eyes. 

“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness -”

“You don’t.”

“And I’m not asking for it. Can I please just apologize to you yoi?” You wavered a little in your mind, even if nothing in your expression or body language changed. Some small part of you wanted to hear him admit what he’d done and hear how it had hurt you. Not that it would make you forgive him, but it was rewarding to finally have someone admit wrong-doing after a lifetime of weak non-apologies. 

“Say what you want, I can’t stop you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was the Phoenix. At the very beginning, I thought you knew yoi. When I realized you didn’t, I should have told you right away.” Marco scratched his thigh through his pants.

“Why didn’t you?” Thinking back to those times when you were with the Phoenix made you cringe. You’d swam naked in front of him, for quite a while. You had been feeling a little bad about the toxin but remembering that tidbit made you happy he was itchy again. 

“I don’t know how to explain it exactly, the Phoenix is a part of me but it is also its own separate entity. It really likes you yoi. It liked the way you acted towards it, and I did too. I…it made me feel good,” Marco finished lamely. “But that doesn’t mean it was right yoi. I’m sorry. I regret making you feel -”

“Ashamed? Humiliated? Mortified?” you helpfully supplied for him. 

“Yes. All of those yoi. I know you don’t want to see me anymore but I thought I could do one thing for you.” You narrowed your eyes as Marco scratched harder. What could he possibly offer you?

“You shouldn’t scratch it, that makes it worse. And I don’t want anything from you.” You did actually. You wanted him to hold you in his talons and fly in the sky. But he didn’t need to know that.

“You might yoi. I know you want to know more about the Phoenix. I’ll answer any questions you have and allow you to sketch whatever you want. You can publish the information as long as it doesn’t compromise my or my crew's safety.” You made no movements but inside you were freaking out. If you were able to find out information from Marco, maybe one of your articles would finally get published and you’d be able to join the Ornithological Society of the Grand Line. Joining the OSGL had been your dream for as long as you could remember. Marco transformed one of his legs into talons to scratch at the other as he waited for your answer. His control over his Zoan form was incredible, maybe you could…no. You didn’t want him to think you’d forgiven him. Before you could speak, Marco had sliced through his pants with his talons in an effort to scratch his leg. 

“I’m afraid I have to leave yoi. I’m going to try finding ointment that can help. Think about it, I don’t need an answer now. I’ll come back here tomorrow at noon. If you’re interested, we can talk yoi. If not, you never have to see me again. Take care.” With that, Marco transformed his arms into wings and flew off into the evening air. He was still scratching at his left thigh in phoenix form. Served him right. 

Even though you were furious with him, you still couldn’t look away from the sight of the heavenly bird. 

You had the whole night ahead to decide what to do. After Marco left, you took out the Phoenix feather he’d given you. It had some kind of bio-luminescent properties and glowed in the moonlight. You ran it along the skin of your arm, enjoying the soft sensation. It didn’t feel like a normal feather, it felt like having your fingers near a tea candle. You could almost feel the warmth of the candle, but not quite, it was just out of your grasp. It made you shiver no matter how many times you’d run it over your skin. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of it, no matter how badly Marco had hurt you. It was too beautiful, too precious and you didn’t want to squander such an invaluable item.

Deep in thought, you pondered Marco’s offer. Your articles had been rejected many times from the OSGL, no matter how interesting you thought the subject matter was. If you wrote about the Phoenix, your article would be accepted for sure, given how little information was known about mythical birds in general. And you’d be able to get reliable information out of Marco rather than relying just on your observations or theories. 

On the other hand, if you accepted Marco’s offer, you’d tacitly be accepting his apology. Your ego still stung from the wounds he had inflicted. But…you doubted you’d ever get another chance like this. Marco had practically handed you a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that could catapult you into ornithological fame. It was a twist of fate that the same person who would be helping you achieve your dreams was the one who had crushed your desires. You stayed up late into the night, watching the stars, thinking of how to solve your dilemma. 

At noon the next day, you were waiting in the spot Marco had indicated, holding a notebook and pen at the ready. You weren’t sure this was the right call, but your curiosity would only be satisfied one way. Marco arrived promptly, again half transformed. He had no visible rashes, but looked tired. 

“You’ll answer all my questions?” you asked coolly.  You didn’t want him to think he was off the hook just yet but you were bursting with questions for him. Once you had decided you were going to take Marco up on his offer, you wanted to go all in. 

“To the best of my ability yoi.” Marco yawned. You gave him your meanest smile.

“Rough night?” 

“Unbelievable yoi. I haven’t been that itchy and uncomfortable since…I can’t remember. Do you distill that toxin yourself? You could have a career in poisoning yoi.” Your smile turned a touch more genuine. You did make it yourself and it was a taxing process. 

“I don’t have sympathy for you -”

“and neither did anyone else. My brothers were rooting for you to shoot me again today yoi.”

Arching an eyebrow, you continued “well, hopefully it doesn’t come to that. I do have a lot of questions for you. So tired or not, I hope you keep your end of the deal.” Marco smiled calmly.

“Have at it yoi.”

“What do the other colors you get from the phoenix’s cones and rods look like? And can you see them in human form? Or just bird form?” Marco appeared surprised.

