#daughters enjoying some light fireworks

[kalitheinksimp]

Day 26 of inktober: fireworks

[rose-pearls]

Lost without you

I had an idea this morning and I wrote it until I realised that his had become quite long but hopefully you enjoy this!! Reader is Percy, Annabeth's and Grover's age and is Luke's sister. I am working on requests that I received and my requests are still open if you have any!

Summary: As Luke's sister you had only seen the best in him but as the identity of the lightning thief comes to light your whole world breaks down. (Brother!Luke & Sister!reader, Percy Jackson x reader)

Main taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303, @abbersreads (open)

The quest had been hard, harder than you could have ever imagined but in the end you did manage to complete it. The only thing you could hope was that Sally Jackson would be returned and that Percy would be able to see her once again. 

There was a weird atmosphere at camp, everyone was ready to celebrate when Percy came back but you couldn’t stop watching Clarisse. You had told your brother that she was the lightning thief and yet she was still here, parading around with her siblings.

“Stop watching her,”, you hear someone say softly and you turn around to find Luke smiling at you softly.

“Sorry, I just can’t help it,” you tell him, and he nods slowly before sitting down next to you.

“What is going through your mind?”, he asks after a few seconds of watching a few campers bringing the fireworks to the lake.

“It just seems too easy,” you whisper and Luke frowns at your words.

“What do you mean?”, he says, looking slightly worried but you just shake your head.

“The fact that Clarisse could be the lightening thief. It seems too easy, like someone is trying to make her the thief when she didn’t do it,” you tell him and as you turn to look at him you find a somber expression on his face, but there is some sort of sadness in his eyes that you just can’t place.

“But I’m probably spiraling, I didn’t get enough sleep,” you tell him, and Luke seems a little bit relieved at your words before throwing his arm around your shoulders and bringing you closer. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of it. But right now, you just need to relax and enjoy the celebration. Just be a kid for one moment,”, he tells you with a soft smile, and you nod in agreement after letting out a sigh. 

“I missed you,” you say, and Luke’s smile turns sad for a moment before bringing you closer and dropping a kiss on your forehead, lingering as if this would be the last time in a long time, he would be doing this.

“Missed you too little sis,” he whispers, and you can’t help but smile at the words.

“Not so little anymore,” you tease him, and Luke lets out a laugh at your words.

“You will always be my little sister, you can’t escape it,” he tells you and you laugh softly at the words, a familiar warmth envelops you at the words. 

You hadn’t really known your father, after Luke had yelled at him, he had disappeared like thin air. The only family you had was your mother, Luke, Annabeth and once Thalia. But the list had grown over the past week, Percy and Grover becoming close friends, even if you couldn’t help but see Percy in a different light. He was handsome, every person at camp could tell you that but it was his personality that made you slowly fall for him, his unwavering loyalty and that true kindness. 

“Percy is back!”, Annabeth yells as she arrives and you quickly jump up at the words, making Luke look at you in surprise and Annabeth with a knowing smile. You blushed at the look the daughter of Athena gave you, the both of you had talked about your little crush once you had gone back to camp. The first night back you couldn’t sleep, and it seemed as if Annabeth couldn’t either because the two of you found yourself at the lake, whispering about everything you could think of.

The clapping and cheering of the campers brought you back from your daydream and Annabeth took you by the hand to see where Percy was, Luke following close behind. There he was, looking surprised at the cheering, but still moving forward and you had an urge to go and hug him but as you felt Luke presence behind you, you felt unsure, until Annabeth pushed you slightly forward.

Percy seemed relieved at the sight of you, but you told yourself it was because he could also see Annabeth behind you. The cheers seemed to get louder as you brought him into a hug, his arms quickly wrapping themselves around you, holding you close. There was that familiar smell of the ocean, that always seemed to cling to him.

“Do you see her?”, you can’t help but ask and you can feel Percy’s confusion until her whispers Clarisse’s name.

“What is she doing here?”, he whispers, and you shake your head.

“Not here, we’ll talk about it in the cabin,” you tell him and Percy nods as you slowly let go of him, not seeing the disappointed look that appears in Percy’s eyes. Annabeth joins the two of you and she quickly brings Percy into a quick hug. You turn to look at your brother, who has a somber expression on his face, his eyes hard but they soften at the sight of you watching him.

“Why is she still here?”, Percy asks as the four of you find yourself in the Hermes cabin, Luke had quickly joined you after you left the celebrations.

“Camp was a mess when you weren’t here, everyone was ready to fight each other. An accusation against Clarisse,”

“Without proof,” Annabeth adds, making Luke nod in agreement.

“Exactly, without proof, it would’ve lit this whole place on fire,” Luke tries to explain, and you nod in agreement, people had seemed tense when you had come back.

“Now you’re back, you saved the world by stopping the war,” a proud smile appears on your lips at Luke’s words and Percy somehow stands straighter, he had always looked up to Luke.

“It’s time to tell Chiron and clean up this whole mess. I told him that we wanted to meet him away from the celebration, so that no one could hear us, especially Clarisse supporters,” Luke explains further, and you can’t help but have a bad feeling, but you brushed it away, thinking that it was just the lack of sleep that made you paranoid. 

“I’ll keep an eye on Clarisse while you are gone,” Annabeth says and Luke nods in agreement.

“The both of you can do that,” Luke says while looking at you and you quickly agree.

“Of course,” you tell them, trying to smile reassuringly and it seems to work, only Percy looks at you with a worried gaze, but you ignore it.

“Great, then we will meet back here. Ready?”, Luke asks Percy and the boy nods, looking confident as the two of them leave towards the clearing.

--

Annabeth and you had been watching the Ares kids, Clarisse at the center of the circle, talking and laughing with her siblings.

“Annie, I have a bad feeling,” you whisper, and she looks at you in surprise, but there is something in her eyes that make you think she understands what you are saying.

“About Clarisse?”, she asks, and you nod slowly, trying to find the words to explain it all.

“Don’t worry, she won’t do anything to us and if she tries, we will be able to defend ourselves,” she says but you shake your head at her words.

“Clarisse being the one to steal the master bold is too easy, it’s like a trap to hide the real person behind it. I can’t stop thinking about it, but it just doesn’t make sense that she would steal it,” you explain and Annabeth seems to think for a moment, her eyes focused before she looks at you with wide eyes.

“Who could be the one that stole it?”, she asks, and you shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know, I just can’t stop thinking that there is something wrong here,” you tell her, and she nods slowly.

“We need to find Luke and Percy, hopefully before they speak to Chiron,” she says and there is an urgency in her tone as she makes you stand up from your hiding place. 

The woods are quiet, the only sound resonating through it are the distant sounds of fireworks and cheers from the campers. You see Luke and Percy standing there but before you can go there, Annabeth stops you, a finger on her mouth to tell you to stay quiet.

“The reason Clarisse is still here is because you never said anything to Chiron. Did you?”, Percy says, and you feel breathless for a moment, Annabeth looks at you with equally worried eyes.

“You couldn’t. Because you knew that Clarisse didn’t steal the bolt. You did,” the words linger in the air, and you feel like you are suffocating on the words you just heard. You wait for Luke to say it isn’t true and that Percy got it all wrong.

“You worked with Ares to plant it on me, so when the shoes you gave me would pull me into Tartarus the bolt would be delivered to Kronos,” you feel sick at the words and Annabeth looks as devastated as you. You pray for this to all be just a dream, you even pray to your dad to wake you up from this nightmare.

“I didn’t think you would give them to Grover to wear,” Luke says, in a voice that you had never heard before and you want to throw up at the words. You still remember the deep fear that had gripped you when Grover started being pulled towards the large hole. Annabeth has tears in her eyes as you shake your head, your ears ringing as you hear Luke continue his speech. 

You knew that he hated the gods, for what they did to all of you, for what your father did to your mother. But you never thought he would do this, betray camp and follow Kronos.

“You are being manipulated by Kronos,” Percy tells him, and you desperately wait for Luke to realize his mistake. 

“No, he opened my eyes,” Luke says, and you don’t recognize the voice of your older brother.

The sound of swords hitting each other make you look up, holding Annabeth’s hand to try and reassure her and you at the same time.

“Our parents aren’t perfect, but they are trying. I met your dad,” Percy says and before you can even think of warning Percy about speaking of Hermes to Luke you hear the sound of swords clashing against each other. 

You want to get up and put an end to this, but Annabeth holds your hand tighter and shakes her head as you look at her.

“I need to help him,” you whisper, and she shakes her head, sadness in her eyes.

“Who? Luke or Percy?”, she asks, and you feel like the world has shattered around you.

“Percy,” you whisper, and she nods in agreement, but she looks pained at the words. You don’t realize tears are streaming down your face until a tear falls on your hand, making you look at a teary-eyed Annabeth.

“I’m sorry,” you hear Percy say and you lift your head up just in time to see Luke slice open Percy’s arm, making you feel sick. 

Your dagger flies quickly through the air, making both boys look at you. Luke seems pained at the sight of you, like you are piercing your dagger through his chest, like you were the one betraying him.

He whispers your name; sadness covers his words and for a moment you wonder if this is your big brother again. The one who had helped you through the nightmares, who had protected you from every monster you had ever seen.

“This is not what it looks like,” he says, his tone now pleading but you shake your head.

“I heard everything Luke,” you tell him, your voice breaking over the words and Annabeth appears next to you, making Luke look even more pained.

“You made us all turn against an innocent person, when you were the one who had stolen the bolt,” you tell him, and he tries to speak but you shake your head.

“Don’t try to tell me you can explain this, because even if you did it would always come back to the fact that you were the one who did it,” you tell him, and Luke has tears in his eyes at your words.

“I did this for us, to stop the Gods from being able to do whatever they wanted with us,” he tries to say but you scoff at the words.

“You did this for yourself!”, you scream, feeling like someone is killing you from the inside.

“Don’t come here and tell us that you did this for us when you nearly send us all to our deaths with your plan,” Luke closes his eyes at your words, his hand wrapped tightly around his sword.

“Don’t do this, don’t go through with this,” you plead, trying to make him understand that there is still another way.

“I have to, I won’t go back to just doing whatever the Gods want us to do,” he says, in a voice that is so cold that you feel lost.

“But you can join me, we can escape this all and go make a better world. You and me, like old times,” Luke says, and you feel tears falling down your cheeks as Luke gets closer to you, there is a softness in his eyes that always came when talking to you.

You don’t know what to say, you don’t want to lose your big brother, not when you practically lose your mother every time you see her. There is a soft whisper of your name, and you turn to see Percy looking at you with pleading eyes, he is holding his arm, where he had been hit by Luke.

“I can’t, I can’t join you,” you say to Luke, and it is perhaps the hardest thing you ever had to say to your brother. But watching his emotions change before your eyes from a soft look to pure rage made it all worse.

“So, you are choosing him, a guy you haven’t known for more than two weeks over your brother?”, there is sarcasm dripping over his words but the anger radiating from him makes you take a step back.

“I don’t want to Luke, but you give me no choice,” you tell him, hoping that your bother will come back to his senses, but he lets out a cold laugh that makes you shiver.

Percy quickly comes in front of you, putting you behind him to make sure you are safe, and Riptide is in his hand. His other hand is still holding you behind him and you look at Annabeth who takes out her own dagger and points it at Luke.

Your brother looks pained at the sight of his other sister turning against him and for a moment you think that he will be fighting the two of them before he runs and disappears into the portal. You look at it, watching the light from the sign he had carved disappearing, and you feel lost, like you had just lost a part of yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Percy says, and you turn to look at him with wide eyes, he looks sad, and you could understand why, the man he had looked up to turned out to be the bad guy all along.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” you tell him before turning to look at Annabeth who has finally let the tears fall down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry Annie,” you tell her before bringing her into a tight hug, the girl holds you just as tight and the two of you stay like that for a moment, trying to put yourselves together again.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispers, and you just squeeze her in response before letting her go and wiping away the tears that had fallen on your cheeks.

Percy has an awkward smile as you turn back to him, but you just step towards him, taking his arm in your hand and looking at the wound in worry.

“You should have this checked out after we talk to Chiron,” you tell him as you brush the skin just under it, but as the boy doesn’t answer you look up to find him looking at you with wide eyes and rosy cheeks.

“I will,” he says after clearing his throat and you nod slowly, feeling a blush appearing on your cheeks as you realize you had been holding his arms for a moment.

“Right, sorry,” you say, and you take your hand away, but Percy takes your hand in his. He looks away as you look at him in surprise, but you hold his hand tighter.

“Thought you might want some reassurance after what happened and didn’t want you to get lost in the woods,” he says, and you glare at the boy as his eyes light up in mischief.

“You ass, I got lost one time and you weren’t even here!”, you say but your words aren’t heard as Annabeth and Percy start laughing.

“Common seaweed brain, we should get you some water to heal that wound,” Annabeth says and Percy nods in agreement before following her towards the lake, his hand still holding yours as if he was scared you would disappear. 

You turn to look at the portal one last time, wondering if Luke would suddenly appear again and tell you that it was all a misunderstanding. But it stays void, making you turn back towards your friends and join the conversation.

--

“What does she think of it all?”, you hear Percy ask and both Annabeth and you turn to find him standing there with a smile.

“It’s a tree seaweed brain, it doesn’t talk,” she says with an eyeroll but there is a fond smile on her lips.

“But I’m sure she would be thrilled about it,” you tell Annabeth, making the girl smile as you join her and Percy.

“What are you going to do with your dad?”, the boy asks, and you turn to look at Annabeth with a smile.

“He wants to go to New York, so I’ll pretend I haven’t been there. And then he wants to take me to someplace called Disneyworld. It sounds a little like Waterland but less dangerous,” she says, looking slightly unsure and you can’t stop yourself from smiling even wider. 

“Or did I understand that wrong? You better tell me what I’m walking in to!”, she says looking scared, but you just laugh in response.

“Just be a kid,” Percy says, and you feel your throat close up at the words. Luke had said the same words to you before everything went downhill, and now you were going home alone.

“Guys!”, you hear Grover yell and you all cheer as he arrives.

“Did you get it?”, you quickly ask, and he carefully removes his jacket to show a beautiful green flower.

“I can officially start to search for Pan!”, he says, and you all congratulate him.

“Everyone always looked on the ground and land, but no one has ever searched the oceans so I think I will start there,” Grover says, and you can’t help but feel excited for your friend.

“If you ever need help, I know some people under there,” Percy says with a cheeky smile, and you roll your eyes at his words.

“Before we go, we need to promise each other that we will all be here together again next year, the four of us,” Percy says and the three of you nod in response.

“We will all be there,” you say and Percy smiles softly at you.

“Come here!”, Grover yells before bringing the four of you into a hug and you close your eyes as you wrap your arms around your friends, holding them as tight as you can before you have to let them go.

“Enjoy New York and Disneyworld Annie and Grover good luck for your quest!”, you tell them and the two of them look excited at the prospect before Annabeth takes you by the hand, a bit further away.

“Good luck with your mother, if you ever need me, you know I’m always available,” she says, and you nod in agreement.

“Don’t worry, enjoy the time you have with your father! I’ll be just fine, I won’t be the only one in New York now,” you tell her, and she has a dangerous smile on her lips as her eyes light up in mischief.

“That’s right, you will be able to spend all seventh grade with Percy,” you hit her in the arm at her wink and you can’t help but blush as she laughs.

“Nothing will happen,” you tell her, and she looks unimpressed before humming, an unimpressed look in her eyes.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” she says before joining the others making you shake your head. 

“See you all in a few months?”, you ask and Grover and Annabeth nod before leaving Percy and you next to Thalia’s tree.

“Are you sure you will be alright going alone?”, Percy asks, and you look at him with a fond smile.

“I will be just fine, go and find your mother, I’m sure she is waiting for you,” you tell him and there is a hopeful smile that appears on his lips.

“Tell me when you get there? I’ll keep you updated when we come back,” he says, and a blush appears on your cheeks at the words, but you nod quickly.

“I’ll tell you, better not leave me waiting too long Jackson or I’ll go to Coney Island without you,” you tell him in a teasing tone, but you know that you would wait for him.

“Don’t worry I’ll be there,” he says with a voice that leaves no doubt in your mind and before you can tell him goodbye, he brings you into a hug, holding you close in his arms.

“See you in a week?”, he whispers, and you nod against his shoulder, holding him tight even if you knew you were going to see him soon.

“See you in a week, don’t be stranger,” you tell him before leaving his embrace and taking your luggage. 

--

Your mother is in the kitchen, the smell of cookies surrounds the living room, and you take a moment to take it all in. This would be the first of many times you would be coming back alone to your apartment. 

There are countless boxes filled with cookies, as if she had to feed two teenagers and not one. Because she would never know that her son would never come back, too far for her to ever reach again.

“Hi mom,” you whisper, trying not to let the tear fall as memories of Luke and you come back.

“Oh, my darling, you are back!”, she says, her eyes lightening up in excitement as she brings you into a tender hug.

“So sad that your brother couldn’t leave camp, but he always did love to be there,” she says, and you hold her close, letting her believe that the tears that are falling down your cheeks are from seeing her again after such a long time. Not because you had lied to her about your brother staying at camp for the year, and the fact that she wouldn’t be seeing him again.

“Why don’t you go take a shower and then we can eat something and talk! You have already grown so much!”, she says as she pushes you into the bathroom while talking about everything that you will be talking about later on.

The week passes by with her stuffing you with cookies and stories about her friends and family and before you know it a curly haired boy has come back to New York.

“You can give him some cookies!”, your mother says before shoving you a large box of cookies.

“Are these blue?”, you ask her, unable not to feel surprised as you see them, and she has a knowing smile on her lips.

“You told me he liked blue food, and I need to make a good impression on the boy who captured your heart,” she says with a teasing smile, and you groan at the words, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“I am leaving!”, you tell her, and you can hear her laughter ringing thought the hallway, making you smile.

Percy is standing there, leaning against the car in front of the building.

“Please tell me you aren’t driving that car,” you say in teasing tone and Percy rolls his eyes at the words.

“Verry funny, but no we are going with the metro if that is alright with you?”, he says, and you nod in agreement your smile wide as you take in what changed in the last few days. He had gotten even taller if that was possible.

“What are those?”, he asks, and you look at the box in your hands before giving the cookies to him.

“My mother made them for you, apparently you are her new favorite,” you tell him, and a shy smile appears on his lips as he opens the box and sees the cookies.

“They are blue?”, he says, looking surprised at the sight of them and you feel shy as he looks at you.

“Seems like she listened to me when I was talking about you and the rest of the group of course,” you tell him, feeling embarrassed at what he could be thinking right now.

“Of course,” he says with a smirk, and you feel slightly confused before he takes your hand in his, making you look up at him.

“Is this alright?”, he asks, his shy eyes looking into yours.

“Completely alright,” you tell him, making a wide smile appear on his lips.

“Common we need to take the metro to get to our date!”, Percy says, and it takes you a moment to process the words.

“Wait, date?”

[incidentallysunny]

Through The Skin

Real Uncle!Leon

Dead dove warning.

7k word count. Proof read lightly. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I'd like to appear in the tagz pls so here's a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing fxcked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don't be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, age-gap, overall just some disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, public female oral-recieving, Leon has dick piercings surprise, make and female oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, spitting, any probably some other irrelevant shit I'm forgetting my bad.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it's a long one.

