#considering how rarely i write i think it turned out pretty okay. i'm happy with it after reading it over!

[ironfloret]

well i spent the evening writing a 1.7k word self-insert fic. not an april fools' joke sorry. anyway i'm going to bed now goodnight xoxo

[chahnniesroom]

hoju (home)

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: even though chan has been living in korea for so many years, he still considers australia to be home. when he finally has the opportunity to go back and visit, he can't wait to bring you along and introduce you to the people and places that he grew up with.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: none :)

a/n: hoju (호주) is the korean word for australia.

this was a request from my sweet 🦦 anon! thank you for the inspiration, i had fun writing this and i hope that it meets your expectations. sorry that i did not write this in chan's pov 😅 as usual, please let me know if there are any typos or mistakes because i didn't have the chance to proofread 🥲

read it on ao3 | masterlist

Chan has been acting strange lately. Not enough that you're worried, just a little bit suspicious. He's never tried to hide what tabs he has open on his phone before and he's looked deep in thought quite a few times, but when you ask what he's thinking of, he changes the topic quickly. You're curious, but trust that Chan will talk to you when he's ready. Still, you can't quite ignore all of the changes in behaviour.

It's the same tonight. When you look up during dinner, Chan's just stirring around the noodles in his plate, only taking a bite every so often. You frown, trying to think of if you've done anything differently to prepare the food in a way that he doesn't like, but it tastes the same to you as usual. You rule out a lack of appetite, as he had just commented that he was starving while you were cooking.

“Is everything okay?” you ask hesitantly, after a few more minutes have passed.

“What?” Chan looks up, startled by the sound of your voice. “Oh no, everything's fine! Just… thinking.”

“Is it about work? Did something happen?” You know that Chan has been busier than usual this month, the boys have some time off in a few weeks and everybody is scrambling to get things finished in the meantime. You've also requested vacation at work, although so far you and Chan haven't planned anything. In fact, he's been a little bit cagey when you've brought up the topic. You try not to think much of it and really, it's just nice to be able to spend extra time together.

Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if Chan has found out that his break has been cut short or even cancelled. It's rare that they’re able to have more than a few days off at a time which is why you had been so shocked when Chan had let you know that they didn't have schedules for a period of almost three weeks.

It would provide an explanation to everything that you've observed the past few days, you know that he would try his best to fix things before he had to tell you the bad news.

“Well-”

“It's okay if you found out you can't take time off,” you reassure him. “I understand that it's all up to the company and sometimes they change their mind at the last minute. I can just let my work know and take my vacation another time, I'm sure they might even be happy if I'm still around next month.”

“No!” Chan says, his eyes wide in panic. “We still have time off! Don't worry about that. It's actually- How would you feel about visiting Australia with me?”

It's your turn to stare at Chan in shock.

“Australia?”

“Yeah, it's been a while since I went back and-” Chan breaks eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I thought it'd be nice if I could introduce you to my family, in person.”

“You want me to meet your family? In Australia?” you repeat, dumbly.

“Only if you feel comfortable!” Chan says hurriedly. “I looked into tickets, but didn't book anything yet so it's totally up to you. I also wanted to check if my family was available beforehand and it's pretty good timing actually. If you don't want to, then it's totally fine, I'll probably go for either way and I think Felix is also considering it. It's just that we've been together for a while now and I've met your family and I know that my mom basically considers you to be her daughter-”

“I want to go,” you interrupt, not wanting Chan to spiral further. “I was just surprised, I guess, but of course I want to accompany you.”

Chan brightens at that, then grabs his computer, unlocking it and opening up a spreadsheet. As it loads, he reaches for his chopsticks and takes a huge bite of food. You can't help but smile fondly at the sight of his cheeks bulging with food as he chews, relieved that his appetite is back.

“I didn’t want to get too far ahead of myself, but I was looking at flights, and I think that if we leave on a Tuesday, it might be best. It means we can enjoy the weekend here and still have time to pack everything,” he explains excitedly. “It'll be less busy at the airport too, which will be nice, and it works out well with my parents’ schedules anyway.”

You hum in acknowledgement, content to follow along and take mental notes as Chan reads out everything else that he's thought of so far. He continues planning for the rest of the evening, trailing behind you as you clean up and do your nightly routine, only stopping to help you when you do the dishes and put away the laundry. It's cute how animated he becomes, putting together a long list of all the sites and restaurants that he wants to show you.

You can tell that he's still thinking of it as the two of you curl up in bed that night, every so often you feel him jolt behind you and turn to reach for the little pad of paper and pencil that he often keeps on his nightstand.

Eventually, you turn over and squint at him. He doesn't even pretend to be asleep.

“Hi,” he whispers. “Sorry if I'm keeping you awake.”

“Sleep,” you murmur tiredly. “We have lots of time to plan, get some rest for now and we can talk more tomorrow.”

Chan starts to protest, but you just nuzzle closer, pulling his hands to wrap around you. As you drift off to sleep, you can feel that Chan has finally relaxed too.

—

The two of you spend the first day of break slowly, sleeping in and having a lazy meal of bibimbap from all the banchan taking up space in your fridge. You only venture out of the apartment for dinner, going to your favourite local restaurant that you visit so often that the owner starts making your meals the second that the two of you step through the door. The next couple of days are also easygoing, consisting of shopping, watching dramas, and eventually preparing for your trip.

Throughout the drive to the airport and making your way through security and to your gate, you can tell Chan's a bit on edge even though you and Felix try to assure him that everything will be fine. The three of you are in incognito mode, wearing hats, face masks, and plain clothes but Chan’s still scanning your surroundings the whole time. You, on the other hand, can't help but be excited, bouncing at his side so much that he loops his arm over your shoulders to try and calm you down. Felix is more relaxed and laughs at the stark contrast between the both of you, even filming parts of it since he’s getting footage for a vlog. Luckily you know that any content with you in it is likely to be edited out and don’t bother to hide your eagerness.

While Chan is used to travelling often for concerts and other overseas schedules, you've rarely visited places outside of Korea and have certainly never flown business class. You squeeze Chan's hand when you see your seats, thrilled at the idea of having so much leg room and a divider between the two of you that can also be fully lowered. It keeps you entertained for the whole time before the plane takes off, taking pictures together and reclining your seat up and down until the seatbelt sign turns on.

The flight is over 10 hours, so it doesn't take long before you move your attention to browsing the menu that's available and scrolling through all of the movies on the in-flight entertainment system. Shortly after the dinner meal is served, you start to doze off. Wanting to make the most of the experience, you insist to Chan that you'll be able to stay awake to watch another movie with him, but only make it through the first 30 minutes before you wake up to a dark screen.

You blink up blearily as a flight attendant starts making their way through the aisles, handing out customs forms for everyone to fill out. When you receive yours, you stare at it for a few seconds before realising the problem is not the fact that you're still adjusting to being awake.

“Oh no,” you whisper in horror, causing Chan to glance over at you, concerned.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I didn’t think about practising English before this trip,” you reply, distress leaking into your voice. “The last time that I wrote anything in English was when I was in secondary school… I'm not going to survive in Australia!”

“Hey, it's not an issue, I'll be with you the whole time! You don't have to worry about any of that. And you know enough conversational English to get by, I know you do,” Chan says soothingly.

You refuse to be comforted, burying your face into your hands.

“How am I going to face your parents when I barely know anything other than ‘hi, how are you?’” you moan. “I'm not even going to make it through customs! They're going to arrest me when I can't answer any of their questions!”

You know that you're exaggerating, but it makes Chan laugh so hard that tears gather in the corners of his eyes. You try to keep up your act, but end up dissolving into laughter too at the way that Chan is trying so hard to stay quiet, not wanting to bring attention to you two.

Contrary to your fears, you manage to deplane, get through customs, and collect your luggage without any major issues. You had a moment of anxiety when Chan and Felix split up from you since you have to go into the lineup for foreign passports, but you are somehow able to fumble your way through the conversation with the border officer without being detained.

Felix splits up with you shortly after, you see that his tiredness from the long flight melts away the second that he sees his family. He gives you and Chan both a quick hug to say goodbye before running out to meet them.

Chan lights up in a similar way when he finally spots his parents. They're waiting in the pick-up zone and waves the two of you over quickly. You barely get the chance to say hi before Chan’s mother is enveloping you into a hug.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says warmly. “Come on, let’s take you home.”

The drive is fairly short and it feels like no time at all before you’re approaching the house. The second that the front door opens, you hear a distinctive scrabble of claws against hardwood before Berry shoots towards Chan, tail wagging furiously. Chan immediately kneels down to give her better access, laughing when she stands on her hind legs to lick at his face.

Once she’s finished with that, she turns to you, barking curiously before moving closer. You stick out a hand for her to get an idea of your scent and try not to jump when you feel the cool, damp press of her nose against your palm. Whatever Berry smells, she approves of, giving you a few quick licks before running back to Chan.

“She’s so cute!” you exclaim, pulling out your phone so that you can take a picture of the reunion. You don't think that Chan even hears you, caught up in talking to Berry, giving her kisses and allowing her to do the same.

“I'll help you with your bags,” Chan's father says from beside you, easily lifting them out of your hands and motioning for you to enter the house. You exchange greetings with both of Chan's siblings as you remove your shoes, familiar with them through video calls and the one time that you met Hannah when she was travelling in Korea.

Chan’s family recently moved so this was also Chan’s first time seeing the house in person, the two of you trailing behind Chan’s father as he gave you a brief tour of the first floor before leading you upstairs. When you get to the guest room that you'll be staying in, Hannah pops her head in.

“Chris doesn’t spend enough time in Australia to have his own room in this house, so you guys are in this room.” She eyes you for a moment and based on the mischievous smile that’s growing, you can guess what she’s about to say. “Y/n, if you get sick of him, then feel free to stay with me instead!”

“Hey!” Chan complains, not even looking up from where he’s unpacking his bag. He grabs onto one of his shirts and chucks it at Hannah, but she easily dodges, throwing one of her slippers at him in retaliation. It hits Chan right in the chest and he looks at her in disbelief. He abandons his task in favour of chasing her throughout the house. You don't follow after, but you hear as their yelling and laughter echoes through the halls.

It’s refreshing to see Chan at home, no matter how comfortable Chan is with the rest of the kids, he’s still the leader of the group and the oldest member and the dynamic of their relationship reflects that. Even though it has barely been a few hours, you’re relieved to find that Chan has left behind the stresses of being an idol and can instead just be a son and an older brother.

His parents are hilarious and kind, it’s easy to see how Chan’s personality is a reflection of the environment that he was raised in. During dinner, you laugh at the way Chan pouts dramatically when Chan’s father pretends to forget about Chan when serving the food and how he groans in pleasure when he finally gets to taste his mother's cooking after so long. Hannah and Lucas continually crack jokes as you eat, especially if they're at Chan's expense and he pretends that he doesn't find them funny.

—

One afternoon you find Chan fiddling with the camera that he’s brought with him. You step up behind him, resting your chin on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Are you planning on filming tonight?” you ask, knowing that Chan was always careful to alert everyone in the house beforehand.

“Not today,” he replies. “Probably tomorrow, when I take out Berry for her morning walk. Did you want to join?”

“Of course!”

“I was thinking of going right after breakfast, before it gets too hot out,” he says as he pulls out the camera battery and fits it into the charger.

“Anywhere in particular you wanted to go?”

“Mmm, maybe by the water? There's a path that's not too far away. I don't want anything that's too close to the house, you know?”

“Good idea.”

“Are you planning on putting it into a vlog?” you ask curiously. "You haven't been filming much.”

"Actually…”

“What? You're making me nervous.”

“I was hoping to use it for a music video,” Chan says sheepishly.

“What?! I'm not qualified for that!! I can't- you need to find someone else-”

“No no, it's going to be fine! It's for a record, not like, an actual music video.”

“I don't know,” you say, still feeling hesitant.

“I promise, I'm going for the casual vibes and it's either you or like, my eomma, and I guarantee that you would do a better job.”

“Okay,” you say reluctantly. “But I can't guarantee it'll come out well.”

“Thank you! I know it'll be great,” Chan says, showering you with kisses in gratitude until you're squirming away.

—

The next morning, Chan’s parents are out, leaving all the kids to prepare food on their own. It's a little chaotic, but you manage to cobble together a decent meal. It's a lot of fun to see how Chan and his siblings interact without their parents around to mediate. You're amazed by how similar the three are, not only in appearance but also the way they behave.

Although much younger, Lucas shares a strong resemblance to Chan, especially once he smiles and shows off matching dimples. They quickly disappear once Chan reaches out and musses up his hair playfully as you’re all cleaning up.

“Chris, stop it,” he complains, pushing his older brother away before trying to fix the strands that are all over the place. It only encourages Chan to move closer, wrapping his arms around his brother and lifting him into the air. When trying to wiggle free doesn’t work, he turns pleading eyes to you, knowing Hannah wouldn't step in to help. “Noona! Get him to let me down!”

The two of you had been awkward the first time you had been left alone, it hadn’t helped that Lucas’ Korean could be considered conversational at best and your English was significantly worse, but you had quickly grown close through attempts to tease Chan. Now, it’s easy to treat him like the little brother you never had.

You approach quickly, trying to avoid Lucas’ flailing limbs, and reach out to poke at Chan’s waist. He twitches away from your touch and when you persist in prodding at all his ticklish spots, unwinds one of his arms to swat at your hand.

The distraction is enough for Lucas to break away and he quickly moves out of reach. Instead of chasing after him, Chan turns his focus to you. You back away nervously, but find yourself with nowhere to go. Chan grabs you and easily slings you over your shoulder, ignoring your shrieks of protest.

“Betrayed by my own girlfriend? I should have known that introducing you to my siblings would just be asking for trouble,” he growls in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Hey! Where are you taking me?” You look to see if his siblings are going to rescue you, but they must be trying to avoid Chan's wrath as you don't see either of them as Chan brings you up to the guest room.

“I am enlisting your help,” he says casually, as if he wasn't carrying you up a flight of stairs and dropping you on the bed. “I would like your advice on what to wear for Berry's walk.”

“Ooh,” you say. “Very important business then, I'm honoured that you would ask me.”

It doesn't actually take much time to get ready, the two of you change into clothes for the heat and you just have to convince Chan that he doesn't have to try to do his hair or makeup. The second that you mention to Berry that you're going for a walk, her tail starts wagging non-stop and she even fetches her leash and drops it in front of you.

Chan doesn't give you much direction for filming, just hands you the camera and tells you to capture whatever you want. The two of you walk hand in hand through the neighbourhood, Berry happily exploring the area. As you get further away from the house, you let go of Chan, motioning for him to continue walking as you turn on the camera and get used to it.

By the time you've reached the waterfront, you're feeling more confident and have a better idea of what you like. You try out different angles, feeling a little bit like paparazzi, and after a few minutes, even try directing Chan too. You let him keep going, wanting to see how far away he'll go before he realises that you're not following. He's almost a block away before he turns back.

“You’re smiling, did it come out okay?” Chan asks as he jogs back towards you.

“Yeah, it was great! I was just thinking that Stay are going to go crazy over this,” you tell him.

“They do really like it whenever they get to see Berry,” he says thoughtfully, picking her up and scratching her head. You burst out laughing at that and Chan frowns in response and goes as far as to cover Berry’s ears, insulted on her behalf. “What? Don’t laugh at that, it’s true! Berry is just so cute.”

“I’m not saying that they don’t like Berry, of course they do. I was more referring to the fact that the video is… domestic. Very boyfriend.”

“Ooh you think that's what Stay are interested in?” he asks. “What about this?”

He gestures for you to lift up the camera, and once you're recording, grabs your hand to pull you along behind him. You let out a small noise of surprise as he tugs on your arm, struggling slightly to keep everything steady and ensure your hand is out of frame. At your sound, Chan looks back slightly and bursts into laughter.

“So concentrated, you’re so cute,” he giggles.

“Of course,” you grumble. “I want it to turn out nice.”

“Thank you,” Chan says sincerely, no traces of laughter in his voice. “I really do appreciate it a lot that you're helping me with work even though we're on vacation.”

“Hmm,” you say, turning away from him. “You're just glad that you didn't have to ask Hannah, because she would make fun of you the whole time.”

“That's not true! I mean, it is true that Hannah would do that, but that's not the only reason.” Chan uses your connected hands and pulls you close. “I also wanted to spend time with my favourite person in the whole world.”

“You're lucky I love you so much,” you sniff, still pretending to be annoyed even though you've practically melted into Chan's hug. “Now stop getting distracted, I thought it would look nice if you walked along the sand and there's nobody there right now.”

—

The rest of your time in Sydney is a whirlwind of activities. Chan is determined to take you to all his favourite places in the city and you eat more food than you thought possible. Chan’s family, and sometimes Felix and his family, accompanies you two for a majority of the outings and your initial hesitance interacting with them is replaced by fondness, eased by the way that they treat you like one of their own.

You even have a chance to meet some of Chan’s childhood friends, ones that he kept close with despite the long distance. It feels strange to eat dinner with them. Although they do their best to make you feel welcome, they have a lot of history together and you find yourself struggling to keep up with their conversation, not just because of the language barrier but due to references to people, places, and events that you're unfamiliar with. Regardless, you're glad to finally know the people that Chan grew up with and you love seeing how happy Chan is to be reunited with them.

It’s also nice that while you're meeting so many people, you don't have to hide your relationship at all. In Korea, you and Chan are more careful in public. It’s not totally a secret that you’re dating, but you are more on the cautious side due to the popularity of Stray Kids and inevitable scrutiny from fans. In Australia, Chan has no such reservations, excitedly introducing you as his girlfriend to everyone. It never fails to make you blush, feeling shy, but secretly pleased.

Wherever you go, Chan keeps you close to his side, linking your hands or looping an arm around your shoulders. Throughout the day, he presses kisses to your head or cheek. The first time he does it, you look up at him questioningly. He just shrugs, saying that he’s happy and well, you can’t argue with that.

You don’t want your vacation to end and you know you're not the only one. You and Chan have both procrastinated packing your luggage until the last possible moment, and when you finally do begin, Berry seems to sense it. She starts hiding all of your things- Chan's family members finding them lodged in one of the couch cushions or in her dog bed- and curling up inside your suitcase, making it practically impossible to continue packing.

When Chan enters your shared room and pauses when he sees you staring into the suitcase helplessly. You wave him over so that he can look inside.

“She’s too cute! Look at that little face, how could you disturb her?” you ask.

Chan has no such reservations. He reaches in and gently lifts Berry out, cradling her against his chest so that she can’t jump back in.

“Berry, do you want to come to Korea with us?” he asks patiently. When she licks at his face in reply, he groans and pretends to lower her back into the suitcase. “Ah, I guess we have no choice but to bring you! I think we can sneak you in with the rest of the souvenirs that we’re taking with us.”

Despite Chan’s promises, Berry ends up staying behind, not even joining you on the drive to the airport. You’re lucky that you decide to leave well before your flight is expected to depart as you end up taking almost half an hour saying goodbye to everybody.

You know that you’re going to treasure these memories for a long time and you’re certain that Chan will too. It’s amazing that even though you were only in Australia for a couple weeks, it already feels like a second home.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[dreamtuna]

Laid Bare By Moonlight

It's finally done, I've slain the beast. And I'm pretty happy with it. This is a piece I've been working on for a while now and I just kept editing it over and over. But I'm finally letting it out. I'm a bit nervous about this one lmao but I enjoyed writing this a lot and I hope you guys enjoy it too! And yeah I'll probably write a sequel because I want to know what happens next. Attack on Titan - Levi x fem!Reader, Levi x Unknown Woman smut, afab!Reader, listening through wall (without their knowledge), masturbation, jealousy, slight obsession tbh, walked in on/caught in the act, but okay with it! pretty enthusiastic about it honestly, shame, praise, begging, oral (fem receiving), Reader is a bit of a subby mess and she loves it, very brief mentions of threesome and cum eating fantasies Word Count: 4.9k On a sleepless moonlit night you don't expect to be kept awake by your Captain, but this is what happens when you forget to lock your door.

The darkness wrapped around you but sleep refused to come. No matter how hard you tossed and turned, there was no comfort and there was no rest, that much was clear. The frustration pooled in your body. You were exhausted, body weary from pushing extra hard in training lately. It was tough these days to think of much else except for your chronic underperformance. And now the stress of it all was eating away at your sleep. It seemed to have become a self feeding monster.

You threw your legs out of bed and walked across the room to the window. The moonlight had been bleeding through the thin curtains anyway, so you felt you might as well enjoy it fully if sleep wasn’t going to come and take you away. You pulled them back to bathe the room in it.

You returned to your bed, eyes drifting across the room at the empty one directly opposite. Most people envied you, having a room to yourself. You had the freedom to make a mess, the freedom to stay up late if needed, the freedom to have night time visits. But your room was spotless, you were usually in bed at a decent time and you hadn’t had a single partner since you joined the regiment. You’d just been too busy, too preoccupied with putting everything into this and proving you could do it.

Now look where that had landed you: alone in the middle of the night, insomnia gripping you by the throat and refusing to let go.