“I’m not sure I follow yoi.” You rolled your eyes. He didn’t even know about his own biology? 

“Birds have five types of cones, which support tetra-chromatic color vision and a double cone which is thought to mediate achromatic motion perception. Humans only have three types of cones in their eyes. Ergo, you can see different color spectrums when you’re in bird form. What does that look like? Can you describe it?” Marco’s eyes widened slightly.

“You know, I never looked up why my vision is so much more vibrant as the Phoenix yoi. That makes a lot of sense. I’m not sure I can describe it exactly, it’s like more shades and depth to the colors we already see.” You jotted down a few notes.

“I hope the rest of your answers are better than that, otherwise this isn’t going to be worth it. OK, next question. When you’re half transformed, are the transformed bones hollow? Can you feel the difference in weight when you’re flying between your hollow bones and your regular bones?” 

Marco’s POV

Marco rubbed the back of his neck as you continued your interview. At times it felt more like an interrogation, but his Phoenix half was absolutely loving the experience. You stayed seated on your rock, writing Marco’s answers down at a furious pace. The Phoenix took all your interest as praise and was utterly charmed by you. If Marco didn’t control himself, the Phoenix would have broken out into birdsong for you. Your questions were precise and interesting, prompting him to think about things he hadn’t before. Marco found himself enjoying the discussion. He was used to answering the same questions over and over. Questions like, did he enjoy flying (yes, of course), how did he transform only some parts of his body (practice), can he understand normal birds (yes, if his head was transformed), did he lay eggs (no), things like that. No one had ever asked him if he molted (yes) and if so, if it was complete or partial (partial). He’d never given thought to the unnamed yearning he sometimes felt when he was on land for long stretches before you asked him if he ever felt compelled to migrate. Both he and the Phoenix were engaged and throwing themselves into the conversation, answering your questions fully. Of course Marco didn’t answer anything that could be used against him in combat, but your questions were so esoteric he couldn’t imagine the uses beyond pure scientific research. 

You also had Marco pose periodically in various stages of transformation for you to draw. You took your time sketching the exact anatomy of numerous body parts. The Phoenix was in heaven, your undivided attention to every detail of its body giving Marco the chills. Marco watched you sketch, completely absorbed in your work. Your sketches were perfect, capturing the essence of the Phoenix with just a few strokes of your pencils. He wished he could keep some but he knew better than to ask for one. After a few sketches, you’d resume asking him questions. This process went on for hours, but Marco never tired of it. If anything, he enjoyed your company more and more. 

“Finally, do you form monogamous pair bonds? And if so, for how long?” you asked without a hint of shyness. Marco was nonplussed at your bold question, especially given the situation between the two of you. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m going to answer that one yoi. If the World Government found out that I had a pair bond for any amount of time, that person would never be safe.” Marco didn’t want to answer you, he was sidestepping the question. He knew that he and the Phoenix preferred a single monogamous partner but that was difficult when he spent so much time at sea. The Phoenix didn't care about the tension between the two of you and would have happily accepted a pair bond between you at this very moment.

“All right. Well, thank you. If you can get mail, I’ll send you a copy of my article if it gets published.” Marco was hoping you’d ask for him to take you flying. That would be a surefire way to get further back in your good graces. Instead, you offered him your hand. “I’m still a little mad but thank you.” Marco swallowed his disappointment and took your smaller hand in his own, shaking it.

“I know it will get published, yoi. If you write like you draw, you’ll be a famous scientist soon.” You gave him a small smile. 

“Bye.” You started packing up your things. Marco knew this was it, his time with you was over. 

“Thank you for letting me talk with you. I…wish I had done things differently yoi.” 