To be quite frank, you didn’t give a shit about a single holiday party that your parents threw. Having to hug and touch on people you didn’t even know, putting on a fake smile and pretending as if you remembered them at all. Exhausting for a young woman to keep up this charade for so long. You’re sure your relatives noticed the dying spark in your eyes over time. Living Growing does that to a person. You spent all night fetching beers and other pre-packaged, alcoholic drinks- hoping he would show up every time you had to hand one out. Still one less face you’re can be enthralled to see.

You sat at the dining table, leaned onto an elbow with your face in your palm. Clearly a dejected and annoyed pose but everyone here was too cheery or already deep in the ‘special occasion’ wine bottle to even piece that together. Your other hand traced the ringed patterns in the wood surface, wondering how old it had been before it was chopped down ruthlessly by some hot guy with a chainsaw who was getting paid way too much to be fucking up nature left and right. All so that some college-aged girl could sit at the furniture it had been made into and sulk. God, an almost 40 year old tree. That’s pretty fucking old. You’re glad it lived a somewhat long life (in human years, not tree years.) ‘Cause some trees live a few hundred or even thousand years. So maybe it was taken too soon before it became the placeholder for your familial drunken talks. While you were distracted, annoyed, and pitying yourself, the table all erupted into ‘Hey, long time no see!’s , laughter, and other delightful sentiments that were jolly and deafening enough to make you jump. Loud noises weren’t your thing.

Before you could regain your composure and turn your torso in the hand-carved, deep-brown varnished chair- a hand graced the presence of your slumped shoulder.

“Hey, babydoll. Long time no see.” The voice greeted, husky and rough like a patch of concrete you’ve definitely scraped your knee on a time or two. Basically, it was familiar, which is what you’re getting at.

Uncle Leon.

You turned your full body now, swinging your legs to the side of the seat- a few laughs slopped from the table.

Everyone knew how much you loved and fawned over your Uncle- your dad rivaling how much you seemed to prefer his brother over him. Well duh, dad. It’s because he’s fun and you’re a hard-ass. And ugly to look at. Your poor, poor mom.

It had been years since you saw your uncle. Since you were freshly 18, to be exact. Your dad wasn’t too keen on having him around his barely-legal daughter- probably because he could practically smell it on you that you want your uncle to pop your cherry. You still remembered his few quirks, too. He was always sloppy yet casually drunk wherever he was, he hated fireworks (due to PTSD as your dad explained), and he had always been known to be grabby with people- probably because of the alcohol. He was a weird guy, but you loved him all the same. It broke the normalcy of your home and made things interesting to be around him. However- none of this was the focus. His stubble, dark-liquored bags under his eyes that almost resemble eyeliner, and dark-tinted hair were. And god, his chin. Could be a replacement for a Sybian, if you had one. All of that aside, he looks sexy. That’s so fucking weird to say about your dad’s brother, but calling it weird is also so outdated. Fucking your hot, middle-aged uncle is in; getting a boyfriend your age is out.

You stood up swiftly, hugging him tightly around the waist and almost toppling him. He chuckled, steadying himself with one arm around your back and the other on the table to catch himself. Once he felt he was steady enough, the other arm joined around you- the embrace squeezing you like a stress ball. You worried that your eyes might be a little more loose in your skull than before.

“Gotta be careful, kiddo. You’re gonna take down your uncle one of these days.” He teases, moving out of the hug and letting his hands explore their way down your back- resting on the small of it. Digits perched like a bird where your back starts to curve into your ass- not sweetly or gentle- but like one of those huge-taloned hawks that would rip your flesh off. You only say that because his hands are big and rough- and you’ve heard stories of what your uncle does for work (plus the alcohol is making him need to stabilize himself so he doesn’t crash you both into the nearby counter and cause any serious brain injury. At least then you could excuse the bubbling of strange feelings as TBI). Oh, and with how handsy he was known to be (Just ask your Aunt Claire on your mom’s side). But he had never been that way with you- not until now.

You see your dad eyeing him like the same kind of big-taloned hawk from across the table. They’re cut from the same feathers- except your dad must have been the one that never learned to fly. Pushed out of the nest by a sharp shove of a beak and bit every branch of the ugly tree on the way down. Cause he’s a lot weaker and uglier than your uncle. How he pulled your mom is a miracle and a mystery.

“Hey, uh. Honey. Come sit back down. No need in playing into your uncle’s fashionably late, drunken stupor.” He quips towards you while grilling Leon about being late, nursing his own drink with that ugly grin. You roll your eyes. Leon removes his hands from you- putting them up in defense of himself and leaving your back with an empty feeling.

“Hey, hey. Just hugging my beautiful niece.” He turned to address you again. “Been years since I’ve seen you, sweetheart. Look even better than your momma.” You feel a blush creep up at Leon’s words, but your dad clears his throat and your mom pays him no mind. Just an eye roll and sip of a wine cooler. To be honest, even she probably fucked your uncle. You couldn’t blame her if she did.

You huff and sit back down, crossing your arms. Your dad always had to ruin everything. If you fuck your uncle or kiss him or whatever and don’t like it, you can just go to therapy. Leon snickered behind you, patting your shoulder before leaning in next to your ear.

“Come join me out on the deck in a bit. I’m sure you’re tired of being smothered in here with the fun police.”

You feel muggy from his words. Like a Louisiana swamp type muggy. Is your hair sticking to you? Are there zika-virus bearing mosquitos pricking you or is that just undiagnosed anxiety?

You bounce your leg under the table while you hear the sliding door open and close in the distance. Minutes pass of you twiddling your thumbs- and you excuse yourself to sneak off- exiting out the same heavy sliding door that Leon used.

When you sealed it behind you- the smell of whiskey filled your nostrils- sizzling off any hairs that your nose so proudly grew for much needed germ-protection. A hand slapped itself gracelessly onto the glass above you in the dark, trapping you in place. Predictable uncle.

“Shit, sorry sweetheart. Lost my footing. Y’know how it is. I’m always taking spills here and there.” You felt giddy and blistered all over, speaking back to him.

“S’okay. Sorry about dad.” You excused, breathing in. Leon’s other hand patted you low on your hip as he chuckled into your ear- sending off more whiskey breath.

“It’s okay, sweet thing. Your dad can be that way. I’m not exactly safe to be around in his eyes. Besides, he’s just doing his job- looking out for his little girl.” He explains, not making any efforts to move. You predicted this- but it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Why’s that?” You dare to ask, sounding purposefully puzzled- but Leon knows better. And you know the answer.

“It’s ‘cause your Uncle likes ‘em young and pretty.” He mulls the information over you, the words sliding down you like a vibration that sets off a perfect sensation to your already throbbing clit. Because you’re always horny. The hand on your hip now kneads your ass under your skirt- somehow getting there without notice.

“O-oh.” You choke on the word like it’s quicksand in your throat- but only the quicksand is the prospect of having your uncle plow you until you develop early onset dementiaSo really, the quicksand isn’t bad in this instance. You jump into it face first for a good mouthful.

“Shouldn’t be wearing something so short when you know your dirty old uncle is coming over. Can’t keep my eyes where they’re supposed t’be.” He mutters low, leaning down to tickle the shell of your ear with his voice.

“Knew you were coming over. I wanted to look pretty for you.” Saying it makes your head spin, but like in the good way. The sound Leon makes is between a groan that says ‘good god, I’m going to bury my cock inside you right the fuck now’ and ‘I figured as much’. A simple cocktail of horniness and knowing.

“Mm, just want to kiss you everywhere, you know? Love it how sweet you are.” He murmurs into your scented hair, using the hand from the wall to push aside any strands that are in his way. He kisses the back of your neck and his breath scorches your skin. The affection is sloppy and leaves small bits of saliva behind, his barely-darting-out tongue making you ache even more.

“U-uncle.” You shuddered, a slight protest to your voice. Not ‘cause you don’t like it but because you’re worried someone will see. Or that you’ll never want off of his dick. He can be your personal IUD, all buried in your cervix.

Leon ignored the shared thought that someone could see because the way you referred to him made his dick jump in his jeans. Plus, the whole family knows he’s a sleeze. They’d see him balls deep in you and say ‘Ah, that’s Leon for you’ And look the other way until his next sexual prospect. One of the many reasons that Aunt Claire doesn't visit and Aunt Ada divorced his ass. Her loss. You’d happily share him if it were you. It’s only right to share a man that looks like a washed-up pornstar. His dick is great too. Not ‘cause you’re guessing- but because you saw it one time. Last time you saw him actually- the whole incident that left you wanting to see him again oh-so-badly. He had stumbled in the bathroom to piss- ignoring you at the sink. It’s whatever, he was totally wasted and probably didn’t see you. Nor did he probably see the fact you were gawking at his big dick. Or his nice ass, cause he had let his pants drop completely in his hazy state.

“Mm, what is it, babydoll? Hey- Think anyone’d notice if I fingered this sweet little pussy right now?” His voice cut through your memory and thick, long fingers teased the swell of your pussy lips through your underwear, making your hips contract with excitement. Your breath fans over the glass and smogs it.

“I don’t know- maybe.” You huff, trying to keep your composure. It sure is fucking hard when God’s gift to women is about to finger-fuck you at your parent’s house with 20 or so family members inside the property. You second guess yourself now. Maybe God's gift to women doesn’t go around playing with a pussy that belongs to their niece. Or maybe God was fed up with some girls missing out so he created sexually-attractive uncle’s to even any scores. You’ll be attending church this upcoming Sunday. Not because you’re going to follow through with blood-related fornication but because you want to thank the higher-ups properly for this fine piece of ass you’re about to receive from. Or maybe you shouldn’t step foot there, the whole ‘bursting into flames for egregious sinning’ type thing. Wait a minute- there’s literally daddy-daughter incest in the Book of Genesis, so you’ll happily sin away and tell god to fuck off while doing it. Okay maybe that’s a little uncalled for.

Leon tugged your panties to the side, breathing shakily.

“Fuck. I gotta see it, baby.” He mumbles, dropping to one knee with the other bent and still supporting the front of him. Underwear aside, he uses his hands to spread you out- taking in the sight of your damp folds. Damp is putting it lightly. His thumb collects some of your slick and he nearly cums right there.

“You save your first time for me?” He questions. In his mind, you’ve already had a dick or two. He can work with that. Those little guys your age don’t match up to him, but he’s blindsided when you whine about being a virgin, begging him to stick it in or something. Now, Leon’s not the greatest guy morally. At all. But if he’s going to pop your pussy like a soda cap for the first time, he’s going to do it in private cause he’s not stopping for anything. And privacy allows just that. Again- it’s not about it being special, just private. He’ll turn you out good and well.

“Sorry sweetheart. I wanna fuck this needy hole when it’s just us. Think you can wait?” He asks, before darting his tongue out to taste you and lapping up any of you that’s continuously dripping out from pent-up arousal. Your knees almost buckle and he puts his hands under the curve of your ass to hold you still. Your brain goes so mushy you almost forgot to respond.

“Y-yes, uncle Leon.” You whine like a pathetic puppy- begging for something that it didn’t need. But actually, you did need your uncle’s dick so badly. He laughs against your cunt, seemingly happy with that answer. Before you can properly nut like you want, you see your dad pass by in the distance of the sliding door. You tap the glass gently to alert Leon with a small series of clicks. He shoots his head up, yanking your panties back into place and using the sleeve of his leather jacket to wipe his mouth.

“Fuck- always such a blue-balling asshole for anyone, I swear. Sorry, pretty girl.” He smooths down your hair, making sure you look presentable. Well- besides your face that’s red enough to be used as a lit flare.

“Go inside. I’m sure he’s looking for you, babydoll.” He grabs you drunkenly by the upper arm, pulling you in to kiss you on the cheek.

“Come by mine sometime. I’ll be home, for once.” He mutters the last part, loosening his hold on you and starting down the steps of the deck.

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Uncle Leon.” You sound so disappointed and miserable. Pouty. Leon gets it.

“Later, babydoll.”

He heads down the path of the backyard and through the connecting gate that leads to the driveway, the sound of his motorcycle’s engine revving is the cue that he’s definitely headed off.

You let yourself back in, acting inconspicuous. But your dad is already waiting with crossed arms. Yuck.

“Did I not tell you several times about hanging around your uncle. He’s a weird guy. I don’t mind him coming over but, god.” He lays into you, mostly just insulting his brother. You roll your eyes as you normally do. You’ve never not had an attitude with your father. He was born to be shit on in your eyes- barely deserved your mom, as is. Besides, He had no backbone whatsoever.

“Just go upstairs.” He asked, cause he never told you to do anything. Just asked and hoped you’d listen. You were pleased enough to have gotten as much as your uncle tonguing your cunt, so you can comply a bit longer. You go upstairs to your room, shutting the door and lying down.

—

It’s a week later when you finally get to see your uncle. You managed to convince your dad to let you borrow his car, ‘cause you’re a broke college student and can’t afford that right now. Plus you’re spoiled but not enough for a car, apparently. Whoops. Probably because your dad knows as soon as he signs the papers, you’re going to drive to his brother’s house and impale yourself on his dick for life. He’d rather you go to college and get a train ran on you or something, at least.

You hoped you had remembered the right place at first, until Leon’s motorcycle was spotted in the lot. Good, he’s home. You still questioned your memory as you were walking up the flights of stairs in the apartment building, tugging down the back of your skirt when you felt it was airing out your ass too much (for any passerbys, not Leon). After reaching the 12th floor and navigating the scarily clean hallway (the few decorations in the area made it less horror-esque), you found the right (?) door. Your knock was soft because again, you weren’t entirely sure. Just going off of childhood memories.

After hearing a shuffle inside, it didn’t take long for it to swing open, Leon standing in the doorway shirtless with a pair of grey, thin sweatpants loose on his hipbones. His v-line was saying hello to you. Hello to you, too.

“Pretty girl! Hey! Thought you’d never come by. Sorry about the attire- been having a lazy day since I’m off work.” He moved aside for you to come in, the door shutting behind you when you accepted the unspoken invitation. His place was nice. A little cluttered with a half-packed suitcase; clothes messily thrown on top and some paperwork and a passport in a heap on the desk nearby, but still nice. Not to mention spacious. Thank god.

“It’s okay, really. You deserve some relaxation time, you know?” You try to be cool and collected- not getting to the main point of your visit. Even if you did have genuine interest in your uncle as a person.

“Isn’t that the truth? Want a drink?” He asked, already walking towards his kitchen. You don’t immediately reply because the sway of his ass is… something else, but you manage to snap yourself from the hypnotizing gaze of it. He’s got a whiskey glass and bottle already on the counter, waiting for a reply.

“Sure.” You tell him, knowing damn well you can’t handle your alcohol. You get all fucking lovey and touchy, and you’ve only drank like 3 times. And sure. You did come here to fuck him, but you were nervous. Okay, never mind. That gives a complete need for liquid courage.

He makes his way to the hallway- switching something on the AC control before sitting on the couch, adjacent from the chair you’re nestled in. You’re taking small sips of the whiskey, burning your throat, sinuses, and any nervousness down like a forest fire. Leon just sits, legs splayed apart like how men always sit. Except you can see his fat-ass dick print. God, kill me now. Or after I’ve sucked it, at least. You see, too, what looks like indents in the fabric- piercings maybe? Or the folds of the pants are sitting weird.

“Did you find the place okay?” He asks, coming off like he cares- which he does- but he’s mostly waiting to get you and himself sloppy for fucking so he’s just stalling now.

You nod, bottom lip tucked into your mouth- if you talk it’s going to be about his dick being huge or his dick being inside you. Leon allows you another deep sip, finishing off the liquid completely.

“I actually remembered how to get here just about perfectly.” You spoke, laughing a little. Yeah, you’d be gone completely in a few minutes. You already felt yourself slipping into a hazy, bubbly state. Leon could tell, too. Good for him. He loved when the girl was sloppier than the pussy attached to her.

“Smart girl. Always have been.” He took a long, heavy drink- finishing off his glass. You watched how his stomach twitched or moved even the slightest when he adjusted himself, the same with his arms. He was muscular yet lean- like he didn’t eat enough some days. Figures. Beauty isn’t easy and he looked good, and maybe that’s why he got plastered all the time so easily. No appetite=no tolerance. However, you were most certainly not afraid to look at the hard work. Even more so with alcohol brewing in your stomach acid and then liver.

Leon patted his leg, fingers drumming on the material of his sweatpants.

“Come sit. You can tell me more about it on your uncle’s lap.” Gross. Gross in the hot way. The gross-hot way you want him to fold and twist you like a pretzel. So no, you don’t abhor the idea of sitting in his lap.

You don’t even hesitate, standing and nearly falling over- realizing you forgot how wobbly your legs could get while inebriated. Leon reached forward to grab your hand and waist, letting you fall directly onto his lap, ass to crotch. Like a puzzle piece. An incestual puzzle piece- which ideally shouldn’t fit together but it just does.

You feel his cock twitch under you; he’s anticipated this, obviously. His hands slid up your thighs, and down again, then back up- like he’s appreciating them.

“Got the prettiest legs, baby. Want them on your uncle’s shoulders, don’t you?” He cooed, scooting you to the edge of his lap just enough to get his cock out of his bottoms. You turn to look behind you, twisting yourself a bit to get a look at it. Christ. One, he was big. The kind of dick that couldn’t stand ‘cause it was heavy and long. Two. It had a few piercings down the front of his shaft, gleaming in the light. So not only were you about to take your first dick, but a pierced one (like you had suspected). Okay…you didn’t remember seeing those the only other time you ever saw his dick by accident. New additions.

Leon stroked your hair with the hand that wasn’t holding his dick.

“Trust me, feels a lot better than it looks. I promise it doesn’t hurt. Even for virgins.” He adds, like he knows that for a fact. “Nothing you can’t handle for me.”

Okay, he’s right. You’d take his fist if it meant his approval, honestly. How bad could it be?

You move to spin yourself around on his lap, Leon’s amused at your eagerness. He holds his cock, spitting down onto it so he can stroke himself while he puts a hand onto your neck. You’re pulled by the hold into a slow, messy, spitty kiss. He’s definitely experienced, as you are not. His tongue makes its way against yours like he’s silently teaching you how to kiss him open mouthed. Not so hard, you think. He groans into your mouth as he handles himself, maneuvering his cock to brush against your underwear; prodding your clothed clit under your skirt.

You mewl against his lips which only spurs him to kiss you a little more rough now, assuming you’re ready for it. Which you definitely don’t mind. His hand squeezes the side of your neck affectionately, a thumb tracing the skin. You’re thankful you’re in his lap because your knees are weak and your head feels dizzy. It was an exchange of sighs and heavy breathing- no distance. Your hands tangled into his dark locks which is something that Leon loved; having his hair pulled (you could tell by his lusty growl and the shift of his hips). He truly was the epitome of a kinky, dirty old man. If pushing 40 was old. Well, to be fair, you did call the dead tree of a table at your parent’s house old, ‘cause it was 40.

He pulled off of you, your now un-joined mouths drippy with saliva.

“Get in between your Uncle’s legs. Wanna see that pretty mouth on this cock.” He urged, and you found yourself with your calves folded under you in between his parted thighs. He held his cock proudly, and to be honest, the piercings look daunting. How did you even expect yourself to suck on it like you’ve seen in porn? Maybe you should have spent more time watching guys with pierced dicks instead of the step category. You had a preference, clearly.