You heard a door open as the occupant of the next room returned for the night. It was rare to hear considering he would usually choose to sleep at his desk instead of in his bed. But sleep was never the purpose.

A light, floaty giggle travelled through the walls. Yeah, there it was. The stress relief. Captain Levi was not alone.

Now you were alone with your thoughts and the hushed excitement of some girl next door, muffled sounds drifting through the wall. Was that his boots being removed? Was that her body on the bed? Was that his on top of her? You couldn’t help it, your mind began to wander. Sitting with your back against the wall, you closed your eyes and listened.

Maybe you should’ve picked the other bed when you took this room.

You knew this was wrong. Only a wall separated you. You couldn’t hear much, but you could hear enough. You could hear the bed strain under their joint weight as they moved into positions you could only imagine. You could hear her moan loud and sudden as he, most likely, inserted himself into her, wasting no time. You could hear Levi hush her harshly, cutting off the objections which followed in what you could only imagine must be a rough kiss. And you could feel your hands drifting down your body as your lips opened in a silent gasp, your back arching slightly off the wall, imagining him slick with her excitement as he thrust in and out of her, as your fingertips danced over your light sleepwear.

You knew this was wrong. He was your Captain. But you had been attracted to him for as long as you knew of his existence, overflowing with excitement when you were picked to train under him. And as you heard the bed groan rhythmically under his thrusts you couldn’t help but crave being under him right now, a toxin beginning to flow through your veins. Jealousy clouded your judgement and your fingers worked their way under the waistband of your shorts.

You gingerly reached for your warmth, almost scared of what you might find, as if you weren’t already aware of how turned on you were. Your clothing did nothing to muffle the obscene noises your fingers made as you ran them up and down your slit, playing with your wetness before swirling them over your clit. Your back arched further as you touched the bundle of nerves, your desire and jealousy intertwining dangerously as you heard this faceless girl taking what you wanted. Biting down to suppress the building dark pleasure that wanted to rise out of your throat, you listened intently as the object of your desires gave her everything that should have been yours.

You almost scoffed. You were just another cadet to him. A promising one, sure, that’s why you had been picked to work under him, but just a cadet in his eyes nonetheless. He didn’t seem the type to mix business and pleasure, instead opting for these infrequent meetings with nameless women he likely never thought about again.

You wanted to be one of them so badly.

The cool night air caressed you, a much welcome feeling as your body began to heat up. Your free hand snaked up your stomach, pushing your t-shirt up to expose your breasts. You squeezed, pinching your nipple as you heard her cry out next door. She was getting close. Even to you it was obvious. The Captain had given up on hushing her but she seemed muffled. You thought about his firm hand clamped over her mouth, scowling down at her as he drove her closer and closer to climax.

It was too much. You needed more.

In a sudden movement you pulled your shorts off completely. Desperation overtook you, throwing yourself down on the bed, imagining his hands pushing you down, holding you in place. He would grab your legs, pushing your knees into your chest and exposing you completely… all for him. Much like she probably was right now. You pinched your nipple harshly, your pussy tingling as the dark wave of envy consumed you. Finally, you pressed first one finger, then a second, into your eager hole.

You had barely inserted the second when you realised the loud groan of pleasure you were hearing was actually coming from you.

You froze. Surely you hadn’t been that loud. It just seemed loud because you were the one who did it, right? The bed continued slamming into the wall separating you and you let out the breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. Deciding you were safe, you began to move your fingers in and out. Slowly, you savoured the feeling, the pleasant intrusion taking but a moment to get used to. You tried to match the rhythm of the bed next door, but it felt entirely insufficient. All you could think about was Levi’s cock driving in and out of her, coated in her wetness. A desperate part of you wanted so badly to be on your knees, watching them up close. You would wait patiently, mouth open like he expected of you, tongue ready to clean them both up. You wouldn’t resist when he’d pull out and push your face into her, commanding you to lick every last drop of his cum from inside of her. You wanted to do anything to please him.

The moonlight covered your body, your most intimate places only just shadowed by your knees pressed to your chest. It felt good, like you were in some kind of spotlight just for him. You writhed and you could no longer control your moans as they rose above your audible wetness. Sure, you had heard the Captain fuck once or twice before. It was a rare occurrence and you couldn’t begrudge a man under that much stress for indulging in his desires. You would usually just roll over and try to ignore the noises and the growing damp spot in your underwear. You’d spend the whole night dreaming of him and all the things he could do to you. But you never gave into your feelings like this.

Maybe the moon is affecting me, you thought, mind wandering hazily to the idea the full moon could affect your mental state. Through clouded eyes you stared out the window into the night sky, fingers never slowing. The only thing on your mind was how your Captain would look above you in that pale light, hair stuck gently to his brow with sweat, eyes an almost ghostly silver. In that moment you were convinced there could not be anything more magnificent.

Suddenly you snapped back to reality. The room next door was quiet now. Had you missed the end of the show? Whatever the case was, you still had your own needs to attend to. Unlike her, you didn’t have anyone to deliver you an orgasm on a silver platter. The more you thought about how you’d missed out on him slamming deep inside her, releasing with a grunt as her insides pulsed and milked him, the closer you got to falling off the edge of that cliff.

A moan tore from your throat, masking a faint sound you couldn’t quite place in the back of your mind. That was until you heard your door close a moment later. You gasped, freezing in place, vulnerable and exposed on your back with your legs in the air, fingers curled inside your entrance, hand barely covering your chest.

“You should really lock the door.”

Your body went ice cold. That voice. No, it couldn’t be. You were too anxious to move or cover yourself. You were too anxious to even look towards the door and confirm your fears. You didn’t understand what was going on. Blushing a furious shade of red - thankfully not very visible in the moonlight - you reluctantly tore your eyes away from the window, slowly turning to gaze across the room.

After a moment, the voice spoke again. “Do you want me to leave?” No, your mind pleaded, don’t leave. But you couldn’t respond. “I can leave and we pretend this never happened.”

Finally your eyes fell directly on him. Levi stood there, face unreadable in the shadows. But he was clearly staring straight at you. Embarrassment flooded your entire being at the thought of being seen like this, especially by him. You could no longer even form words in your panicked mind.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked again. His voice was gentle, wrapping around you seductively.

Your voice shook, but you managed to get out a quiet “no”. You cleared your throat and repeated yourself as strongly as you could. “Stay,” you pleaded, voice thick with desire, knowing it was your lust speaking but it didn’t change the fact that this was something you craved so deeply.

He seemed satisfied with this and walked slowly across the room until he stood above you. He placed one hand softly on your knee, stroking back and forth across your bare skin as he stared down at you. You couldn’t see his expression like this, but he could see almost all of you. Ironically, only your lewd position saved you from exposing everything to him.

“Don’t stop,” he told you.

You blinked up at him. “W-what?”

Levi leaned forwards, placing his hands on the bed either side of your face. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I said don’t stop.”

With a start you realised what he meant. Inhaling sharply, you began working your fingers inside you again. You felt your cheeks heat up instantly at the sound of your fingers plunging into you. You wanted to look away from him, but he was watching you so intently it felt wrong not to hold his gaze. He’d caught you at your most vulnerable, and your desperation was clawing at you to get out. You wanted to please him. Your mouth opened slightly as your breathing picked up and the slightest smirk appeared on his features.

“You think I didn’t hear you moan before?” he said quietly. His voice held something in it that you couldn’t quite identify now, but it wasn’t malicious or menacing. It was stern, the type of voice that demanded respect, but yet it had that same warm edge to it as you’d heard when he first came in. “Can’t believe you’ve been lying here getting off listening to me fuck.”

You gasped at hearing it said out loud, the way he practically spat the word at you, your face flushing even deeper. You had to look away from him now. You couldn’t handle the shame as it washed over you as you felt yourself getting wetter with every word. You were even beginning to whimper now, the feelings intensifying with his warmth just above you.

He grabbed your chin, turning you to face him once again. Your eyes locked. There was a power in that gaze that you couldn’t resist, one that had you tumbling down and down into him, ready to give him everything as you had dreamed of for so long. And you knew, when you were consumed by those eyes, that he would gladly take everything you had to offer.

“What do you want?” he asked you, but you had no way of answering that. Your mind was going blank again as the pleasure rose. You knew if you opened your mouth now it would be an incoherent pleading. You had just enough dignity left to want to avoid that. Barely.

He pulled back, his hand returning to your knee to stroke it softly. You moaned at the sudden contact, fingers jerking inside you. You couldn’t believe you were behaving this way at even the lightest of touches. It was pathetic. Your insides squeezed tightly around your fingers. Your skin was on fire, desperate to feel him against you.

“Tell me what you want.”

It was no longer a question. It was not a request.

With great difficulty, you swallowed hard. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. Everything felt crazy, like this was just some super vivid dream. It had to be. But his touch felt so real. His skin was rough against yours, neatly trimmed nails barely grazing against you from time to time.

Eventually, you managed to answer him in the smallest voice. “Please touch me.”

He didn’t need telling twice. Instantly he shifted, moving to sit on the bed between your legs, angling himself so he could appreciate your body in the light. Instincts kicked in and you began to squeeze your legs shut, shame threatening to overcome you, but his hands gripped your knees, firmly. Levi spread your legs and gazed down at your half naked body, eyes roaming you hungrily from your breasts right down to where your fingers still toyed with your juices.

In the moonlight you could see now his hair was mussed, the tips lightly dampened from the sweat of his previous exertions. The sheen of sweat was mostly gone, but you felt that bitter jealousy rising throughout you at the way his skin glistened, making him look ethereal. He’d pulled a shirt on, the top few buttons undone, his collarbones enticing you. You didn’t even notice as your tongue darted out to wet your lips at the sight of them, your hunger to cover them with a bouquet of nips and kisses growing.

You realised he must have literally finished with her, dressed and come straight through to you. The thought made your stomach flutter, an odd mixture between indignation and a deep dark pride at being next on his list tonight. Vaguely, your mind wandered to thinking about whether this was something he regularly did.

Levi ran his hands over your legs, jolting you out of your thoughts, holding them open so he could enjoy the show you were putting on for him. There was something intoxicating about the way he watched your fingers work. He stared intently at the glistening digits as they withdrew from within you, the light barely catching them now your knees were being held out of the way. He sat quietly like this for a moment. The only sound between you was your light panting and your own juices, almost deafening in the silence.

He leaned forward between your legs, sliding his hands up your thighs and onto your stomach before cupping your breasts. He squeezed gently, a warm strength wrapping around you, toying with your nipple ever so lightly. He worked his way down, planting the lightest kiss on your stomach. His body intermittently touched against your hand. You wondered if that was deliberate, your fingers pushing deeper inside you whenever he did.

You couldn’t hold back your thoughts any longer. “What happened with her?” you asked in a hoarse voice.

Levi paused, face hovering above your stomach. He looked up at you, sharp eyes connecting with yours. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“I told her to leave.”

He said it like it was so simple, so obvious. Is that why you hadn’t heard anything? He’d just stopped? Or did he mean he had finished and immediately dismissed her? He watched you, eyes narrowing as he realised you were still digesting his words.

He sighed. “After I heard you she just didn’t feel the same to me anymore.” After a long pause he asked, “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head. You felt weird, but you weren’t exactly uncomfortable with it. Had you somehow stolen him away from her? All you were doing was masturbating to the sound of your Captain slamming his hips into a mystery woman without his knowledge when you may have let out a loud moan - what was so wrong with that? Well, it sounded kinda messed up when you put it that way. The whole thing was messed up, what with him appearing in your door. Your head was still reeling from it. A part of you said you should’ve shooed him away instantly, but the way his hands played with your tits was melting away any lingering doubt you may have had. You had wanted him so much, and now here he was. Were you really going to squander this chance? His lips pressing against your stomach again had you forgetting all about what was okay and what wasn’t. You pushed your stomach up towards him, craving more, moaning lightly for him.

“Ah, yeah, that’s the sound,” he whispered into your skin.

His voice sounded strained. He gave your nipple a sharp pinch, eliciting a gasp from you, and then did it again for good measure. Your nipples were starting to get so sensitive from both his pinching and the attention you had given them earlier. His weight shifted on the bed and suddenly he was leaning right over you. He pushed his body gently down onto you, staring into your eyes as he did so. You could feel his bulge through his pants as he pressed into your hand slightly.

Levi kissed you. Delicate at first, your lips touching for only a second, but it didn’t take long before you had both devolved to desperately pushing against each other. His tongue worked its way into your willing mouth, claiming you as his own. You moaned into his mouth and you swear you could feel him twitch against the back of your hand.

A thought crossed your mind. Carefully you pulled your fingers out of yourself, shifting your arm enough to grab your Captain’s cock through his pants. You stroked him gently. He nipped at your bottom lip. He was straining against his pants, his hips thrusting erratically into your hand almost as if it were a subconscious reaction to your touch. You could feel the change in his breathing as he kissed you.

Your fingers fumbled to undo his pants but with only one hand it was difficult. You started to reach down but he grasped your wrist. He promptly found your other wrist and brought them together above your head, pinning you to the bed. You whimpered. This was starting to feel a lot like your fantasies.

He pulled back from your lips for a moment. In the moonlight you could just see the glint of his steely eyes as he looked at you. Without a word he lifted himself off you, but before you could whine about losing contact you found his lips descending on your sensitive buds. Working first one nipple, then the other, lathering them with sloppy attention until his teeth lightly nipped. Levi kissed and licked your breasts, smothering them with soft, sweet sensations before adding in more sharp little bites. You moaned for him, arching your back to push your breast into his mouth. But he pushed you back down. With a loud wet kiss to each breast, he began to work his way further down your body.

You were in heaven. No one had ever made you feel this way before. No one had ever shown your body so much consideration. You’d been with others before, and some of them had attempted foreplay, but the keyword there was “attempted”. After a while it all just devolved into grunting into one another and hoping their motions would be enough to satisfy you. They never were. But this was different. Levi hadn’t even taken his clothes off yet and you felt close to the edge of something huge that had you gripping the covers in anticipation as you moaned for him. You knew the second his lips made their way lower there was a good chance you would just shatter into pieces underneath him.

His lips trailed soft kisses along your hips. You were still in disbelief at what was happening, but oh God did you believe it when you threw your head back and moaned his name as his lips descended on your clit. He immediately felt the way you were quivering and pulled back.

“Not yet,” he told you, firmly squeezing your thighs where his hands had come to rest, holding you open for him.

You whimpered, but that stern warmth of his voice had you willing to do your best for him, wrapping around and pulling you into submission.

You glanced up from your pillow. You could see his eyes looking up at you, awaiting confirmation of your obedience. You nodded in understanding and he kissed your mound.

“Good girl,” he whispered, sending jolts of electricity up through your body until they pierced your soul.

Knowing how sensitive you were, Levi was very careful with his touch. He pressed his forearm under your thighs, pressing your knees into your chest. You’d had your legs in the air so long they were beginning to ache, but there wasn’t a chance in hell you were about to complain. Especially not as his other hand made its way to take over for your earlier incomplete job. His fingers ran up and down your slit, admiring the way they would glide over you with how wet you were for him. Not messing around, he inserted two fingers straight into you and was instantly rewarded with you tightening around them, a whimper escaping you.

His lips came back down on your clit, sucking and licking at the bundle of nerves as his fingers began to pump in and out of you. He wasn’t gentle, but there was a certain care in his actions that made you feel safe. Maybe it was just your desire to orgasm tricking you into feeling that way. It really didn’t matter all that much to you what it was, it just felt good.

Levi enjoyed the way you whimpered for him. He wanted more of it until he was drowning in the sweet sounds you were making for him. But he could feel you reaching your limit. You were trying so hard to hold on for him. He could feel it in the way you tensed. He could hear it in how obnoxiously loud your pussy was. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, savouring the way they glistened with your juices in the moonlight. He licked them clean, eyes closing as your flavour engulfed him.

When he was done his lips were wet with the taste of you.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he praised you, fingers working their way back inside. This time he got to feel that jolt of electricity those two words sent through you as you clenched around him. “Yeah, you want more of that?”

You whimpered louder now. The desperation was clear. You didn’t need to nod for him to know, but seeing the way you frantically bobbed your head up and down had a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The control he had over your pleasure was intoxicating.

“I can’t hear you. Do you want to cum or not?”

He lightly swatted at your ass. You groaned loudly, feeling your dignity slipping away with each second. You felt yourself almost lose it and immediately, despite the fog of arousal, it was clear in your head what you wanted.

You mumbled something.

“Hmm?”

“Please… Want to cum…”

“Tch, that’s no way to ask for what you want.” His fingers arched up inside you briefly, hitting that sensitive spot for the first time. It felt like your whole body jerked upwards as you cried out.

“Please, Captain…” You sobbed slightly now, your dignity all but gone now. If you could only actually get the words out.

He seemed pleased with your efforts, stroking that sweet spot again as a reward. It was too much. You were going to cum either way, you might as well please him at the same time.

“Please, Captain, oh fuck. Please let me cum.” You choked back a sob. “Please, I can’t hold it. Please.”

A low groan rolled out of him. For a second the rhythm of his fingers faltered in you. He wasn’t expecting your begging to be that sweet, but oh how he adored it. He placed a sloppy kiss on your clit, enjoying the sharp gasp it drew from you.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, words ghosting over the bundle of nerves. “Cum for your Captain.”

His tongue danced around you, fingers now pressing relentlessly into that sweet spot no one else had ever found. He sucked noisily on you, alternating between suction and sweet kisses and lapping tongue. It was driving you insane and within seconds of this assault you were falling apart beneath him, your moans so loud, so beautiful, that there was no way half the barracks hadn’t heard you this time. You pulsated around his fingers as they found their home deep inside you, playing with the nerves inside that made your body tremble beneath him.

When you had finally reduced to a whimpering mess he withdrew from you. He sat back and looked at his hand, covered in your love.

“Oi, look at me and open your mouth,” he ordered and through your hazy brain you obeyed without question.

Levi shoved his hand at your face. You got the message and eagerly took his fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking him clean almost hungrily in a way that made his cock throb in his pants. You were so far gone at this point, your inner desires carrying you now. You would do so much for this man if he only asked it of you. He made you weak, and after that you knew he could make you feel better than anything else in this world.

You so desperately wanted to hear him call you a good girl again.

He pulled his hand back and, much to your surprise, he lay down next to you. He pulled you into his arms, resting your head against his chest. You were stunned, letting him manipulate your body however he wanted.

“You did so well,” he whispered into your ear, kissing your hair gently. “Rest.”

“But you haven’t cum,” you blurted out, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt not really knowing what to think or feel right now.

His sweet chuckle only made you more confused. A noise you never thought you’d hear from him of all people. But there it was, followed by yet another brief kiss to your hair.

“Rest,” he repeated. “You can look after me when you get your breath back.”

After a moment the tensions in your body eased and you let yourself get comfortable in his arms. You couldn’t get it out of your mind how uncomfortable he must be having had no relief, but his thumb was making soothing sweeps across your bare back, your top still pulled up above your breasts so that your nipples grazed against the fabric of his shirt. Your hips were gently touching. His warmth was engulfing you.

The more he held you and gently pet you the more you found yourself sinking into that sleep you so desperately desired before all this started. You were a complete mess, heart only just coming under control, head swirling with endless thoughts about what had just happened. You decided to take up his offer of rest for just a while longer, trying desperately to remove all those doubts that were creeping back up from your mind.

Because in that moment, none of that mattered. The only things that mattered were his warmth and his gentle breathing beside you. The way his thumbs continued rubbing your bare back, soothing you endlessly. The way his bulge rubbed gently against you. It wouldn’t take long before he’d have you on your knees taking care of him, you were sure of it, but for now you could just melt into his body. His lips grazed against your hair again and you gripped onto his shirt a little tighter, sighing happily, stress and anxiety easing in your heart, even if just for a little while.

[nozunhinged]

My Top 5 BL Kisses of Jan (& Feb) 24 + why

Okay, okayyyyy I'm doing this, no backing out. I offically accept that analyzing kisses takes up so much of my brainspace that I can write about it — so here it goes. I'M NOT HIDING ANYMORE BUT OWNING UP TO IT! (lol, chill)

Last year I complained that I didn't get a single perfect kiss since I started watching BL TV shows (until PhayaTharn turned up) and now we're not even a quarter into the new year and I already got FIVE I'm absolutely in AWE about!! FIVE!!

I don't know if it's the actors, directors or coaches who upped their game (probably all of them) but hot damn, all of these are beautiful.

And don't ask me why I'm into kiss-acting so much I have no fucking clue, my first guess is that it's an artform in itself to make this amazing, wonderful, intimate form of touching look as beautiful as it feels — bc let's be honest here, irl kissing rarely looks pretty no matter how great it is! So I think it's just dope when you can see this beauty translated on screen.

So I guess this is peak romance genre for me and with that being said, enough talking, lets get to the kissykissies!