“Me too,” you said quietly. “But it’s time for you to go. Bye Marco.” Marco took his cue, transformed and left. He turned his head and watched you marvel at the sight of him one last time. 

~~~

Seven Months Later…

Marco came to the top deck of the Moby, he’d heard that Doug had brought a letter for him. The old, cantankerous news coo hated everyone, including Marco. Approaching the bad tempered bird slowly, Marco saw Doug had a large envelope in his satchel with Marco’s name on it. He could only think of one person that might like this uncooperative coo and use him as a mail courier. Marco reached for the letter, got bit by Doug, and took the letter from his satchel. Doug gave Marco the bird equivalent of the finger and flew off. 

Opening the envelope, Marco slid out a heavy scientific journal with art of a Phoenix on the front cover. There was a short note taped to the journal, which Marco read with a smile. He quickly flipped through the lengthy article, scanning it with the intention to pore over it later. Still reading, he turned to go leave it in his room, nearly running into Ace.

“Watch it! What’s got you so focused?” Ace tried to read over Marco’s shoulder but Marco held the magazine high up in the air. With Marco being over a foot and a half taller than Ace, it was an effective strategy. 

“None of your business -” Marco was cut off as Thatch suddenly grabbed the journal from Marco's hand. Ace was shorter than Marco but Thatch wasn’t. Marco loved his siblings but sometimes he wished he didn’t live on the world’s fastest rumor mill.

Thatch was looking at the cover with his mouth hanging open. “That’s you Marco! Who did this drawing? It's incredible! What the - is this whole article about you? It’s like 35 pages long!” Thatch was flipping through the journal. Marco knew better than to reach for it back - he didn’t want it to get damaged in a scuffle.

“Yes, it’s about me. Give it back yoi. Now. Unless you want a wound that won’t heal quickly.” Marco eyes flashed as he spoke. He hadn’t intended to sound so menacing but the Phoenix wasn’t playing around. It had been moping for months, hoping to reunite the lovely little ornithologist who doted on it. Thatch handed over the journal quickly once he saw how serious Marco was.

“Wow, didn’t know it meant that much to you. Is this from that one bird island? With that bird girl?” 

“Yes, that’s her yoi. She published an article about the Phoenix. And it looks like she’s speaking at the Grand Line Ornithological Society’s annual conference.” Marco was proud of you, he hadn’t been joking when he said you’d be a famous scientist. Flipping to the information about the conference, Marco read through the details of the upcoming event. He suddenly felt a yearning to fly. 

Your POV

You hadn’t expected your article to be so well received that you’d be published and offered to speak at a conference in under a year. You’d sent a copy to Marco via Doug, like you said you would. You loved Doug and thought he was the sweetest news coo you’d ever met. No one seemed to agree with you but that was neither here nor there. Standing backstage at the conference center, you fiddled with your jacket anxiously. You weren’t comfortable with public speaking, you barely liked to talk to people in small groups. Part of you wished Marco was here to charm the scientists and answer everyone’s questions so you wouldn’t have to. But that was just a pipe dream, you knew you had to do this alone.

Writing the article and finalizing the drawings had you thinking a lot about Marco and the time you’d spent together. Even though you now knew he was the Phoenix, you still had a lot of love in your heart for the bird. And you could admit that you’d had fun with Marco when you’d been bird watching together. But none of that mattered, he was long gone and you’d never see him again. You took in a huge breath and held it in, releasing it slowly. Your neck was aching from all the accumulated stress, even though you were also a little excited. You were the next speaker to present and your notecards for your speech were damp from your sweaty palms. You could do this, you’d spent so long preparing.  You were the most nervous for the question and answer portion of the presentation, since that wasn’t something you could prepare in advance. 

You heard your name being called and you walked out onto the stage to the restrained applause of the crowd. All of a sudden, the crowd started clapping louder, with some members even standing to clap and cheer. You were confused - you hadn’t spoken yet. You saw flickering blue flames in your peripheral vision.

“Thought I would join you yoi.” You looked up to see Marco standing next to you, resplendent in his half transformed form. 

“I..I didn’t know you were coming,” you said while avoiding the microphone den den. Marco fully transformed into his human form, bringing the attention of the crowd off of himself. 

“Surprise yoi. Now, let’s hear your wonderful speech.” Marco was collected and peaceful, which helped you calm your own nerves. You began by introducing yourself and Marco, though he needed no introduction. The audience was completely silent during your talk, held in rapt attention as you spoke about Marco and his Zoan form. At the end, Marco gave a demonstration of his complete transformation to the delight of the crowd. Surprisingly, the audience members had few questions that were directly for Marco. Instead, they focused more on your research and theories about legendary birds. Thanking everyone for their time, you hurried off the stage with Marco following you. You were elated, this may have been the beginning of your professional career. You gave Marco a quick hug around his middle.

“Thank you Marco. I'm glad you came. A heads up would have been nice though.” 

“I can’t announce where I’ll be yoi. I’m a wanted man,” Marco teased gently. You supposed that was true, though this conference didn't have any World Government officials. It was all scientists whose area of expertise was of no interest to the WG.

“Well, I appreciate it anyway.” You felt awkward, you didn’t know what to do now. You were thankful for his help but weren’t sure how you felt or what he wanted to do now. 