You snaked your hands up to him, holding his cock with a puzzled look clear on your face. Leon laughed, not like he was laughing at you but the way you laugh at someone when you think what they’re doing is cute.

“Don’t worry about them too much, gorgeous. Just do it how you think you would normally. But pay careful attention with your tongue. Won’t hurt me any, promise.” He reassures you thoroughly, chuckling through a sexually intense gaze. Okay, it seems…. easy enough. Didn’t know dirty old uncles could be so sweet about having their dick sucked.

You lean forward, Leon guiding the head to your mouth.

“Just go slow and focus on the tip. Don’t want my girl to be uncomfortable, now do I?” His girl? You liked the sound of that. Enjoyed it very much. You’d be his girl wherever and whenever. You took him past your lips- suckling on the tip softly and swirling your tongue around it.

“Just like that- fuck- you’re doing great, babydoll.”

The praise edged you on, and you managed enough confidence to glide your tongue down his shaft and over the piercings- flicking over them pornographically. You felt like it was just right. If fucking your uncle could be right in any way of the sense. Leon groaned and his head fell back onto the couch. A large hand found its way to your hair, holding it into a makeshift ponytail. You discovered that it wasn’t too daunting- it was possible to bob your head a little while keeping your tongue exploring the piercings in small swirls and flicks. Just makes your jaw a little tired faster. Besides, seems less scary than taking it inside you.

It’s an alternation of the previous movements and kitten licking up the front of him, and the adornments on his skin only seem to make everything feel much more stimulating. His breath deepens and he guides you now with your hair in hand- looking down at you through deep-brown bangs.

“Fuck- that’s it. Just look at you, dirty little niece I’ve got here, sucking her uncle’s cock like she was made for it. God- so damned pretty with your tongue on me.” His head falls back again for a moment, before he sits up- his labored panting evident.

“Christ. Okay- can’t take it anymore. C’mon, baby. Up.” He says, smacking your bottom when you stand in front of him. You’re feeling a bit ‘five seconds away from crashing into the coffee table and impaling yourself on the broken wood’ type of drunk now.

“Uncle Leon’s gonna pop that cherry, got it? Now sit down and let me lick that sweet pussy. Can still taste it after last time.” He’s speaking filthy things you should hear and run in the opposite direction from- but you don’t.

“My room. Remember where that is?” He mumbles, standing behind you now while he runs his hands down your sides- possessively grabbing at any fabric on you.

You shake your head no.

“Can’t remember. Need you to show me.” You whisper to him, putting your hands over his on your sides. He just muffles a laugh into the crook of your neck and shuffles you along in front of him, the two of you almost falling over multiple times on the way to his bedroom. You’re sure that something did get knocked off the wall at one point, but you literally do not care in any way.

Leon staggers you into the room and pushes you back onto the bed, shedding off his sweatpants. Naked, no boxers. Just full, thick cock and a trail of hair leading up to his belly-button that you haven’t let your eyes leave for however long you’ve been here. Oh, and muscled thighs. One of the greater parts of a man. His hands find their way to your thighs, tugging you to the edge of the bed before invading his thumbs into the waistband of your panties.

“Let’s get these off.” He grunts, pulling them down your legs and tossing them only for the undergarment to land in an unseen place. You go to tug off your skirt, until his hands pin yours to the bed.

“Want you to keep that on. Looks cute.” He says, retracting from you and sinking down at the edge of the bed. In no wasted time, his mouth is lazily lapping at your cunt- making your back bend in the reaction of immediate, overwhelming pleasure. You grabbed at the sheets until you remembered how his body responded when you pulled at his hair- so you found your hold there instead. Tugging his darkened strands with the pace he was eating you out at- stubble against your pussy and nose in your mound. His cheeks tickled your thighs, punching out a soft giggle and squirm from your body between the moaning. It makes him smile into you- reaching a hand up to knead your breast. Honestly, you hoped that the roof caved in right now and took you to your death because no moment would be better than this and that in itself made you suicidal.

You feel a finger slip past your hole, curling itself into that soft wall of fleshy, orgasmic sponge. The noise that left you was new, for sure and the muscle in his mouth jerked against your clit in tandem. It seemed Leon had the same deep feeling and worry you did about his dick even fitting, cause he added a second finger. Then tried to add a third but gave up because he actually wanted his dick to do that labor. He can be selfish, okay? It didn’t take long for you to cum either, duh. He was a skilled whore of a man and you’re a virgin. Or will be for only a few more minutes- probably less.

Your legs shake and tense, your heart thumps viciously, and your fingers threaten to tangle his hair into knots and make him start balding. Not happening no matter how hard you yank, though. His genes are too good for that. He was made for rough pulls to his mane. Made to take damage both mentally and physically. Made for splitting open cute, slutty nieces like you.

While you recovered, he licked his lips and fingers as clean as he could- missing the further parts of his stubbled cheeks. He stood up, hand on his lower back (‘cause duh, he’s old as dirt), and reached into the nightstand for a condom- which you gave him a look before he could open it. A look that told him ‘please, please, please don’t put it on! sure, fuck your blood-relative niece raw and possibly knock her up! Might not have to worry because you’re an alcoholic and your sperm quality is low, though.’ So fuck away.

He was a sucker for your big, glossy eyes and the slutty pout of your bottom lip. Not mentioning- he wouldn’t have worn a condom anyway. Would have just slipped it off before he stuck his dick in you. A virgin couldn’t tell the difference. What? You expected a man that fucks his own family to have morals for things lesser than that? No chance.

“Please, Uncle.” You begged softly, Leon knowing what you want without actually saying it. He’s great at reading people.

“Fucking hell. You’re something else. You want it that bad, huh?” He laughed, pleased by you beseeching him with so little words. You nodded, no objections about it. He tossed the unopened condom back in the drawer and shut it impatiently, making the lamp wobble.

“Changed my mind. Everything off. Gotta see that pretty set of tits.” The words were matter of fact and laced with a bit of erection-fueled urgency.

You reach your hands up to remove your shirt, then discard your bra and skirt. Left in the nude as naked as the day you were cut from your moms stomach. C-section baby and all that. Only this time there was no blood. Yet, anyways.

When you were stark naked, Leon pushed you firmly onto his bed again- folding you by the backs of your thighs, legs pressed to your chest and gifting your stomach with that cute roll thing it did. Leon liked that on a woman.

He grabbed his cock, positioning it against your slick that dribbled from your yet-to-be-abused hole. He was gonna change that. You could feel his one of the piercings resting against your skin down below- a tsunami of anxiety settling over your delicate village of a body.

“Might hurt a little, babydoll. Can’t promise I’m gonna be gentle with her.” He referred to your pussy, your hole fluttering when he talked. You gave a look of understanding and acknowledgement.

“God, want it so bad.” You whined under him, the position he had your legs in made you even crazier about having him in you, like, yesterday.

He didn’t savor the moment so that he could push into you, he just did it. The feeling of each piercing bumping your hole on the way in. It felt fucking good, but also his dick stretching you out was intense and stung like a papercut.

His hands held your thighs down into your stomach- giving you a novice contortionist experience, and you could see the veins in his forearm pop a little. Your mind raced with the following anxieties; ‘What if a piercing cuts my insides and I die from sepsis or something? What if a piercing ball comes off and is lost inside me forever? Maybe I should stretch more.’ The first two were irrational but maybe not so much so, or else you wouldn’t be thinking of them. You’re not the first woman to think any of it.

“Fuck- there we go. Shit. You feel incredible, baby.” He dropped the doll in favor of calling you baby this time, making you squeeze around him as he bottoms out, balls against your ass. Yep. A bruised cervix was in your future. Going to have to come up with an excuse for why you won’t be able to get out of bed for the next few days. You thought other girls were just exaggerating this whole time about feeling yourself be split open, what the hell was he trying to do? Dig out your uterus with his dick? Does he really have to be so deep? It’s, like, really hot and feels really fucking good, but also, slightly uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the position.

Either way, he’s feeding your ego.

You let your head relax onto the bed instead of continuing to hold it up, ‘cause doing that was much more painful.

“God.” You muttered, relieved to be full and get the virginity loss out of the way. You should be getting a cake and celebration for this, if it wasn’t your uncle. But still. Taking big, pierced dick deemed trophy worthy. Or maybe a plaque.

Leon gazed down at you through straight locks, shaking them out of his face a little. He pulled himself out, minus the tip, before pushing back in with a groan- his Adam’s Apple bobbing hypnotically. Your spine arched, lifting your back off the mattress and your hands dug into your own thighs, helping hold them in place.

“You like that, huh?” He asked, the difference between it being pure hormones and condescension was blurred. Could have been both. He doesn’t give that much of a timeframe to start dragging his cock in and out of you, slowly picking up speed and bottoming out each time- balls slapping against your bottom.

You babble nonsensically, the ribbed sensation of his piercings almost sending you into hysterics. Something about yes, yes. I love it. Need you to fuck me so hard that my dad disowns me because I’m wheelchair bound and he knows why.

“Feels good, baby. I know it. Bet it’s hitting places you didn’t even know you had.” If he wasn’t so fucking hot, you’d probably have the ick from how cocky he is. Or not, you’re fucked up.

He leaned forward over you more to tangle into your hair, guiding your head to more of an angle and exposing your neck. You were so overwhelmed from how hard and deep he’s fucking you, not to mention his dick feels like how you imagine a beginner level bad dragon dildo to feel. Or maybe a less monster-y version anyways. It just feels fucking good and that’s all you needed to care about. Soft, airy cries crawl their way from your throat and leave you between that and moaning. Uncle, please. Please, please, please, harder.

“Let it all out, that’s it. Uncle Leon’s gonna take good care of this pussy.”

You nod as much as you can with his hold on your hair, and he pants into your collarbone, sweaty and nasty on top of you. You feel like you’re almost being crushed under his weight but it’s only hotter, and gets even more when you feel his free hand slip between your damp bodies to thumb your aching and still-sensitive clit. You tighten around his cock in reaction- gasping.

“Take it, babydoll. Fuck. Show me how much you want your uncle to make you cum. Belong on my cock, you know it?”

Your brain is off somewhere in a hot air balloon, far from its preferred skull. Which is yours. He speaks in ways you didn’t imagine you’d ever get to be spoken to or even enjoy. But it’ll be the only thing that gets you off from now on, no doubt about it.

“Uh huh, belong on your dick forever. Never wanna take it out.” Yeah. You’re stupid for him.

“Fuck. That’s my girl. Keep talking like that and I’m not ever letting you go.”

You nod your head.

“Want that, want that so bad. ‘D let you fuck me whenever you want, uncle.”

His lips curl into a half-pressed grin before he’s panting again- a bead of sweat dripping onto him. You remember he did something with the AC. Yeah-to the heat in the apartment is frying you good and well. Guess he wanted the sex to be extra clammy and gross. You know, besides the incest.

“Christ. Fuck, yes.” He groans deep, throaty and carnal.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you. You’d be the prettiest little girlfriend. Sitting around waiting to get fucked all the time. I know how needy my baby is.” Christ. You’re going to the deepest abyss in hell. You’re sure whatever torment awaits is worth it though, so it’s not a big deal right now.

“Wanna be yours.” You choke, throat dry. Ah, you remember you’re intoxicated. That must be why you’re so loose at saying this stuff.

“Open up.” He huffs, almost face to face with you but still enough that his breath is hot on your features. You’re hasty to open your mouth like a whore, Leon dribbling his gathered spit down onto your tongue.

“Gotta keep you hydrated, baby. Can’t have that throat getting raw, can we?” You nod, there’s so many nasty things happening you can’t process it properly- unaware of everything as you cum a second time on his hand, squeezing his dick like a much softer and less dangerous guillotine.

His thrusts were a little more sloppy and erratic- alcohol fully set in for the both of you. Normally, he’d be able to hold off his orgasm a little longer- but combatting it wasn’t an option in this drunken state.

“Christ- so fucking pretty and tight when you cum on my dick. Gonna cum too, baby. Don’t think I can pull out right now.”

You shake your head no.

“Don’t pull out, please. Please uncle, ‘ll do whatever you want.”

He laughs brokenly, choked up from the moans that need to come out first.

“God, yes. Okay. Gonna fill this sweet pussy up, baby.”

He focuses a few more thrusts, hard enough to make it hurt a little and sloppy enough to still be just the right amount of perfect.

“Here it comes, baby. Need you to take i- shit.” He buried deep inside you as he came hard, rasped voice and all while he held his place firm. His hair is stuck to his face in some areas, his natural scent emanating off of the sweat droplets.

His dick spasms inside you, filling you with every bit of semen he’s got pent up in him. You could almost feel the way your cunt was full of his cum, having no room around his dick to go anywhere, really.

He relaxed a little, letting out a long, pleasurable groan. You yourself joined him in letting your body go limp as it could in this position. He grabbed your legs to straighten them out and let them wrap around his waist, making you realize they were folded too long and that they ache a bit.

He kissed your collarbone, picking up his head and kissing your cheek next.

“Mm. Did so great for me, babydoll. Not gonna be able to let you go now.” He teased, another peck to your mouth that you managed to reciprocate just in time.

“Then don’t.” You tell him, mumbling.

“I can manage that. Could easily be my girl. Would have to be our little secret, though.” He adds at the end, threading his fingers in your hair.

Yeah, you’re not turning down that offer.

[ursuburbanmother]

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter One

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Angus have been best friends since you were little children. Now in high school the only thing that separates you is a lake between both your schools. Due to what was describe by your headmaster as "Unfortunate circumstances due to chance, and poor planning on our part," you are forced to stay at the Barton Academy for the holidays with the company of your best friend or maybe more.

a/n: hi guys! I’m new so try to be kind to me lol. Anyways this is probably not very good. It’s slow paced cause I wanted to establish their friendship. Not sure where this is going so if you have any suggestions let me know! Also not grammar or beta read so…

Word Count: 3k

Find: Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Enjoy!

December 17th, 1970

You hadn’t spoken to your parents in months. You figured they would call or write a letter or something. In October they wished you a speedy little, “Happy Halloween,” before hanging up. You could hear the loud party in the background. Always the socialites, they were probably eager to get back to enjoying themselves by downing flutes of champagne and appetizers. Now it was December, and you had not received a peep from either. When the holiday plans form was passed out to the girls of your boarding school at the end of November, you ignored it. Then the deadline came, and you hastily checked off the box that said, ‘Plan to stay on campus.’

Your parents hadn’t called to dispute it and now you’re stuck at mass, sitting in a pew, watching other happy families and their daughters anxiously waiting to leave. You wondered if there was still a way for you to get away. Your friend, really only friend, Angus Tully was headed to St. Kitts and with him gone, your only true escape was gone. If he knew you were stuck holding over, he would beg his parents to take you, but you knew it would be too much of an imposition, so you kept that fact secret.

Life had always seemed to throw you two together. Even at the age where cooties were still a very legitimate fear. Born in the same snobby Boston neighborhood you two were often the only kids at your parent's parties. You remember that humid night on the Fourth of July when you had met the lanky boy with a mess of brown curls. The fireworks had begun to go off and everyone wore white dresses and suits. You had become restless and started to wander the halls of your home aimlessly. Streamers of blue, red and white hung from the ceiling and servers walked around passing out sparklers.

You found him on the patio. He tugged, annoyed, at his tie. Your own dress was stifling in the heat and for a pair of seven-year-olds, you found the best solution to your ailment was to jump into the shallow end of the pool.

“I’ll do it, if you do it,” you had promised under the hum of cicadas and floating fireflies.

“Deal,” you shook hands.

The water was cold and clear. You swam around for a while, splashing each other and playing Marco Polo. It was at the same time your mother had decided to move the party outside so people could watch the lights in the sky a bit better. You two were pulled out of the pool and shook like wet dogs.

Livid, your parents fed you the line all parents wait to say to their troublesome child, “If your friend jumped off a bridge, would you?” You decided at that moment that yes, you would.

After that you two were inseparable. Because when you're a kid all you need is one single act of solidarity to devote your life to someone. Throughout elementary school you were practically fused to one another. You’d exclude people from your game of hopscotch and eat lunch in secret nooks. When you two were headed to high school your parents enrolled you in a posh all-girl boarding school and Angus to some prep school in another rural part of Massachusetts. Phone calls rang long. You remember the groans you would get from other girls who would give up trying to use the payphone. At some point you had run out of quarters and so to save money you had begun writing letters. Angus being Angus, he’d write as if he was off at war and the letters were the last things keeping him sane.

You knew he never enjoyed school but after he was kicked out from his first preparatory, then his second and third, you had turned into a scolding mother.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Die if I’m lucky, shave my head at Fork Union if not.”

“I want to go to college with you Angus. If not college then I at least want to be able to be an adult with you. One with a diploma so we can get easy jobs as regional salespeople or something,” you mumbled, twirling the phone cord around with your finger.

“You really thought this out,” he laughed.

“I’m serious, Augie.” You heard him sigh across the line.

“Okay. I’ll do better. No screw ups next time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

When he was sent to Barton, your sister school, you couldn’t have been more excited. It was a short walk away; you could see it from across the lake that separated you. Your mom had been the one to call you about the change. She said his mother thought having him near you would make him less fussy. Something about you being the good influence he needs. You doubted that yet bit your tongue, knowing it would create more trouble than anything. Now it had been over a year and Angus had kept his word. When the opportunity arose for you to meet up, you would take it. Football games or talent shows, you were there. To anyone outside, it would have appeared as though you two just held a lot of school spirit. Like that beach boy's song.

“Be true to your school now,” you’d sing into Angus' ear.

He’d roll his eyes but always join in, “just like you would to your girl or guy.”

“Rah-rah-rah-rah sis boom bah! I love that part!” You’d giggle.

He’d try to hide his smile, but you could always tell. He’d put his arm around your shoulder and say, “Yeah okay.”

…

Once you were dismissed from mass you sighed and trudged all the way back through the snow to your dorm building. Having it so empty was eerie, you could hear your own footsteps echoing down the halls. You made your way into the common room to wait for Ms. Orchard.

She was meant to be your babysitter for the next few weeks. She was your Renaissance literature teacher. Ms. Orchard was nice but on the older side, which meant she was traditional. You often thought she would be better suited to be a Home Economics teacher if she was so invested in being ladylike.

You sat in the corner of the couch and opened a book. Minutes passed and it seemed obvious no one was coming to join you. Not even Mrs. Orchard. She probably broke a hip trying to make her way back in the snow.

“Ms. Orchard has broken a hip while walking in the snow,” the door suddenly bursts open hitting the side of the wall so hard it shakes the room.

“What?” Your mouth drops at the news. Shit, had you jinxed it?

Your Dean, Mr. Jameson says as he walks in, covered in snowflakes. “Yup. She slipped on ice on the way here. By the parking lot. Didn’t you hear the ambulance?”

“Uh… no?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, looking around the room, “where are the other girls?”

“I think it’s just me sir.”

“Ah, right. Well that makes this easier. You’ll be spending your Christmas break at Barton. Now, it’s awfully last minute so we hope they take you. Why don’t you go get your bag ready and-,”

“Hold on. Barton the boys' school?” You could almost gag at the idea. No offense to Angus, but you could remember the endless horror stories he would tell you of life in a boys' school. The air always smelled weird, and cleanliness was the least of their worries. “Isn’t there somebody to replace Ms. Orchard?”

“This place cleared out thirty minutes ago, Ms. L/n,” he said, “And I have a family to get back to.”