5. TenPrem - Cooking Crush EP. 11

I have to be honest with you, I was a bit confused by the kissing in this show. The tippytoe kiss was cute as heck but we all saw how Off AND Gun awkwardly blinked because they probably had to stay like that for a looooong time. It took the whole magic out of the whole first-kiss-moment. Same with the forced in, reshot makeout-scenes. But the kiss in the kitchen? Looks like they FINALLY got to show what they got.

Ten gently pulling Prem closer, them smoothly moving against each other, Ten closing in even more, the slightly open-mouthed kiss with their lips perfectly caressing each other, Ten with a bit more force, Prem with a bit more heat resulting in the perfect mix...Loved it, mwah.

4. PromNont - Playboyy EP. 12

They are my one Playboyy-couple where I'm like "if they don't end up married and running Playboyy together, starting the revolution of well-payed, insured and safe sex workers I'm gonna riot" even though I know this show will not end nicely for ANYONE.

Anyways, this kiss. Holy smokes they had so many good scenes but this one took the cake. Not just the sheer length of it (but still with perfect timing and breaks).

The slightest suck on Nonts upper lip, Prem literally making Nont sway, Nonts hidden desperation for Prom surfacing from his lips, them slowly but surely turning up the heat and last but not least, Prom grabbing Nonts face just to lean against him...UGH THEM!

(I made those)

3. Myungha & Yeowoon - Love for Love's Sake EP 8

I know I'm not alone in how this show swept me off my feet and hit me right in the feels. But I've gotta say, this kiss hit completely different. Again they kissed for so long but not a single moment felt wasted. It felt like their whole story put in a single kiss. And — I mean that in the most loving and positive way possible — they kissed so amazingly gay. Do you know what I mean?!

There's just this level of love, care and happiness that only queer couples can convey. Sprinkled with a hint of tongue (I saw that Yeowoon 👀) — they absolutely nailed it.

2. AlanJeff - Pit Babe EP. 11

The kiss that made me consider doing this post in the first place. I saw them and shouted THIS IS PERFECT just to realize that I did this a few weeks ago already and it made me spiral a little. In the best way possible because I felt truly blessed once again to have discovered the genre of BL in their golden era!

Because this right here is how you nail an open mouthed kiss my friends. Take notes BL producers. Put this in your textbooks! They both go at the same rythm (slow, careful but so, so loving JUST LIKE THEIR RELATIONSHIP UGH) and same level of touch so their lips caress each other perfectly. Furthermore, Alan knows exactly how to meet Jeff which is also a PERFECT EXTENSION OF HIS CHARACTER! Alan leads, Jeff follows but they meet perfectly and equally. TEN OUT OF TEN NO NOTES!

1. PhayaTharn - The Sign EP. 9

I don't understand the meaning of the "Roman Empire"-thing but I think if I say they are mine, I am correct because they will be the end of me and that's what that means right? I may be biased AF but objectively speaking, this is just an insanely well acted-out scene, PERIOD! And we all know it's thanks to Billybabes out-of-this-world-chemistry!

Phayas desperation translated into this gorgeous lip-clash, so much yearning but softness at the same time but what really got to me was how Tharn immediately melted after their lips touched, how he immediately opened up to him and got completely overwhelmed by Phayas feelings. Chapeau to Babe for showing so much range in a single second. My favorite kiss of the whole series ❤️

I also just realized all these kisses have one thing in common....hands on faces lol.

Well that was fun peeps, thanks if you made it until the end!

[lemurlegs]

Bewitched

Hello everybody I'm finally back with a new chapter, I'm sorry it took so long, I had difficulty writing it, and i was a bit busy too. Anyways this chapter is longer. It explores a lot of things Ginger has done in her past, and we're gonna learn about the powers we possess.

Wordcount: 8.6k

Warning: murder, ritualistic sacrifice, cannibalism

Previous chapter

Chapter 5.

Dreams and powers

Alastors pov 

After a whole day of dealing with his wayward contracts, while his body didn't show it, he felt exhausted. He was ready to head back to the hotel and relax near his bayou.

As soon as he manifested in the living room, he caught sight of everyone sitting in a circle on the floor. Charlie immediately jumped up and greeted him, asking if he wanted to join their group activities.

Alastor wanted to refuse; he was tired and rarely felt the need to join in the silly exercises Charlie hosted. But before he could finish his sentence, she cut him off, explaining that they were sharing stories about their pasts and it was currently Ginger's turn. More information? How convenient.

He walked towards the group and settled on the couch next to them. No way in hell would the Radio Demon sit on the floor like some common sinner, he had a reputation to uphold. As he crossed his legs and got comfortable, after that he told Ginger to continue.

She started explaining that she had no idea why she ended up in Hell.

Alastor was confused, tilting his head at her comment. At the cafe that morning, she had mentioned using her womanly charm to manipulate men and hinted that she sometimes killed those she deemed worthy. To him, that seemed like a pretty obvious reason to be sent down here.

Charlie asked her to clarify.

"I mean that I don't think I'm innocent or something; I just don't know which of my sins got me here.” she shrugged. Answering nonchalantly.

At that, Angel Dust suggested she list her sins to figure out which one got her sent to Hell. Alastor was ecstatic; maybe her sins would explain her strange magical knowledge, and he might even learn what happened to her the day before, when she got attacked.

But as soon as he got his hopes up, Ginger quickly dismissed the idea. However, her response only made him more curious. A list of sins so long it would take hours to go over? Hoho, don't threaten him with a good time. 

That's when Alastor realized something. If she truly had committed so much evil, how did she manage it in such a short time? Not that he would ask a woman her age, of course—that would be ill-mannered—but she didn't look more than 27, but of course looks can be deceiving.

As he snapped out of his thoughts, he realized they had moved on to another topic. Charlie suggested that everyone name three things they were good at or enjoyed doing.

Angel's response made him grimace with disgust. The perverted spider always has a way of dampening his mood. He was listening to the group name their likes and talents, seemingly bored by how uninteresting they were. That's when he saw Ginger get excited about Husker's response.

“Magic, you say? What kind of magic?” her eyes were shimmering hopefully with a hint of excitement as she leaned towards the barcat.

Her happiness was short-lived when Husk clarified he was talking about card tricks.

Hmm, so she is indeed interested in magic. Maybe she's a practitioner. Or she could just be curious because of her attackers, since they clearly used magic on her. But how could she get herself in a situation like that on her first day? I mean, he knew this was hell but still. Maybe she knew her perpetrators? He shook off that though for now. Instead he began wondering about what kind of demon powers she might have and thought of ways to make her use them. That is, if she even knows she has them. Hmm, he hadn't considered that.

But Alastor didn’t have time to dwell on the topic any longer since it was now Ginger’s turn to share.

“Okay. Well, let’s see. I really like history, particularly the 1920s. I enjoy reading and I like singing. 

Particularly the 1920s? My, my, isn’t that interesting—a sinner as young as her interested in history, especially a time when he was alive? That's a rare sight.

After she finished, it was his turn. As he explained his love for jazz and cooking, as well as torturing souls, everyone fell silent at that of course, he sure loved getting a reaction from the crowd. Charlie quickly tried to salvage the situation and decided to call it a night.

Before they could leave, Ginger reminded everyone that Alastor hadn't answered the first question. Everyone was shocked by her boldness, even Alastor. He couldn't decide if it was boldness or foolishness.

To ask such a thing from him, the feared overlord, the master tormentor, the Radio Demon—it took guts, he had to admit that. He decided to humor her forwardness.

"My, my, quite bold, are we?" he said, his tone laced with amusement. "Well, if you must know, I was a serial killer in the 1920s, cleaning the streets of New Orleans. I'm quite certain that's why I'm here." He said proudly. 

As Alastor observed Ginger's serene smile and listened to her nonchalant acceptance of violence against the cruel and wicked, he felt an unfamiliar sensation stirring within him. It was a peculiar mix of intrigue, admiration, and something else—something he couldn't quite place.

The idea that someone shared his perspective on the nature of sin and punishment was undeniably intriguing to Alastor. Here stood someone who not only understood his worldview but embraced it. How exciting.

After this pleasant surprise, everyone left to retire for the night. Ginger walked to the kitchen for a quick dinner. This was the perfect opportunity to set his plan to discover her powers in motion. He used his shadow magic to warp behind her, ready to spook her, when she greeted him without even looking.

How in the ever-loving hell did she know he was there?—he thought. Narrowing his eyes, he stepped closer to her, looking down at the fox demon who is so full of secrets. 

When he asked, she gave an unsatisfactory response: a lucky guess. He almost rolled his eyes at that. Right, like he would believe that. He'd find out soon enough.

Alastor then began his plan. First step: getting her out of the hotel. That should be easy enough. He owned her, after all; she needed to listen to him.

“I need you to pick up some fresh cuts of meat from the butcher for me tomorrow. I'll write down the address for you.”

He conjured a notebook and pen, ready to scribble down the location, when she gave him a skeptical response and questioned his intentions. This made him a little annoyed. Who was she to question him? She had no right. He owned her.

He reminded her that her curiosity would get her in trouble if she kept asking more questions. She responded with sass. Oh, that’s it. He had been nice, but she needed to be taught a lesson. After all, he was the one in charge here—she needed to learn some respect.

Alastor threatened her, turning into his more demonic form, getting up in her face and telling her it was best if she did what she was told.

And to that, she didn't even flinch, as if she wasn't standing in front of a terrifying, cruel overlord. Giving a nonchalant response, she agreed, but it left him confused as to why she didn't react. Most demons would be cowering away in fear by now.

He wrote down the location and left her. He needed to think about the next steps of his plan. Once in his room, he lit the fireplace and sank down in his chair.

Step one was completed; now it was time for phase two. Once she went to pick up the meat as he asked, he planned to send one of his rowdy souls after her. He'd send those souls who had tested his patience, a lesson long overdue, he thought. And if she tore them apart? Well, he wouldn't mind. In fact, he hoped she did.

"Oh, how I wonder what kind of powers she has," he thought out loud. 

As Alastor's thoughts drifted towards Ginger's potential powers, he couldn't help but imagine the myriad ways they could be utilized to his advantage. Each possibility sparked a new wave of excitement, fueling his curiosity and ambition.

He envisioned Ginger wielding elemental magic, conjuring flames to engulf their enemies or summoning storms to wreak havoc upon their foes. With such power at his disposal, he could easily dominate the battlefield, using the forces of nature to bend his enemies to his will.

Or perhaps Ginger possessed the ability to manipulate minds, weaving illusions to deceive their adversaries or bending their thoughts to her whim. With such a power, she could infiltrate the minds of anybody.

Alastor's mind raced with possibilities, each scenario more tantalizing than the last. As he contemplated the many ways Ginger's powers could benefit him, Alastor's ambition burned brighter than ever before. With her by his side, he could ascend to even greater heights of power and influence, his name echoing throughout the halls of Hell as a force to be reckoned with. But first, he needed to uncover the truth about Ginger's abilities, and he was determined to do whatever it took to unlock her secrets.

After about some time he decided to check up on her room.

Maybe he could reveal something about her. After all, a person's room often tells a lot about them. He rose from his seat, left his room, and began approaching Ginger's room.

As Alastor strode through the dimly lit corridors of the hotel, his shadow danced eagerly along the walls, its form undulating and twisting with an otherworldly grace. It moved in tandem with Alastor's every step, a silent companion that mirrored his movements with uncanny precision.

As they approached Ginger's room, the shadow seemed to pulse with anticipation, its movements quickening with an eager anticipation. It hovered near the door, casting a dark silhouette against the wood as if eager to delve into the mysteries that lay beyond.

Alastor's voice echoed softly in the corridor, his words punctuated by a faint chuckle that reverberated through the air. As he spoke, his shadow danced eagerly beside him, its movements fluid and graceful.

"She's very interesting, isn't she?" Alastor mused aloud, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "So full of secrets, and the longer I observe, the more questions appear."

His shadow seemed to sway in agreement, its form pulsating with a silent energy as if echoing Alastor's sentiments. 

Together, they stood outside Ginger's room, the anticipation palpable in the air as Alastor prepared to delve into the mysteries that laid beyond.

Holding his ear up to the door, he listened for any signs that might indicate she was still awake. Upon hearing light snoring, his smile widened. He began fading away into the shadows. Now in his dark incorporeal state, he reached under the doorway, trying to slide into the room. But as soon as he began slipping in, some sort of strong force ejected him. It was as if the very fabric of the magic repelled his intrusion, rejecting his shadowy essence with a forceful expulsion.

Thrown back against the opposite wall, Alastor's incorporeal form recoiled from the impact, momentarily stunned by the unexpected counterattack. Undeterred by the initial setback, Alastor attempted to regather his composure and make another attempt. Yet with each subsequent effort, the resistance only grew stronger, the strange magic proving to be a formidable obstacle to his shadowy form's entry. What the hell did she do to block HIS magic?

He started reforming into his physical form, clenching his fists in frustration. Stepping up to the door, he hovered his hand over it. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus, to see if he could feel anything magical. Surely enough, he began sensing a very strong locking seal on the entrance.

Opening his eyes, he began trying to reveal it. Maybe if he recognized the sigil, he could find a way to break it. The hand that was hovering over the door began to glow a soft green. Lifting his hand, he started moving it all around the wood, hoping to find the sigil's location.

As his hand reached the top of the door, a violet-colored glowing sigil revealed itself. So it was one hundred percent confirmed: Ginger was indeed someone who knew her way around magic. Judging by the fact that he couldn't recognize the marking, the lock kept him from entering, and the magic seal felt powerful. He knew she wasn't just some small fry witch—oh no, she was very strong. After all, keeping the Radio Demon out from anywhere was certainly an accomplishment.

As Alastor scrutinized the violet-colored sigil, he felt a palpable sense of power emanating from it. It wasn't just a simple ward; it was a formidable barrier, intricately woven with layers of protective magic. Each line and curve of the sigil seemed to pulse with energy, repelling any attempt to breach its defenses.

As he attempted to unravel the sigil's enchantments, he encountered resistance at every turn. It was as if the magic itself resisted his intrusion, pushing back against his efforts with a stubborn resilience. No matter how he tried to manipulate it, the sigil held firm, its protective barrier unyielding.

Frustration simmered beneath Alastor's calm exterior as he grappled with the realization that he was facing a foe of considerable power. The locking magic was not just keeping him out of the room; it was actively thwarting his attempts to understand it, a testament to Ginger's formidable abilities. With a sigh, Alastor withdrew his hand, acknowledging defeat for the time being. 

As he turned away from the door, his mind raced with possibilities. What other secrets lay hidden within Ginger's room, and what could they reveal about her true nature? Only time would tell, but one thing was certain: Ginger was not to be underestimated.

He started feeling glad he didn't eat her when he found her. But it made him wonder.

What else could she do?

Ginger's pov

As you slip into an unconscious state, it's as if you're descending into a soft, ethereal mist, cocooning you in its gentle embrace. Weightlessness overtakes your body, as if gravity has released its hold on your body. With each passing moment, your senses become hyper-aware, amplifying every sound, touch, and scent, pulling you deeper into the enchanting realm of dreams.

Once you fall completely asleep you find yourself surrounded by an ocean of blackness. As you swim through the boundless void, your mind clears like the dissipating mist, allowing you to focus with newfound clarity. 

With a whispered command of your imagination, the shapeless expanse begins to ripple and shimmer, as if responding to your words.

Slowly at first, tendrils of color emerge, painting delicate hues upon the empty canvas. Shades of emerald green intertwine with the deepest ebony, weaving a tapestry of shadows and light. The void trembles with anticipation, eager to take form under the spell of your creative will.

As your focus on the image you're trying to create the transformation quickens, and before your eyes, the formless void begins to coalesce into solid substance. Trees materialize from the darkness, their gnarled branches reaching skyward like ancient sentinels guarding the secrets of the forest.

Leaves unfurl in a symphony of verdant whispers, and the earth beneath your feet takes shape, soft and yielding to your touch. The air thrums with the pulse of life, carrying the scent of moss and damp earth on its invisible currents.

With a final surge of energy, the metamorphosis is complete—a dense, dark forest now stretches as far as the eye can see, its canopy of foliage obscuring the starry sky above. 

Stepping onto solid ground, you feel the damp earth beneath your feet, and the cool breeze blowing through your ginger hair. Your senses are immediately drawn to a soft, white glow hovering just ahead. The orb emits a gentle luminescence, casting flickering shadows upon the towering trees surrounding you. The orb floats effortlessly ahead of you, leading you deeper into the heart of the forest. As you follow its gentle guidance, the dense foliage begins to thin, revealing a clearing bathed in the silvery light of the full moon.

At the center of the clearing, you pause, mesmerized by the celestial beauty above. And as you gaze upon the luminous orb hovering before you, a presence begins to materialize—the figure of the Goddess emerges from the ethereal glow, her presence commanding the space around her. She is adorned with long, flowing black hair that cascades around her like wispy shadowy tendrils, moving with an otherworldly grace.

Upon her forehead, a shimmering moon sigil gleams with an ancient power, marking her as a divine being of lunar origin. Her long flowy dress, a radiant silver hue, seems to shimmer and glow, its incorporeal form appearing almost ghostly against the backdrop of the night.

She floats effortlessly above the forest floor, her gaze fixed upon you with eyes that are completely white, devoid of iris or pupils.

Surrounding her is a dark aura, vast and impenetrable, swirling with an intensity that speaks of depths unknown. She is the embodiment of darkness itself, not in its malevolent sense, but as its keeper.

She is Mona, the Moon Goddess. 

When she fully manifests before you, you bow to the powerful Goddess. As you raise your head, she extends her hand, and you watch in awe as it transforms. At first, it is an indistinct shadow, a mere silhouette in the dim light. Slowly, it begins to change, like smoke swirling and condensing into a solid form. The edges of the shadow blur and ripple, then start to coalesce, becoming more defined. Dark wisps of energy dance and weave together, gradually shaping into the delicate contours of a hand. The hand becomes fully corporeal, rich with the detail of veins, knuckles, and the soft, warm skin of a living being. 

She cups your cheek, and you lean into her touch, feeling the comforting dark energy seep into your very being. Calm washes over you, and your worries slip away under her warm, motherly touch.

She withdraws her hand and begins to speak, her voice resonating through the dark forest.

“What brings you here, my child?”

“I seek your guidance, Mother. I have descended into your realm, Hell. I’m trapped in a situation I cannot escape without your help. The coven of the Sun God, your brother’s worshippers, are here. They have cursed me, condemned my soul to rot away within a year. Please, Goddess, tell me you can help.”

You remove your clothes to reveal the sigil to the Goddess. She steps closer and with a delicate touch of her fingertips, tracing around the scar, she examines the curse. Her expression grows sorrowful as she reveals her answer.

“I’m sorry, my child, but the only one who's able to undo the spell is the one who casted, either by their own volition or by death.”

You felt your heart sink. Your coven, they would never forgive you, they have too much hate for you. And killing them? Well easier said than done, there's a lot of members and they are a lot more powerful than you are, especially together. It was hopeless. 

“No, no, no!” You groan in frustration, the tension gripping you like a vise. With a heavy heart, you bury your face in your hands, fingers digging into your scalp as if trying to alleviate the weight of your despair. Each breath feels labored, each moment filled with a sense of hopeless anguish that threatens to consume you whole.

It was all over, you're going to die in a year and there's nothing you can do. 

You feel a warm hand touch your shoulder, sending a calming energy through your spine. You sigh, gradually calming down from the Goddesses comforting touch. That's when you realize you are still in danger, the coven can still find you and drag you back to the torture cell. Not to mention not wanting to involve the hotel in this mess, that would surely end horribly.

You lift your head to look at Mona, a small empathetic smile on her face as she looks at you. You wipe off the tears that you just realized were rolling down your cheek. With a few sniffles and shaky breaths you finally gain back some composure. 

“There is another matter you might be able to help me with, Mother. I want to learn about my demon powers and how to use them. If the coven returns and tries to hurt me again, I need to be prepared. Could you please show me how to harness my powers?”

With a warm, reassuring smile, Mona extends her hand. As she does, shadowy tendrils emerge from her fingertips, weaving through the forest like hungry serpents. They consume the surroundings, devouring the familiar landscape until all that remains is a dark void. In this abyss, the only source of illumination is the faint, ethereal glow emanating from the Goddess herself.

“Let's begin," says the Goddess.

"To discover your powers, you must delve deep within yourself, exploring the darkest corners of your past. Take a deep breath and reflect, recalling your most grievous transgressions."

You inhale deeply, centering yourself, and begin to sift through your memories, navigating the murky depths of your past misdeeds.

As you focus on a particular memory, your surroundings shift. You and the Goddess materialize within the memory itself, witnessing your past unfold like scenes from a movie.

It's a memory of the first person you killed after massacring your coven. You wanted to steal his money since you were low on cash. The tavern you've been working in as a barmaid barely made you enough to get by. He was sitting at one of the tables close to the bar, already heavily inebriated. He was taller than you, but not by a lot, he was also a smaller skinnier build. Not a very attractive fella. He was known to be a drunkard, hitting on the barmaids, touching them inappropriately. He was the perfect target. 