Marco leaned down to you and whispered into your ear, causing you to shiver. “I have one question for you, since you asked me so many. Would you like to go flying?” You felt like you’d found the One Piece. Flying had been your dream since you were a child, that was what had sparked your interest in birds. Maybe...you could relent and give Marco a little bit more of your time. You could take things as they came and enjoy the ride. After all, you were an ornithologist. It was your scientific duty as a researcher to spend time with this interesting, infuriating, attractive, funny, smart pirate. And you took your professional responsibilities seriously. Very seriously.

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter VI: Fire at Will

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev.

songs for this chapter: thank you for the venom by my chemical romance, that's what you get by paramore

summary: You spend the day with your brother and his friends, and it ends with an unexpected invitation.

a/n: lol... how we feelin' so far?

chapter tags: self doubt, mentions of drinking and smoking, best friend!robin and best friend! Steve of course. | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

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-- “Hey, kid,” Your brother is hunched over a bowl of cereal in your kitchen. “Gotta question for ya.”

You pick the sleep from your eyes, still groggy as you shuffle over to the coffeemaker. “Shoot.”

“You know Scotty?” 

You turn to face him, narrowing your eyes as if attempting to read his mind. “Yeah, why?” Scotty’s a nice kid, probably your favorite of Chris’s friends. He’s always treated you like an equal, instead of his buddy’s little sister. He has long, disheveled sandy blonde hair, green eyes, and sparse facial hair, reminding you of Kurt Cobain, if he’d had a happier disposition. Chris and Scotty had grown up inseparable, it didn’t surprise you that Chris would want to set you up with him.

“Well, and don’t like, shoot the messenger here, he wanted me to ask if you’d be interested in going out with him at all.” Chris seems to wince as he says the words, only adding more layers of confusion to the situation.

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it.” You honestly had never given Scotty a second thought, but you’ve been single for about three years now. You deserve some fun. 

“Really? Cool. We’re all going to the skate park later, you should come hang. Test the waters.” Chris points at you. “I’ll let you pick the snacks.”

You can’t help but scoff. “I pick the snacks anyway, Crispy.”

“Of course, Beebs.”

–

It’s unseasonably warm for October, requiring only a hoodie and your go to knit beanie for coverage. Chris greets his friends, dapping each of them with a unique flair you can’t comprehend. Boys confuse you. Luckily, you’re not the only girl there, some of Chris’s friends have brought their girlfriends, and when you go to greet them, your smile is wiped from your face. 

“You’re Bee!” Macy extends one manicured hand out to you from where she sits on the graffitied wooden table. “Hi, Macy.” You greet her lamely, shaking her hand that feels way too soft to be natural.

“These are my girls, Fiona and Zoe.” She motions to the girls beside her, both of them absolutely stunning. Fiona has dark skin that seems to glow in the sun, her hair in long, tight braids down her back, wearing a Citizen sweatshirt and ripped baggy jeans. Zoe is a petite girl, with purple hair tied in space buns on either side of her head. She’s wearing a shirt three sizes too big, her black jeans cuffed. You suddenly feel far too self aware for your liking in your paint stained cargo pants and hoodie worn with age. “Where are your buds, Bee?” Macy asks, passing you what looks like the butt of a joint. 

“What, Steve and Robin? They’re working today, I’m just hanging out with my brother.” You inhale the roach, feeling the sting in your throat before passing it along to Zoe. “You guys skate?”

“Roller, mostly.” Zoe pulls a pair of neon green roller skates out of her duffel bag. “You?”

“A little, nothing impressive.” You drop your board to the concrete, a hand-me-down from your brother when he’d earned enough for a new one. 

“Hello, ladies!” Scotty and Chris approach your group, with Eddie and Gareth close behind them. You can feel your facial muscles fall into a frown at the sight of Eddie, and he locks eyes with you, a teasing grin on his face. “Bee, didn’t expect you here.” You think he winks at you, but it could just be the sun in his eyes. 

“Chris conveniently left out the part where you’d be here.” You grumble, fiddling the board with your feet. 

“Huh, wonder why he’d do such a thing!” Eddie nudges your brother, who shoves him back with more force than probably necessary. You turn to look at Macy, who’s got an obvious scowl directed at her boyfriend. If that’s even what he is. 

“Can we cut the chit chat, please? My grandmother’s coming over for dinner, I need to be home by six.” Garet groans, dropping his board.

“Yeah, yeah. Chris, you bring the shit?” Eddie asks, turning away from you to drop his own board.

“Yeah, man. Who d’you think I am?” Chris shrugs off his backpack, opening it to reveal a handheld camera, fisheye lens attached. “Who’s first?”

Eddie doesn’t bother answering, pushing himself across the park to gain momentum. Scotty turns to you, giving you a smile before he follows Eddie, who is then followed by Chris, camera to his face. 

“You guys comin’? You turn to Macy, who doesn’t meet your eyes, and to her friends distracted by their phones.

“Yeah, for sure, one sec.” Zoe says, typing fiendishly. When she finishes, Macy’s phone dings in her hand, and she answers it with her own speedy fingers. You look at Fiona, who’s blowing a bubble with her gum so big you’re afraid it’ll get caught in Macy’s hair.

“Okay…” You pivot, about to push off and meet the guys, when Macy spits the next words right at her. “How do you know Eddie, Bee?”

“What?” You stumble, board slipping from underneath you and rolling away. You chase it down shamefully, returning to the girls with a red face. “He’s Chris’s friend.”

“For how long?” She doesn’t sound mad, exactly. Worried, maybe. About what, you have no idea.

“Oh, I dunno. Chris met him at an after school club where he had to volunteer in high school to stay out of juvy,” The words pour from you, uncensored. “Eddie was, like, his little brother.” 

“Oh, so he’s like, your brother too?” Her voice lilts, optimistic.