“But-, I just-, isn't there a rule against this or something?”

“I have no doubt that the teacher supervisor there will ensure you have a safe, jolly time Ms. L/n.”

“But I-,”

“That’s enough. I understand this is an unprecedented situation, but the only alternative would be to leave you here alone and that just is not going to happen. Please Ms. L/n, make this easy for everyone.” With his hand he motioned towards the door.

“Fine,” you gritted out. You got off the couch and went to your room. You half-heartedly crammed anything you could into your suitcase. Some shirts, sweaters and pants. You ran out of space and resorted to carrying your books in your hands along with your potted plant. You felt bad leaving your lavender to just sit and wilt, so you took her with you.

“I made a few calls. Everything should work out. You all settled then?” Mr. Jameson said once you had made your way back to the common room. Nodding with a tight-lipped smile you headed out. You two could have walked but apparently, he was in a hurry to catch a six o’clock flight and you ended up taking his car.

It was a short drive and with reluctance you made your way inside the school. “Come on. Put a pep in your step,” Mr. Jameson clapped.

He navigated you around. You had only been in the main building, never the dorms. Blindly you let him guide you until you found yourself in a room with four other boys and Angus. Angus who was supposed to be half-way to the airport by now. His sulky face shifted into one of shock. You took a step towards him only to be stopped by your dean's arm in front of you. The other guys were looking at you with mouths wide open. It was like their eyes were about to fall out of their sockets. You grumbled, not knowing what else to do.

Mr. Jameson took the lead, “Mr. Hunham? Correct?” He outstretched his hand for him to shake. Hesitantly the older man took it.

“What’s the meaning of this,” he pointed between Mr. Jameson and you.

“Unfortunate circumstances due to chance, and poor planning on our part. This is Ms. Y/n L/n. Come introduce yourself.”

“I’m Y/n L/n,” you shrugged, looking at Angus for guidance. In unison they all say hello.

“Can we speak in private,” Mr. Jameson asked.

“Alright,” Mr. Hunham says, “no funny business,” he gives a pointed look to the boys.

The two teachers leave, and you quickly move to Angus to encapsulate him in a quick hug.

“What the hell? What are you doing here?”

“Funny, I was going to ask the same thing.”

“What the hell Angus. You have a girlfriend?” A blonde boy with a red tie says as his eyes scan your figure. You shift uncomfortably at the action. “A smoking one too…”

“Shut it Kountze, you’re catching flies,” Angus scoffs.

The door creaks open as both gentlemen return from their brief chat. You and Angus move away from each other like you were caught doing something wrong.

“It seems we will be extending you an invitation to Ms. L/n,” Mr. Hunham says, “you okayed this with Woodrup?” He verifies again with Dean Jameson.

“Yes, it’s all settled. We at Janie Patrick’s School thank you. We owe you one,” he turns to you, “goodbye L/n, you’re in good hands.”

He was halfway through the door when Mr. Hunham cleared his throat obnoxiously loudly. “As I was saying, we will be following a standard school schedule.”

“Uh, sir? We’re on vacation.” Kountze points out.

“Which means we’ll be taking our meals together. And you will observe regular hours of study.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“The Peloponnesian War awaits, Mr. Kountze, you and Mr. Tully. The rest of you can get a jump on next semester. It’ll pay off. You’ll see.”

“We’re already holding over, and now we’re being punished for it?” Angus says bitterly and on fast reflex you rub his arm comfortingly. Mr. Hunham is just as fast to notice.

“Oh no, no, no. Do not tell me this is your girlfriend Mr. Tully.”

“Wh-what. No! We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, we were born on the same street!”

“I do not intend to break apart your romantic escapades all break long.”

“We. Are. Just. Friends,” Angus reaffirms, venom on his tongue. You could see the blush rising on his pale cheeks. You could feel your own as well.

“Mhm,” Hunham hums skeptically, his gaze lingers on you two for a second before glancing back at his clipboard, “Alright… You will be afforded limited windows for recreation and supervised physical activity.”

“The gyms are not even open yet.”

“Yeah, they only lacquered half the floor,” another boy points out, this one has long blonde hair that reaches his shoulders.

“Fresh air will do you good,” says Hunham.

“It’s like 15 degrees outside.”

“And the Romans bathed naked in the freezing Tiber. Adversity builds character Mr. Tully. Uh, speaking of which, the school will be cutting heat to dormitories and faculty housing and so we’ll all be bunking in the infirmary. With separate accommodations for Ms. L/n of course.”

They all groan. You're just upset. You had thought you would spend the next two weeks avoiding Ms. Orchard and lying to Angus about your whereabouts while he admiringly described the beaches of St. Kitts to you over postcards. Although you supposed it wasn’t all bad. You could spend more time with him, under the watchful glare of Angus' teacher of course.

Together you all get ready to haul your things to the infirmary before being stopped by Mr. Hunhams tsking in disapproval.

“You philistines are just going to let the lady carry her own things? I’m sorry to see Barton has failed in ingraining a sense of chivalry into you.”

“Oh no, it’s alright really, I can do it,” you protest but they all scramble to help you anyway. “Can I carry your suitcase Y/n?” Kountze says, in an odd way, that was meant to be suggestive.

“Okay Kountze, piss off,” Tully pushes him away, leaning down slightly to get your things, “let’s go.” He walks quickly out the door, leaving the rest of you to follow him.

As you are slapped in the face by the harsh winds you curse the idiots at your school who refused to let you wear pants. You were forced to put on double the tights and your warmest coat. It did not do anything to aid you and your shivering made that clear. It was like they wanted to torture you when the boys stopped halfway down the quad and in front of a truck. You're still holding your books so it's not like you can rub your arms to help you out a little. They were complaining about Hunham, who they so endearingly nicknamed “Walleye.”

“Hey, guys, hold up for a second,” Angus tells the young kids in front of you. He sets his, and your things, down on the grimy paved road. He searched through his pockets and lit a cigarette. “Want one?” he asks you and Kountze.

“No. I got something else. Give me that,” he grabs the lighter from him and sparks a joint.

“Hey, don’t smoke that out here. I don't want to get busted by Walleye.”

“Don’t be such a pussy,”

“I’m not a pussy, I just don't want to end up at Fork Union paying for your mistake.”

He ignores Angus and instead turns his attention to you instead, “You're not like a total priss right?”

You shake your head. At least you didn’t think you were.

“Alright,” he smirks and stretches his hand out for you to shake, “Teddy Kountze.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. The other unnamed boy is the next to greet you.

“Jason Smith.”

“We know who you are. You want to hit this,” Teddy offers the jock the joint.

Jason scans his surroundings before agreeing, “Uh, yeah.”

“You got a great arm man,” he compliments,

“Yeah, well, it’s just football.”

“How’d you get stuck holding over?”

“I’m supposed to be skiing with my folks up at Haystack, but my dad put his foot down. Said I can’t come home unless I cut my hair.”

“So why don’t you cut your hair?

“Civil disobedience, man.”

“I dig that,” you comment. “You know that when they tried to cut that tree between our schools, I organized the tree-sitting.”

“Holy shit that was you? Figured it was some hippies from Boston,” Teddy snickers.

“Nope. I sat in that tree for hours, drinking from water bottles that Angus tossed up to us.”

“Did it work?” Jason wonders.

“For now, yeah.”

“Awesome…. But no, he’s cool. It’s just a battle of wills. Still, I was hoping he’d cave first, because the powder up at Haystack is so sweet right now.”

“What about you, Mr. Moto? Why are you here?” Teddy asks one of the first-year boys.

He appears embarrassed to be singled out, “No, my name is Ye-Joon. My family is in Korea, and they think it’s too far for me to travel alone.”

“I figured it was because your rickshaw was broken,” Teddy laughs to himself. Angus didn’t exaggerate when she said this guy was a jerk.

“What a rickshaw?”

Angus intervenes, “You’re an asshole, Kountze. Your mind’s a cesspool and a shallow one at that.”

“Who’s the asshole Tully? You’re the one who blew up history.” Jason notices the tension and brings the group's conversation back to the freshman.

“What’s your story man?”

“Alex Ollerman. I’m here because my parents are on a mission in Paraguay. We’re LDS. “Mormons, right?” Alex nods yes.

“Don’t you guys wear some kind of magic underwear?” It's like Teddy loves to hear himself talk, you think.

“Common misconception. Actually, it’s called a temple garment, and we’re only supposed to wear it when-.”

“Hey, what's with the townies?” Kountze spots two men emerging from the chapel with a large, heavy green tree in their grasp.

“Hey, what are you doing with our Christmas tree?” Angus shouts, tapping you on the shoulder in a way that says can you believe this?

“The school sold it back to us. Scotch pine, still fresh.” The stranger shouts back.

“Yeah, we’re going to put it back on the lot. We do it every year.”

“This is the most bullshit ever.”

The boys put out their separate smokes much to the relief of Alex and Ye-Joon. You fall behind the rest of them and Angus naturally finds his place next to yours. You stroll in silence until he decides to break the ice.

“You going to tell me what happened?”

“You tell me first. You were so excited to go on vacation.”

“One word. Stanley.”

You grimace, knowing what that means. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever. They want to spend their honeymoon forgetting my existence then they can do just that. I’m almost an adult anyway. Then I can go anywhere I want anytime.”

“Is that what Judy said?”

“That was the bullshit excuse, yes.”

“Hey, you got me though. We’ll make this fun.”

“We have no tree, Hunham will be breathing down our back, and Kountze hasn’t stopped ogling at you since you arrived. Does that sound like the perfect Christmas to you?”

You laugh softly, “Ignore Hunham and Kountze. As for the tree, we could always Charlie Brown it. What do you think the lavender is here for?” You shake your plant a little. The purple bush sways in the wind.

He smiles, “Yeah… It’s not a bad little tree,” he begins to quote.

“Maybe it just needs a little love,” you say together and break into a fit of giggles.

[doe-eyed-fool]

Secret Love, My Escape

Lucifer x Fem!Angel!Reader

If nothing else, Lucifer was beyond faithful to his lover. He would do anything for the person he's devoted himself to. He would even risk death, all for the one he loves.

And in turn, his love would do the same...

You knew this was a foolish idea, terrible even. Sneaking out of Heaven to meet with the demons of hell. If you were ever caught, who knows what punishment you would be given? But you didn't care. You weren't just meeting with any demon, but Lucifer himself.

The love of your life.

He knew it wasn't the best idea, it would end so horribly if Heaven ever finds out. But he couldn't help himself. His love for you was far stronger than his worries.

It wasn't bad to worry, far from it in this situation. But, he couldn't let someone as wonderful as you go. He may live on forever, but he could not go an eternity without you.

He would do anything to see you, even if just for a little while.

Even if it happened like this.

This wasn't the first time you two had done this either. You've went down to Hell quite a few times, it was practically routine at this point. And you were excited every time you got to.

You loved Lucifer more than anything. You cherished him, you never wanted to go a moment without him by your side. The time spent apart, was heartbreaking.

You two are from two separate worlds, after all. Heaven frowns upon the demons and sinners in Hell, but for an angel and the king of Hell to be together like this?

You both knew what Heaven's reaction would be. And it wasn't good for either of you...

But you didn't want to think about that. Right now, you just wanted to enjoy Lucifer's company, in the little time you were granted to visit him.

This time, the two of you were having a bit of a lazy day. Normally, Lucifer would try to keep you entertained, while in the privacy of his palace walls, of course. But today, the two of you just lay together in each other's arms.

You both would talk about nothing in particular, though, you always liked hearing about his daughter Charlie and the hotel, as well as her friends, as weird and wild as they could be.

And of course, there was never a day you visited, that Lucifer didn't talk about his latest duck related creations. You didn't mind at all. You loved seeing his face light up with joy and excitement whenever he talked about them.

"So, I was thinking about making a new rubber duck. One that shoots fireworks from like, a little hat on it's head." Lucifer explains. "There have been some previous attempts, each resulting in a few tiny fires, but! I think I'm getting pretty close to perfecting it!"

You giggle. "Well, I'd love to see it once it's finished." Lucifer smiled, though it quickly vanished as he noticed the time. He sighed, you knew what that meant.

"Already?" You mutter. Lucifer nods, frowning. You sit up and breath a sigh of your own. "It seems our visits just go by faster and faster."

"Yeah..." Lucifer sits up as well. You put your hand on his. "I wish there was a way I could just stay here." As much as Lucifer would have liked to have you with him. He could not bare the thought of you having to be in this terrible place. You were better off in Heaven where you belong...

"Come on, let's get you home before the others notice." Lucifer says. You begrudgingly agreed, your chest already aching, and you haven't even left yet.

If only there were some other way...

Heaven was nice. No one could deny that. But to you, it never felt more empty without Lucifer. But that's not all. Heaven was nice. On the surface that is. You knew about what the higher ups were hiding though.

Lucifer had told you about the extermination, and the angels that Adam lead down to Hell, in attempts to destroy his daughter's hotel and kill those who called it home.

Speaking of Adam. He was dead, killed in that attack he lead. And of course, Heaven covered that up as well. So long as the citizens of Heaven were happy and unaware, there would be no chaos. No panic.

No questioning...

You knew better than to try and reveal Heaven's lies. You were only one person, after all. Though, the people of Heaven deserved to know just what kind of "paradise" they were living in.

That would only result in you being placed on trial, and eventually being forced out of Heaven.

However, speaking up would not be what caused for such a thing to happen.

No, unfortunately, you would be placed on trial, for something you'd hope you'd never be accused of.

"Y/n, for your sake, you'd better speak only the truth in this courtroom."

The head seraphim's eyes were cold and unforgiving as she looks down at you. You could only look back at her with panic, and a terrible twisting feeling in your chest.

"Have you been sneaking off down to Hell?" She asks. You open your mouth to speak, but your voice would not find you. Instead, you nod. The seraphim's eyes narrow. "And how exactly have you managed this?"

Still unable to speak, you cast your gaze downward. The seraphim's voice caused you to flinch, as she spoke your name with such venom in her voice.

"Y/n."

You look back up at her, defeated. "Sera. I think you know how..." You say weakly. Sera sighed. "This is entirely unheard of. Lucifer isn't just some ordinary demon. He is the king of of all evil. Risking your place in Heaven for him, is beyond foolish."

Your brows furrow. She speaks of Lucifer like he is some sort of monster. And you will not have it.

"You don't know anything about him." You start. "Not truly. Lucifer may be the king of Hell, but he is nothing like a demon. Deep down, he's still an angel. And you all refuse to see it, all because you do not understand him!"

You were going to be punished anyway. Might as well speak your mind.

"I love him! And I'd rather fall than go an eternity without him, and be stuck here knowing that Heaven is a scam!"

Sera looked at you silently for a moment before turning away. "Then so be it."

Your arms were suddenly being restrained by two exorcist, a third walking up behind you, sword in hand. Then you felt it...

The feeling of your wings being torn from you. You cried in agony, the sound of them falling to the ground with a thud nearly made you sick. Your arms were released, and you began to fall back.

Only you did not hit the floor, instead, you continued to fall and fall for what felt like forever.

Until finally, you collied with solid, hard ground...

When you opened your eyes, pain was the first thing you felt. Your back throbbed and your body ached. But you managed to pick yourself up, just barely keeping yourself standing.

You take a look around, and then up at the blood red sky. Yep, this was definitely Hell. You look back ahead, far in the distance, you could make out a building. Not just any building, a hotel.

You felt a twinge of hope as you start off in that direction. If this was indeed that hotel, you might have a better chance of finding Lucifer than you think.

Lucifer had started spending more time at his daughter's hotel than his own home as of recently. Only being at the palace for when you visited. If you were going to find him anywhere, it'd be there.

You walked for a long while before you finally reached the hotel. Just before the entrance is where you fell to your knees, exhausted. Your body was crying for rest, but your mind was racing. You couldn't give up now. You were so close.

Just as exhaustion started to fully set in, the doors to the hotel opened. And you make out a figure in the door way. Their voice was muffled, but you recognized just who the voice belonged to immediately.

"I'll be back shortly, Charlie! Just have to grab a few more things from home."

You forced yourself to stand, ignoring the new wave of pain and drowsiness that washed over you. Your voice cracked as you called out.

"Lucifer?"

It was indeed Lucifer. He turned his head in your direction, his eyes wide as he noticed it was you. He stood there for a moment, unable to think or speak clearly.

Was his mind playing tricks on him? How were you here? Why were you here?

You smile slightly and take a step forward. "Lucifer...Lucifer!" You cried running towards him with open arms. You stumbled slightly, but Lucifer caught you.

"Y/n...What are you doing here?"

You held onto him tightly, tears forming in your eyes. "I...I just couldn't stay away." You say before pulling away to look up at him. Lucifer stared back at you with concern, but mostly confusion. Just as he went to speak again, you leaned in and met your lips with his.

Lucifer became less tense as he melted into the kiss. He didn't know how this was happening. He was still trying to process you standing in front of him right now.

You pull back, smiling as you look him in the eyes. You move your hand up to his cheek. "I love you."

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as he felt something warm on his palm. He moved his hand off of your back, and his heart dropped at the sight of gold staining his hand.

"Y/n...Don't tell me they..."

You leaned in and rest your head on his chest. "I'm so tired Lucifer...Just, don't let me sleep for too long. Ok?"

"Y/n!?" Lucifer's panic grew as you went limp in his arms. How could he not have noticed right then?

Your wings were missing.

There was no time to ponder it now, he scooped you up into his arms and teleported back to the palace. No one else needed to gaze upon your blood, it would only raise questions and attract unwanted attention.

As soon as you two were behind closed doors, Lucifer stripped away the top of your outfit, grimacing slightly at the sight of the two long tears on your back.

He placed his hands on your back gently and inhaled. A warm glow emanated from his palms that spread throughout your back.

"Come on...Stay with me Y/n." He whispered desperately.

After a few seconds, the glow faded. He moved his hands away, the wound was fully healed. But you were still motionless.

"Y/n, please. Please come back to me." Lucifer holds you close to him, cradling your head with one hand, the other at your waist. "Please...Please don't leave me..."

Lucifer held you for hours after that, refusing to let you go or leave your side for even a second. The only hope he held onto, was the faint breathing that came from you.

He blamed himself for this. He should have just left you alone. He should have never snuck you down here like he did, for as long as he did. He should have just pushed you away.

At least then, you'd be safe.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n." Lucifer said softly. "You were hurt because of me. You fell because of me. And now, you're stuck here. And it's all my fault..."

"I'm such an idiot." Lucifer closed his eyes, tears stinging at his eyes.

"Luci...don't talk so badly about yourself."

Lucifer shot up, looking down at you with wide eyes. "Y/n?" You smile and slowly open your eyes. "Hi."

Lucifer felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. Though, he couldn't stop smiling. He sniffled a few times. "H-Hi!" He chuckles. His laughter was quickly cut short.

"Y/n. I'm so sorry this happened to you. I never meant for you to be damned to his awful place. You should be up in Heaven, in paradise. Not down here with all the evil and scum that Hell has to offer."

"Lucifer." You start. "It's not paradise. Especially not without you. I never would have been happy alone up there. It killed me anytime I had to leave you."

"But now you're stuck here forever." Lucifer says weakly. You kiss his cheek. "We're here together."