Approaching him with measured steps, you wear a practiced seductive smile, your eyes gleaming with calculated allure. As you settle onto his lap, you can feel the weight of his gaze, clouded by intoxication, lingering on your form as the smell of sweat and ale filling your senses.

Leaning in close, you weave a tapestry of lies with your words, each syllable dripping with honeyed deceit. You stroke his ego, praising his strength and attractiveness, while subtly steering the conversation to your advantage.

With every whispered compliment, you draw him deeper into your web of deception, until he's putty in your hands, oblivious to the danger lurking beneath your facade.

After a few more drinks and a skillful exchange of words, you deftly pilfer the man's pouch without him even noticing, slipping away from the table with your prize in hand. Leaving the drunken mess of a man to his own devices, you disappear into the shadows of the tavern.

Days later, a group of men emerged from the doorway, stomping in angrily into the tavern. You recognized one of the men as the one you stole from a few nights ago. 

They approached you, shouting a growling demanding you give the guys money back. You try to calmly explain that you don't have the money. You tell them that you're poor and you work because your husband can't. You explained how you stole the money to buy medicine for him. They seem to ignore your words, throwing insults and threats your way. That's when the owner shows up and demands that they leave his tavern.

With a few more insults and profanities exchanged, the men left. After your shift finishes and you begin walking home, immediately feeling uneasy. Your intuition tells you to beware. Glancing over your shoulder, you catch sight of the men trailing behind, their menacing silhouettes growing ever closer. The men from the tavern hot on your feet as you speed up, eventually turning to a full sprint. Ducking into a narrow alleyway, you press yourself against the cold stone wall, breath coming in ragged gasps as you watch the men scour the area, their shadows looming ominously in the flickering lamplight.

One with a mustache comes close to your hiding spot. He's a lot bigger than the fella you robbed, he could easily overpower you. Sensing the need for a distraction, you whisper a barely audible incantation. A sudden loud bang reverberates from the other side of the street. Startled, the men pivot towards the noise, their attention diverted as they rush to investigate.

You have the chance to make your escape, but something mischievous starts bubbling within you. How much fun it would be to mess with them. You quietly run behind a tree, you begin slowly climbing it. From your elevated vantage point, you weave another spell, projecting your voice to the spot where you were originally concealed.

The men, drawn by the illusion, scramble to the empty hiding spot, their frustration evident as they find nothing. Delighting in the chaos you've created, you repeat the process, sending them on a wild goose chase around the alleyways. At some point your cheeks start hurting from smiling, trying very hard to keep the laughter escaping from your throat.

But soon, your amusement wanes, and you decide it's time to make your escape. With a final diversionary spell, you project the sound of running footsteps in the opposite direction, leading the men away as you slip quietly from your perch. As they give chase to the phantom sound, you descend from the tree, straightening your dress with a composed air, ready to disappear into the night.

As you descend from the tree, you're startled to find yourself face to face with the man you robbed days ago. 

“She's here!! The thief is— UGHH” instinct takes over and you swiftly plunge your pocket knife you always keep with you into his stomach.

He collapses, gasping for air, clutching his wound in agony. Despite the rush of power coursing through you, there's no time to revel in it. With a menacing smile, you turn to flee, but the approaching footsteps of the men from before hasten your departure.

As you sprint through the streets, desperation sets in, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your legs burning with exertion. With the men hot on your trail, you realize you can't outrun them for much longer. Frantically scanning your surroundings, your eyes alight on a nearby house with a clothesline adorned with drying garments.

Without hesitation, you dash towards it, ripping the men's clothing from the line and hastily donning the disguise. A hat pulled low over your brow completes the transformation, obscuring your features as you blend into the shadows of the night, evading capture once more.

“Hey, boy, have you seen a woman running this way?" 

The largest man pants, desperation evident in his voice. Without a word, you gesture in the opposite direction of your intended escape. They nod in gratitude, their footsteps quickening as they follow your false lead.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you hurry home, hastily packing your belongings as you prepare to leave the town behind. Before stepping out into the streets, you take a small knife and make a precise, deliberate cut across your palm, the pain sharp and immediate. Holding a deep bowl beneath your hand, you watch as the deep crimson blood drips steadily into it.

With your blood as the cornerstone of the ritual, you add rusty nails and rotten eggs, dried thorns and dead insects, a splash of vinegar, and a pinch of wormwood. These ingredients, potent and foul, amplify the dark energy of your spell.

Next, you write down the names of the men who pursued you, they were regulars so you have heard their names slip from their mouths. Placing the slips of paper into the bowl, each one soaking in the blood and other ingredients. The connection to your enemies is now tangible, their fate sealed within the mix.

Striking your flint and steel, you light the contents of the bowl. The flames flare up with an eerie glow, the blood sizzling and hissing as the hex activates. You watch intently as the fire consumes the mixture, the power of your blood magic sending waves of sickness and misfortune to the men who wronged you.

As the fire dies down to smoldering embers, you feel the energy of the hex solidify. With a final glance at the dying flames, you quickly duck out of your home, slipping into the night to begin your journey to another town, leaving the cursed remnants behind.

This was the first town you abandoned in such a manner. After three years of residing there, you depart due to a murder you committed, devoid of any remorse. It marks the beginning of a pattern, a cycle of fleeing from consequences that will repeat itself in towns to come. 

With the memory dissipating like smoke, shadowy tendrils throwing you into another.

As you delve into the next memory, the scene unfolds before you with chilling clarity. You find yourself in a dimly lit room, the air heavy with the scent of iron and decay. Your pulse quickens as you confront the man who dared to lay a hand on you.

It's 1886 and it's the first time you used your blood magic to kill someone. The man, Joseph, was someone you were fond of. You didn't exactly love him. No, the ability to love has been something you couldn't xperience anymore, and you'll be damned if you ever trust a man again. 

Either way he was somewhat close to you, but he mistook that friendship as something more. He tried to court you, not taking no for an answer. Joseph tried to get you to agree to go on a date with him several times, eventually he grew tired of you declining him and tried to use force against you. You two were in your home having a few drinks when he tried to kiss you. Pulling away from him only resorted to him grabbing you angrily to shove his lips against yours. You managed to escape his grip and knock him out quickly, he was out cold immediately as you broke a bottle of wine over his head. So that's where you were now, in the basement, with his form sprawled out on the cold altar table, bound and unconscious. 

It was the perfect time to try out a new ritual dedicated to the Huntress Goddess. You were trying to find a perfect victim after all, and of course not wanting to just kill any innocent rando, it was very convenient timing on his part really.

His face contorts in confusion as he begins to stir, awakening to find himself at your mercy.

As you stand before the bound man, his chest exposed on the altar, a tense silence fills the dimly lit basement. You can feel the weight of his gaze upon you, a mixture of fear and confusion flickering in his eyes. With a steady hand, you reach for your tools, the implements of your craft gleaming in the faint light.

“Why are you doing this?" he demands, his voice tinged with desperation. "What do you want from me?"

You pause, regarding him with a cool detached look. "What I want is of no consequence to you now," you reply, your voice low and steady. "You have trespassed against me, and now you must face the consequences."

His eyes widen in realization, a flicker of panic crossing his features. "Please," he pleads, his voice cracking with fear. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It was a mistake, I swear. We can fix this, go back to being friends." Joseph was begging like a pathetic puppy. Disgusting, he thought he could just have you, but what else did you expect from a man? They take what they don't own without hesitation or remorse. You are ready to make him pay for his actions.

You remain unmoved, your resolve unshakeable. "Words mean nothing now," you say, your tone devoid of emotion. Taking the sharp blade out of its sheet, a beautiful knife, with the handle made out of a deer antler, intricate symbols carved on it. "Actions have consequences, and yours have led you here.” you point the knife to his chest, you see his breath quicken, eyes widening, expression turning into that of a cornered animal. 

As you begin the ritual, his protests grow more frantic, his struggles against his bonds growing increasingly desperate, but you pay him no mind. Attaching the deer antlers to your victim, tying them to his head securely. You dedicated this animal, your perfect prey, to Fenja, the Huntress Goddess. Your focus is unwavering as you channel the dark energies swirling within you.

By offering this man's life to the Goddess, you will be granted protection from all dangers for an entire year. She will shield you from harm and guide you on the right path.

As the ritual reaches its climax, you draw upon the man's life force, draining his blood from his wrists with a steady hand. The crimson liquid flows into the deep bowl beneath him, pooling with dark intent as you prepare to channel its power.

With practiced precision, you carve intricate sigils into his chest, dedicated to the hunt, each stroke imbued with the ancient symbols of your craft. The man's skin yields to your touch, the marks etched into his flesh like a twisted tapestry of agony and despair.

With that you pick up your spell book, whispering incantations in an ancient language, praying to Fenja to grant you protection and to humbly accept the offering in trade. With the last words leaving your lips you hover over the man's sprawled out body. He's barely conscious because of the blood loss. With a savage determination, you reach for the sacrificial dagger at your side, its blade glinting in the dim light.

With a swift and merciless stroke, you plunge the deer bone dagger into the man's chest, tearing through muscle and sinew until you reach the prize you seek: his still-beating heart. With a triumphant cry, you wrench the heart from his chest, holding it aloft with a savage hunger in your eyes.

And then, without hesitation, you sink your teeth into the pulsing organ, tearing into its flesh with a primal ferocity. The taste of blood fills your mouth, a heady mixture of triumph and power coursing through your veins as you consume the man's essence. 

Your body quivers as a surge of power courses through you, each fiber vibrating with the intensity of the Huntress's magic. Your eyes alight with a mesmerizing hue of deep purple, as if infused with the very essence of the hunt.

The spell had worked, making that year incredibly peaceful. No one tried to expose you as a magic practitioner, you robbed and tricked people effortlessly, and you remained free from sickness and disease. It was perfect. The only downside was a little cannibalism, but with such a great payoff, why not? This ritual was just a modified version of what you did in the coven, where you used a raw deer heart instead of a human one. Somehow, the heart of this man gave you much more power than the deer’s. After that, you repeated the spell yearly.

As the memory begins to fade, reminders of past actions flicker into view, but before you can dwell on them for long, you're swiftly pulled into another memory, whisked away from the haunting echoes of the past.

As 1922 unfolded in New York, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. The roaring twenties were your favorite decade, even with the tragic things that happened, now you were witnessing its glorious resurgence. With anticipation bubbling inside you, you eagerly embraced the era's vibrancy and allure. It was time to relive the golden days of the twenties once again.

You were sitting on a barstool of your favorite speakeasy, sipping on bootleg hooch and whisky imported from England. The Blind Tiger was owned by a man who was famous all over New York. Marco Moretti, a notorious bootlegger, a cruel criminal who held the coppers in the palm of his hands, and insanely rich.

The velvety warmth of fine whisky caressed your throat, igniting a familiar thrill as you took another sip. A symphony of smoke and spirits swirled around you, mingling with the lively jazz melodies that pulsed through the air. Your finger traced the rhythm of the music on the table, echoing the fast-paced tempo. Amidst the sea of elegant suits and dazzling dresses, joyous laughter and spirited dancing filled the room, painting a vibrant tableau of revelry and indulgence. Ah what a time to be alive.

With a cigarette poised between your lips, you fished out your lighter from your bag, anticipating the comforting glow of a flame. However, despite your best efforts, the stubborn lighter remained unyielding, failing to spark. Frustration increases as you click it repeatedly.

*flick*

*flick*

*flick*

"Ugh, God damn it," you muttered, cursing the heavens for denying you the simple pleasure of a nicotine fix. Disheartened, you slumped forward, resting your head on the worn bar table. Suddenly, the faint sound of another flick and the crackle of fire caught your attention.

Raising your head, you leaned into the offered flame, finally igniting your cigarette. As a wave of calmness washed over you with each inhale, you glanced up to thank the gentleman responsible, only to realize you were face to face with an actual mobster, none other than Marco Moretti, the owner of the speakeasy.

“Thank you kindly, sir” you look at him and my my he was handsome too. 

“Of course Bella, it's my pleasure” he said, offering you a sweet smile.

As the night went on, you found yourself talking and laughing with him, the smoky haze of the speakeasy wrapping around you like a veil. Marco was more than just a notorious figure; he was magnetic, captivating, and before you knew it, you were drawn into his world.

You were good at deception and trickery, at least that's what you thought until you met him. But he was like a mastermind, always ten steps ahead, fooling everyone effortlessly. As you two got closer, Marco introduced you to the inner workings of his empire, teaching you the art of discretion and the finesse of manipulation. You became his confidant, his right hand, his partner in crime, and soon, the two of you were running New York together.

Horse races at Belmont Park became your playground. You and Marco would arrive in style, decked out in the finest attire. The crowds would part as you walked through, a power couple exuding confidence and control. You placed bets with an air of nonchalance, always seeming to know the right horse to back, thanks to the inside information Marco had at his disposal.

Nights were a spectacle of luxury and excess. Lavish balls hosted in grand mansions became the norm, where the city's elite mingled with the criminal elite under a veneer of propriety. You danced under crystal chandeliers, the jazz music lively as alway. Every event was an opportunity to forge alliances and reinforce your status.

But it wasn't just the glamor that defined your days. You were involved in the meticulous planning of heists and the orchestration of elaborate bootlegging operations. You learned how to navigate the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld, gaining a reputation for your cunning and ruthlessness. Together, you bribed officials, outsmarted rivals, and expanded your influence, making the Moretti name synonymous with both fear and respect all around the country.

One night, after a particularly successful operation that involved smuggling a massive shipment of whisky through the city's sewers, you and Marco stood on the rooftop of the Waldorf Astoria, looking out over the glittering skyline of New York. 

Marco turned to you, his expression serious. "We've come a long way, Bella. This city is ours for the taking, but we have to stay sharp. The higher we climb, the further we have to fall.” 

He pulled you close to his chest, kissed the top of your head. Your relationship with him was complicated. You two were necessarily a couple, but it wasn't friendship either.  It was a weird in-between thing you two had, since both of you knew that being together would do more harm than good. 

But you loved each other, maybe not in the romantic sense, but you cared for him deeply and he cared for you two. It felt like nothing could stop the two of you. That is until one fateful night tragedy struck.

It started as a routine operation, a delivery of bootleg whisky to a new speakeasy on the Lower East Side. You and Marco were confident, your plan meticulously crafted. But as you navigated the narrow alleyways, a trap was sprung. Rival gang members ambushed you. Gunfire erupted, the sharp cracks of pistols echoing off the brick walls.

Marco and you fought back fiercely, but you were outnumbered. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—this wasn't just a skirmish; it was an execution.

“Get out of here, Bella!" Marco shouted, shoving you towards a narrow escape route between two buildings. "I'll hold them off!”

“Are you insane Marco, this is suicide!” you protested, your heart pounding with fear and anger.

“Go!" he commanded, his eyes fierce and determined. 

Tears stung your eyes as you hesitated, but the gravity of the situation forced you to comply. With one last, anguished look at Marco, you fled, the sounds of gunfire and shouts fading as you ran.

You found refuge in an abandoned warehouse, heart heavy with dread. Minutes felt like hours as you waited, hoping against hope that Marco would emerge from the shadows, unscathed. But deep down, you knew the truth. He was gone.

The grief and rage from Marco’s death propelled you back to the Moretti mansion with a fierce determination to regroup and plan your next move. However, as you approached, the eerie silence and the flickering lights filled you with a foreboding sense of dread. The usually bustling estate was ominously quiet.

You stepped inside, and the scene that greeted you was nothing short of a nightmare. Bodies of Marco’s loyal men and women lay scattered, their lives brutally snuffed out. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, and your heart sank as you realized that the rival gang had struck again, this time with a devastating blow. 

Suddenly, rough hands grabbed you from behind, yanking you into the main hall where the leader of the rival gang, a menacing figure named Vito Rossi, stood smirking. His henchmen surrounded you, their faces twisted with malicious glee.

“Well, well, look who we have here,” Vito sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “The infamous queen of the Moretti empire. Too bad your reign ends tonight.”

They tied you to a chair, and Vito leaned in close, his breath hot and rancid against your face. “We’ve taken everything—your money, your power, your family. Now, we’ll take your life.”

Stupid fools, they should have known better than to mess with you. And what they did to the Moretti family, the closest people you deemed family in a long while. People who took you in, accepted your wickedness, welcomed it and loved you for who you are. And they butchered them. Now they think they are going to kill you too? I don't think so.

Your heart pounded with fury, but on the outside you remained calm, closing your eyes you focused on the incantation.

“Blood be still, body freeze, halt their will, bring them to their knees.”

The words rolled off your tongue in a whisper, and a sudden chill filled the room. Vito paused, confusion flickering across his face as the room filled with dread, the feeling of dark magic surrounding them. His men looked around uneasily, their bravado wavering

“What the hell is—” Vito’s question was cut off as his blood began to freeze in his veins. One by one, the gang members’ eyes widened in terror, their bodies locking into place as the spell took hold.

With a flick of your fingers, the ropes binding you to the chair snapped, falling to the floor with a soft thud. You stood, your expression cold and resolute, and walked over to Vito, who was now immobilized, his eyes filled with a mix of horror and disbelief.

“You underestimated me,” you said softly, your voice echoing in the silent room. “And now you’ll pay the price.”

With deliberate steps, you collected the bags of money they had stolen, securing them in a large satchel. The room remained deathly silent, save for the faint clicking of your heels on the tiled floor.

1928, you're sitting on a train, with bags full of cash and a broken life. Heading to New Orleans, changing your appearance, starting a new life. This wasn't the first time you've done this, so why does it hurt to leave? 

Even with the pain of losing someone so important to you, you find yourself happy in a bittersweet way. With deep breath you're ready to create a new life for yourself once more. 

The air is thick with the scent of smoke, mingling with the metallic tang of fear. Dark figures loom around a crackling bonfire, their distorted shapes dancing eerily in the flickering light. Voices rise in a cacophony of chants, their words twisted and distorted, sending shivers down your spine.

Amidst the chaos, a haunting sound cuts through the night air – the heart-wrenching cry of a child, its echoes reverberating through the darkness. You can feel the weight of despair pressing down on you as you strain to shut out the horrifying scene unfolding before you. Your breathing quickens, vision blurs as you drop to the floor. With your eyes trained on the ground, you pull on your ears, trying to ground yourself somehow as you relive the worst thing that happened to you.

Suddenly, there's a sickening gurgle, followed by a woman screaming, and then unsettling silence that hangs heavy in the air like a shroud. Your heart clenches as you realize the depth of the darkness that surrounds this memory, its tendrils reaching out to ensnare you in its grip. With a sense of dread, you shut your eyes tightly, trying to escape the haunting images that threaten to consume you whole.

That's when you feel a pair of hands grip you, yanking you from the deep dark memory. Tears are rolling down your cheeks, your heart rate slowing down as you realize that the Goddess pulled you out of the nightmare. Looking around you find yourself back in the void, Mona close to you, comforting you after the painful reminder of your past. 

“It seems this is not something we're ready to look through. Moving through memories like this can be dangerous if we get too lost in them. They can pull you in, making you relive them forever. I needed to pull you out when you reacted in such a manner.” 

You turn towards the Goddess, slowly coming back to your normal self, pushing down the thoughts of pain and suffering. 

“Was it enough revisiting to know what kind of demon magic I have?” You ask tiredly, hoping that you don't have to jump to another memory again.

“Yes, it will be enough”replied the Goddess.

“So, what kind of magic do I possess?“

“What is it that you've observed my child?” Asked the Goddess.

“I tricked them. I used my words, my magic, my womanly charms and my resourcefulness and fooled all of them. And once I was done, I changed my appearance and my name and moved away, just to do it all over again. Those who deserved my help, I protected fiercely and those who crossed me paid the price.”

“And what kind of power would you possess if this is what you did in life”

“Trickery?” You ask.

The Goddess Mona, with her ethereal glow and an air of timeless wisdom, smiles at your realization. "Indeed, trickery is your gift," she affirms, her voice a melodic whisper that reverberates through the obsidian walls of the training room. "The power of trickery is multifaceted and incredibly potent. Let me explain the abilities you can harness from it."

She raises her hand, and a cascade of shimmering shadows forms a delicate, intricate web in the air. The web is a mesmerizing tapestry, each thread pulsating with a different hue, weaving a vibrant display of color and shadow. The strands are as fine as spider silk, interlacing in complex patterns that shift and shimmer as they move.

"First, you have the ability of Illusions," she begins, her fingers dancing through the threads. "You can manipulate the senses of others, creating images and sounds that deceive and confuse. With practice, you can even craft entire landscapes, making your enemies question their reality."

A thread of silver light glows brighter, and she touches it gently. "Next is Shape-shifting. You have the power to alter your appearance at will, adopting new forms to blend in, evade capture, or mislead. This ability goes beyond mere disguise; you can mimic voices, mannerisms, and even the aura of those you emulate."

The web shifts, and a dark, almost invisible thread comes to the forefront. "Then there is Invisibility. By bending light and shadow, you can render yourself unseen. This can be momentary, a flicker to avoid detection, or sustained to move unseen through the world."