You shrug, putting no effort behind it. “He’s more like an unwanted growth, if I’m being honest.” You regret the words immediately, but Macy laughs at them, so hard that she snorts. 

“Sorry, I was just so worried he had a thing for you!” She relaxes continuing, “I like him so much, but I’m not, like, willing to compete for him, y’know? Well, that’s not true either. I would, probably. But I’m glad I don’t have to!” Her friends giggle, and you shift uncomfortably where you stand, on display in front of the three of them like an American Idol contestant. 

“Hey, lazy bones!” Chris calls from across the park, “You guys gonna skate or what? My followers love watching the ladies!”

“Yeah, we’re coming!” Macy shouts, reaching for her own pair of black and pink skates. “Let’s go upstage these noobs, huh?” She holds out her hand, and you pull her up from her spot, her friends following closely behind. The guys are eating shit, trying ridiculously hard to get the shots they need for their clips. It makes you giggle, watching some of the silliest guys you know take something like skateboarding so seriously.

“Bee, come do one! You’re probably the best out of all of us!” Scotty invites you over, and you can feel your cheeks warm with the flattery. You hold your board in front of you, gathering your momentum before dropping it, hopping on with ease. Your friends, even Eddie, cheer you on as you flip the board, landing an ollie on the first try, and grinding the rail with ease. The adrenaline flows through you, propelling you forward. The board is an extension of yourself, you control it with the finesse of a dancer. Chris films the whole thing, whooping and hollering every time you land a trick. 

“You get that?” You shout to your brother when you finish your run. He nods, offering you the camera to watch yourself back. You’re watching a completely different person, someone confident and graceful, someone that knows exactly what to do with their body, how to move it to their advantage. You don’t recognize yourself, or even really believe it’s you you’re watching. You don’t say any of that, instead only adding a weak “hell yeah” to the group commentary.

–

“Food?” Chris passes you the blunt as your group walks to the parking lot. The sun is setting, casting an orange glow over the earth. You and your friends are exhausted, bruised and scraped up, but in good spirits.

“I could go for some grub!” Scotty skips up next to you, shoulder bumping yours as he motions for the spliff between your fingers. You hand it to him, nodding in agreement. In front of you, Eddie walks with his arm around Macy, whose other hand is laced with Fiona’s, whose other arm is linked with Zoe’s. He whispers something to her, causing her to giggle into the crook of his neck.

“Bee?” Scotty waves a ringed hand in front of your dead stare, snapping you back to the conversation. “Burritos?”

“What? Oh, sure. I could go for a burrito.” 

“Me too!” Eddie calls, raising his free arm. The girls nod. Gareth is complaining about not being able to come. “It’s okay, bud. I’m sure your mother’s making her world famous chili tonight. We should be the jealous ones.”

That seems to satiate his sour mood a bit. He waves his goodbyes to everyone before sliding into the driver’s seat of his mom’s hatchback. The remaining seven of you split between two cars, Eddie taking Macy and her girls while you ride with Chris and Scotty. You climb into the back, letting Scotty take shotgun in Chris’s Corolla. “Bee,” Scotty pivots to face you from the front seat. “You like music, right?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are there people that don’t?”

He forces a chuckle, stirring your confusion further. “I mean, like, you’re into it. Right? Chris tells me you go to all the local shows, and you’re constantly planning trips to festivals and stuff.”

You turn your gaze from Scotty to your brother, squinting at him. “Chris suddenly likes to talk about me?”

“To be fair, I asked him a lot of these questions. I was uh, wondering if you’d wanna go to Emo Night Indy with me, this Saturday?”

Emo Nite. Casual, and rumor has it really fun for people like you. You grew up listening to Paramore and My Chemical Romance, dabbling in black box hair dye in middle school, collecting rubber bracelets of your favorite bands. “Oh, that sounds like fun! I’d love to go with you guys.” 

Scotty frowns at the plurality, and looks to Chris for help. You look, too, pretending not to know what’s going on. “Actually, Beebs, I have plans that night. Band practice, and I’m sure mom will call me into the bar to work.”

You shrug, playing along. “Cool with me, that okay with you, Scotty?”

The boy nods, suddenly shy. “Works for me!” He exclaims as Scotty pulls into the Tequilas parking lot beside Eddie’s rusted hunk of metal. 

“Well, hello again, friends… and Bee.” He grins at you, triggering another straining eye roll. “What have we missed in our short time apart?”

“Scotty asked Bee out!” Chris seems to respond too quickly, and you whip your head to glare at him. What you don’t quite catch is Eddie’s expression, his teasing smile and sparkling eyes seem to fade into a grimace, but you’re too busy silently scolding your brother to catch it. 

“Oh, really?” Eddie recovers, clearing his throat. “Where to?”

“Emo Nite, this weekend.” Scotty, completely oblivious to the different glares being shot around the group, answers gleefully. 

“Oh, in the city! The girls are performing at that, aren't cha, babe?” He shakes Macy’s shoulders, and she blushes. 

“Yeah, we go on at ten. Hope you guys like punk!” Any excitement you’d had for your date seems to crash like an elevator pulley snapping, sending your heartbeat plummeting into your stomach, making you sick. 

–

“Why’d you tell him?” You berate Chris as you open the door to your house, kicking your sneakers off without bothering to untie them. You turn around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest as if you’re your own mother, scolding him for eating cookies before dinner.

“Told who? Told him what? You’re gonna have to be more specific, Bee.” He passes by you, ignoring the way you seem to simmer with rage.

“Eddie! Why’d you have to tell him I’m going on a date?”

Chris makes an ‘I dunno” noise, shrugging as he plops himself on the couch. “Didn’t think it would bother you that much. Why does it bother you?”