Lucifer brought you in a closer embrace. You speak again. "Thank you for healing me, Luci. I'm sorry if I scared you." Lucifer shook his head. "I'm just glad you're alive. But..." Lucifer draws back to look at you. "Are you ok with this?"

"Of course I am. You're here, and now, I'm here. I love you way too much for it to be any other way."

Lucifer smiled and kissed you softy. "I love you too."

The two of you enjoyed each other's embrace that night. Only this time, moments like this would be forever.

[luveline]

hi! i know ur not from the us so pls feel free to ignore this but i think a kbd fic where steve and the girls are doing sparklers for the fourth of july would be so cute! absolutely adore everything u post 🫶🏻

thank u!! sorry i know it isn't the fourth anymore bit I hope u enjoy regardless!! kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader show their daughters how to use sparklers for the first time, 2k

Steve isn't a huge fan of fireworks because of how dangerous they can be, but sparklers are just fine in his book. He buys a box of thirty. The girls can do ten each if they feel like it, though he knows Dove won't be interested, and he guesses Bethie will be too scared to hold them. 

Still, he hopes. You're hosting a banquet of food when he arrives, a mixture of things you made and stuff he prepared yesterday. It's a feast of hotdogs and burgers, cupcakes and donuts, macaroni and cheese and chilli with white rice. The table is crammed with plates and the radio is on, playing fun pop music a little too loudly for Dove's taste, her hands over her ears.

You turn down the radio, and ask her where she sits on your hip, "Is that better, sweetheart?" 

"Hey," he says, putting the box of sparklers on the counter. 

"Hey, Stevie," you say, in a rare tone. You always talk to him with love but he adores how you say his name now, like you've never been happier to see him in your entire life. "They had some?"

"Lucky, right? Guess I'm not the only schmuck who forgot to buy some." 

Avery rushes for his legs, a chocolate donut in one hand and a cup of juice in the other. Despite her luggage, she expects to be picked up. Steve grabs her. 

"You're cold, dad," she says. 

"Really? It's not cold out," he says. 

"You need something to warm you up." 

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Sure I do. Give me a hug, but don't get icing in my hair, please." 

Avery hugs him, sticky cheek pressing into his as her arms strain around him. He pats her back, meeting your eyes and returning your happy smile. Steve turns on the spot to see Bethie practically elbow deep in a bowl of chilli. She loves anything that comes with rice, and she eats it like someone's going to take it away from her, chilli staining her lips and cheeks, a grain of rice stuck to her chin.

"Did you get a photo of that?" he asks. 

"Of course I did," you laugh, putting Dove down to brace yourself against the counter. You stretch your neck in a tight circle. 

"Thank you. Beth, that looks so nice! Are you saving any for me?" 

"No!" she says happily, smiling wide as an ocean. 

"Good girl. Alright, you tell me when you're finished, I have something fun for after dinner." 

Dinner gets put on pause. You wipe Bethie's face clean, giggling the whole time and telling her how cute she is in your saccharine mommy voice that melts her, "We should have that more often, huh?" It's always a good day when Bethie eats well.

Steve helps Avery put her shoes on and together they step out into the backyard. It's small considering the house is a four bedroom, but maybe that's why you'd been able to afford it in the first place. You work with what space you have. There's a light wood fence, the perimeter half lined by pansies and the other side with a slim shed full of their bikes and scooters and a small bed where the girls attempted to grow strawberries last year. They didn't take, but Steve has hope for this summer. 

The yard is clean though slightly neglected, and Steve has to work spider duty before Avery will agree to step off of the doorjam. You follow soon, Dove at your shins, Bethie cautious as she steps out in her socks behind you.

"Where's your shoes?" Steve asks her. 

"I told her she didn't have to wear them," you say. "She says they're pinching her toes." 

Steve had Beth's feet measured specifically to avoid that. He assumes it isn't pinching so much as not wanting to wear them. He shrugs. "Okay. Stay on the stones then, Beth, I don't know what's in the grass. You might step on a snail." 

"Ew," she says, sitting down in the doorway.

Steve lights a sparkler for no one first of all, wondering how each girl will react. He hands it to you as the sparks jump to life, white and bright in the shade of the garden, the shadow of their house. You wave it around gently, but when each of your daughters gasps in unhappy shock, you hold your hand under the sparkler and let a spark kiss your palm. 

"They aren't dangerous," you promise. You wave it into a heart, a star, the letter A. "Does anyone wanna try?" 

"Me!" Avery shouts, holding out her hand. The sparkler burns remarkably quickly down to the stem.

"Dad will give you a new one. Hey, baby?" you put the sparkler down on the glass patio table as it sputters out. "Don't you have those gardening gloves?" 

Soon, Steve's outfitted each girl in a glove too big for their hand. He passes Avery a sparkler, and her bravery and subsequent joy prompts some jealousy in Bethie, fighting her fear to take one too. You crouch down to stand with her as she waves it around, her eyes like saucers as white sparks fly. 

"It's so pretty!" you say. 

Dove is interested, but not in holding one. Steve picks her up and lights a sparkler, raising it away from her curious hands to draw her name. Avery squeaks with happiness and proclaims it as magic. "Dad, I'm a fairy!" 

"I can see! Try not to put it by your hair, okay?" 

She squeals some more until it dies in her hand. "Can I have another one?" 

"Ooh," you coo, watching with pride as Bethie draws a circle with hers, "my girl's brave today, I'm super proud of you. Isn't this fun?"

Steve lights another one for Avery and gives Dove a loving kiss, thrilled to see them all this happy. He's really surprised Bethie's enjoying herself, but he supposes it would be hard for her to have a bad time with your hands on her shoulders, your encouragement soft and shining as angora silk. 

They must use up four or five each like that. 

"Daddy," Dove says, imploring as she touches his face. 

"What?" he asks, thinking of tacking 'my little princess' on the end but withholding. Lately every sentence he says has a pet name squeezed in the middle. He has a lot of love to give. 

She looks at him. He pats her small back, wondering if she's going to bless him with a sentence or two. She's old enough now to be talking, but she's quiet like Bethie most of the time. Or, she's not talkative —Dove is far from quiet. 

"Hotdog, please."

Steve laughs loudly. "You want me to make you a hotdog?" 

"And ketchup." 

"Yeah, I can make you a hotdog. You don't want to stay for another sparkler?" he asks. 

"No." 

He laughs again, pressing another kiss overtop the first one he'd laid on her chubby cheek. "Thank you for saying please, sweetheart. You're such a good girl." 

"Can I have a hotdog, too?" Avery asks.

"Sure you can, whatever you want. Beth? Mom?" 

You've sat down on the floor. You're probably cold, but your smile would never show it. "I think me and Bethie are going to have another helping of chilli and rice, aren't we?" you ask hopefully. 

Bethie's sparkler fizzles out. "Can we do more sparklers again?" 

"Yeah. Tell you what, let's go back inside for food and when everyone's full, we'll come outside and do some more before bed. Sound good?" 

The girls head inside, and Steve makes some hotdogs on the stove. Dove falls asleep with a bun in her hand, Bethie with her cheeks painted in sauce. Avery doesn't tire so easily, and while the others sleep, you and Steve take her out to the back door to light another sparkler. You write your names, you draw clumsy constellations. Steve writes 'I love

Avery,' grinning as she sounds out each letter. 

Avery relishes in the delight of having your unfettered attention. She stays up for hours after her sisters with you and Steve, long enough to watch stray fireworks shoot up into the sky over your backyard, her head on your shoulder, her hand in Steve's hand. 

"This is the best day ever," she says. 

Steve wants to cry. Genuinely. He meets your eyes over Avery's head, and you shuffle closer to her without speaking, enveloping her in a hug from either side. 

"Every day is the best day ever with you around, Ave," Steve says. 

"The best. Me and dad tried some fireworks, when you weren't born." Steve and Avery look at you with mirrored interest. He doesn't remember what story you're going to tell. "You would've been very small in me at the time," you say, looking up as a pink and white firework blossoms across the night sky like a peony. "Like a strawberry seed. We… didn't know you were coming. I knew. I knew, but I didn't know. I could feel you right here," —you point at your stomach— "but I had no idea what you were going to be." 

"Hey, you're right," Steve says. He forgets you were pregnant before you knew it. 

"But me and dad lived together already," you say. "We were always going to get married and have babies and stuff, but you came really quickly. You were excited." 

Steve grins. Avery hangs on your every word. 

"But anyway, me and dad lived together. Not here, but somewhere, and we didn't have a yard but there was a little patch of grass and we figured we'd buy some, but he burned a stripe of my arm hair off by accident with a long lighter, and the we didn't have a fence to nail the Catherine wheel down, and he accidentally dropped the firecracker box on the way home so it didn't work anymore, and the rockets wouldn't light." 

"Oh, no," Avery says. "You didn't have any fireworks?" 

"None. But we had a pack of sparklers. We did it just like we did with you. I wrote 'I love Stevie' in big letters, and your dad tried to hug me and jabbed me in the stomach with his burned up one." 

"Your hoodie," Steve remembers finally. "Your white hoodie, I bought it for you the week before at the mall after you threw up in Dairy Queen. I remember." 

"I had it for a week, and he got this huge ash smudge on it." 

"But you wouldn't let me wash it with bleach." 

You give Avery a kiss on the top of her head. "I wanted to remember how happy we were. I thought the smudge was a nice reminder. Turns out I got much more than a smudge." 

"You got me," Avery decodes.

"We got you," you say. "You're a thousand different things, Avery. You're smart, and kind, and pretty, and you're also a really good reminder that your dad loves me." 

"Do you need a reminder?" Steve asks, genuinely worried, and kind of in awe. How you can sit there and say something that romantic off the cuff is beyond him. He really might cry soon. 

"No," you say smugly. "You tell me all the time." 

Not enough, he decides. After this, he'll be sure to tell you more. 

Steve falls in love with you for the thousandth time.

"What I'm trying to tell you, Ave, is that dad is right. Every day with you in it is a really good day. I love you so much," you start to fizzle, which is to say your voice gets tight. You won't cry, but Steve teeters. "I'm really, really happy you had the best day ever, 'cos you make every day the best for dad and your sisters and me." 

"Really?" Avery asks softly. 

"Really," Steve says, rubbing the space between her shoulders. 

A rocket squeals into the air and fractures into a ring of spectral colours. 

Avery climbs onto her feet, and, torn between who to hug, wraps an arm around both of your necks. 

Steve wraps his arms around you both, squeezing your hip. He's gotten used to being loved, to feeling it, but tonight might be an all time high. Sparklers become a Harrington tradition that year. 

[jasondeansgothwife]

lawlight fic rec list

so i’m gonna do a series of these, starting with my favorite death note ship! make sure to pay attention to all warnings on these fics. enjoy! if you have a ship you’d like me to make a rec list for, please just send me an ask! i don’t want to be obnoxious, and i’m not saying they’re good, but i (slackjawbitch on ao3) have some lawlight fics up!

♡ = a favorite of kitty’s

angst

♡ 1. i’m drowning; please save me: L looks at Yagami Light and drowns. There is no other way to put it. As the days pass and blend into weeks, L looks at Yagami Light sitting next to him, the harsh lines of his face creased and determined, and he swallows water.

L looks at Yagami Light and he cannot breathe.

great characterization, always makes me very emo, and is probably a pretty major influence on my writing. one shot. 1,817 words.

2. always waiting for you just to cut to the bone: And then, breaking through the pounding in his head he hears what would be the last words out of that wretched man’s lips.

“I love you.”

fic for teh death note drama (2016) canon! title is unfortunately from a t*ylor sw*ft song (/silly) but this fic is so good and sad.

3. Our Bodies, Possessed By Light: L. Lawliet is a gifted photographer who believes he has understood the light and its secrets. Light Yagami is a young, unstable and slightly crooked model. Together, they kill time.

modeling and photography au. make sure to read all teh tags and warnings for this one; there’s nothing gross, but some potentially triggering subjects for some people are in here. multi chapter. 81,218 words.

4. Hearts and Spades: Which would you choose? Love or death? RaitoL, slight AU.

short but sweet piece featuring that classic fanfiction dot net era vibe, an emo-ass playing card metaphor (/pos), and a recounting of l’s death scene that made me sad over him all over again (also /pos). and also light being obnoxious, but it’s death note, so that’s usually a given, lol. one shot. 1,801 words.

5. Not Quite Drowning: Sometimes Light ponders happiness. L/Light

a short lawlight and light character study. i like it a lot, and i don’t usually like light, so that should tell you something about how well i think it’s written! one shot. 424 words.

♡ 6. Water, water, water: In the bath, they forget they’re a detective and a suspect; they remove these identities along with their clothes, layer by layer until there are only the handcuffs left. And them; facing the other in the eerie calmness of their bathroom.

At least, it’s how Light sees it.

i really love this one! make sure to read teh tags, as eating disorders and drugs are mentioned, for example. angst with a happy ending! one shot. 3,504 words.

fluff

1. Silver Bells: Silver bells...silver bells...

They’ve made it. Everything is okay now, when they’re dancing in the candlelight.

really, really cute! i recommend it as a palate cleanser to make you feel better after reading a sad one, lol. one shot. 1,255 words.

♡ 2. New Year’s Eve: "I've seen fireworks before," he says. "This is... so much... more."

just a cute little new year’s eve lawlight fireworks show! this one is also from 2009 which is kinda cool to me, haha. i like this author’s descriptive language a lot. one shot. 507 words.

♡ 3. Do Gay Penguins Go to Hell?: Too many New Year snacks bring about a family discussion between L, Raito and their daughter about healthy diet, common sayings and nature of good and evil. And gay penguins, of course. AU

a really darling kid fic, based on teh stupid, homophobic controversy over that adorable kids’ book about teh gay penguin couple. one shot. 3,791 words.

4. A Feeling: It's LxLight fluff! This takes place after Light was confined and lost his memories, chained to L. : D SO YUS. SOME FLUFF FOR YAH D: Hope you leik it :D

very cute “l and light cuddle and kiss” fic, written by a scene kid in 2008, which is extra points with me! one shot. 1,006 words.

alright! i will add to this rec list as i find more fics, and i would love it if people would send in their favorite lawlight fics!

[yellowkitkieran]

To Have and to Heal (Part 13)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

Last week, Martin decided it was high time you spend some quality time with Atla. Things have grown serious between yourself and Martin rather quickly and he's decided it's time for you to spend some one on one time with his daughter. And when his usual sitter called last night to say she'd come down with the flu, Martin figured there is no time like the present. 

"Atla, you know how sometimes when papa is busy, uncle Kieran will watch you alllll day and you'll do all sorts of fun things like painting, watching films, and eating sweets?" 

Atla grins, kicking her feet at the dining table. "Uh huh! Onkel Kieran is the best- he's my favoritest!" With her fist wrapped around her spoon, Atla shovels a bite of scrambled eggs into her mouth. Half of Martin hopes she never outgrows the odd way she holds utensils, but the other half knows she will have to. Just like she'll outgrow him helping her with her hair, helping her tie her shoes… Martin isn't looking forward to his little girl becoming her own fully functioning human being.

"Well… papa is busy today, but so is uncle Kieran." Atla frowns, her feet losing their momentum and swinging slower. "But there's someone else I think you'd enjoy spending the day with… what do you think about hanging out with Miss. Sunshine today?"

Bits of egg fly when Atla drops her spoon and gasps. "Papa! I get to see Miss. Sunshine today? Really! Is she coming here? When? What are we gonna do- I want to show her my studio!"

Martin laughs, glad to see his daughter so excited about the prospect of spending time with you. "She should be here soon, once you finish your breakfast. And all your milk! Once she's here you can show her all your artwork, I'm sure she'll love it."

"Okay- okay! I'll finish-" with two hands, Atla picks up her glass and finishes the contents. A white mustache of milk lines her upper lip, which Martin leans over the counter to wipe away with a napkin. Atla murmurs a thank you. The smile that accompanies it sparks joy in Martin's chest, lighting up his mood like fireworks on a warm summer night. 

A knock on the door comes as Atla is bouncing in her seat. "You stay here," Martin says with a pointed glance at his daughter's pink butterfly plate still heaped with her breakfast. "Finish your meal or I'll send Miss. Sunshine right back home."

"I'm gonna, I promise! Don't send her home!" Martin drops a reassuring kiss to the top of Atla's head as he passes, headed straight through the sitting room for the front foyer. Knowing it's you waiting on the other side of the door has a smile unfurling on Martin's face. He reaches for you the moment it opens, one hand firmly on your waist to draw you in for a kiss. 

"Hello solskin," Martin mumbles against your mouth, "missed you. Three days apart is too long."

An away game yesterday means Martin hasn't seen you since Wednesday- luckily, having played on Saturday meant you were free today. Whilst he still technically needed to attend a recovery session in an hour, his night would be mostly free. 

"I missed you too Mar, but you shouldn't kiss me when Atla is right there," you whisper in a way that's meant to be reprimanding but only makes Martin want to do it again. 

"Ah we're fine don't worry, she's finishing up her breakfast. We have time for one more kiss…" Martin grins, stealing another before you pull away. He loves the way you glance over his shoulder just to be double sure you're in the clear. 

"I'm still not sure about this." You say that, but the way you don't hesitate to set your bag on the table next to the door and toe off your shoes says something entirely different. "You're positive this won't end badly?"

Martin bends backwards at his waist to catch a glimpse of Atla in the dining room. The toddler hums a tune to herself whilst she arranges her potatoes in a line with her fork so she can eat them one by one. Martin has never been so sure of anything in his life. 

"Firstly, all Atla ever talks about on the way home from school is how much fun she had in the last few hours of her day. You know, when she's with you?" 

You wring your hands, "yeah but this is different. This is a full day, like six hours of just me and Attie."

Martin kisses your forehead, "solskin, quit worrying. She's gonna have the time of her life okay? Now let's go say hello and I'll get out of your hair."

Holding your hand until he nears the dining room, Martin gives it one last squeeze before he drops it and comes around to kiss the crown of Atla's head. "Great job finishing your plate søta! And just in time because look who's here." 

"Miss. Sunshine!" Atla's shriek nearly shatters Martin's eardrums, though the enthusiastic giggle that spills from her as she wraps her arms around your legs makes up for the momentary loss of hearing. 

"Hi princess! You and I are gonna have so much fun today!" Atla taps her feet, her excitement too much to be contained by her little body and manifesting in physical ways. "We're gonna go to the zoo- your papa said he's not taken you there all year!"

"I wanna see the tigers-" Atla scrunches up her face in her best teeth-bearing growl "-and the lions-" now her claws come out, fingers curled "-and the fishes!" At last Atla puffs out her cheeks, imitating the cutest little fish Martin has ever seen. 

Martin crouches to his daughter's level and tucks the bit of blonde hair that's sprung free from her pigtails behind her ear. His heart punches his ribs when your thumb brushes over his hand on Atla's shoulder. He prays today goes well- Martin doubts Atla will cause trouble, but toddlers are nothing if not unpredictable. 

"Be good for Miss Sunshine, søta. Remember to eat your greens so you can grow big and strong. And show Miss Sunshine where papa keeps the sweets- you can have one after lunch, so choose wisely." Martin kisses both of Atla's cheeks before crushing her in a hug. 

"I'll be good I promise- daddy you're gonna squeeze me too tight-" Atla wiggles and giggles until Martin finally lets go. "Bye papa! Go- shoo! Out!"

"Getting tossed out of my own home," Martin murmurs. "Luckily it's for a good cause." He catches your eye and he swears your smile could outshine a thousand stars.  