Mona's hand moves to a vibrant, glowing thread of pink. "You also possess Charm and Persuasion. This isn't just about speaking convincingly; you can infuse your words with magic, compelling others to see things your way, believe your lies, or even act against their own interests. With this, you can sway the minds and hearts of those around you."

Finally, she touches a deep crimson thread, pulsating with a dark energy. "And then there is Blood Bending. This is unusual but since you used your blood in your craft while you were alive it is not surprising that you possess this gift. This rare and formidable power allows you to manipulate the blood within living beings. You can control their movements, immobilize them, or even inflict pain. This ability is incredibly dangerous and must be wielded with the utmost caution. It gives you dominion over life itself, turning your enemies into mere puppets under your command."

Mona lets the web dissolve, its threads dissipating like mist. She steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. "These are your gifts, the powers of trickery. They are tools for survival and conquest. But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. Use them wisely, my child."

“Thank you Goddess, I really appreciate your help” you bow to her in gratitude as the space shifts again, returning to the dark forest. 

“I think it's time you returned to the real world now, child. You should practice your powers.” 

Without much time to process her words, She snaps her finger and you're jolted awake from your bed. 

Oh my, you're quite a powerful demon. 

[reveregret]

Hi! I read through everything, not sure how to incorporate fester or lichen but I figured I should either way, I had a ton of questions about you if that's okay because I've rarely met other people who I relate to on their posts, my immediate question being how did you come to terms with your obsessive feelings? Hope that's okay, have a great day either way :p

oh, hello! you're totally welcome to ask all that you'd like, i'm happy to answer. i usually take a while to write everything out, but i'll do my best. thanks for reading through including those words, too, even if you weren't sure how. i appreciate it!

the idea of "coming to terms" with my obsessive feelings is definitely an interesting way to put it. i can tell you some of the story of how i've realised and dealt with it, but i'm still working on finding peace with it. this turned out pretty long, and i'm not sure if this is what you were asking for, but i hope this helps.

living with obsession

from a very young age (as early as 4 or 5 years old), i've been prone to glorifying friends or peers. typically just one at a time, but nonetheless. someone would catch my attention, and i'd want to know absolutely everything about them and be as close to them as possible. it wasn't really a big deal this early on because it's normal for kids to be clingy and jealous, but it never really went away for me. i'm not sure how reasonable it was then, either. even at 5, i was willing to change myself for the person i was obsessed with. fortunately it was as simple just a haircut at the time, but i consider that somewhat of a turning point.

when i was around 7-10, i managed it even less healthily, because i didn't know how to. i lost a lot of friends because of the way i would lash out at any perceived rejection. i was fixated on one friend in particular, even a year after they stopped talking to me. i didn't realise i was supposed to let go. everyone around me told me i was in the wrong, but i didn't understand why. i just knew my friend had left me.

from 12-16, though, my settings were different and my obsessions were much more passive, but much more dangerous too. one of the problems from the prior paragraph was my tendency to suicide-bait, but i never intended to follow through. for these years, however, there were multiple times i did attempt and these were the years where the stalking began. well, in a more genuine sense, as i finally had the means to.

i didn't actually like the people from my early teens, but it was a situation i was stuck in and i generally developed a lot of bad habits. i didn't want to go home immediately after school, so i would follow other people instead. i learned other people's routines and pieced them together. i remember i got in trouble once for taking pictures of a few people. not because they spotted me, but my guardians found it in my phone. so i stopped doing that.

although my friend from 7-10 is still a very significant example of me being unable to let go, i think 16 onward is almost more so, just in a slightly different way. a few circumstances lined up, and i found myself obsessed with a friend. i hadn't cared all too much for them before (we weren't even acquainted for a long time), but suddenly they defined my life. since we knew each other, there was only so much i could do that didn't give me away, but they caught on anyway. we stopped being friends after they thought i was trying to follow them home (which i ironically wasn't in the instance they provided, but nonetheless).

reflection and acceptance

i learned from all of these former years not to be open with these feelings and how to be more discreet with them, but unfortunately not how to avoid them or the habits i always fall into.

even after i lost someone, i've usually fallen too far into a spiral and the obsession doesn't quite end cleanly. it can latch onto someone else instead. when i started this blog, that was the case. it was someone i didn't know personally, which made it easier to get away with things. that only enabled me further. i practically consider stalking an addiction with how out of hand it gets, but it typically pertains to the person i'm obsessed with or anyone associated with them.

i've accepted that these are thoughts and feelings i deal with, and that i'm not the most morally sound person. i didn't use to understand what the problem was, or why everyone thought my care was overbearing or even hurtful. all i knew is that i considered someone very significant to me in one way or another. i simply accepted this as a part of myself, but a part of myself that wasn't well-tolerated. when i was 16, i joined yanblr on a different blog. i felt a sense of belonging because i found posts closer to how i felt than anyone i knew ever understood.

i still feel slightly estranged, honestly, considering all the disclaimers most blogs have. usually it's a simple "i don't condone these behaviours", but i find that a lot tends to be fictionalised or characterised into the yandere trope. sure, i use characterisation in my posts, but many of the thoughts are reflective of something much more real for me.

i wouldn't say i'm proud of it, but because it's something i've dealt so intensely for so long, i consider it part of my identity. who i am as a person, i guess. i admire others intensely and invasively. for lack of better phrasing, i live for and through them. it's kind of like i rely on another to find meaning or motivation, in a way. not to suggest i can't do anything myself, though. it's more finding something to look forward to, things being mundane otherwise. when i was younger, i held onto people to a detrimental extent, but learning to see it like the sun is helpful. it makes things bright, gets you through the day, but isn't always around.

[greywindys]

i don't want to defend the antis but another thing to consider: 2doc fanfic pre-P4 was mostly problematic and turned off a lot of gz fans that could have been shippers. more fans came around to the ship once 2doc fanfic became more mainstream.

Yeah, it's all good! You're bringing up another point I meant to address in my last answer. As odd as it might be to imagine, writing Murdoc in a more empathetic light, writing a narrative for 2Doc where they both get to healthier space, experimenting with different power dynamics, was pretty rare pre-P4. It was easier for both fans and anti-fans to develop a one-dimensional image of 2Doc. There definitely were writer that didn't follow the formula pre-P4, but you had to do some digging to find them (but they are amazing for being some of the first). So writing TA, for that particular period in 2Doc history, was going against the grain a bit. So at the time, I was definitely trying to find ways to make it feel more familiar, even though my intent was to ultimately provide a layered portrayal of Murdoc and 2D (yes, I was thinking of ways to write mean!2D, but in a way that could make sense to cinnamon roll!2D enthusiasts).

I'll be honest, idk exactly what the 2Doc fandom is like today, but I'm going to imagine there's more variety, but even if there's not. The 2017-2019 era was the era that brought out the most diverse 2Doc fanwork, to the point of making some newer fans think bemoan "alternative 2Doc's" existence as being "all there was," which was wild to me because we were, and likely still are, the minority. I remember thinking like..if you're upset about it, just go read any other fic on ffnet lmao. But yeah, basically, this widened 2Doc's reach and made it a lot easier for the ship to achieve the level of visibility it has today.

The one thing I will add some more clarity to is 2Doc being "problematic." I would say that, no matter how it's being depicted, the ship IS problematic. The only real difference is how far a writer or artist is choosing to evolve both characters. But the foundation will always be unhealthy and understandably not for everyone. But I'm happy to have more fans who may have been more skeptical of the ship initially. Oh, and the early type of 2Doc has value and is part of its history, though it's okay not to like it (I find it kinda boring and not very thought-provoking personally)

[junheedz]

*taps mic* good evening, gamers! i'm super excited to be here for dazzle's opening night and equally jazzed to introduce you to kwon junhee, better known as jason, 5ummit's lead vocal, lead dance and center!

as is good practice i present you a meagre offering of a sparknotes version of their past under the cut and a link to their profile here — no plots because i ran out of time :,( but i'm very happy to figure out something personalised just for your muse and junhee, just leave us a like as a little show of interest!

i'm not great with tumblr's dm system, so if you have discord or twitter i'd greatly appreciate switching to there for any in-depth plotting! if not, that's a-okay, we'll make it work anyway.

you can also find me writing sol.etude's jihan over here!

trigger warnings for a mention of parental neglect and the consequences that come with it.

i'll be using any of the big three pronouns for them interchangeably since junhee is nonbinary, but for work purposes they very much go by he/him and right now i don't think their gender identity is all that much at the forefront of their conscience.

the second child of trot star kim eunju and her producer husband kwon joonho. his primary caretakers were his paternal grandparents since his parents were usually busy with work.

dealt with a lot of parental neglect growing up — or, perhaps the point should be to emphasize that they didn't. for most of the part, junhee tries to avoid dealing with as much emotional baggage related to her family as possible.

junhee was a lonely child and prone to picking fights with his grandfather and older brother. their grandmother was the one family member who never had a hard time connecting to junhee, but it still made for a pretty socially isolated and emotionally difficult childhood.

originally didn't mean to go into the entertainment industry having seen how self-absorbed and selfish it made her mother but was scouted on the street by a smaller company at 16. becoming an idol was whatever to them at the time, but it was a ticket out of their home situation so they went to the audition anyway — and got into the company.

lost their grandfather soon after. as difficult as their relationship had been, junhee knew that he'd been very supportive of "junhee doing whatever makes him happy", especially in the light of their mother being vehemently against the idea of perhaps having to share the spotlight with her child. training became a matter of honouring their grandfather after that.

would've been on the roster to debut under their old company anyway but when auditions for top five opened they were encouraged to apply just to give their company and future group a little bit more press alongside two fellow trainees (who did not find the same kind of success on the show).

wasn't a crowd favourite from the get-go but by the middle of the show it was pretty clear that he'd have to mess up big time not to be voted into the debut line-up. they had a bit of a magikarp arc where they were pretty mid but learnt very quickly and showed not only consistent improvement but also a lot of patience and enthusiasm, even with trainees that were generally considered more "difficult", so to say.

and now he's here, about to debut! baekho hasn't changed much about the image they left top five with, the human golden retriever-turned-hellhound on stage thing works great for junhee and takes very little acting on their end — which is great, because junhee is many things but a good actor is not one of them.

at a first glance junhee is super easy to get along: good-natured, patient, usually smiling and eager to please. she also has a host of really badly processed anger issues that very rarely come out to play, but when they do they usually have really bad consequences and junhee hates hates hates what their anger makes them into.

they're still super new to the entertainment industry as far as being an actual someone (tm) goes. everyone remotely famous they meet is a big deal to them and if a senior voices praise for anything he does he will remember it for the rest of his life.

making friends is… a little harder? junhee wants friends! they want friends very badly, actually! but it's a little scary to get close to others when you know you harbour this big, ugly rage monster inside you and you're still trying to cosplay the winner of a prestigious survival show and survive debut prep— you kind of see where i'm going here, right? junhee wants to make friends, but right now she's also very overwhelmed and scared and only just learning how fucking draining idol work truly is.

it's a learning curve. they're on it. call them magikarp junhee because they'll learn super fast and then they'll evolve into the gyarados of making friends! their words, not mine.

[mostly-comfort]

i was a little shy and indecisive in my previous ask ^-^' whoops haha i had REALLY better make a decision or you'll be pushed for time more than you probablynalready are ^-^'

if there is still a slot available, could i please request a lil halloween doodle of my boi pete?

his profile is linked in his fic masterpost, shifting phases, which is linked in my masterpost over on my sideblog @emcscared-whumps

it has a few references included, but i can send more specific ones and answer any questions later on if you need (and in that case, how would you prefer to receive them? is tumblr dm okay?)

and then, could i also request some info and refs on your boi?

thankyouuuuu, have a happy halloween :)))

it's np!! i only have 2 spots filled so far, this'll be the third (i decided to have 5 spots total)

i read through his profile (love how detailed it is!), and i was wondering if he has regular teeth or not? ik some ppl like to give their mer/mer-like characters sharp teeth, or fangs sometimes

also, i noticed in one drawing, he has white streaks in his hair! is that later on or would you consider it to be part of his default appearance?

i realized u can't dm sideblogs, so i can message u with my main or keep using regular or private asks, whichever u prefer!

u just opened up pandora's box by asking me abt my sad boy [rubs hands together]

unfortunately i don't have any refs beyond what i drew, but he just has typical vampire traits (red eyes, claws, very pale, etc)

in my universe, vampires are more biologically plausible, so they have adaptations and they're mostly limited to what's natural. they aren't immortal, can't turn humans into vampires, etc. though it's not completely realistic, otherwise this story wouldn't exist lol

vampires can live to 1000 years. they're hardy, they can take injuries that would be fatal to a human (though they feel just as much pain), and are difficult to kill. yet that's exactly the problem for our unfortunate guy :)

hunters imprisoned and tortured him for over 300 years, never granting him the mercy of death. he's now merely a shell of who he once was, and he has no memory of his past or who he was (and honestly, i don't know either lmao)

as you may know, being tortured for centuries leaves irreparable trauma/mental damage, not only making him lose his memories but rendering him incapable of fending for himself. he can barely function, can hardly say anything other than apologies or pleas, etc. i think his brain has even lost significant mass (i have no idea if this is even possible but let's go with it lol)

in present day, he's out of there and with a caretaker, though i'll share more about that later, or if i ever get around to writing his story lmao

personality

he's perpetually nervous, which is the understatement of the century (ironic)

very conditioned, struggles to articulate sentences, or just thinking in general

obedient, quiet, timid ofc. as time goes on, he becomes curious, likes being in nature

extremely dedicated to caretaker, probably to the point of unhealthy codependency

appearance

longish, messy, black, wavy hair

red eyes, slit pupils (they can dilate like a cat's)

pale skin

wears a tracking collar

vampires rarely scar, unless the injury is repeated or severe enough. so of course he has a deep scar on his face from when the hunters forced him to wear a silver muzzle pretty much the whole time

also has scars around neck, wrists, and ankles from wearing silver cuffs/collar

scarred, crooked fingers

fun facts

he thinks of himself as an 'it' for a long time, even though caretaker doesn't think of him as such

his behavior is quite instinctive/creature-like. he scents, he likes climbing trees, sitting in the moonlight, bringing back leaves, twigs, feathers, etc

fuck it, vampires can purr. if u couldn't tell, i'm heavily inspired by cats lmao

when he learns to read again, he develops a liking for stories

has issues with feeding, tries his best to hide his fangs, really he just has problems with everything that makes him a vampire sadly

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Comms

Title: Comms

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN! Teen reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: PG

Warning: Cursing, mention of wounds, blood, scared Mando.

Description: In an unexpected raid, Din finds himself unable to find his foundlings and searches for them.

Request: Hey! I love your stories and thought that I would submit a request myself. So this is about Din having a teen foundling/adopted child. They’ve known each other for a little over a year now and even if they don’t show it a lot they’ve grown attached to each other. So this particular story would be about the foundling nearly dying and Din being a scared Dad (I hope you get what I’m going for. Kind of a fluff/Angst story with comforting afterwards😅)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took forever to write, I've been travelling and my computer has been messing up so I have not had time to write at all. Anyways, here it is! I hope it's to your liking. It took me awhile for inspiration to hit but I am pretty happy with how it ended up. Enjoy!

....

“Okay kid, what do we do when we get in trouble?”

“Call for help and signal our location.”

Call for help and signal your location. That was all you were supposed to do, the one rule Din gave for you before he took you along with him anywhere outside of the safety of the Razor Crest. He considered himself lucky that you rarely wandered off without letting Din know where you were going, and that you always seemed to be able to handle most dangerous situations on your own. Maybe it was because you fretted to be too much of a bother for Din, seeing as he took you in almost a year ago when he could have easily left you. Din didn’t see it that way, if he was honest. You were valuable to the group, taking care of Grogu and the ship when Din could not, and he believed it his duty to protect all on the ship. Only once or twice did you call for him, and he was quick to come to your aid.

He did not think that today would be the day where his timing risked your life.

The Mandalorian found himself aiding a local trading village with a raider issue in exchange for information about a bounty he’d been pursuing. He’d led a group of men over to what they’d suspected to be the raider’s hideout and set up for an ambush. The Entrance of the cave’s dunes felt barren, and only after the mens’ legs grew sore from crouching and backs ached from huddling in the dark was it that Din began to suspect something was wrong. The quiet environment was abnormal behavior to the raiders he’d encountered before, no doubt this specific group would be any different.

“They’ll see you!”

Startling the men surrounding him, Din shot into the air and stalked the vicinity. The dunes’ walls stretched for meters long as he kept his piece raised, occasionally scanning weak spots for life forms or any piece of equipment. He paused, frowning a moment when his scanner detected nothing.

That was the first sign that things weren’t going as planned that day.

“...hiss…”

“...m..do... v.llage... here…”

There was the second.

Din raised his arm to speak into his comms.

“Y/N?” Nothing but static came back from the comms. Din fidgeted and smacked it a couple times before grunting in frustration.

Damn, comms were jammed.

Wait, they were jammed.

And in a moment of a horrible realization, Din was quick to grab the men and make their way back to the village. When they arrived they found the village in chaos- buildings were burning, villagers running, and materials and pieces and bodies strewn across the ground. For a moment, Din froze in fear and worried that you were on the ground as well, your comms still ringing static and Grogu taken from you, lost to the raiders, or worse, the Empire.

Din quickly made his way throughout the village, barely rounding the first corner when a group of raiders assaulted him. He threw punches at the first raider, using their momentum to kick them hard into another. After several dodges and shots from his blaster, most of them were dead aside from one that laid on the ground and clutched his blasted leg.

Din marched over and pressed his blaster against the wound. “Where are the hostages being held?”

As it turned out, the raiders had no plan of keeping hostages. When Din finally tracked the building where captives were supposedly held, he was unable to remain collected when he found that you and Grogu were nowhere to be found. Instead, he stood before raiders responsible for the attack, their blasters disturbingly put away as they argued amongst one another. Din didn’t bother listening, he looked around but saw no sign of his foundlings.

“Wrong door.” He said simply before taking out his blaster and shooting the raiders.

Pocketing his piece Din ran out of the stronghold and went outside, calling for you and Grogu. He thought about the worst possible scenarios that could have happened to you two as he took out the raiders pillaging the village, until all but one remained, the leader. He found him in the main courtyard of the village, his face hidden though his body seethed with labored breaths. He stood there for several moments before Din heard one last labored breath before the leader’s legs buckled beneath him and he slumped to the ground with a sickening crack of skull on stone. Hm? Din didn’t know what to make of this, and further stalked over, hand on blaster, examining the body. Upon closer look a blaster wound to the stomach was made more visible. So, someone got to the leader before Din could. That leaves the question… who?

A quick look around the area pointed out a trail of blood.

The Mandalorian followed this trail without any real reason behind it.

He found the remainder of the villagers at some point along the way. Sullen masses of faces mixed together, mourning the loss of their villages and lost ones but kept busy with treating the wounded. Women sat in huddles cooking with what food was salvaged and children sat quiet. One stood out apart from the rest in Din’s eyes, a large male leaning over a group of medics. Din recognized him as Cyrukee, the villager’s chief, who noticed the lone bounty hunter from the corner of his eye and stood up. In his arms was the most beautiful thing Din had seen all day, Grogu. The baby gurgled in joy as he walked up to the chief.

“There you are.” Din didn’t realize that he was holding his breath when he sighed in relief, taking Grogu into his arms.

“Sir.” Cryukee barely got a word out before Din turned to him.

“I’m looking for a youngling- my kid. Have you seen them?”

“Sir, please.”

“They’re this tall,” Din rears a hand near to your height, “they were with this little green baby. Your husband, he took them to the school. Where is he?” The Mandalorian made a full turn around to look for the red robed headman who was last responsible for your care. He reached for his comms and tried to reach you again. His voice rang back at him, and in a terrible moment of realization he realized that that was your comms.

“Where are they?”

“Sir, let me explain.” Cyrukee wore an exasperated expression and looked as though he was about to speak before one of the medics from the group he was with requested to speak with him. He spared a glance at Din as though he struggled whether or not to say something. And then, Din followed his arm towards the medics he was just with. Din didn’t know what to make of it, not able to recognize any of them. The Mandalorian took one last look at the chief, whose grave expression gave him reason to worry, and slowly walked towards the group of medics. He buzzed through the comms, trying to pinpoint your location. As he got closer he heard medics speak in soothing voices and their patient hyperventilating. Had it not been his own voice coming from the center of the personnel he would have moved on, instead he could not find the will to move. Grogu looked at him expectantly.

One medic in particular took notice of the beskar-armored man. He and some others quickly got up and pushed Din away before he could force his way through the medics to take a look at you.

“Hey, wait-wait-please.” Din grunted at the force and staggered several steps back. He took a moment to collect himself and Grogu sneezed in his arms. Dust must have gotten into his nose during the scuffle. “Please, my ward- my kid. That’s my kid.”

“Just a moment,” one of the bloodied nurses kept her hands on Din’s chestplate longer than he would have liked. He didn’t push her away though.

“I need to see my kid.” Din looked her in the eye, hoping that she could see his desperation through his helmet.