It’s your turn to make a noise of uncertainty. “He doesn’t need the details of my personal life, Chris. He’s your friend, not mine.”

Chris scoffs, snagging the remote from the coffee table before you can. “Whatever, sounds like you’re the one that cares too much about what he knows.

“What does that even mean?”

Chris ignores you, flipping through streaming apps before landing on the usual, the ukulele of Bob’s Burgers a comfortable background noise. Your phone buzzes, and you peel your glare away from your sibling to read it.

Scotty A.: heyy =)

You type a “hi!” back, sending it without a second thought. This will be good, you think. A welcome distraction from the chaos that’s surrounded you for the past month. Your phone buzzes again. 

Excited for Saturday! Have a good night, beautiful.

– 

“Scotty? From band class?” Robin interrogates you over the counter. You’d sat on the news of your date all day, debating on whether or not to tell your friends before it actually happens. If it even does happen.You’ve been texting all day, though, so you decide to talk through your anxiety with your friends. 

“Yeah, him. Super senior Scotty.” It’s a nickname he’d introduced himself as, one he’d embraced after his second run at senior year. 

“Forgive me if this is rude, but, why?” Steve asks from where he stands, pretending to put records away.

“Carpe diem, I guess? Why not?” 

Steve secedes to your argument, motioning in agreement. “‘S’he cute, at least?”

“He’s not hard to look at.” The back of your neck is hot as you say it. Steve points to your cheeks teasingly, but brings no more attention to your bashful state. Robin looks back and forth between the two of you, irritated with being left out of the loop. “What about Eddie?”

Your playful banter with Steve dies in your throat, as if a trapdoor has opened and swallowed you whole. “Robin, what the hell?” Steve tries to sever the tension, but it's stifling. 

“What about Eddie?” You await her response as she darts her eyes between you, and Steve over your shoulder. “I- uh,” She’s floundering, you use it.

“Did he say something to you?” You push, you need leverage. “Rob, I can give you Nancy Wheeler’s phone number right now, I just need you to tell me what you’re talking about.”

“Robin,” Steve’s voice is a warning. He catches Robin’s eyes and holds her gaze, eyes unblinking, unwavering. She loses, looking shamefully to the dull tile of the store floor. “I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t lie to her!” She looks at you, eyes glassy, lip trembling. “I don’t know the whole story, but I was eavesdropping at the bar last night.”

–

Last Night (as told by Robin)

“Hey, I gotta pee!” Robin shouts in your ear, and you nod, taking her drink back to your side of the bar. Robin is careful not to wobble as she finds her way into the bathroom. Unfortunately, it’s not until she walks past the empty urinals and into a stall that she realizes she’s in the wrong restroom. Even more unfortunately, she doesn’t get to make an escape before two sets of footsteps enter the bathroom, placing themselves at the urinals that she would have to walk by to escape. Urinals that, for some reason, face a mirror. A mirror she would risk being seen by men, in the mens’ room. She’d never live that down. 

“So, you gotta girl, S-scott?” It’s Eddie, slurring his words after another night celebrating his mentor’s return. Robin, personally, thinks Eddie is Chris’s bitch. He has yet to prove her wrong.

“Nah, man,” The second voice, presumably Scott, responds. Behind their voices, Robin has to tune out the sounds of them pissing, while simultaneously trying to silence her own stream.

“You into anyone?” Eddie prods, and Robin can’t help wondering why men have to be drunk to talk about their crushes.

“I mean, I think Bee’s kinda cute…” The voice gets shy, but Eddie doesn’t take the hint.

“Chris’s little sister?”

Silence. Presumably, he’s nodding.

“Bet I could get you in with her.” 

“Really, man?” The voice is eager. Robin thinks it’s sweet. 

“Yeah, man. I got two tickets to Emo Nite Indy. I was gonna ask her to go, but Macy got me on her guestlist.” This confuses Robin supremely. You and Eddie don’t get along, why in the world would he invite you out on what is, very clearly, a date?

“Wait, I don’t like, want to whisk her away from you or anything.” The second, decidedly much nicer guy, questions him. Their streams have stopped, and Robin leans against the door to listen as they continue. 

“Oh don’t worry, I lost my shot with her a long time ago.” Eddie doesn’t elaborate, and Scott doesn’t pry. Robin is silently pleading he pries, but to no avail. The footsteps fade from earshot, and she’s once again alone in the mens’ room. 

–

Present

You’re stunned into silence. Not a single thought is making it from your brain to your throat, instead feeling air pass between your ears, fanning the electrical fire Rob’s story has caused. 

“Rob, you broke our friend.” Steve scolds, motioning to where you’re frozen, reeling, trying to make sense of the fantastical myth your best friend has spun for you. 

"You cannot be serious." You manage to speak, but you sound unconvinced even to yourself.

“Scout’s honor. I had a couple last night, but I remember it all. Here,” She pulls her phone from her pocket, punching in the code before handing it to you. The screen is opened to a Notes entry, and you try hard not to laugh. 

S: bee’s cute

E: can get u in (??? wtf)

E: emo nite (omg fun) / (WAIT WHAT?!) / (how long has he had these?) / (THEY WENT ON SALE SIX MONTHS AGO… BEFORE CHRIS HAD HIS RELEASE DATE?! IS THAT WHY HE CAME BACK?!?!?! dkfgdkngkd 

You can’t help but snicker as the note descends from quoting what she’s hearing to reacting to the words being said. “Okay, I get it! It just, doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe this is his way of apologizing.” Steve offers. “Y’know, setting you up with a nice guy, to make up for not being a nice guy.”

“So what, he grew a conscience? Only took him,” You pause to mime checking a watch you’re not wearing, “six years. Bullshit. He’s got more stake in this than that.”

“Bee, you have got to stop thinking Eddie’s out to ruin your life.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what to feel, Robin. I know what I know.”