Martin loves you. It's clear then, and he cannot deny it. He would cross a hundred seas or face a thousand foes to ensure you are safe and protected. 

"Martin," you sing song, "we'll see you later, yeah?"

"Right, yeah-" Martin clears the gravel from his throat and has to consciously keep himself from kissing you. It's a reflex by now, as much as hugging Atla is. 

"Bye Martin! We'll see you in a bit- What are we doing first Attie?"

"Color! Papa isn't fun- we need blue puppies!" 

Martin pauses at the door, soaking in the moment. This could be his future. For once, Martin isn't terrified by the thought of loving someone other than his first wife- and it's a refreshing realization. 

"Bye girls!" Martin calls and is pushed out the door by your and Atla's mingled shouted farewells. How can he not have a great day when he knows his two favorite girls will be waiting for him when he comes home?

**********

When Martin leaves, you're a nervous wreck. You default onto your teacher tactics, herding Atla to the dining room table for some coloring whilst you try and calm your nerves. Only a minute later, your phone buzzes in your pocket with a text from Martin. 

Can't wait to see all the pictures of your adventures today. Have fun, she already loves you. Nothing to be worried about, solskin. 

As simple as the reminder is, Martin's reassurance is what finally quiets the what ifs swirling in your mind. You're here to bond with Atla, and that's what you intend to do. 

"First we color," you say, blue pencil poised over the print out of a long eared dog that Atla slid your way, "then a walk to the zoo? I think that's a solid plan!" 

"Yes! Yes please- I'm so happy you're here." Atla drops her own pencil and quickly wraps her arms around you in a haphazard hug. Her pencil is back in her hand faster than you can blink. You smile to yourself. Things seem to be off to a decent start. 

An hour later you're at the zoo, slathering sun block on Atla's face to protect her from the rare London sunshine. Even the weather wants today to be a good day for you. 

"I need to see the tigers," Atla declares adamantly. Her little hands are fisted on her hips, her no nonsense expression affording you no means to negotiate. 

"Well, that's a good thing those are my favorite. They're by the lions, and the leopards- the white ones with spots, and the black ones too. Can you find the tiger on the map?"

Off to the side of the walkway, you hoist Atla into your arms so she can better see the brightly colored map of the zoo posted by the entrance. Little pictures of animals dot the paths, along with their scientific names beneath each one. Atla takes her time, studying the map until finally she points to the correct spot. 

"There! We have to take pictures- papa loves tigers!"

Atla allows no pit stops along the way, dragging you towards the exhibit with surprising strength. You have to correct her once or twice when she gets turned around, but overall she does a decent job of navigating using the child-height signs along the way, designed to guide independent little ones.

"They're out- look Miss Sunshine! Look!" Atla tugs hard at your hand, dragging you towards the glass wall of the exhibit that allows you to safely view the animals beyond. Sleeping against the glass lays a tiger, it's black and orange striped fur warmed by the sun. 

"Be quiet, it's sleeping." You let go of Atla's hand so she can climb onto the stone ledge next to the glass. She gasps when she sees the animal's face, mesmerized by it's size. 

"It's so pretty," Atla murmurs, immediately smushing her face to the glass. "Papa loves them- he loves tigers. He's so close! I wanna pet him!" 

The tiger stirs and Atla jolts backwards. You catch her before she falls, suppressing your laugh. "It's okay, he can't get you from out here. He's just a big lazy kitty anyway- see? His eyes are open, he just wants to look at you." 

"Oh…" Regaining her courage, Atla puts her palms on the glass and stands up. She doesn't flinch this time when the tiger yawns, stretching it's substantial limbs. It's curved, pointed claws peek out from his toes, and Atla whips around to confirm that you're watching. When you nod, her attention returns to the beast at her feet. It's amber eyes bore into her own, curious but not malicious. It truly is a gorgeous animal- strong, fierce, and protective. 

Sort of like Martin, when you think about it. It takes considerable strength to captain a team as successful as Arsenal, and to do so without backing down at the first signs of trouble. Martin is fierce on and off the pitch, unwilling to bend when things get difficult. And protective? You cannot think of a single word that fits Martin more aptly. 

"Let's take some photos for papa," you suggest. Atla happily takes your phone and snaps some, including one of herself and you, the tiger barely visible in the background thanks to the odd angle. Regardless, you know it'll be Martin's new favorite. 

**********

Atla is almost asleep, be quiet when you come in please.

Luckily, Martin sees your warning as he pulls into the drive. His joints creak as he climbs the handful of steps to the door. Today was grueling. Martin wants to inhale a sugar-free coke and the rest of the grilled chicken he knows is waiting for him in the fridge. Then, he wants to get Atla up to bed (preferably under her own power, considering how his calves are already screaming at him), and settle in for a sappy film on the sofa with your feet in his lap. 

Martin finds you already in his spot, parked in front of the television with Atla's head resting on your knee. A touch to your shoulder ensures you don't startle upon Martin's near silent approach, a warning before he leans over the back of the sofa to confirm Atla's eyes are shut. 

Satisfied his daughter is asleep, Martin curls a finger under your chin. He uses it to tip your head back, studying your upside down smile and your sleepy eyes before he places a soft kiss on your pillowy lips. Even the simple gesture scatters sparks over his skin. 

"Hi," you murmur, the single word steeped in flowered affection. "Tough day?" A moan sits on the tip of Martin's tongue when you reach around and massage your fingertips against his shoulder blade, right where he's most sore. 

Martin hums, his face now buried in your neck. "Long day. You tired her out, I see."

"We had a packed day. Get her up to bed and then you can tell me all about yours. How's that sound?"

"Utmerket- perfect," Martin corrects himself when you quirk a brow at his norwegian. "Atlaaa," Martin drags out the 'A' until she stirs, "la oss gå til sengs."

"Jeg vil ikke," Atla whines and buries herself further under the blanket. "Jeg sover her."

"You can't sleep her søta," Martin murmurs, ignoring the burn in his muscles when he scoops his daughter into his arms. "Papa will take you upstairs to your room… you don't want Ty and Bernie and Liz to sleep all alone do you?"

Atla shakes her head, rubbing her eyes. "No- I'll go to bed…"

Martin smiles, climbing the carpeted stairs to the second level to deposit Atla in her bed. He goes through his nightly ritual, tucking her in under her fluffy pink comforter and arranging her squishmallows exactly how she likes it. It's Ty's night to cuddle so Martin tucks the brown dog in Atla's arms. Her soft coo of approval is music to Martin's ears. 

"Goodnight Attie, jeg elsker deg."

Atla only manages a wordless mumble in response. Martin flicks on her mushroom shaped night light and carefully slips out. As much as he wants to sprint into your arms, Martin knows he still carries the stink of sweat from training despite his rushed shower at the grounds so he heads off for a second one, scrubbing himself down thoroughly. 

Once he's satisfied he smells pleasant, he throws on the first pair of shorts he can find. He nearly trips on the bottom step in his haste to throw himself at you, grinning as he launches himself onto the sofa where you're waiting with open arms. 

"Oof- babe! Warn me before you do that… I need compensation for the elbow I just caught to my ribs!" 

Martin immediately soothes his hand over your side and pecks your lips. "Does that count? I missed you- did you and Atla have fun today? Did she behave?"

"One question at a time babe… yes, that kiss makes up for it." Your fingers thread in Martin's hair, guiding his head to rest on your chest. "Yes, Atla and I had fun today, I have plenty of photos to show you. She loved seeing the tigers, said they reminded her of you." When your nails scratch at his scalp, Martin's eyes begin to close. "And yes, Atla was an angel. She ate all her greens, just like you told her to. And now you need to eat yours." You nod to the coffee table, to a bowl Martin hadn't noticed earlier.

Martin has never been so happy to see a salad in his entire life. You must have prepared it while he was in the shower, and he happily sits up to dig in. He tries to savor it, but his stomach is a bottomless pit and he devours his meal in minutes. 

"Thank you. That was delicious." Martin brings you in for a kiss, deepening it for a split second to ensure you understand how appreciative it is. "You didn't- oh!"

When you grab the front of Martin's shirt and haul him towards you, he doesn't hesitate to kiss you again. He knows what you want, so he gives it to you. Your fingers glide over his chest while his tangle in your hair. He bites your lower lip and is rewarded with a surprised groan. He's wholly lost in you then, hypnotized by your sounds and transfixed by your hands on him. 

"Papa?"

Atla's voice rips the world from under Martin's feet. Dread cuts through the passion as the two of you jolt apart. Fuck. 

"Atla," Martin murmurs, frantically trying to straighten his shirt while you pat down your mussed hair. Martin clears his throat, trying to tamp down on his wild heartbeat. 

"Why were you kissing Miss. Sunshine? You're only supposed to kiss mama."

This isn't how Atla was meant to find out. Martin had a plan, he was going to tell her gently, let her have a chance to process everything and ask questions. Springing his relationship on Atla like this… Martin's stomach churns.

"Miss. Sunshine is…" Martin glances over at you. From where Atla stands, she cannot see Martin take your hand. He needs the support now more than ever. "She's my special friend."

"You're not supposed to kiss your friends like that papa." God, Martin might actually be sick. He hates everything about this. 

"No, you're right Attie- but Miss. Sunshine…"

"What about mama?" Atla blinks and Martin finally notices the tears in her eyes. He's up off the sofa in a second, reaching for her as his instincts take over. 

Martin cradles Atla's tear streaked face, "Mama is gone, søta. Remember how we talked about her being in the sky-"

"You're only supposed to kiss mama!" Atla stomps her foot. Her teddy falls to the ground and rolls a few feet away. Martin tries to hand it back, hoping she'll find comfort in the familiarity, but she pushes him away. "No! You're lying- mama is coming back! She's just away for a while!"

"Atla…"

"You're a liar! Løgner, løgner, løgner-"

"Atla please!" Martin doesn't like raising his voice with Atla, but he's desperate. "Mama isn't coming back, she's gone forever and I'm sorry but-"

"No! She's stealing you from me and mama!" 

"I should go," you murmur, and Martin's panic doubles. "I don't want to be the reason-"

No. No. Martin isn't losing you, not like this. 

"Atla, go to your room."

"Papa-" 

"Now!" 

Atla blinks, her lip wobbling. Martin hates himself. His daughter rips her stuffie from his hands and tears his heart from his chest when she scrambles up the stairs and slams the door to her room. 

"I need to leave. I shouldn't-"

"Please stay." Martin grabs your wrist, not caring that he's acting every bit the desperate child he feels he is inside. "Please don't- solskin please. I just need to talk to her-"

"Martin, I'm not coming between you and your daughter. End of story." Martin's heart cracks open when you peel his fingers off one by one until his hand hangs at his side, limp and empty. You wrap your arms around yourself to find some sort of comfort. "I won't break up your family. I won't be the woman who comes in and wrecks things, I just won't."

"Maria is gone," Martin croaks. He ignores the way his voice jumps an octave at the end. He needs you to stay. He's just gotten himself to admit he loves you, and now this?

"Yes, but her memory isn't. Clearly Atla doesn't understand what's happened, and that's not on you- she's a child, it's not easy for her to understand. But…" 

You trail off, blinking back tears. Martin wants to soothe you. He wants to curl up on the sofa with you, comb his fingers through your hair and promise everything will be alright. But he cannot do any of that, because you're pulling away from him. You're putting up walls, bricking up your heart faster than he can tear them away. It won't stop him from trying though. He'll pry away the bricks until his fingers are bloody and his nails are broken stubs; he needs you now, and he cannot let you slip away. 

Except…

Except. 

Atla. His blood. The one piece of Maria he still has left. If she doesn't approve, Martin is stuck.

Martin can't betray his daughter. But if he can only speak with her, he is certain he can explain things. Once she understands, then Martin can settle this mess and everything will be okay. 

"I'll speak to Atla in the morning." Martin's mumble breaks the silence with the grace of a rock thrown through the surface of a frozen lake. Martin's limbs tingle, like they sometimes do after a workout. His fingers open and close around nothing at his side. He can't bring himself to look at you, not when his entire world is shifting. 

"Don't. Clearly this isn't meant to be Mar. I'm sorry… I wish it was." 

Martin's entire body recoils when your lips meet his cheek. The split second contact burns like a brand of a love that was squashed before it had the chance to bloom into something beautiful. 

"Goodbye, Martin. I'll see you on Wednesday."

"See you Wednesday." It's his voice, Martin recognizes it, but it feels as if it does not come from his mouth. Of course he'll see you Wednesday, because he won't send someone else to pick up Atla. He doesn't trust anyone else. 

So Martin will do what he has always done: he will endure. He will fight through the now all too familiar agony of heart break and put on a brave face for his daughter. He will be the man who's only goal is to provide for his family, who wakes up each and every morning solely to put a smile on Atla's face. 

Once upon a time, Martin thought that was enough of a purpose. Now, as you walk out the door, he isn't so positive anymore. Martin is meant to love- but apparently he isn't meant to be loved in return. 

[minimoxha]

I see the light

Summary: After his wife and daughter died he thought he lost everything. However, you for some reason, you'd didn't disappear. So, Miguel locked you up. He had to find some way to protect you so you couldn't be taken from him like Gabriella. What better way to do that then keep you in his dimension where he could get to you in case of anything

Warnings: Cussing, Nothing really

Chapter masterlist

The first place Hobart brown took y/n was to paris france, in universe 3202. It was a peaceful spider-man with its spider woman being the loudest thing in there. He’d been to paris before, among a bunch of other places in his travels to find actually cool things. Paris was something on everyone’s wishlist, it was bound to be on yours. The both of you stood in an alleyway after teleporting. Y/n looking around in awe and touching anything she could get her hands on while Hobie attempted to hide his spidersuit.

“Where are we Hobie?” She asks, walking in circles, touching everything. It was almost line she was a toddler who had never been able to let her mind run wild. It was cute.

“This ‘ere’s called Paris, Mate” (bare with me i’m imagining this is how they talk bare with me here now). “We gonna do some things you might like before we go see the fireworks” Hobie responds, walking out the alleyway with her in tow, not realizing the looks people gave. However, there was still a problem with the whole plan.

“You never told me what you want as payment!” She said, making the man hault in his tracks.

“Tell yer dad to get off my ass for a bit, Yeah? That’s what my payment is.” Hobie continued to walk, putting his hands in his pocket and changing his posture to something that really wasn’t good for his back. Y/n didn’t care though , she was too busy looking at the scenery and the people.

She did stare for too long which made people give her weird looks back. Or maybe it was the fact that what she was wearing was a bit over the top. A cute purple dress with flowers, her favorite dress. Miguel had bought it for her one day. It could’ve been because she was wearing fat cow slippers that mooed every time she stepped. “You look like a tourist, try to look like you at least live here” Hobbie laughed before walking into a macaroon shop. Y/n followed intently. The smell of the maroons hit her immediately and she immediately felt her stomach drop. “Y’a hungry?” She nodded. Hobbie walked to the counter and ordered two ice creams macaroon sandwiches and then took the girl to sit down T the table.

With The first bite, she was taken by surprise. Her dad had never made these things for her, she didn’t even realize these things existed. Would it be to much to say this was the best thing she has ever tasted in her now eighteen years of living? Hobbie saw her from across the table, smiling as she enjoyed the four macrons she had. They were extremely pricy and he’d never just pay for random’l shit like that that he didn’t need. He had never donr that until now. He couldn’t resist seeing her smile again.

When they left the cafe, he was now listening to her ramble about the food. Yeah, it was a little annoying but he was glad he could give her his first experience. His heart started beating at the the thought of her getting a bunch of other experiences before tonight. “We can go see the eiffel tower next and then we can go to another dimension, would you have fun with that? Y/nnie?” He asked.

She felt herself get giddy at the nickname he gave her. She had never felt this way when she was called nicknames by her dad so why did she feel this way with him? She also realized how when he spoke, her pulse sped up and how handsome he looked. Was this a crush? When the ones she’d see on tv and they would have amazing pilot build up before they get married and fall in love. The thought of having a romance like they did in business propanol or Att woo made her so cheerful inside. Their relationships were so cute, something she dreamed of happening when she was finally let down from her castle. Was Hobie the one?

—

“Jessica, you need to go send someone to investigate the whereabouts of this anomaly. He’s been through five universes. We need five of the teens on the universes.” Miguel said to jessica who gave a nod and went to go call all the teenagers to go on missions. Miguel was determined to get whatever anomaly was this powerful and before they would rip themselves through this one and hurt everyone inside.

The anomaly was leaving every single universe they touched in shambles, there was no telling which one they’d get next.

—-

Hobbie looked at the alert on his watch, and choose to ignore it and continue to show the girl around the Eiffel tower. Whatever they wanted wasn’t that important.

Taglist:

@discowizard88 @fairycorequeen @onyxstarhigh06

[theghostinmeisyou]

As it is pretty clear that "Price's Daughter AU" is going to win the poll, I thought it silly to wait the remaining hours before posting 1 of 2 fics I've written for this au (the other fic is gonna be a long one so hold on!)

So here you have it, Price's Daughter AU with Ghost x Reader smut

You hate big family gatherings, but on the 4th of July there’s no excuse to not come visit your dad’s yearly bbq fest where he invites the whole neighborhood and a few of his colleagues to come enjoy some cold booze, colorful fireworks, and the best goddamn barbecue in all of the US of A.

Already there’s a ton of cars parked in front of your parents house, which unfortunately means you’ll have to park further up the street, having to walk all the way back.

“Fucking, stupid…” You decided to wear the absolute worst heels for an event like this, but you like looking good, and the men’s attention isn’t fully unwanted either, up until the moment Price (your dad) tries to play matchmaker with you and Gaz. There isn’t really anything wrong with Gaz, he just doesn’t do it for you, and besides your dad intervening makes it even less appealing.

But you arrive on time, as the dutiful daughter, and walk into your former home.

“Hello?” you call out, and near immediately your mother, Betty Price, comes rushing from around a corner.

“Oh my darling daughter, it is so good to see you again!” She comes at you with open arms.

“Hi mom.” You accept the smothering hug and kisses, where your mom tries to wipe off the lipstick stains by licking her finger and rubbing your cheeks. “Mom, God! I can do it myself, just- doesn’t dad need you?”

“Oh stop whining, you’ll never be too old to let your mom dote on you some! But yes, you are right, I have so much to see to! Go upstairs and get settled in, then come help your dear mother, okay?” She squeezes your shoulders.

“Okay fine,” you say and roll your eyes, feeling like a teenager again whenever you enter this home, but it’s been 8 years since you moved out, you really should act more mature.

Yet you do as told, which isn’t an odd thing coming from an army family, and you walk upstairs and into the bathroom with a window facing the backyard. You look at yourself in the mirror, wearing a pretty yellow summer dress that is, in the right light, a bit too sheer perhaps, and your dad will undoubtedly comment on it, but it’s too late to change now.

While you’re trying to wipe off the red lipstick stains your mother left on you, you hear talking through the window.

“You really can’t go anywhere without that mask, huh?” You recognize the voice as Soap, and walk to the window to see who he’s talking to.

“Not really. It’d be chaotic if all the women got a glance at my face.” A different voice, British, and not one you’ve ever heard before.

The man in the mask is tall, buff as all hell, and indeed wearing a skull mask. Intriguing, could this be the famed Ghost guy?

“How will you expect to eat any of the food then?” Soap continues.