His kid. When Din looks back on this he would think about how he’s never referred to Y/N as his own before. He would have liked to think he said that so the nurses allowed him to pass easier. But deep down, he knew it was because of how much he cared for them.

“I understand but please let me explain. Sir, Sir!” Din retreated in defeat on his second attempt to get past her and the other nurses. She stared into his eyes and patted his shoulders, Din didn’t know whether she was trying to comfort him or control his movements. “They’re traumatized enough right now, and you moving around in that armor of yours will only make it worse.”

“What happened to them?”

“They had an encounter with Jetwal,” Din’s blood boiled at the recognition of the raider’s leader who’d died before him. “according to the children, your child was leading them to the outskirts when he found them. They killed him, he was threatening the children, and they shot him. Now, listen to me. They did get injured. Several blaster wounds to their limbs and upper torso- sir, listen please I cannot allow you to go to them just yet- they’re still panicking right now but I assure you their wounds are being treated right now. They’ll be fine, but disrupting our work will only inhibit us from treating them properly.”

She watched his gaze linger to the sound of your crying. “How much longer until I can see them?”

Din was not pleased to find that he was only allowed to see you when the nurse came for him herself. Reluctantly he walked a little farther away from the medics when asked to give them more space, and sat down with Grogu bouncing on his knee next to a young Twi’lek running their hands over their lekku to soothe themselves. Between glancing at the medics to keeping Grogu entertained, Din didn’t realize how much time had elapsed before noticing the nurse had come to his side to collect him.

She took a seat next to him. “They’re hurt very badly, but with time their injuries will heal. All they need to do is rest. You can see them now.”

Grogu giggled and played with the nurse’s finger that was threateningly wiggling on his little tummy. “Can you take him for a moment?”

Din stood up and gave Grogu a pat on his little head and rubbed his large ears out of habit. Something you used to do to calm the little green alien down after a terrible meltdown. Even under his helmet Din smiled at the alien before dredging towards you. You laid on a pile of fabrics that functioned as a makeshift cot, but you looked like you had a pile of fabrics on you with the amount of bandages that wrapped your body. You didn’t notice Din approaching you as you stared straight into the sky. Din wondered what you were thinking. What could you be thinking? From his knowledge, this was your first time dealing with major injuries from blasters. It must have made this whole ordeal so much more frightening to you.

Maybe Din was too light on his feet, recoiling instantly when you jolted at his touch and groaned in pain.

“It’s me, it’s me.” His voice was soothing, even more than normal which surprised him.

A sort of wheeze escaped your lips and you coughed. “Mando.”

“Hey kid.”

“I tried calling for you.” A gasp. “They jammed the frequencies.”

“Your message barely came through, kid. But it made us realize what was going on. We got here before more damage could be done because of you.”

Your form relaxed. “Good, good. Grogu?”

“With a nurse.” “The one with the sweet voice.”

“Yeah.”

“I liked her voice-” A cough. “Sounds like my mom’s. She was nice. She helped calm me down.” At this point Din had stared at you long enough to realize how puffy your eyes were from crying. He didn’t stop himself from reaching over to brush your H/C hair out of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“I’m pretty fucked up, huh?”

Your eyes were already locked onto his when he met your gaze. A tick passed, and Din’s eyes fell to the wounds you were referring to. He shook his head. “No, kid. That’s not what you are.”

“Feels like it.” Din scowled at your words.

“There are too many fucked up people in the galaxy, kid. You´re not one of them.” You look at him with a raised brow. “Y/N, you barely have any combat experience yet you took on Jetwal? What were you thinking?”

And you said something that surprised him.

“I was thinking of you.”

And Din couldn’t find any words. He cleared his throat and you continued, “We were alone and I had no idea when you’d come, I was scared something had happened to you because I couldn’t get a hold of you through the comms and that guy was coming at us and-” You inhaled sharply, wincing at what Din assumed was a jab in one of your wounds but he didn’t know how to help. You calmed a moment later, closing your eyes and furling your brows together. “I thought about what you would have done if you were there. You always looked like you knew what to do.”

To say that Din was proud of you would have been an understatement, he was beaming wonders underneath his helmet but realized that you couldn’t see through the beskar.

“I thought I’d lost you both.” Din admitted. “But I’m very proud of you. You saved lives, Y/N. That’s no easy feat for someone of your age.”

You grinned at him and laughed. “Did you do something like this when you were my age?”

“Yes, but I didn’t end up as fucked up as you did.” “Hey!” Din laughed and raised his forearm to block your playful hits.

A moment of silence falls between the two of you before you look at Din again. “Do you know how long we’ll be here for?”

“With your injuries, no clue. I’ll talk to the medics and Cyrukee to see what is to be done.”

“Okay.” You nodded, your fingers twitching involuntarily. Din’s hands find their way to your hair again. “Mando, I’m tired.”

“Rest. I’ll be here with you.” He watches you half-heartedly nod at his words and doze off in a matter of seconds. The injuries have taken a toll on your body, Din suspects, and he pulls a sheet over you. He sits with you, watching villagers talk amongst themselves, speaks with those who come by to thank him for his help, and accepts Grogu from the nurse when she comes over, thanking her for all she’d done for you. She told him that a thank you was not owed to her, and that if you were to need anything she was only a call away.

And when he was finally left alone, Mandalorian took one look to take account for his two foundlings. They slept soundly and with luck, heads full of dreams. Most importantly, they were safe in his care once again.

Din realized he’d been holding in a breath, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

.....

Taglist:

@kiara-is-gay @pcotato @sagedgeek

[ibuki-loves-you]

Trigger Happy Havoc Girls with an S/O who is like Mikan

Warnings: Mikan's personality/actions

Mod Ibuki: Hey hey hey!! Sorry for the long wait on this :/ I hope it was worth it, though!

Kyoko:

Kyoko was immediately worried for your safety

She had a lot of questions

Why were you so shy? Had you been through something?

She kept those questions to herself though

If someone ever made fun of you, she’d glare

Literally just walk up to you, wrap on arm around your waist and the other on your arm

And glare

If you ever took a fall in front of her she’d carefully lean down and help you up, suggestive or not

Although she might blush a bit if it was a suggestive position

“There, you’re alright. It was just a small trip, thankfully.”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she would be appalled

“Love, I don’t want you to take your clothes off because I’m not in a particularly good mood. Bad moods are normal, that doesn’t mean you take your clothes off every time it happens. Don’t offer that to me unless you personally want to do it.”

Kyoko is not someone you can look at and feel as if she’s mad at you, because she makes it clear if she is

But if you did think she was, she’d be pretty upset

“No, love. I’m not mad. You did absolutely nothing wrong. Nothing at all. I honestly don’t think I can be mad at you. You just seem to make everything better.”

Kyoko’s heart skips a beat whenever you’re around <3

Hina:

Hina LOVED YOU

The minute you two met she did not let you out of her sight for long periods of time

She was just worried someone would hurt you or take advantage of you

If someone ever made fun of you, she’d be so mad

No one wants to deal with mad swimmy baby

“That is so rude, you know!? That was completely uncalled for! There was absolutely no reason to say that! Now apologize!”

If you ever took a fall in front of her, she would honestly fall too just to make you feel less embarrassed

She’d cover you if need be, though

Either with clothing or with herself when she “falls”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d be in shock

Mainly because you offered it to her because you thought she was upset

“What!? Please, S/O, no! Don’t say that! Taking your clothes off won’t make me feel better, cuddles will! Get over here! Because of that statement, I demand you let me cuddle you!”

If you ever thought Hina was mad, which is rare, she’d he so upset

“Baby! No! Not at all! I could never be mad at you! I swear! Your face is just too adorable to be mad at!”

Swimmer baby just wants your happiness above all

Celestia:

Celeste would never admit it if anyone asked

But she loved you the minute she laid eyes on you

Your personality only made her want to be with you more

Not many people dared to bother you, but if an unlucky soul did try to do such a thing…

Celeste would give them a run for their money

“Are you fucking kidding me!? How dare you!? Why don’t you crawl back into whatever ditch you crawled out of and leave my significant other alone! Do I make myself clear!?” She’d turn to you and give you a soft smile. “Come on, dear. Let’s go get some tea to cheer you up, yes?”

If you fell in front of her, she wouldn’t be able to catch you without falling herself, but she’d immediately take your hands and help you up

“Come now, darling. Don’t cry, it was an accident. Everything is alright.”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, it would take a second to click

But once it did her reaction was similar to Kyoko’s

“Darling, I don’t wish for you to take off your clothes merely because Yamada put me in a foul mood. I would much rather you keep said clothes on and have a cup of tea with me, maybe some conversation as well. Please don’t offer yourself to me out of pity.”

If you ever thought she was made at you, she honestly thought she was gonna cry

“W-What? Dear, no. Not one bit. Not one ounce of me is angered by you. I love you far too much to be mad at you. Now, come here and let me hug you.”

Celeste truly does care about you, more than she has cared for anyone before <3

Sakura:

Protective

That’s it

Sakura wants your safety above all, because she knows how shy people can be taken advantage of easily

If anyone dared to make fun of you, oh boy

Sakura is fucking terrifying

“I suggest you run before I snap you in half.”

That’s all it takes to send them on their way

If you fell in front of her, she would definitely be able to catch you

And she would!

But if you did manage to miss her arms, she’d pick you right back up and hold you

“See? I got you. Everything is okay.”

If you offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d be calmer, but nonetheless upset

“Hey, don’t do that. I don’t want you because of your body. I want you because of your personality. That’s what I fell in love with. Don’t offer yourself to me, or anyone else. Ever. It’s your body, you can most certainly choose what to do with it.”

If you thought she was angry with you, she’d be so quick to tell you otherwise

“No, not at all. I am not mad in the slightest. Even if I was, I’d never take my anger out on you. That’s wrong, and I love you too much to even think about doing that.”

With Sakura as your girlfriend, you will always be protected. And that’s a promise

Mukuro:

Mukuro is shy, but definitely not as shy as you

Like Sakura, she wanted your safety above all

Let it be from others or her cruel sister

If someone ever made fun of you, she’d be pretty angry

Hell, she may put those skills of hers to good use

“Hey. Don’t let me hear you say something like that again. Ever. That’s just plain disgusting.”

If you ever took a fall in front of her, her reflexes are extremely fast, so she’d try her absolute best to catch you

More often she does, but on the off chance she’s unsuccessful, she’d apologize with a bright blush

“I-I’m sorry, love. I tried to catch you, uh, I’m sorry. Here, grab my hands.”

If you offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d immediately say no

“S-S/O! No! No, I-I don’t want you to do that! I-I’m not in a bad mood, and even if I was I wouldn’t want you to take your clothes off just to try to improve my mood! Please don’t offer that to me, that’s practically violating you! And I don’t want to do that!”

If you ever thought she was mad at you, poor girl might cry

“L-Love, I’m not mad at all. I-I promise. Even if I was mad, I don’t think it could be caused by you in all honesty. I love you, okay?”

Soldier baby’s heart go brrr

Sayaka:

Shy or not, Sayaka’s a cute blushy mess around you

She still teases you in a friendly manner, but always makes sure you know she’s only playing

If anyone over bothered you, she’d be incredibly salty

Like, pettiness and all

“Oh, so that’s how you’re gonna be? Well, I’ll have you know that my significant other is NOT gonna do that. You’re a rude person and I hope karma hits you hard.”

If you took a fall in front of her, she’d screech so sound and try to catch you, but would most likely fail

When she saw that you were embarrassed, like Hina she would trip to make you feel better

“See, S/O? It’s fine! Now we both tripped, hehe! Isn’t that funny!”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d hug you immediately and try to make you happy

“Nope! I don’t want that, okay? I want to kiss your cute face! Not rub up on you because you want to make me happy! Now c’mere, so I can kiss your cute face!”

If you ever thought she was mad at you, though, she’d be really sad

“What? No, I’m not mad at all! Let alone at you! I promise, S/O. Even if I was mad, I’d have a peaceful conversation. Not a screaming match about it! Now, give me a hug!”

Sayaka will hug you as much as you please, as long as it makes you happy <3

Toko:

Toko thought you were annoying at first

But then she realized how similar you two were

Not long after, she fell in love with you

Just like in those cheesy novels she writes

If someone ever bothered you, she’d get pretty mad

Lowkey considers letting Syo out

“H-Hey, asshole! T-That’s a r-real d-dick t-thing to say! S-So w-why d-don’t you just g-go back to w-whatever ditch y-you crawled o-out of a-and d-die!”

If Syo was around when someone bothered you, well I think we know how that'll go

They aren't around anymore, especially if they were a pretty boy

If you ever fell in front of her, she’d lowkey get second-hand embarrassment, but would help you up anyways

“Hey, l-look, you’re fine. N-Not a scrape or anything. Y-You’re okay.”

Syo would leap into action immediately and pull you to your feet

"See!? It's like you never even fell! You're okay! No tears, I hate seeing you cry!"

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d freak the fuck out

“W-What!? N-No! D-Don’t do t-that! K-Keep your clothes o-on! I-I’m n-not mad! E-Even if I w-was, I w-wouldn’t w-want you to s-strip! Y-You’re t-too p-pretty for t-that!”

If Syo was around, she would as well

"What!? Oh no no no, this just won't do! You're body is far to marvelous to be shown so willingly, y'know that? Don't let others see it so easy! Even if it is just me! Doesn't matter!"

If you thought she was mad at you, she’d scoff at first, but then realize you were being serious

“What? I’m not m-mad at you. W-Why would I b-be mad at y-you? I-I have no reason to b-be. D-Don’t say that, I-I’d tell you if I-I was mad at you...S-Speaking as if I-I c-could g-get mad at y-you.”

Syo would latch onto you and hug you, giving you a little spin

"No, dollface! I'm not angry at all! See? I'm happy! So happy! Especially because my baby-cakes is here! Now, c'mon! Gimme a smooch!"

Even though she’d deny it at first, Toko really does love you

[actualbird]

Now I really am back to reading your fics like a morning newspaper dgkdkg at this rate I should come up with a name for this fanfic paper....

Super Attorney dfjzhf is it Ace Attorney but a TV show? Honestly good taste mc.

Man, I really feel the not apologising thing. I mean, I apologise to friends and acquaintances of course but it's a family thing? I guess? I'm pretty sure this is a kind of common thing too. I'd probably have the same reaction as Giann if someone from my family actually apologised.

I love how Giann's first reaction when someone finds out something he doesn't want to is think Luke told them dgidig Luke will forever be thought of as a snitch now.

Giann nearly falling on his broken leg trying to see Neil right after admitting he hasn't been focusing on recovery is hilarious chkck he just went from not focusing to nearly actively fucking it up by accident poor Marius. First him leaving the room and going to the rooftop and now this.

NEIL XGJXGJCKG I CAN'T BELIEVE HE TRIED TO FAKE AMNESIA

Congratulations Neil you get to do shovel talks now! Start with Marius, he's right there and also it's his turn to get one now.

Looking at the end notes: Marbles von Hagen.....he'd be that marble that rolls away everytime you take them out of their bag or something. What troubles will he get into as a sphere....

And with that, that's the final chapter of this fic and my thoughts on it! As always, excellent chapter! This fic ended perfectly, and I'm definitely going to revisit it from time to time. Particularly when canon Giann and Neil come out, gotta see how similar they are to this fic. Thank you for writing this!!! It was a joy to read and I adored it so, so much.

🌌

waaaaahh, gmorning milkyway!! i hope u enjoyed today's morning paper written by zak who isnt telling you the news and is just making fic where characters get all emo and stuff, HAHA

JHSVKFJHSDK super attorney is a show mentioned in Artem SR Focus Fire. in terms of content, all we know is that it's a legal drama. but the Big Data Lab entry has this hilarious detail "It is supposedly inspired by real cases, but a certain anonymous critic has criticized the series as being overly dramatic and not reflective of reality." oh artem....KJHVFJAHSFJ

hoo boy yea the not apologizing thing was deffo inspired as a family thing. ive got 3 siblings and i love them very much and i'd consider all of us very close. but when any of us fight, we rarely apologize with like, the actual words. when it does happen tho, that when the situation is like Big

if im ranking the new team in terms of first impressions: luke honestly landed in last place due to sheer strangeness, giving giann a heartattack, and also snitching JHVSKJHDFKSDJ sorry dude

vjhKJHVKJH P MUCH, i just think itd be funny if giann didnt have a braincell sometimes, especially when it comes to people he cares about. it be like...

marius: i need u to recover so i can feel a bit more sane giann: okay i promise to focus on that :( //proceeds to nearly re-break his leg

neil wants to cause CHAOS. i assume part of why artem's deadpan expression these days is so good is because neil hume was his mentor and neil was a rascal

NEIL'S TURN TO SPEEDRUN!!! artem arrives at the room and neil is like "YOU OVERACHIEVER??? GO BIG OR GO HOME, HUH???" and artem is so confused

hjhJKHVKJHVKJ SPHERICAL NUISANCE!!! i figure thatd be austin and giann's rationale later on, but it did mostly start out from like "marius" -> "mar/marmar" -> "marbles"

when i pitched this hc on my priv twt, someone suggested "marmite" as a nickname and i lost my mind JHSJHFSKJDHF

thank YOU so so much for this lovely comment, milkyway :((( and for reading every chapter and commenting on each one, pls, every single one always made my morning and just made me rlly happy 🥺

now that this fic is over, it is time for me to look upon my horrid gdrive folder and see what ridiculous feels i will inflict upon you all next :DDD

[mystic-deep]

"Sensei said girls love swans." | Okkotsu Yuuta x fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Just a small box of chocolates, bought on a whim, gifted for no apparent reason. Or so you say.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: none, good bad advices from Gojo.

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: I'm working on three other stories with Nanami, Gojo and Toji but had to write something for best boy Yuuta. We're getting volume 0 animated! This was done at the speed of light so please forgive any errors.

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.29 k

Valentine’s Day was quite a surprise this year. You didn’t expect the world to just revert back to old habits so soon, but then again you understood the craving for what was once considered normal. More than a year had passed since the Shibuya incident and with Gojo Satoru finally being released from his prison, things were slowly calming down.

Two major changes came as a result of the near annihilation of Tokyo, one was that now the world was aware of the existence of curses and two was the high number of people that had awoken cursed energy. What were once empty classrooms and training grounds of the Jujutsu Tokyo High School, were now filled with first year students ready to learn from the best. Although the older generation was composed of just a handful of students, they were really the top of the Jujutsu world.

All of your senpais were impressive in their own right so all of them had gathered quite a following of first years. The most popular, by far, was Fushiguro Megumi, the one that possessed the Ten Shadows Technique of the Zen’in clan. A lethal combination of looks, power and status, or so your classmates claimed.

On the opposite end of the spectrum was the third year Okkotsu Yuuta. He was a rare sight on campus and whenever he was present he didn’t interact much with any of the first years. The first time you’ve met him was during a group mission where he was there to supervise. The curse ended up being a special grade and if Yuuta hadn’t jumped in to help you, you’d all be dead. You still remember the bitterness of your classmates when he offered his feedback. Clearly he was right on all points but he didn’t honey glazed any of his words. That incident had caused a string of nasty rumours to spread and everyone in your class began to avoid him as much as possible. You guessed no one was in a hurry to offer him any gifts today.

As for yourself, you tagged along with some of the girls from your class as they chose the best chocolates for their favourite senpais. You didn’t have anyone you really wanted to gift them to, so you bought a small box purely for selfish reasons.

You headed back to campus and as you approached the training grounds you noticed that a small crowd of students were already gathered there. In the middle of them stood Megumi whose arms could barely hold the large number of gifts he had received. The deadpan expression on his face made it clear he wasn’t enjoying the attention.

“You girls better hurry, Megumi-kun looks like he has reached his limit.”

Turning around you were greeted by Gojo who was also carrying quite an impressive quantity of Valentine’s gifts.

“Sensei is really popular.”

“Please don’t sound so surprised.”

As your little conversation went on, your friends quickly abandoned you in order to join the crowd.

“Not gonna join them?” You shook your head as your hands tighten on the handle of your backpack where your box of chocolates was hiding.

“I didn’t buy any chocolates...I mean I did buy chocolates just not for...I should probably head to class.” Feeling too ashamed to admit your selfish purchase, you hurried down the path to the main entrance before Gojo could question you further.

Just as you were about to reach your destination you suddenly noticed a figure not too far from you. Yuuta was strolling along the same path and his expression was not a happy one. Your earlier guess must have been correct judging by his slumped shoulders. Now you never truly worried yourself with his well being, but it just felt so incredibly unfair that he was marginalized like this. At the end of the day, even if he wasn’t easy to talk to, he was a responsible senpai who wouldn’t hesitate to jump in to help others when needed. With that thought in mind, you quickened your pace and called out to him.

“Okkotsu-senpai! Okkotsu-senpai, please wait!”

He stopped in his track and turned to look at you with a surprised expression.

“Y/n-chan, are you okay?”

You nodded as you caught up with him, impressed that he even bothered to remember your name, and opened your backpack to retrieve the box of chocolates.

“For you senpai, Happy Valentine’s Day!” You gave him the most sincere smile you could muster and handed him the small box. Oh well, better for your cavities you suppose.