“And how many times has Chris told you that what you ‘know’ isn’t the whole goddamn story? Grow up! Let it fucking go!” The silence following her shouts is deafening in the empty record store, save for you three. “Or, if you are so desperate to prove me wrong, do it. But don’t come crying to me when the information you find doesn’t support the narrative in your fucking head.” She storms into the back room of the store marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. “I’m taking my goddamn lunch!” She calls over her shoulder.

You huff out a breath, heart slamming against your ribcage as you pivot to face Steve. He holds his hands up, an old Paramore record in one hand, the same one playing over the speakers. “Don’t look at me, baby. I’m not part of that circus.”

You can’t help but laugh, and Steve joins you in thinning the tension slightly. Robin’s words replay in your head, causing the whispers of another spiral on your heels.

--

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality let me know if you'd like to be added!

[tears0fsatan]

                ♰          ・        𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐄𝐍𝐃!

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... nsfw! minors, ageless blogs and fem aligned do not interact, dom human m!reader, sub sea monster!leviathan, size difference, loss of virginity (levi LOLLLLLL what a nerd), tentacles...

 :¨·.·¨ ♥︎  a.n... obligatory levi sea monster fic but my take on it lololol (also yeah im posting this in december fuck you this is the most productive i've been in a year ok let me have this) someone wrote this really sweet tag on one of my recent works and it gen helped me out with my insecurity so thank you for that

 #﹏𖣠ㅤHEART SHAPED HICKIES MASTERLISTㅤ. . . ㅤ !! ( ☠️ )

how you found yourself in this situation, with your cock stuffed inside leviathan and his tentacles circled around your body, you weren't all too sure, all you knew was that he felt fucking amazing wrapped around you. the very mythical sea beast your ancestors had revered for thousands of years and the one they claimed to be the guardian of the seas was here writhing away beneath you, face flushed with a crimson hue that was nearly overshadowed by the fluorescent shine that matched the skin that made up his tentacles.

when you went out to search for the mysterious gaze sailors often sung about, you sure as hell hadn't thought about being entwined with the very creature you set out for.

the moment you left the reef, the heavy weight of a stare on your back ate away at your suspicions of the sailors tale that there was something watching them out at sea. it was the type of stare that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, as if sensing danger before your mind could catch up, one that reminded you just how large and desolating the ocean was.

everyone knew that a sailors story was, at its core, nothing more than an alcoholics drunken rambling. it was natural to take any tale to whichever poor bloke fell victim to their incoherent word vomit at face value and entertain them with faux interest and encouragement to break away sooner. so it came to no ones surprise that you wanted to prove their stories wrong, to confirm whether it was all hogwash to impress pretty little things into their bed or whether there really was something much bigger than a mere human such as yourself could comprehend.

all you wanted was a confirmation that such a legend could exist, everything else that occurred had be completely beyond your expectation.

a stray tentacle shakily grazed the side of your cheek, bringing you out of your short-lived flashback to focus on the watery eyes that stared up at you with poorly hidden jealousy paired with a slight pout. it took everything in you to not coo at the ancient sea beast who seemed upset that your mind was elsewhere while in the middle of being intimate with him, instead choosing to nuzzle your nose against his as a sort of unspoken act of apology.

if the tentacle relaxing against your cheek was anything to go by, it was safe to say he forgave your momentary distraction.

"don't worry, i was only thinking about you." a hot puff of air fanned over his face along with your whisper, the flush on his face growing redder. leviathan's eyes darted away, the eye contact becoming too intense for him to handle amongst all your other ministrations.

the honeyed words had more of an affect on him the longer he had to process what you uttered, for the moment they finally registered in his mind his walls clamped down around you. his reactions gave away his inexperience despite the poised demeanour he tried to mirror from, presumably, other ancient beings like himself.

"you're much more sensitive than i thought. is it because no one's ever touched you like this, leviathan?" while the idea of a sea monster who lurked beneath the waves and merely watched as intruders breached his home as they pleased had never been put in a situation like this before had you feeling more riled up than ever, it was still hard to swallow that a man this gorgeous had never been admired as he should've been.

you drank up the pretty crimson blush that, at this point, stained his cheeks, taking note of the way the shine spread across his face the more stimulated he was. it was far more adorable than it should've been for a creature double your size who could've killed you faster than you had the chance to think about it.

the weight of your stare bore down on him and in a moment of insecurity, his hands moved to cover his face in an attempt to shy away from your eyes. who could blame him? the intensity in which you looked at him with criminally inviting half lidded eyes that made him feel exposed, like one look from you had shed him of all the barriers he put up around himself and he was laid bare in front of you for you to consume whole.

even though he was the leviathan from human's stories whose unbridled envy and rage caused devastation to many from the onslaught of tsunami's and leaving only destruction in its wake, he couldn't help but feel powerless writhing underneath your gaze.

"y-you're staring too much!" he cried out, using one of his tentacles to cover his face now that his hands were out of commission. you tutted, the pretty vision below you suddenly taken away by a rogue tentacle you had no way of pushing away.