“Can’t go a whole day without eating!” Gaz says, and urgh of course he’s here already. “Hey Captain.”

Your dad approaches them, beers in hand as he offers them to his esteemed guests. Ghost accepts one but doesn’t do anything with it; how’s he supposed to with that mask on?

“So, where’s that daughter of yours?” Gaz again, inquiring about you.

“She’s upstairs getting ready, you know how women are.” And all except Ghost laugh at that.

You roll your eyes; you’re not getting ready! You’re trying to clean up after your mother’s barrage of kisses! But you won’t let a bit of misogyny get in your way of having a fun day. So you push your tits together, creating an even more enticing cleavage, fluffs up your hair, and out the bathroom door you go again.

“There she is! My darling daughter!” your father proclaims as you step onto the back porch, and absolutely everyone turns to look at you.

Embarrassed by the attention, knowing well you’re dressed in a manner that will leave the wives gossiping, you step down onto the grass and approach the gathering of rather handsome men - yes even Gaz is attractive enough, but he’s like a puppy to you, you can practically see the tail wagging the closer you get.

“Hey Soap, Gaz.” You greet them with a smile and slight wave.

“Darling, I don’t think you’ve ever met Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley here,” Price says and gestures toward the man towering above you.

So tall indeed that you have to look up to meet his intense, burning gaze.

“Ma’am,” he says, all gruff and low, and accepts your handshake when you extend your hand. “Firm grip.”

“Father taught me well,” you muse and feel kind of proud to be complimented on your handshake. “Here, let me take that for you.” And you gladly take the beer from his hand, keeping eye contact as you take a sip from it.

“Thanks,” he grumbles.

And those were the last words you two exchanged for several hours. You talk with the neighbors, with Gaz, your parents, and everyone else except Ghost. It’s not fully intentional on your behalf, it’s just that he never approaches you, a thing you’re so used to, and you might be just a tad bit shy against his cold and hard exterior, yet whenever you look at him he’s staring at you, arms crossed, standing close to Soap. Truth be told, the summer heat isn’t all that’s getting to you, it is unbearable being underneath his intense and burning gaze.

You hope he's thinking what you're thinking as you step past him, eyes locked together, a sly smile on your lips and you see it, a hint of something primal in his glare, it's as if he hates what you do to him, and you haven't even begun yet.

So you walk upstairs, into the bathroom you were in earlier, and stand in front of the giant mirror, waiting.

Not that you have to be particularly patient, as there's a knock on the door soon after you arrive, and opening it up reveals-

Ghost, nearly the height of the goddamn door, standing there quietly. He then steps in, doesn't wait for an invite and looks around, letting out a slight, "Hm," as if 'this'll do'.

He turns to you, meeting your inviting gaze, peeling off his gloves. "You want this?" His hand reaches down to grab at the outline of what looks to be quite the erection - quick on the draw, ain't he.

"Yes-

"Yes sir," he interrupts, "Say it."

Heat shoots through you, warming and wetting your cunt. Ghost looms over you, bringing a hand up to swipe his thumb across your parted lips. God you want him so so bad.

"Say it."

"Yes, sir."

He hums, pleased. "Good girl."

And if possible, that makes you even more excited, your pussy thrombin, declaring its need for attention now.

"Lift up your dress," he commands like he's on the battlefield whispering into a walkie talkie.

You do as told, pulling on the fabric, revealing your soaked, lacy, light blue panties.

"Take them off," Ghost grumbles.

Again, following orders like you were one of his privates on the battlefield. He extends a hand, waiting, and it takes you a second to realize what he's asking for, handing him your used underwear.

He sniffs it, taking a long, deep breath, and exhaling with a guttural, animalistic, "Harrh," his eyes now hungrier than before.

Then he grabs you by the hips, spinning you around so that you face the mirror, and bends you slightly forward, testing how far down you're willing to go without forcing you.

And you feel it, the head of his cock teasing your entrance, you can't help the slight whimper as you bite down on your lower lip to keep quiet.

Slowly he pushes in and for a moment you swear it won't fit, stretching your pussy to its limits the deeper he goes, your hands gripping at the edges of the sink, but God if it isn't the most incredible feeling you've ever felt. Barely has he moved and already you're on edge, dripping wet and wanting to moan out louder than you ever have, and you're no virgin.

Ghost grabs you by the hips, not so hard that you'll bruise, but with enough force to remind you who's in charge here. He groans out as he pulls out and thrusts into you.

You watch in the mirror how he looks down at where you swallow him whole, again and again as he sets a rather calm and collected pacing.

"Y-you can go faster," you utter carefully, eyeing the open window where everyone will hear you if you don't control yourself. "I won't break."

"But can you keep quiet?"

"Why?" You smirk. "Afraid Captain Price will hear his precious daughter getting pounded by someone she doesn't even know?"

"He trusts me."

"Clearly he shouldn't, seeing how you're defiling his only child."

"Stay quiet and I may give you what you want."

"Pinkie promise," you laugh and he smacks your ass hard enough to make you yelp.

And then he sets a faster pace, rougher and harder, making you whine with pleasure.

"Fuck that's good, so tight," he groans, eyes glued to where you meet.

With every thrust his cock massages every sweet spot inside your cunt, bringing you closer and closer, and you warn him,

"I-I'm close, haah."

"Show me that pretty face of yours," he says all deep and vulgar, voice thick with lust as he meets your gaze in the mirror, staring just as intensely as he had earlier in the backyard.

And you show him just how good his dick makes you feel, mouth wide open, eyes on him, a wonderful blush across your cheekbones, and you screw your eyes shut as you cum with incredible intensity, the kind that can bring tears to your eyes as you let out a choked moan to the beat of heat exploding in your cunt.

"God that's it, arrh, haha," he grumbles quietly when it's his turn to cum, fucking you vigorously so that your tits nearly pop out of your bra, pounding you to a point where you'll be wonderfully sore for a few days. And it must have been a while since he last came because he fills you past the brim, his cum dripping out of you and onto the floor while he's becoming flaccid inside your hole, and when he pulls out, you gasp, feeling how it all spills out and drips down your leg.

"That was… wow," you laugh and look at the floor. "I'd better clean this up before it scares someone to death."

"And I'd better get outside again so your dad doesn't get suspicious." 

But you don't want him to leave, you could honestly go for a second round, maybe even three, but you get it, this was a one time thing, as wonderful as it was.

"Yep yep, you better get going then," you say, avoiding eye contact.

He grabs you by the chin and angles you upward so that your eyes may meet.

"This was lovely," he says with that deep, baritone voice and heavenly accent of his, then leaves you weak in the knees.

After cleaning up real quick and waiting a moment for it all to flow out of you, you return to the backyard and to your smiling father, so proud of his daughter, and waves you over.

"Sweetheart, come here and listen to the hilarious story Gaz just told me!" he calls to you.

You pass Ghost as you walk across the lawn, but neither of you look at the other, despite the fact that some of him is still inside of you.

[fancoloredglasses]

Trouble Identity (I'm shocked no one tried this before)

[All images are owned by DC Comics and Filmation. I promise I'm too poor to sue]

[Thanks to Batgirlspain for the inspiration]

The classic misdirection play is to pin the blame of a crime on another while you reap the benefits of the crime (and enjoy some popcorn while the fireworks ensue) There have been a few instances in animated superhero shows where this occurs, including an episode of the 60’s Spider-Man series…and this one from The New Adventures of Batman. If you would like to watch the episode, it’s available on Dailymotion or behind your favorite paywall.

We open with Bruce Wayne driving his ward Dick Grayson and (for some reason) Barbara Gordon to a remote location outside Gotham City. Barbara isn’t exactly sure either, but they soon drive up to an old house. When suddenly…

No one is exactly sure why a cat is meowing this far out. Maybe there’s a colony of ferals?

Bruce and the others are let into the house, while outside…

Gee, I wonder who that could be…

Bruce's group is brought to a lab, where they meet…

Professor Norquist, who shows them his latest invention.

First, he dumps ordinary trash into a disintegrator (that alone would be an amazing invention! Break down waste into smaller pieces that didn’t need to go to landfills!) and the pieces go into another device (which Norquist calls a “matter converter”) that produces…

…silk

…or wool

…or fur! Or any other fabric!

Suddenly, in mid-demonstration, the lights go out and the matter converter is stolen! The lights come on to reveal…

Wait…HOW?

Batgirl manages to escape while Bruce leaves the mansion (the fact that Batgirl slashed his tires didn’t help matters any)

Needless to say, Commissioner Gordon (and especially his daughter) can’t believe it! However, Gordon puts out an APB for Batgirl. He also gets on the Batphone.

Ummm…

QUICK NOTE: In this series, Alfred is not part of the cast. So who’s going to pick up?

*sigh…*

Bat-Mite tells Gordon he’s on the case, then immediately jumps on the Batcycle and takes off!

…sorta. Actually, he’s just doing laps around the Batcave, barely hanging on for dear life! (why doesn’t he just teleport away?)

At Gordon’s office, Bruce, Dick, and Barbara make flimsy excuses and leave to change into their evening wear.

Elsewhere in Gotham…

Oh, like you didn’t guess that “Batgirl” was Catwoman in disguise!

Catwoman plans on using the matter converter to get rich selling exotic fabrics.

Back at the Batcave, Bat-Mite is still out of control on the Batcycle, but Batman manages to net the cycle and put a (brief) halt to the chaos.

Once again, Batman benches Bat-Mite (yeah, like that will keep him out of trouble) and then he and Robin get to work. After some clever (if roundabout) deduction, they figure it out.

About that time, Catwoman contacts Batman (how does she have his number?) to taunt him.

Catwoman explains that she lured Batgirl to a location that she tipped the GCPD toward.

Batman then uses the tracer on Batgirl’s cycle to find out where she is, then off to the Batcopter! But as they approach Batgirl’s location…

…Catwoman launches a remote-controlled missile! Batman uses an image projector to send the missile on a wild goose chase until it explodes harmlessly over Gotham Harbor.

Inside the warehouse Catwoman sent Batgirl to…

…she finds a ton of fabrics made by the matter converter.

Unfortunately, the police find her! Batgirl flees to the roof and throws a Bat-line to slide to the next building, but…

Oh, you knew he wouldn’t stay benched!

Unfortunately, the extra weight of Bat-Mite is enough for the gutter to which the Bat-line is anchored to come loose and start to collapse!

Fortunately, Batman arrives just in time to haul them to safety. Batman promises Commissioner Gordon to take Batgirl to GCPD HQ... but neglects to mention a quick detour to nab Catwoman. But where would she be? She would need to unload all of her fabrics as quickly as possible.

That would do it!

Inside the Gotham Convention Center, Catwoman watches as the money rolls in.

Catwoman orders the matter converter to be turned up to full, but that overloads it and now it won’t shut off!

Outside, Batman and Batgirl leap from the Batcopter to the roof of the Convention Center as…

I don’t think they thought this through.

Catwoman is distracted from piloting her escape craft due to being crowded by runaway fabric (they could stop feeding it disintegrated trash. I mean, it has to run out of raw materials eventually, right?) So she doesn’t notice that…

Unfortunately, the matter converter was ruined by Catwoman’s greed.

Ya think, Gordon? You shouldn’t doubt the integrity of the Terrific Trio!

…great

[a-trying-writer]

(original story ft ara and os. unfinished.)

As soon as the drums began to roll, the metal brass section blared out, followed by cheers and yells. Then the party began, and Osiris found himself surrounded by people dancing along to the music. He felt rather awkward to mingle with the locals, until Ara bumped her hip against his playfully.

"If you're uncomfortable, we can go somewhere else!" she offered.

"I... Well..."

"It's fine by me, Os, really." She took a hold of his hand. "I've heard there are some places that are much more quiet than here. Like the hills! We can see the lights of the city up there."

"I-is that so? I'd appreciate it, Ara." Osiris gave the half-daemon an awkward smile, before being gently pulled along through the crowd. He nearly let go of her whenever someone bumped into them, but keeping up with her has become rather easy for him after traveling her all this time.

The hill was a little ways away from the center of the town, but Ara was right, it had a beautiful view of the area, and the colorful lights blinking throughout it. It was a sight to behold.

Ara took off her robe to place it down on the grass to sit on it, then signaled Osiris to do the same. He never really liked the fact that Ara isn't afraid of dirtying up that beautiful robe, but given how it can remake itself does make him worry a little less about it. Once he sat beside her, he stared out at the city. "It's beautiful... Is there more places like this out there? Where they have parties this big?"

"Oh yeah," Ara responded. "In some parts of Rios there are celebrations in honor of our dead loved ones. As sad and morbid as it sounds, it's much more livelier than you'd think, pun not intended."

"I think I've heard about that before... I kind of wish to witness that for myself..."

"I promise you will. Is Bijou any different?"

"Only for certain holidays, but we don't always host these parades or anything. Some places can put up decorations but that's about it."

Ara blinked in surprise. "Really? I'd though Bijou would be fancier, given how big of a deal that place tends to sound."

"After our travels in Rios, I'd like to take you there. Maybe you'd like the food there, and you could meet with my family. My father would love to hear all of your travels, and you may enjoy some of the baked goods my uncle tends to make in his bakery."

"You have an uncle?"

Osiris turned to her with a perked brow. "I didn't tell you?"

"No!"

"Oh, well... I have an aunt and uncle from my father's side. I don't know anything about my mother's siblings, if she had any... Anyway, my aunt is a business woman, while my uncle is a baker. I used to help my uncle out a lot when I was a teenager, kneading dough and decorating cookies and such. It was fun, but since I had college, I couldn't help out anymore. Maybe his daughters are helping him out now, since they might be old enough..."

"Married?"

"No, he isn't. I don't know the details of his relationship, because it was never really my business. I think they had a friendly bond however."

"I see." Ara paused.

Osiris could see her brows furrowing, making him chuckle. "Maybe you can figure out the details yourself if you ever meet them."

"I'd like to," she replied immediately, unashamed of her nosiness. Typical Ara, Osiris thought.

When the first firework exploded, the two turned their attention towards it.

[discodeviant]

Not Duke, Not Prince - Part 5

(POV Hopper) Billy | Teen | 2.6k Alternate Canon/Divergence

And this is where the initial cracky silly plotline went awry and turned into something that I will be elaborating on down the line lol. Please enjoy <3

Made for @billyhargrovebingo!

Prev. | Part 1

Hopper sat in his van with a blanket over his shoulders, clinging to the police radio that crackled in and out since before sunrise. He’d gone through three coffees and a whole pack of Camels waiting for a sign, a sound, a rumble in the earth. Nothing. Nothing yet, at least, so he waited a little longer.

Two weeks prior, a man arrived in the hospital’s intensive care unit after showcasing severe, presumed, stab wounds and bruising over his chest. One Neil Hargrove, one Hopper knew of because his son was in the hospital only days before that with similar injuries, though much less severe. Much less deliberate, if Hopper were to think so, which made him queasy to consider.

Once he was conscious again, Hargrove Senior claimed that his son had done that to him. Jumped on, scratched, bitten; “Stabbed?” asked Officer Phil Callahan, the regrettable choice sent along to question him, but Hargrove shook his head. “He didn’t have a weapon on him?” And again.

“Teeth… he—he wasn’t—wasn’t human.”

It came out on the very same day that there had been reports of an earthquake from neighbors, thunder or explosions or God-knew-what. Commies, yelled one old woman, or winter fireworks. Her husband said it was like a herd of angry buffalo. None of that helped, obviously, because neither buffalo nor such violent political expressionists existed in the quaint town of Hawkins. Neither of those things were what shook the town just further than its outskirts, a few miles in each direction from the Hargrove household on Cherry Lane. One neighbor reported unusual rustling in his bushes, but even that wasn’t very useful.

Despite the odds favoring against him, Hopper had instincts that very seldom disappointed when it mattered. Callahan said something about a cougar, and then it finally made sense—maybe, if Hopper was right.

And he had been right once before, one night when he went to his cabin for a weekend getaway on the anniversary of his first daughter’s death. Whiskey, cigars, the cheapest pizza Hawkins could offer—that was his plan, and it was underway. On his day of mourning, he sat on the porch in an old rocking chair, beer in his hand, air in his gut that refused to escape, a cigar in his shirt pocket that he didn’t get a chance to light before tiny headlights caught his attention. Only for a moment, a split second in time, and then they disappeared.

So, maybe they weren’t headlights. A trick of the eye, perhaps. He was drunk and fuzzy anyway, distrusting of himself to see anything clearly, so he pretended to forget about it. Finished his beer, smoked his cigar, stood up to go back inside and sleep the pain off until morning. Before he could, however, there was a disturbance in the trees just ahead of him, something running and hiding from him until he threatened arrest. Had it been some delinquent teenager, it would have run away. It would have listened. Instead, it waltzed up to him with a long, red tail swishing behind a lean body, dark eyes that glimmered in the light of the new moon.

It was a fox.

Moments later, a little girl stood before him, naked and trembling, patches of auburn hair all over her body until they shed away later into the night. Hopper thought he was hallucinating, that his cigars were laced with something more illegal than they already were. The girl challenged more than feared him. She needed to get inside.

Three years later, she remained with him. A tattoo behind her ear read 011, and she called herself Eleven—or, the bad people did. Hopper started calling her El, which she took to quickly. When, one day, Hopper asked if the bad people turned her into a fox, she said no, she had always been that way, and she may have been a fox first. She didn’t know or care. Papa was long gone, the doctor was dead, and her stories only ever got more grim.

So Hopper waited for another earthquake, and then his radio crackled again.

“Come in, Jim, do you copy?” It was Callahan.

“Loud and clear, Phil. Over.”

“There’s a guy here harassing me for you… Says his name is—what’s your name again?” There was a garbled answer before Callahan repeated it: “Murray Bauman—Over.”

Hopper’s eyebrows turned in. “That Chicago prick?” he asked, having read an article written about said Chicago prick and the outlandish conspiracies he journaled about. “He’s here? In Hawkins. Over.”

“Unfortunately. Over.”

“What the hell’s he doing here?” Silence. “Phil!”

“You didn’t say, ‘Over!’” Hopper rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. He won’t tell me. He’s requesting you directly.” He could hear the inattentive look on Callahan’s face even from the middle of an open field. “And he’s not leaving until you talk to him. Over.”

“Christ,” Hopper said, muttering to himself. Then into the radio, “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty. And I’m giving him five. Over and out.”

“All I’m saying is, I don’t think it’s a coincidence, and before you cut me off again, there is historical evidence of house pets turning feral and morphing into other biological orders entirely—“

“So you’re saying the kid’s a cat with a tummy ache. Okay.”

Murray huffed and rolled his jaw, having gone through similar conversations with Hopper before because Hawkins was a strange little town, and he liked to keep tabs on it. They sat in the chief’s office, Hopper with his boots kicked up on the desk, Murray with his hands folded in his lap and a flat line across his lips. The combover was looking extra sharp that afternoon.

“If you’d let me finish, you’d be hearing that there are cases in the last thirty-odd years of this happening as a result of chemical mishandling during the war, and said chemicals causing permanent and significant damage to the animal kingdom. Three years ago, a woman in Memphis reported a possum sneaking into her hamster’s cage and eating it”—Hopper laughed—“but she inspected it more closely herself and determined that it was, in fact, her hamster that had transformed, based on behavioral evidence and markings on its skin that Mister Cheesy had as well.”