With a trembling hand he took the small gift and grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you! I’ll treasure it!” It was just a box of cheap chocolates, you thought, definitely not worth the excitement.

“Urm I’m happy you like them. Anyway, have a good day, see you around!” You practically dashed to your classroom, cheeks red from embarrassment. You didn’t know why you were so nervous or why that silly grin of his made you so flustered.

As you sat down at your desk, you wondered if you did the right thing. You didn’t want him to believe you had feelings for him and you also hoped he didn’t think you did it out of pity. You just thought it was the right thing to do at that time and it was just a small gesture, definitely not worth a second thought.

Or so you hoped until White Day arrived and you found quite a surprising gift on your desk that morning. A large bouquet of roses, there must have been over a hundred. No note though, as if the person that had left them just expected for you to know whom they were from.

You could hear the whispers of your classmates and you shifted uncomfortably. You weren’t really popular, no reasons for someone to give you such an impressive present, so of course rumours began to spread.

As you sat on a bench during lunch break with the bouquet in your lap, you raked up your brain trying to figure out who would offer you flowers.

“Oh no, you don’t like them!”

Yuuta’s voice brought you back to reality and you blinked ever so slowly as you looked at his worried expression. Your eyes dropped to the red roses in your lap and then back to your senpai that was just a few feet away from the bench you were sitting.

“These...these are from you?” Well you did gift him that box of chocolates and this was White Day, technically he was supposed to return the gift. Still, a cheap box of bonbons couldn’t compare to the expensive bouquet that he had gifted back.

“Gojo-sensei said you’re supposed to buy something impressive in order to show your appreciation for the gift you received. I didn’t know what you liked and he suggested roses, he said all girls loved red roses.”

Of course it was Gojo Satoru, it was always Gojo Satoru.

“Senpai, thank you, but this is too much! Those chocolates weren’t really that expensive.”

“No, no, they were pretty good! I ended up eating the whole box! Gojo-sensei tried to steal one away, that didn’t end up well for him.” Good, you thought, he deserved it for unnecessarily complicating things.

“Well if you say so, then I’m happy. I’ve never received flowers before, well my father bought me a bouquet when I graduated middle school but I don’t think that counts.”

“I’ve never received chocolates before, so I guess we’re both at the beginning.” The beginning of what, you wondered, as he offered you a somewhat sly smile.

“I should get these to my room before they wither.”

“Yeah I should probably head to the training ground.” You said your respective farewells before going in opposite directions. This had been awkward to say the least and you were glad it was over.

However, naivety got the best of you. The next morning you were greeted by a large teddy bear that was placed in your seat. Your eyebrow began to twitch as you heard whispers spreading in the classroom.

“Hey is that from Okkotsu? Super creepy!”

“Yeah, poor Y/n-chan.”

“What do you mean by that?” Your patience had reached its limit and with narrowed eyes you turned to look at the girls you heard whispering.

“Don’t you know, Okkotsu curses his lovers!”

“Yeah, he becomes obsessed with them and then they die in mysterious ways!”

“That is literally the most idiotic thing I’ve heard in my life.” Sure, you knew the story of Rika, but from actual reliable sources you also knew that it was a tragic accident that happened when Yuuta was only a child. It was disturbing how they twisted the story just because they were afraid of him.

“If you have this much time to waste on spreading such stupid rumours then I suggest you channel that energy in training. Otherwise you’ll be stuck at grade 4 until the end of days.” As a grade 2 sorcerer yourself, maybe you shouldn’t have looked down on them, but for some reason the way they were acting towards Yuuta was just infuriating and you found yourself becoming quite protective.

You never snapped at them like this before, if anything you were considered quite docile, so the whole class fell silent. You grabbed the giant teddy bear from your seat and stomped towards the door, nearly bumping into Gojo as the later stepped inside the room.

“Where you going Y/n-chan? Class is about the start.”

“I’m going to find Yuuta!” You huffed and walked out of the classroom, knowing full well that you will probably get punished for your actions.

“Y/n-chan is so determined! Everyone, you should have more determination as well!” That was the last thing you heard as Gojo closed the door behind you.

You began your search for Yuuta, trying to ignore the looks that the faculty members you came across were giving you. You must have looked quite ridiculous, carrying that large teddy bear around.

You finally found him near the armoury, and judging from his sweaty appearance you guessed he had just finished training.

“Senpai!”

He looked at you, almost in a panicked way and you quickened your pace so he couldn’t make a run for it.

“Y/n-chan, what-”

“Senpai, this has to stop.” You really didn’t want to tell him your real motives from that day but you also couldn’t let this chain of gifts continue.

“That box of chocolates wasn’t initially for you. I bought it for myself, I only gave it to you because senpai looked so upset. I’m sorry that you misunderstood, it’s not pity or anything, I just thought you deserved it.” You didn’t even stop to breath, you had to let it all out and explain before you lost your nerve. “I’m really happy you liked them but I don’t deserve all these presents in return.”

You looked at him and expected to see anger or disappointment, instead you were greeted with light laughter.

“You’re really cute! Maki-san said not to tease you too much because you’re such a good girl. I guess she didn’t realize how much of a good girl you actually are.” The way he said ‘good girl’ made your heart skip a beat. It sounded almost provocative.

Within a second, he had closed the distance between the two of you and his hand reached to stroke your cheek ever so gentle. Suddenly he was there and you became hyperaware of his powerful presence. You noticed the pretty colour of his eyes, how his hand was just a bit rough and how that small smirk of his made your knees weak and your cheeks burn. You gulped and he seemed to enjoy your reaction.

“I don’t mind that the box of chocolates wasn’t for me. I’m just glad it gave me the opportunity to talk to you.” At this point you felt so bad you hoped the earth beneath you would just crack open and swallow you whole.

“Anyway, you should probably head to class before Gojo-sensei gets upset. Let me get that for you.” He reached for the teddy bear in your arms but you gripped it and pulled back.

“I would like to keep this, it’s a special gift from senpai and I’ll treasure it.” Sure this all began because of a silly box of chocolates but you were also happy that you finally got to see a glimpse of him that not many people got the chance to see. Now that you had a taste of it, you wanted more.

“Well I wasn’t planning on taking it away, just wanted to help you carry it.”

“It’s fine, the whole school saw me already so I might as well parade with it back to class.”

He studied your face for a few moments before his expression turned serious.

“Y/n-chan, do you think we could go-”

“I’d love to go on a date!”

You beat him to it but you wanted to make sure he knew, even before asking, that you really wanted to get to know him better.

“I see, I’m really happy.” His hand reached for yours and gripped it gently. It never failed to surprise you how cool and confident he looked at times and then he did a one hundred eighty and turned into this awkward and adorable mess.

“I must admit this is the first time I’ve asked someone out. I’ll be sure to ask Gojo-sensei-”

“Oh no, please promise me to never ask Gojo-sensei for advice concerning girls.” He was probably laughing like a mad man while giving Yuuta such cringe worthy ideas for your gifts.

“Oh but sensei said girls love swans and-”

“Never!”

[watermelonlovershigh]

Bisexual Harry (MILD SMUT w/ MOSTLY FLUFF)

ATTENTION- THIS IS STRICKLY FICTIONAL (NOT REAL). I'M FULLY AWARE THAT HARRY HAS NOT CAME OUT AS BISEXUAL AND WANTS TO BE UNLABLED. I ENJOY BI HARRY FANFICS BUT THERE ARE NOT MANY OUT THERE SO I DECIDED TO WRITE ONE. ALSO THE TRAITS I WILL BE CONCIDERING AS BISEXUAL TRAITS ARE FULLY DEPENDENT ON THE INDIVIDUAL. I HATE STEREOTYPING. JUST KEEP IN MIND THAT JUST BECAUSE HARRY DOES THESE THINGS IN THIS STORY THAT IT DOESN'T MAKE SOMEONE BISEXUAL OR EVEN GAY. LASTLY I'D LIKE TO SAY THAT I'M NOT BISEXUAL MYSELF BUT THE IDEA OF BEING WITH A MAN WHO IS, IS A TURN ON. NOT IN A FETISH TYPE WAY. JUST THE VULNERABILITY AND OPENNESS OF ENJOYING EITHER WOMEN OR MEN IS INCREADIBE TO ME. THANK YOU AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY.

Harry told me early on into our relationship that he was bisexual. He was so nervous that I would leave him, but it just made me fall more in love with him. He told me late one night about 6 months into dating, on his couch. The second he told me, Harry broke down into real raw tears. The first time I'd seen Harry actually cry. Yeah I'd seen him cry during sappy movies but this was so much more than that. These tears had fear in them. Fear that I would leave him. They had vulnerability in them for being so open. But also a weight was lifted off his chest, just happy to tell me. I held Harry in my arms and cried with him, telling him how much I loved him and that this doesn't change anything. That I loved him just as much.

Only a few people in Harrys life knew he was bisexual. His close family. His close friends. That was it. If it got out in the media, the internet would have gone wild. Of course there were many rumors about his sexuality. Most of them being that he's gay. For the longest time he actually thought he might be gay. He had a lot of 'gay tendencies': painted nails, feminine clothes, pearl necklaces. But he also had very 'mainly tendencies' like watching football and drinking beer with the lads. Harry was just so conflicted all his life. Not knowing what he was. That's until the age of 18. One of his school friends came out as bisexual and that's when it clicked for him. He liked both male and females and he was okay with that. He excepted that part of him. He was more worried about what others would say or think. His family was very supportive. His friends were too. They never treated Harry differently knowing that they were straight and he was sexually attracted to them. Well not so much them specifically because they were more like brothers, but the male species as a whole.

Being in sexual relationships were on a new level of fear for Harry. Fear that when he was having sex with a guy, that the guy would try and convince him he's actually just gay. Or the fear that any women he had sex with would say he wasn't manly enough for them. Needless to say, Harry kept his sexuality a secret from most of his one night stands or short term relationships. He just didn't feel the need to tell them unless they asked specifically if he was bi or not.

Me and Harry meet at a local club in London a few years back. He was with his bandmates at the time. I was by myself because my boyfriend of 2 years just broke up with me. I was devastated and needed to escape reality. That meant drink until my body went numb. Unfortunately for me though, I wasn't that much of a drinker so my body rejected the alcohol pretty fast. I stumbled onto the London streets trying to get fresh air but ended up puking my guts out in a near by bin. Harry just so happened to be outside at that moment and saw the whole thing before his eyes. He rushed over to me and pulled my hair back to prevent more vomit from getting in it. Then he asked if I was alright and who I was with. I told him I came there alone so he insisted I come back to his place. Because my brain was fuzzy from the alcohol, I didn't hesitate one bit. Harry set up his guest room for me and helped me to bed that night. Something I'm forever grateful for. If it wasn't for him, I could've been kidnapped and raped by a stranger on the streets. When I woke up the next day, I realized who's house I was in. All of the music awards on the shelf in the room I stayed in gave it away. I was never a big fan of One Direction, no reason in particular, so I didn't act like a fangirl would have. Before I left his house, he gave me his number to call if I ever needed someone to talk to. Considering he was an international popstar and all, he sure was the most genuine person I'd ever meet. Taking care of a complete stranger and even giving them his phone number. I never thought I'd actually call him though. Or even see him again, but about a week later, I ran into him at a local coffee shop and we started talking form there. The rest was history.

We hung out all the time. He invited me to a few One Direction concerts. Even had sex a few times. Amazing sex I might add. It truly was great. Even though at the time, I had to remain secret from the public. More so said by Harry then his management. Mainly to keep me safe and out of the media knowing how private I liked to be. Three months of seeing each other and he asked me to be his girlfriend. I was thrilled. Then six months into our relationship, Harry realized how serious our relationship was becoming. That we both had strong feeling for each other. So that's when Harry decided to tell me he was bisexual. On his couch. Late one night. He wanted to get it out of the way so he didn't have to hide that part of himself with me. So he could be himself around me. If I excepted him that was and of course I did.

Approximately two years after dating, Harry purposed. He was basically shitting bricks the whole time, but he did it. I didn't hesitate one second before I said yes. We were in love. At this point, the media had found me and Harry out. Most of his fans adored me. Some said our relationship was fake. And others just flat out said I was keeping Harry closeted, not allowing him to be gay. But I knew the truth. I knew he was bisexual, not gay. I never doubted his sexuality one bit. Especially how he devoured my body when we made love. Any gay person would probably gag at the sight of a women's pussy. Not Harry. It was his favorite part of my body. A year after Harry filmed the movie Dunkirk (2017), we got married. It was a small wedding. Just close family and friends invited. It was perfect.

Now here we are in the current year of 2021 and we're still going strong. A few fights here and there, but because both Harry and I have too big of hearts, we always feel bad after fighting and immediately apologize to one another. The media had tried to split us up multiple times but it's never been successful. Our love for each other is too strong and everlasting.

Just because Harry is in a happy, loving heterosexual relationship, doesn't mean he feels completely secure about his sexuality all the time. In the beginning of our relationship, Harry tried to completely throw away any 'bisexual' tendencies he had even though he knew I supported him. For instance, there was many times Harry wanted to paint his nails but didn't. Or would refrain from gushing over sexy guys in movies we watched together. That's when I noticed he was becoming depressed. He stopped writing music. He would disengage in activities we tried to do together. Even pushed me away when I tried to have sex with him. I felt hopeless. Until one morning I asked him what was wrong, and he spilled everything. How he tries so hard to suppress the bisexual side of his character for me. For our relationship. Harry explained that he had the desire to paint his nails vibrant colors and wanted to wear feminine clothes sometimes. Something that was particularly hard for Harry to confess to me was how he even wanted to try anal. On me or me with a strap on fucking him. Right away I made us an appointment to get our nails done at a salon. Then I told him he could wear a trash bag and he'd still be the most beautiful mainly man I'd ever seen. Lastly, I grabbed my laptop and went online shopping for female strap ons, letting Harry pick the girth and size he wanted. Yes I was a little nervous to actually fuck him, but he assured me he would help me out every step of the way. As for anal on me, I mentioned how I would be nervous but how I also trusted him. Trusted him enough to penetrate me anally. That I knew he would be extra careful with me.

Needless to say, I made Harry more confident. Confident in his sexuality. I got him to come out as bisexual to the public. I let him explore his bisexuality in the bedroom. Though of course he still worshiped my pussy. We had weekly appointments to get our nails painted. Harry even wore a dress out to a date night one night. He was super scared and on edge the whole night but I kept whispering in his ear how I couldn't wait to rip that dress off of him and fuck him in the ass until he cried out of pleasure.

I honestly loved that Harry was bisexual. It was almost like a turn on for me. He was both a gym buff and my little princess. He had thick arm muscles and toned abs, as well as pink nails and pearl necklaces. Anytime he mentioned how hot a guy on tv was, we could gush over him together. Or how sensitive and vulnerable he was at times. A lot of guys hold in their emotions, thinking men can't express their feelings, but not Harry. If he felt the need to cry, he would. Right in front of me. It could be triggered by a sad movie or a animal abuse commercial. Also, on the rare occasions he asks for it, I would fuck him with the strap on in his mouth. Though a rubber penis didn't quite taste like the real thing, salty mixed with sweat, he loved to deepthroat it anyways. Watching him choke and gag around the fake penis made my pussy drip. We even bought a strap on dildo that had a vibrator on the back side of it. That way every time the fake cock would enter his mouth, the vibrator would stimulate me clit, giving me pleasure as well.

No matter how much the media tried to convince Harry he was in fact gay and didn't actually like women, he would ignore the rude comments and prove to me everyday that he in fact loved me. Me as a women. Loved my smile. Loved me eyes. Loved the way my boobs bounced while having sex. Often grabbing them in his hands and stimulating my nipples. Loved the way my tight pussy felt around his dick. Or the way my sweet juices tasted on his tongue when he ate me out. Yes he loved dick. Yes he loved balls. Yes he loved being railed to death from behind. But he also liked vagina and he loved boobs. Harry wanted to make love to me and get me pregnant. Watch my stomach grow. Be there to hold my hand when I deliver the baby. Help change diapers at 3 am when I'm to tired to do so. Teach our kids to love and respect everyone and be themselves. Be open to our kids about his sexuality. Give them knowledge on bisexuality and educate them on the matter. Instead of assuming they are straight by asking his future son if he has a girlfriend yet or asking his daughter if she has a boyfriend, Harry will ask if the have a partner or fancy anyone in particular. Love his children for who they are or who they want to become. Be a role model for them. And live happily ever after with me, his supportive wife, by his side.

MASTERLIST

[hufflautia]

The Boyfriend

Dedicated to the anon who came up w this idea and to @eatacrackerandstop <3. There's a small Shadow and Bone reference; if you find it, you get a high five✨

Summary: Slytherin and Hufflepuff meet their daughter’s boyfriend for the first time, and Slytherin has a few concerns.

~

Hufflepuff closes the door behind her daughter, who stepped out to privately wish her boyfriend goodbye on the front stoop, and turns to Slytherin.

“He seems like a sweet kid,” she smiles. Slytherin follows her into the kitchen with a disgruntled expression. He leans against the countertop as she begins washing the dishes.

“What’s taking her so long,” he eyes the door. “It only takes a couple of seconds to say goodbye to someone.”

“They spent the entire night with us. They probably just want a little alone time,” Hufflepuff replies. She glances at him when he sighs and crosses his arms. “Do I sense a little disdain for our daughter’s boyfriend?”

Slytherin scowls.

“I don’t like him,” he states plainly. “He gives me...bad boy vibes.” His scowl deepens when she laughs incredulously.

“Bad boy vibes?”

“Yes,” he says indignantly. “Bad boy vibes! Did you see his smirk when she laughed at his joke?"

"You smirk a lot,” she points out, to which he grudgingly admits. “Besides, is it bad that he can make her laugh?"

"'Course not," he huffs. "But did you see how he put his arms around her?”

"I'm pretty sure that's called a hug, honey."

Slytherin steps between her and the sink. She shoots him a look as water drips on the floor.

“Please get out of my way, Slytherin. You’re acting like a child.”

He takes her hands into his own, not caring that they’re wet. “Honey, you’re not listening to me.”

“I am! I just don’t agree with you.” She continues before Slytherin can object. “You’re worrying over nothing. Our daughter is old enough to make her own decisions on who she hangs out with and what she does with her time."

“She’s only in her seventh year—”

“Slytherin," she says sternly. “Our baby is grown now, believe it or not. I trust her judgment. You should too.”

His brows furrow, and he doesn’t respond right away.

"It's not that I don't trust her," he finally says. "I just don't want her to get hurt."

Hufflepuff softens in this rare moment of vulnerability—his grumpiness and frustration often mask his fears.

"We can't control what happens," she says gently. "We can't control who does what or who hurts who. But what we can control is what we do and how we act." Slytherin remains silent as he considers her words. "I think the best thing we can do is support our daughter. And if things don't end well in their relationship, she will know who to come to: the people who have always been there for her."

Her words sink in, and Slytherin nods.

"You're right."

"'Course I'm right."

He smiles somberly. "I’ve only ever wanted to protect her."

"You will," she assures, pulling him into an embrace. "But you will do so at a healthy and reasonable distance. No threatening the boy."

Slytherin snorts and says, "I'm not that type of dad." He rests his chin on top of her head. "But if he breaks her heart, I keep no promises."

"Good," she murmurs into his shirt. “I'll be right behind you.”

Their moment of peace is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing. They see their daughter, Giselle, standing by the doorway with a flushed grin.

"Hey kiddo," Slytherin smiles.

She makes a face. “I'm 18, Dad. I'm not a kid anymore."

"Alright." Hufflepuff notices a familiar gleam in his eye and tries not to smile as he continues. "Do you prefer muffin? Sweet pea? Or perhaps cupcake—"

Giselle covers her ears. "Dad!" she groans. "Eat a cracker and stop."

He holds his hands up in defeat as he chuckles. "Okay, okay."

"So," Hufflepuff says once things settle down. "What did Dorian think? Did he like us? What about the food? Was my cooking okay?" A look of horror washes over her face. "Oh shoot, should we have given him some leftovers to take back to his family? He probably didn't get too far, I'll go get the food from the fridge and—"

"Honey," Slytherin laughs, resting his hand on the small of her back before she can scurry off in search of tin foil and plastic containers. "It's fine."

"Yeah," Giselle assures. "The food was great, and he loved meeting you guys."

"And we loved meeting him,” Hufflepuff says warmly. “Tell Dorian he's welcome to come back at any time."

"Okay," she grins. "Can we start our movie night now?"

Slytherin nods. "I believe it's Mom's turn to choose the movie."

"I know exactly what we should watch tonight," Hufflepuff beams. They pile onto the couch, and when she puts the disc into the DVD player, everyone but Hufflepuff's face falls when they see the title.

"Aw, not this movie," Giselle complains. "We watched the trailer last week, and you said it yourself that it looked like trash."

"Wha—I didn't say trash!"

"I think you did," Slytherin interjects. He stifles a laugh when she shoots him a look.