"well, i can't look at you if you keep hiding your face." in an attempt to soften his anxious mind, you rested your forehead against his, nosing gently at the tentacle that stood between you and him. despite the tenderness you showed through your nuzzling, your hips spoke of a different story. he stuttered at your rough pace, the earlier kindness for his inexperienced self nowhere to be found.

while keeping one hand wrapped around his wrists so they couldn't move and come between you and the captivating shimmering flush that dusted his face, you reached out for the tentacle that obstructed your view. it didn't struggle in your gentle hold, letting you pick it up and guide it to your face as you willed. little by little, you brought it closer to your mouth, darting your tongue out to take an experimental lick.

the texture was what you expected, similar to the feeling of the inside of his mouth but not exactly, the liquid that coated the tentacle akin to the saliva that dribbled down leviathan's chin with a slightly sweet undertone. it was slightly rougher than you initially imagined, perhaps due to the element that made the skin shine, like that of a softer cow tongue.

the other tentacles surrounding him flailed, whether in pleasure or overstimulation you couldn't quite determine. just as much as his reactions turned you on, your gestures were equally arousing to him and it showed in the way he clenched around you and the way each individual tentacle twitched in their own way.

if someone had told you that your search for the sea beast that sailors talked all high and mighty about was here, whimpering and whining at the slightest movement of your hips you wouldn't have believed them in a thousand years and yet, here you were. perhaps going with your impulsion and taking the chance to seek out the tales was the best decision you had ever made.

© 2023 TEARS0FSATAN. please don’t translate, modify, repost or plagiarise my works anywhere.

[avinwrites]

Glimmers of Gratitude || Norton x reader

Synopsis: You've become close with Norton Campbell despite his erratic behavior. On a particularly bad day, you have something that cheers him up!

Norton… scares you a little bit. He always has this distant, unpleasant look on his face, and while he isn’t directly mean to anyone, he seems annoyed at all times. Despite this, you’ve had good conversations with him. Mostly just pleasantries that happen to evolve into real discussions, such as asking him how his day has been and you end up talking about good and bad experiences for what feels like hours. You naturally get along with him, and you can both appreciate that. Occasionally, he’ll become distant towards you, almost out of nowhere. His temper is somewhat unpredictable, but you make it through with some effort on your part. Right now, however, he seems to be in one of his moods. 

He hasn’t talked to you all morning. Even when you waved, sat next to him, asked him how he slept, nothing. You were going to keep at it, you get the feeling that he’s having a rough time and you want to help him through it, but you had to participate in a match. During this match, thankfully, you were left alone to decode. While moving from one cipher to another, you caught something shining on the ground, a very interesting looking rock. When you first pick it up, it’s unassuming, like a normal rock, but once you shine it in the light, you see specks of gold and green and yellow, that just leave you in awe. It reminds you of a certain pair of eyes.

When you get back from that match, without thinking, you go to knock on his door, eager to show him the acquisition you are oh so proud of. It takes him a long time to answer the door after you knock, so long that you think he’s elsewhere, but, slowly, the door creaks open to reveal Norton with horrid posture and eye bags as dark as his mental state. You look from his face to behind him for a short moment, debating with yourself whether or not to leave him alone, but you really can’t stand to see him in this kind of shape, and your will to make him feel better overpowers your dread of making him feel worse. You stand there, silent for an uncomfortable period of time. 

“I wanted to ask you a question, but I get it if you aren’t in the mood to talk.” You start, having difficulty making eye contact with him.

Wordlessly, he opens his door wider to invite you in, shrugging in the process. From your pocket, you fish out the small, unassuming rock you found earlier, taking his hand and placing it gently on his palm. 

“Look.” You tell him, shining a light on the rock to show him the dazzling sparkles deep within it. He watches with you, paying close attention as you show him all the interesting spots you found.

“You had a question?” He finally responds, whilst taking a closer look at your finding.

“Oh, right, I was going to ask you if you knew what it was.”

“Looks to me like Bornite.” He says, matter-of-factly. You weren’t expecting the quick answer. You watch as he closely inspects the mineral and continues. “It’s commonly found in copper mines, but it's not a rare ore. I used to see it a lot…” He trails off, lost in his thoughts once again.

You take a deep breath before taking his hands in yours. You’re determined to boost his spirits at least a little.

“I saw the gold and the green, and the way that it seemed to shine… the first thing that came to my mind was your eyes. Seeing them next to the rock… your eyes are prettier.” You pause before your attempt at flirtation, not knowing how he’ll take it. 

At first, the silence was deafening. You feel like you just made a horrible mistake, like you had poked the ever-volatile bear, but after what felt like a long time, only a few seconds in reality, you notice the beginnings of a bright red spread across his face. He’s stunned. Then, he does the unexpected. He smiles at you. 

“Thanks.” That soft grin widens slightly. His singular word seems to have more application than just one. As if to say: thanks for the compliment, thanks for the gift, thank you for noticing me, and thank you for your comfort.

“Anytime.” You reply with a smile of your own, reciprocating each appreciation with an acknowledgement of your own. 

Maybe you could have said more; maybe you should have. But for now, just being in his presence, both smiling and happy, is enough. There would be plenty of time and opportunity to talk further, but right now, words aren’t needed when you can see his eyes, sparkling just for you.