Smoke plumed from a cigarette resting on Hopper’s ash tray. “Those are a lot of words for a small man,” he said, maintaining an expert pokerface so as not to give away the returning curiosity of his own daughter.

“It’s not just cute, fuzzy little animals, okay, it’s wolves—“

“Werewolves?” He couldn’t help himself now.

Murray continued without missing a beat: “—and coyotes, cattle, chickens, ducks, toads, foxes, humans—“ But the buzz of Hopper’s alarm clock went off right when he said it would, five minutes after his ass met the chair. Murray stopped, stood up, straightened his jacket and said, “Well, I’m afraid my five minutes is up.” That smile made Hopper want to punch him. “Call me if you change your mind—“

“Wait.” He stood from his own chair and walked around the desk, closed the office door, drew the curtains. “Sit the hell down.”

Four days later, Murray joined Hopper in his van to drive to the clearing a mile out from Brimborn Steel Works. Max was in the back seat after having a long conversation with Hopper some days before, wearing his blanket over her legs. Neil was in no position to stop her going along for the ride, not that he knew. Susan didn’t particularly care. She clutched onto her skateboard as Murray asked Hopper, “And you’re sure this is the exact location he was attacked?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, pointed a stiff finger in Hopper’s face and said, “You stay here. You”—he looked at Max—“come with me.”

“Christ, she’s a kid, Murray. What the hell are you doing?”

“Let me handle this,” he said, and Max didn’t argue getting out of the car. Either she was eager, or her hair jumped up just enough to make her look it. That stiff grin on Murray’s face shut Hopper right up, and he pulled the blanket from the back seat to drape over himself.

From the van, he watched Billy’s little sister stomp over to the tree line and face the darkened wood with Murray. He looked so small, and Max looked even smaller. So clueless even though, by then, Hopper knew Murray was far from it. He had proved that he knew exactly what he was doing, but Hopper had trouble believing him anyway. After all, it was a lion they were looking for, and they were in its territory.

Both Max and Hopper laughed when the first roar came, more of a purr from Murray’s throat than something to fear or be threatened by. He did it again, pursing his lips, taking deep breaths in between each long, thick propeller-like mimicry. A few minutes of that, and Murray was off to the next sound: a raspy huff, complete with strained neck motions. It was primal, Hopper thought. And then Murray howled, and he rolled his eyes and got out of the van too.

“We’re not hunting werewolves, Murray!”

“Real lions don’t roar like the movies, Jim!” he said with outstretched arms and started up again, making faces towards Max like this wouldn’t have been embarrassing if he were anyone else.

They were breathy roars, not unlike Hopper’s groans when he sat in his lazyboy after a long day. It continued for a while, Murray adding heavy stomps into the mix that hardly made any noise at all—but he was the expert, as reluctant as Hopper was to entertain it, so there weren’t any more interruptions. Max crossed her arms and stood back; Hopper leaned against the roof of the van, blanket over him like a cape, and waited.

And waited.

And then it happened, the earthquake, the rumbling at the surface of his skin that made his hair stand up and his heart retreat into his chest. “What the hell…” He looked around, and everything rumbled again. Max’s eyes found his, frantic, excited, scared and confused all at once. Murray kept up the charade, and the real roaring got louder every few seconds, sending bass-heavy waves straight to Hopper’s bones and nearly knocking the girl to the ground.

From the trees, there were the headlights again, only now he knew immediately that they weren’t headlights at all. Trees rustled far in the distance, the light flickering as a heavy stampede started towards them, right in Murray’s path, but even that didn’t stop him. The lights shone brighter, earthquake growing more powerful with every leap over roots and creepers and bushes, and—

Silence.

Murray held a hand up in front of him, cautious but not afraid. Max was stiff as a board. Hopper’s eyes locked onto the animal, locked onto Max, hand tight on the door in case they had to haul ass out of there, but the lion was still as a statue. Striking eyes, white and blue and glimmering in the sun, only saw him for a time, and then they found Hopper standing far in the background.

“No sudden movements, Jim,” said Murray, still unafraid, still smart. The lion growled in his direction, huffed, roared something small and nonthreatening but… displeased, maybe. Like it had been tricked.

Hopper nearly had a heart attack when it kicked its feet up again to charge at Max, who Murray had stepped away from when she wasn’t looking. Hopper wanted to strangle him, immediately jumping to try and do anything to keep it from killing her, but then it roared at him, fully bared teeth, standing in front of her like a guard dog. Which, he supposed, it was. Maybe. If it was really Billy Hargrove under all that golden mane and fur, behind a sharp face with eyes just as determined as the kid he’d seen in the hospital.

“Billy, it’s okay,” Max said then, softly, like she still wasn’t certain that this was her brother. The lion huffed, roars shrinking back to the Volkswagen growl only Neil had heard before. Defensive, protective, like stay away from my sister. “They’re—they don’t wanna hurt you.” She reached a hand out to touch its back, which made it flinch but not enough to deter its attention from potential threat. Max continued with long, gentle strokes down its back, then up to the base of its mane which curled in loose, messy ringlets like Billy’s hair. It turned its head, sniffed Max’s own mane, rubbed a wet nose against her shoulder, and she burst into tears. “Shit, it is you.”

“Careful,” Murray said, warning. “He could still snap like he did to your dad—“

“Jesus, I don’t care!” She dried her eyes in Billy’s fur, then looked at Murray with a fury Hopper hadn’t seen on anybody since the war. “And don’t you ever call him my dad again, weirdo, do you hear me!” Small, nimble fingers gripped tightly to the mane, and Murray offered a quiet apology.

“Guess it’s a good thing we brought you along, huh…” Hopper said. Max just cried and cried and cried, and eventually they left her alone with him.

She sat with Billy on the grass for a long time, talking as if he could answer, curling into his side like she was his cub. In a way, maybe she was. In a way, she was all he had left.

Hours later, they remained. Hopper sent numerous radios back to the station that Max was safe, that he would keep them updated with any news—which he didn’t, because he needed a story that wouldn’t get picked up by the bad men. He knew they were out there somewhere, closer than he may have thought. So he and Murray got to talking, and Max was still oblivious as she held Billy close, assuring him more than herself that she was safe and still with him.

Then he exhaled, and kept exhaling for far too long, so she sat up from her position on his side and saw that he was changing back.

“Hopper!” she yelled, and it was hard for the chief to look as fur shed, muscle mass all but disappeared, bones returned to a human structure, and Billy was himself again. He blinked, stirring himself awake with a heavy groan, and slipped away from Max’s touch. “Billy, are—“ Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and the question fizzled off of her tongue because the answer might have been obvious. It might have encompassed everything running amok in her head, every thought and worry and regret in thinking that she’d lost him forever.

Billy looked exhausted and worn dry. He leaned back on one arm, not bothering to cover himself up. “Why the hell am I naked?” he asked, grumbling, taking the blanket from around Hopper’s shoulders and shivering underneath it.

“Growth spurt,” Hopper said, which made Billy laugh.

“Shit.” He scratched his nose with a handful of blanket and yawned, then looked over at Max, already having forgotten about Murray’s presence. “Do we gotta go home?” She shrugged and looked up at Hopper for an answer. There was something dark in Billy’s eyes, then, that he recognized vaguely. Something akin to the way children pleaded for forgiveness after breaking something fragile; a scared, broken kid running from bad men in bad places.

Billy sounded like a kid too when he said, “Please don’t make me go home.”

Part 6

[madamemedic]

Summer Camp of Love (Prologue)

(Hello, mind you, this is an AU, so the dates are not canonical apart from the age Jason died and how old Pamela was when she had Jason. However, these are important dates for this story and the characters' ages. BTW this was also so I could do everybody's ages. So I checked, and Jason could talk at 11. 13th May 1960 - Jason is born 13th July 1971 - Jason almost dies at 11; Pamela is 27 13th July 1984 - Jason starts his job at summer camp at 24; Pamela is 40 20th March 1944 - Pamela was born and had Jason at 16. You are implied to be just shy of a year younger than Jason. Other than that, enjoy. Also, TW: Parental abuse and slight mentions of bullying.)

4th July 1968

Being the daughter of the owners of Camp Crystal Lake was less fun than you would think. You were spending time with other kids only there because their parents didn't want them all Summer. It was exhausting; even when the other children were mean, you couldn't stand up for your self or it 'will drive away the business'. Your Father would claim. Whatever that meant. Not even your Mother allowed you the freedom to be you. 'It will look bad on us, and then we'll lose business and be poor, and then we'll be homeless, and we'll be ALLL your fault, so try not to embarrass us.'

Today was the 4th of July, and as good as the fireworks and food were, the other guests always ruined it for you. They were screaming because of the sugar rush and disobeyed the counsellors because of the exciting environment. However, you couldn't skip the event because, as your Father diligently put it, 'How would it look that OUR daughter doesn't show up? Why must you try to embarrass us all the time?'

So you showed up not to the celebration to see your Father on the stage, microphone in hand.

"Hello, my fellow Americans. Today, we all come together and celebrate the biggest event in America's history. Independence Day". The crowd in front of your Dad explodes into claps and cheers of 'hell yeahs' and 'your damn rights'.

"Please enjoy the fireworks, the food and the carnival games" Your Mother knew how to stir up a crowd. It was the same thing every year. Throw a massive party, promote sending your brats here and show off how much you love America.

"And remember, HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!" Both of your parents say into their mics. That was enough for you. Time to enjoy the event; hopefully, your parents won't drag you into convincing them to send their kids here because you enjoy spending time here.

The only thing you liked when they did this event was that you didn't have to pay for the food. Despite being an unofficial member of the camp counsellor team, you didn't even get pocket money, so this was a treat for you. One that was well deserved, in your opinion, at least.

Once you had your hands on your treats, you left to enjoy them in a random cabin. You did this because the people at the event were often rude and noisy. So you'd instead enjoy this time alone. Then, slinking into an empty cabin, you turned on the heating. It was pretty cold outside, even for Summer. Then, just as you were about to turn on the lights, you heard footsteps behind you.

"Who's there? The campsite is off limits to visitors." You heard more footsteps. This time you could tell where they were coming from, the large table.

The said large table had a large white tablecloth covering it, but you could still see somebody hiding under the table. So you knew that you would be in trouble if you left them and your parents found out that somebody wasn't spending their money.

Kneeling, you lifted the tablecloth to show a boy a little older than you; his hands covered his face. Who was this? Either way, he looked scared, so you crawled next to him and offered him some cotton candy.

"I'm sorry that I made you hide. It gets it can be loud, and you want somewhere to hide. I didn't want to be there either." You look over at the boy, his hands still covering his face or what he could cover. From what you could see, you could tell he had some deformities. "What's your name? Mine is (y/n)" Maybe this would make him feel at ease.

"Jason" This surprised you because you believed he wouldn't talk to you. After all, he was acting shy. But, wait for a second, Jason, as in Jason Voorhees. He was the son of one of the chefs in the camp. You had heard rumours that Jason was an ugly child and had a face only a Mother could love. You didn't pay attention to those anyway.

"I like your name, Jason. It sounds cool, like Jason from the Greek stories I read. Like Jason and the Golden Fleece." You could sense that Jason was calming down next to you.

"There's a hero called Jason?"

"Oh yeah, he's really cool. Like you, Jason" You faced him; his face was uncovered. Without blinking, you held a piece of cotton candy to him. Jason looked mildly shocked but took the cotton candy from you and started to eat it in small nibbles. You smile at Jason as you begin to also eat some cotton candy.

It was like this until you heard the door slam open and footsteps hurry around. Jason tensed up next to you.

"I'll tell them to go away, Jason and come back, OK?" Jason nodded slowly back at you. You gave him the rest of your cotton candy. You rose from under the table to find Pamela looking around the cabin, most likely looking for Jason. You didn't blame her; most kids who visited Crystal Camp bullied Jason.

"JASON, JASON, WHERE ARE YOU, BABY?"

"Miss Voorhees, Jason is under the table." Pamela stopped when she looked at you; the look of panic was replaced with annoyance.

Jason must have heard his Mother's voice and decided to come out from the table.

"JASON! There you are, baby; I was looking everywhere for you. You made Mama worried sick" Pamela placed gentle kisses all over Jason's face. A feeling of jealousy that Jason's Mother showed love to him, unlike your own.

"I'm sorry, Mamma, I only wanted to see the fireworks. I got scared and hid"

"If you wanted to see the fireworks, I would have taken you myself" Pamela's hands cupped Jason's face. Is this what parents did? Love their child? Comfort their child? That's different from what yours did. Not even when you were younger. They were cold and distant to you, but they loved each other. That even you could see.

"I'm sorry, Mama, but I made a friend; she gave me some sweets." They both turned to you. At least Jason looked happy, and Pamela calmed down. She was less annoyed but was now guarded.

"That's a good sweetie, but it's past your bedtime. You can play together tomorrow. Now say thank you and goodnight, Jason" Pamela takes Jason's hand.

"Thank you, and good night, new friend."

"Goodnight, Jason, maybe tomorrow we can hang out, and I can show you my books" Jason's eyes lit up as he looked up at his Mother. Pamela looked conflicted. Sure she wanted Jason to have friends, but at the same time, she tried to protect him from the mean kids.

"Fine, but at my cabin and bring no one else; goodnight (y/n)" Jason left with his Mother. True to your word, you came to Pamela's house alone and spent the whole day with Jason. Reading him the book, that was until you had to leave. Only after saying you would visit the next day. In fact, you and Jason spent almost every day together. Even Pamela was warming up to you being Jason's best friend. Everything was going so well. That was until that day that Jason almost died.

(Howdy. It's the end; please like and reblog; more content will come soon. Also, thanks again to Grammarly for helping me. Goodbye)

[santademikey]

‘memorial’ for the february prompts!!!

i havent written for ivy in a while so, enjoy!! <3

Somewhere, 2004.

“Daddy?” Ivy stirred awake, as Trevor turned off the truck’s overtired engine. They’d been on the road for hours. Days, even. Finally they’d stopped, in front of a shitty, rundown gas station in the middle of nowhere.

Trevor turned to his daughter perched in the seat besides him, wrapped in layer after layer of blankets. The air-con had backed up two states ago, fucking piece of shit.

“Yes, Trouble?” He tried his best to smile, but fell flat.

Ivy didn’t yet know it, but they hadn’t just lost Michael, but everything— and now, they had nothing apart from each other, a few boxes of photos and other meaningless shit, and the worn out truck they currently sat in.

She pointed out the window to the gas station, “Are you going in there?”

Trevor nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt. Normally he wouldn’t bother, but he had to at least try to set a good example for Ivy.

“You wanna come with?”

“Uh huh.” Ivy replied, trying to wriggle free from the mountain of blankets.

Trevor wouldn’t help but chuckle at the sight before him, as he stepped out from the truck and opened the door that led to his daughter.

“C’mere.” He said, managing to break Ivy free. The warmness from the blankets must have worn off fast, as he noticed her shiver.

He hurriedly took of his coat, wrapping it around her. It completely engulfed her, and Trevor was now absolutely freezing— but unlike he did in his childhood, Ivy came first.

He helped her out of the truck, grabbed a hold of her hand, and the two of them strolled into the station.

—

“Fireworks, Daddy!” Ivy called out, practically dragging Trevor over to a small, hazardous looking display.

She turned so that she was looking up at him— her big, bright green eyes staring straight into his muddy brown ones.

“Can we get some?” She asked.

He opened his mouth to say “No, sorry.”, then shut it. Ivy had unintentionally given him an idea.

“Sure.”

—

It was now dark out, and, after pulling off the highway and into some random field, Trevor was now lighting a firework— or five, in Michael’s name.

“Stay back, Vi.” He struggled to get his lighter going, “These things are dangerous.”

“Then why are you so close to it?” Ivy sassed, obeying her father and stepping back.

Trevor, paused, looked up from the fireworks and his bastard lighter and answered, “Because I know how to stay safe around ‘em.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” Trevor replied triumphantly. His lighter now had a flame glowing from it.

Ivy curiously breathed, “How?”

“By running away from when it’s lit!” Trevor proclaimed, sprinting away from the firework.

As it went off, both he and Ivy fell silent, watching in awe as the sky lit up in bright colours. As a blue firework exploded, Trevor smirked solemnly.

“You’ll always be in my heart, Mikey.” He thought to himself, his eyes filling with tears.

(x)

[the-hatchetfield-chronicles]

6/9/20. Interview with Mayor Solomon Lauter. Mayor’s office. 10:30 A.M.

EM: Good morning, Mayor Lauter.

[They shake hands.]

SL: Good morning.

EM: It’s nice to meet you. My name is Elle Marden. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about your town?

SL: Of course. I’m happy to assist.

EM: Firstly, how long have you been the mayor of Hatchetfield?

SL: I was elected in 2012 and won reelection in 2016. I intend to win again this fall, so I trust that you will paint me in good light? This election is very important to me.

EM: Of course. I’m sure it is. Now I’d like to hear more about what you think of this town. What are the people here like?

SL: Oh they’re very friendly. Hatchetfield is full of kind, genuine people.

[Note from Elle: Something about his tone and his expression suggests that he might not be telling the full truth?]

EM: I love to hear that. What’s your favorite thing about Hatchetfield?

SL: I love the sense of community this town has. There is one thing we all can agree on, one thing that unites us all: we are Nighthawks.

EM: What kind of events take place in Hatchetfield? Are there any festivals of any kind?

SL: Yes, we hold the annual Honey Festival every summer. There are lots of different vendors, booths, and games. There’s live music, and boats you can rent for an optimal spot to view the fireworks show. And of course the main attraction is the Honey Queen Pageant. Every year the crown is given to whom the judges deem the sweetest woman in Hatchetfield. Most Honey Queens then move out of Hatchetfield and onto “bigger and better things,” although I don’t think it gets much better than Hatchetfield.

EM: That sounds like a lot of fun.

SL: We have a summer camp in the middle of the woods that takes place every year, focused on keeping our youth pure and chaste. In fact my daughter is there right now. I can’t have her doing anything that could tarnish my image.

EM: I didn’t know you had a daughter.

SL: Yes. She’s a good kid, but sometimes she just needs a little…redirecting.

EM: Are there any other fun places or events in the town?

SL: There’s a theme park on the edge of the island called Watcher World, known especially for The Tear-Jerker, the tallest rollercoaster in the midwest, as the musical extravaganza Blinky’s Watch Party. I do wish to emphasize that Blinky’s Watch Party is entirely a work of fiction, and Blinky is simply the park’s mascot.

[Note from Elle: It seems a bit strange that he had to emphasize that. I would have imagined that it was fiction. Is he trying to hide something?]

EM: That’s so cool.

SL: Indeed. This may be a tiny town, but we certainly have it all.

EM: Well, now that we’ve discussed some of the great things about this town, I’m interested to know: is there anything you dislike about it?

[He pauses.]

SL: I will say this: there is more to Hatchetfield than what meets the eye. There is some history that I discourage you from looking too far into.

EM: Okay…

SL: It was a pleasure speaking with you today.

EM: But I wasn’t—

SL: I hope you enjoy the rest of your visit.

[He escorts Elle to the door.]

[Note from Elle: That was strange. He was happy to talk about the good things this town had to offer, but once I tried to get into the less good things, he was eager to end the interview. I feel this is further evidence that Mayor Lauter is hiding something. Something sinister, perhaps? Either way, it’s very odd.]