Hufflepuff purses her lips. "Ravenclaw and I watched it at the movie theaters a few days ago, and it was a cinematic masterpiece!"

He arches an eyebrow. "So you're gonna watch it again?"

"Yes! Because it’s that good. And I want you guys to watch it with me. The movie has adventure and plot twists and romance—I mean, what hurts more than a broken heart?"

"A severed head," Giselle replies, to which Slytherin snorts a laugh.

Hufflepuff scoffs and shakes her head, but a smile tugs at her lips. “You’ll see what I’m talking about after we watch it, but I need to use the bathroom first. I’ll bring back some popcorn.”

“Can you also get some Sprite?” Giselle calls after her.

“Okay.” Hufflepuff lingers by the doorway. “Do you want anything, sweetie pie?” she says to Slytherin.

“No thanks, snuggle bunny.” He snickers when Giselle visibly cringes. He and Hufflepuff liked to call each other outrageously sweet pet names in front of their daughter for the sole purpose of grossing her out.

“Yes,” Giselle says in a deadpan voice. “This is the exact spot I want to be in right now.”

Hufflepuff laughs and winks at Slytherin before leaving. He watches her walk away before whispering to Giselle, “How likely is it that she’ll accidentally trap herself in the bathroom and we get to pick another movie?”

“Extremely likely,” she replies. “If we put a rubber item underneath the door to act as a door stopper, she won’t be able to open it from the inside…” Slytherin is looking at her weirdly, and she swallows her words. “...I mean, I don’t know.”

Slytherin smiles but doesn’t say anything. Giselle may have inherited her mother’s looks, but she has her father’s mischief.

While they wait for Hufflepuff, Slytherin speaks. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure,” she says cautiously.

“Do you love him?”

Her eyebrows rise—she didn’t expect this question. She takes a moment to think.

"Not yet.”

He nods. "But you're happy?"

"I am," she smiles.

His eyes crinkle. If she was happy…well, that was good enough for him.

“I’m glad, kiddo.”

This time, Giselle doesn’t roll her eyes at the term of endearment. Instead, she takes his hand and squeezes it three times. Slytherin, who taught her the gesture, squeezes her hand four times in response.

“Who’s ready to start the movie?” Hufflepuff walks in with popcorn and sprite, unaware of the father-daughter moment she just missed.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Slytherin sighs, scooting over to make space for her. She plops down beside him and settles the bowl between them.

“Oh,” she perks up. “Before I forget. Accio tissue boxes!”

Slytherin looks bewildered as tissue boxes come flying their way. “Do we really need tissues?”

“Absolutely,” she scatters the boxes over their laps. Slytherin raises an eyebrow and glances over at Giselle, who also looks perplexed.

“My teen angst bullshit is about to have a body count,” she whispers as the movie begins playing.

A/N: This fic is somewhat connected to Different Love Languages, another one of my fics. Is the slytherpuff couple in that fic the same couple in this one? That's up to you, dear reader😌

I lowkey hate the title, but I couldn't come up w a better one. Also, this fic was longer than I planned. I originally decided to write something like this:

“Why don’t you like him?”

“Because I used to be a bad boy, which is exactly why I don’t trust him.”

Basic dialogue, plain and simple. But the darling anon who told me their idea deserves a full-length story <3

Let me know what you thought of this one-shot. Feedback makes me happy <3 If you prefer to stay anonymous, the anon option for asks is available! Be safe and well, everyone.

Tag lists are open✨ Let me know via ask/messages/comments if you want to be added or removed.

@slytherpuff-shenanigans @axieleration @sunnniiee @just--another--bean @determinedpines @zenobiagrace @asterinflower @cinnamon-roll-unicorn @mossy-axolotl @dumbbitch11 @hitchhiker-of-the-galaxy @notsowiseravenclaw @arianatorpotterhead @eatacrackerandstop @luciferswife16 @walkinganomaly @asunshinepuff @lewispoolerpayton @adreameratdawn @thewitcheswords @oncergleekpotterhead @princessstoopid @stardustzainy @flvrqnce @multi-fandom-nutjob @eunnieah @iamahufflepuff @1hufflepuff @introvertedrae @princessstoopid @jasminedayz @magnoliamermaid @HOPEFUL-HUFFLEPUFF-PEEVES @peanut-in-the-goal @pufflehuff929 @sophiexteresa @da-fox-rangerrr @dawinehouse @shipping-book-keeper @xxavaloraxx @silverhetdanes @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum @elegantcroissantplaidpony @theoriginaljohnwatsonsblog @theoriginalsherlockholmesblog @vickeyunicorn @arianatorpotterhead @hmilkwhoney @simpering-simpleton @grandcyclecreation @sweetinvisiblewriter @marvelenthusiast10 @mvlpksvthisht @qiaopa @beardedhumanoid @jadefox05 @justanotherperson @inkedintothepaper @minty-malfoy @trippy-morgan @fangirlgeekandfreak @boilyourteeth @absentmindeduniverse @colettedelaurel @halfelven1 @happy-puff @coloring-bud @in-love-with-remus-lupin @autumnpleaves @crakencc @flyme--tothemoon @hedgepuffgirl @littleemotionalpanda @pancakes-and-sugar @korra4321 @aquietkindofthunder @qixnsriess @porksoba @thatfann @hellounicorn @i-have-a-bad-feeling @aasa2102 @zuko-28 @annie-mcl @clementines-x @writtenfoxscreams @randomwriter23 @cryingabtwandavision @coolninjavoid @urfaveslytherin @malfoys-demigod @tumlbr-trasher @violayaxley @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @zainieees-stuff @blueberry-9-pancakes @stressy-depressy @royalelusts

[losille2000]

The Swan, Chapter 6

TITLE: The Swan CHAPTER NUMBER: 6/? AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH Tom/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance/Drama FIC SUMMARY: Sequel to The Ugly Duckling. Astrid embarks on a two-week trip to London to serve as her sister’s maid of honor, hoping against all hope she might miraculously run into her Hawaiian mystery man. When her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law drag her to a production of Hamlet to meet the groom’s best man, Astrid gets the shock of her life. The situation, though, is anything but perfect. RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: None in this chapter. AUTHORS NOTES: So... what can I say? It's been a while. If you want the whole story, you can look through my blog or message me. I'm happy to answer. That said, it's been a good three years since I did any serious writing. My writing muscles need to build back up to what they were before. Please be kind... and let me know what you think. :D

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ALSO ON AO3!

Chapter 6 - Flying the Coop

Regret.

Astrid regretted ever stomping up those stairs to Tom’s bedroom. She regretted challenging him to make a move. She regretted letting him have his way with her. In the moment, it seemed right. Maybe if they slept together again, they’d find an incompatibility, especially now that the air of tropical mystery had dissipated and left in its place two broken flesh-and-blood people.

How wrong could she have been?

Now it was amplified, deeper, hotter, engulfing.

Only two weeks for whatever this fire was to fizzle?

It wasn’t, as the Brits say, bloody likely.

And here she was, smack dab in the position she didn’t want to be in; no matter how tangentially her current association with her mother, the family business, and Hollywood was, being connected to Tom in this way presented too many problems to even consider at this point. And fucking him—

“Astrid, are you even listening to me?”

Astrid jumped from the intrusion, letting out a slight squeak. She blinked hard and turned in her spot to look at her sister, who stood in the middle of the furnished but unoccupied flat. “Sorry?”

“Are you okay?” Tilde asked. “You’ve been spacey after the dress shop— and I’m just worried.”

“You don’t need to worry.”

“Let me worry,” she begged. “Let me be the big sister I never got to be.”

Astrid laughed ruefully. If only she could actually talk with Tilde about Tom. She wouldn’t understand, or at the very least, it could pose some very difficult situations in the coming days with the wedding right around the corner. But, Astrid guessed, Tilde meant the other elephant in the room... Astrid being the elephant, and their mother being a Class A narcissist. Because there was absolutely no way Tilde would know about what had happened at Tom’s home...

“It’s too late for that, Tilde,” Astrid said. “You know I love you. I just— there’s no changing her.”

Tilde grumbled and glided over to the couch in the living room. She dropped down on top of the cushions, barely displacing the pillow stuffing with her slight ballet-formed frame. “I should have never allowed her to do all this. I should have done it on my own, it’s not like Jim and I are so hard up. But I thought...”

Astrid held up a hand to stop her sister and sat on the couch more gingerly than Tilde, measuredly, so as not to displace any stuffing in the overstuffed couch, either. Something her mother had taught her, after all: If you’re not going to put in effort to look like a lady, you can at least act like one.

God, even that memory still hurt, down to the marrow in her bones.

“But you did.” Astrid shrugged and laid her head on the back of the couch. There, she sighed.

The sisters sat in silence for some time, listening to Duchess rooting around the flat for something to chew on. When the pug found nothing, she eventually jumped up onto the couch and snuggled into Tilde’s lap.

Astrid cleared her throat. “It’s not all Mom, either. I’m just tired from jet lag and getting everything together for the house party.”

And sleeping with the Best Man. She was pretty sure she’d read a romance novel or a hundred about this situation once. Did that make her a cliché?

“Oh, I meant to ask,” Tilde interjected. “How did that go? Tom was a total tool last night and I was worried about today.”

Astrid licked her lips subconsciously; she could still taste the sugar left by a bite of tiramisu Tom had given to her on a fork. If she concentrated hard enough, she was sure she could still taste the salt of his skin mixed in with it. She could certainly feel the tight muscle in her thigh that pulled every time she shifted, from the way he’d bent it and held it firmly in place as he’d had his way with her.

Frankly, it was a miracle they’d accomplished anything after they ended up in bed. But, she supposed, that was the weirdest part about the whole afternoon. They got out of bed, dressed without speaking and just... worked on what they needed to for the party. There was no discussion. No arguing. Tom stayed a respectable distance from her; she wasn’t sure if she had really wanted him to do it again, over and over, until they were both exhausted. They ate lunch quietly, they got everything organized and packed into his Land Rover, then Tilde showed up and they bade farewell, like it was something they did every day.

Nothing more was said about Hawaii, or a relationship, or lies, or having this end in two weeks. He seemed to be ignoring the topics all together, likely in the misguided belief that if he didn’t bring it up, then everything was fine. She ignored them because discussing WHY she refused to become a true part of his life was too painful.

Astrid pursed her lips and closed her eyes again. Isn’t that what she told him she wanted, though? To feel worshipped and then go about their lives, like nothing happened? Ignore all the elephants and enjoy the sex. No emotion, only sex. He was just following her demands, his need too great to put the brakes on their interlude in his bed.

The problem was that she did want more with him. She wanted emotion and relationships and rainbows and butterflies. When she had thought of him as some wealthy businessman she might once again bump into while visiting London, this had been possible. She had, after all, imagined a reality over the last eighteen months that included falling in love with him and living a life together.

But he wasn’t a businessman. He was an actor. He ran in circles she just couldn’t stomach anymore.

“It was fine. We finished everything and packed it all into his Land Rover for the drive up to Cliveden,” Astrid finally said. “The costume deliveries will be there when we arrive.”

“This really has gotten out of control,” Tilde said. “Part of me just wants to run to the register office and get it over with.”

Astrid shook her head violently. “You do that, and I’ll flip the fuck out. I put too much work into this.”

Tilde laughed. “Scared you, huh?”

“I’m serious, Tilde,” Astrid said, lightly smacking her sister’s thigh. Duchess popped her head up, and thinking it was an invitation for her, came over to her aunt. Astrid cuddled the dog close to her chest, breathing in her freshly bathed fur.

“She likes you,” Tilde said.

Astrid kissed Duchess’ head. “Small children and dogs, apparently.”

Tilde chuckled softly before letting out a long sigh. “I bet she would really like it if her Aunt Astrid were around more.”

“Aunt Astrid is a teacher and never has any time,” she replied directly to Duchess. Duchess reached for the hand that had stopped petting her and touched it with her paw. Her imploring buggy pug eyes asked Aunt Astrid for more.

Tilde huffed, but said nothing more for a long time. Then she cleared her throat. “How do you like the flat, anyway?”

“It’s nice,” Astrid confirmed. In fact, it was nicer than “nice.” This flat looked like one of those staged ads in a real estate magazine with lots of recessed lighting, soft gray colors, top-of-the-line furnishings and a ton of space.

“We’re trying to decide if we’ll sell it or keep it as an investment property,” Tilde replied. “It’s kind of a pain in the ass as a rental property, though.”

Astrid nodded. “You could just give it to Dad’s company to manage.”

Not that doing so was a great option, either.

If Astrid saw her mother irregularly, she saw her father even less. After their separation, he spent time in Las Vegas developing a new casino concept and then, when Astrid graduated from UNLV, moved his business operations permanently back to Sweden. Still, though, the relationship with her father was better than it was with her mother, simply by virtue that he was never around and didn’t have an opportunity to find the weaknesses in her armor like her mother. Tilde rarely spoke about either parent, but Astrid was certain their relationship was similar.

Tilde sat up and turned to look at Astrid seriously. “Or you could move into it.”

“Excuse me?” Astrid said, her heart skipping a few beats, from a sudden surge of anxiety and... something else.

“I’m serious, Astrid,” she said. “We don’t see each other enough and I want to spend time with you and make up for all those years we were apart.”

This wasn’t just some passing fancy. Astrid could see that as plain as day on Tilde’s face. Her sister was determined to convince her to move to London. But for what? She had no support system other than Tilde and James... and her career... well, that was back in Las Vegas.

Not that Las Vegas itself was the most amazing place to live and work.

“I’d never see you anyway,” Astrid argued. “You’re always rehearsing, or preparing to rehearse, or performing. And god knows James is going to be busy doing whatever.”

“Yeah, about that...” Tilde said, trailing off quietly. She picked at the dog hair on her sweater for a few seconds, then slowly looked back at Astrid. “I’m retiring at the end of this season.”

“What?!”

Tilde shrugged. “James and I want a family, and if I wait until it’s a ‘good time,’ it’ll never happen because of our schedules. And really, it’s getting harder and harder to come back from injuries and such. I just... I need a long break from being a performing ballerina. I don’t have the fire I once had, the same will to fight for every goddamn role.”

Astrid simply nodded. This was huge news. Ballet was Tilde’s life. She’d been doing it since she was a little girl, had impeccable skill and training and talent for it. The joke was that Tilde had come out of the womb in pointe shoes.

Which wasn’t that far from the truth, really. As soon as their mother could, she’d gotten Tilde into dance with the best instructors money could buy. Their mother, the failed ballerina, always lived through them. Which explained why she did not like anything about Astrid— Astrid did not have anything that would benefit her.

“Have you told Mom yet?” Astrid asked.

Tilde shook her head. “Of course not! And listen to her prattle on about how I’m a failure and she gave me so much and I’m just a terrible person? No, thank you. I’ll wait until she is permanently back in LA before I tell her.”

Even though Tilde had not yet told anyone else, it somehow eased the tension in Astrid’s shoulders knowing that Tilde would be in their mother’s crosshairs for a change. Typically, that wasn’t the case; their parents always treated Tilde like the perfect golden child. Of course, Tilde had always been one of Astrid’s fiercest allies… when she could. However, since Tilde spent most of her life in London studying at the Royal Ballet from a very early age, support and camaraderie had been scarce. Now, though? Now it felt like she and Tilde could weather the storm together.

Tilde continued, “Yeah. I’m thinking about opening up a dance studio and then after the baby thing happens, if I still have the performing bug in me, then I’ll start guesting. But I’m just so excited to start having babies.”

Stopping the smile from forming on Astrid’s lips was impossible as she registered the excitement on Tilde’s face. Astrid felt the enthusiasm coming from Tilde’s corner of the couch. “I’m excited for you, Tilde.”

And she was. She truly was.

Tilde reached out and grabbed Astrid’s hand. “I’m serious, though, Astrid. We never had a great family growing up, and I see this as an opportunity to right the wrongs of the past and create the family we should have had growing up.”

“I don’t know, Til.”

“James and I have both talked about it a lot and we both agree.”

“Tilde, even if I did move here,” Astrid began, “I don’t know the first thing about teaching in England.”

Tilde nodded. “I know. But James’ parents are retired teachers. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you make heads or tails of it.”

Astrid pursed her lips and turned to stare at the dormant fireplace sitting in front of them. Duchess, who had not moved, made happy dog purr noises as Astrid massaged the tiny velvet triangles of her ears. To be fair to Tilde, Astrid had often thought of moving to London to be nearer to her, but she never thought it would happen or that Tilde would actually need or want her here. The fact that she was wanted made emotion spring to her eyes and prick at them until they watered.

But then, there was the other issue.

The really, super, ginormous issue that came in the shape of a devastatingly handsome British man she met on vacation. If she moved to London, she’d certainly be seeing him more. No clean break at the end of two weeks like she hoped.

“And, you know,” Tilde said, “London’s arts scene is stupendous. We have the hook-up. I thought you could get back into it. You can hardly do that in Las Vegas.”

Astrid snorted. “Tilde, that part of my life is over.”

“Why? You’re amazing. I remember the video you sent of your college production of Othello. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place.”

While Tilde’s appreciation for her talent warmed Astrid’s heart, it didn’t take away the sting of her mother’s actions. Astrid couldn’t even bring herself to discuss it with Tilde when it first happened, much less in the intervening eight years since the incidents that led to her total disavowal of all things acting related. Her silence on the matter, though, had finally come home to roost. First with Tilde telling Tom she was still an actor, and Tom calling her a liar because she told him she wanted nothing to do with it. And now, with Tilde staring her down imploringly. Tilde wanted answers just as much as Tom did, except for very different reasons.

Astrid could not force her suddenly leaden tongue to move in her mouth. Tilde would just have to live with not knowing the whole story, for now. Finally, she said, “If I move to London, I’m not going to be acting.”

“Well, I guess I’ll take that,” Tilde replied. “As long as you’ll still consider moving here to be with me.”

A knock at the front door startled them all, sending Duchess barking and wheezing to the door. The door opened and James popped his head inside. “Knock knock.”

“Come in!” Tilde sang back to him, jumped from her seat, and nearly leaped over the back of the couch to get to him like he was a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him squarely. For a brief, possibly irrational, moment, Astrid was jealous of her sister and the relationship she had built with James.

Which wasn’t a great feeling to have if the plan was to spend more time with them. How could she uproot her entire life— leave her students and friends— and move halfway across the globe just to be consumed by the green-eyed monster?

“Babe,” Tilde said, “tell Astrid she needs to move to London.”

James laughed and turned to look at Astrid. “Astrid… you need to move to London.”

“Thank you!” Tilde pecked his cheek and pirouetted in place until she was facing away from him. She started walking back toward the bedroom. “Let me go get my purse and we can get going.”

When Tilde was gone, and the flat was mostly silent except for more of Duchess’ puggy wheezing as she calmed, James’ smile dropped into a stony seriousness. He stepped over to her and quietly murmured, “We would love to have you here, Astrid. But I understand if you don’t want to come. The decision has to be yours, and if you decide not to move, I will handle Tilde.”

Astrid was grateful for James’ level-headedness in the situation. In the short time she’d known the man, she found that he was a gifted reader of rooms. That was why he was so good with Tilde— a steady anchor in a turbulent sea. Clearly, he understood the anxiety twisting her stomach into knots.

She set a grateful hand on his arm and squeezed appreciatively. “Thanks, James.”

“And don’t let my association with Tom cloud your judgement,” James said.

Astrid withdrew her hand like he’d burned it. Her eyes snapped up to his, then focused outward on the rest of his features and body language. She didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Tom must have told James, despite that she asked him not to.

Unless Tom had told James last night…

“How do you...” She trailed off, turning her gaze and trying to hide her blush.

“He’s my best man for a reason. We tell each other everything,” James replied. “I had hoped that your work today would allow you some time to figure things out before more of this wedding commenced and caused a problem.”

Astrid gulped. “Does Tilde know?”

James shook his head silently.

“Good,” Astrid replied. Good for two reasons, really. The first, because it confirmed for her that the invitation to come to London wasn’t Tilde playing matchmaker. The second, because she still didn’t want anybody to know about it. “Wait… how much did he tell you?”

James stared back at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a slight curl at the corner of his mouth. “That would be breaking the Code.”

Her face now completely aflame, Astrid bent down and grabbed Duchess into her arms. She couldn’t even look at the man anymore without feeling embarrassed. Hopefully, it would pass quickly.

“Bad news!” Tilde called from the hallway as she came back into the room. Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen of her iPhone. “Mother decided we needed an all hands on deck dinner tonight.”

Astrid groaned. “In addition to or replacing the one tomorrow night at Cliveden?”

“In addition to,” Tilde said. “Tom can’t make it tonight because he has the cast party, and Dad isn’t even in England yet, so that’ll be the official one. Tonight is probably just more nitpicking.”

“Do we have to?” Astrid whined.

Tilde sighed heavily and dropped her phone into her purse with agitation. “Strength in numbers, dear sister.”

Her sister's proclamation made the summons to dinner no better, but Astrid and James dutifully followed Tilde out of the flat and out to the car. The only saving grace was that Tom wouldn't be there. Astrid could focus on one problem, not two.