#first person

[caffeinewitchcraft]

WIBTA for going to my high school reunion even though the two witches I stripped of magic are going?

(Read for free on Patreon (X))

I (28 witch) was in a coven during high school. Not really even a coven. We weren’t recognized and there wasn’t a clear division of responsibilities. We did have a high priestess but she hadn’t Declared or been Initiated or whatever she believed. Looking back, her learning was all over the place (and a little problematic, honestly. I remember her calling a poppet a Voodoo doll before being called out by another member). Let’s call her Sarah.

Sarah was a year older than the rest of us (still the same grade though) and her mom was a witch so that made her the high priestess. She was the one who would organize all of our rituals and held the power of veto over any proposed spells. While you think that’d mean she’d provide the ingredients, she never did. She did tell us what to buy and, let me tell you, some of those things were expensive for a high schooler. We met in the park behind her house, and she demanded that at least one of us be in every one of her classes. If we weren’t, we’d be “cycled” out of the coven until our parents convinced the school to transfer us in.

Any alt kid knows what I’m talking about because they had a Sarah in their life. If she was angry, we had to be angry (and a little afraid of her). If she was sad, we were expected to ask why. If she was happy, we had to be even more happy. You get the picture.

The problem came when Sarah added Jess (fake name) to the Coven during the start of our junior year. It was the first time Sarah allowed someone else from a witch family to join. Jess was a transfer student from England. She told us all that that made her magic deeper and more powerful because she was a “daughter of the witches you could not burn.” When I pointed out that that statement is historically inaccurate, Jess called me a “pilgrim.” She tried to convince Sarah to blind me (take away my decision-making power in the coven), but I was the only one with reliable access to dried herbs (my mom’s a botanist and didn’t count her stores like Sarah’s mom did), so Sarah said no.

Jess’ dislike of me got worse when I actually did dress like a pilgrim for Halloween that year. And, if I’m honest, I did take it a little far. I was a hot-headed kid. I followed her around the entire day and had kids sign one of two petitions – “Burn” or “Not Burn.” When the Burn Petition won, I could tell I went too far (there were a LOT of signatures).  I tried to make it a joke and told her that now she really was a witch we couldn’t burn.

Jess and I got in our first physical fight. Sarah eventually broke it up, but not before Jess ripped out a good chunk of my hair, and I broke the tiger’s eye bracelet she wore.

 I later heard from another coven member that Jess tried to lay a curse on me that night. Unfortunately for her, I was pretty interested in defensive work and had a fresh witch’s jar buried under my window. Her curse got caught in it and rebounded. Apparently, that’s how Jess got pink eye, not from her younger sister.

We fought like cats and dogs. Any time Jess would talk about England, I’d make fun of her accent. When I brought up what spell I’d like to do, Jess would call me a juvenile pilgrim. Eventually, Jess got smart. She’d text me insults rather than say them to my face so that she’d have a chance to tattle to Sarah before I got the chance to hit back.

Sarah pulled me aside at least three times to “address” the fights. She basically said that I needed to respect Jess more because she came from a witch family, like her. She told me I could learn a lot from Jess if I stopped acting like a human. When I pointed out that we are humans, just humans who have elected to use magic, she got really mad.

And when Sarah got mad, she could make life really difficult.

My spell for luck on midterms got passed over for Jess’ jinx on our English teacher. The jinx worked and Ms. Edel tripped, but guess who still came to class with a broken leg? MS. EDEL. Guess who failed their midterm?

ALL SEVEN OF US.

Damn, I can’t believe I’m still upset by this petty high school drama. Therapy did not work.

So safe to say that Jess and I never became friends. I love magic now and loved it then, but she took it so seriously. I’ve always believed magic should be fun. All the spells she brought to the coven required a spirit element—blood, hair, sacrifice. One of the members was a strict green witch and had to drop out because of it. We missed two full moons until Sarah approved Eileen to rejoin after she woke up from her coma.

(And before anyone freaks out about the coma – we all ended up in comas here and there. We were a bunch of uneducated and untrained baby witches who all had different belief systems. The fact that there wasn’t anything worse than a coma is a miracle. She wasn’t traumatized by it any more than I was by mine.)

Jess and I mostly avoided each other for the rest of the year. We always voted against the other’s spell and I’m fairly certain she tried to trip jinx me in the hall as often as I tried to trip jinx her. Sarah never tried to diffuse the tension between us. She confided in Eileen that she was grateful we kept each other in check.

Things could have continued on that way until we all moved away for college (or repeated the year after failing all those midterms) if it weren’t for the vernal equinox. Or, as we inaccurately called it, the Spring Solstice.

The way it worked was that we all got to propose a ritual during equinoxes. They’re powerful magical events on their own and when you bring intent to the party? They were always our biggest, most successful workings.

Sarah always chose what we did on those days. She pretended like we got to vote, but we all knew she would never choose one of our rituals. My freshman year, she made us all do one for beauty. Because it was a “make real what is in the eye of the beholder” type, some of our transformations were a little…traumatizing. I’m only telling you this so you understand the power an equinox has, okay? I do not think this way anymore. Other members were just as extreme. Eileen went from a Wendy from Wendy’s to a Jessica Rabbit. And I…

Well.

I grew rabbit ears and teeth. That doesn’t make me a furry! Who Framed Roger Rabbit? was super influential on BOTH Eileen and me. I was a kid and didn’t understand my own concept of beauty. It took almost three months before I got the ears to go away entirely.

Suffice it to say, we were all excited and nervous for what ritual Sarah would pick, which is why it was a blow to find out that she had picked a ritual - Jess’ ritual.

A ritual for power.

I didn’t want to do it from day one, okay? My belief is that whatever magic comes to you naturally is what’s okay to take. I think if you rip magic up from the earth or the abyss, it’ll change you. Maybe even corrupt you or change your personality.

But I was a kid and didn’t know how to explain that. Jess and Sarah were both from witch families and they seemed to think it was okay. Even though I didn’t like Jess, I did see her as a more “authentic” witch because of that. I know better now, but as a kid seeing all of her grimoires, I gave her false authority.

Jess explained the ritual to us over the next month. She talked about how we were going to be “tested.” The ritual would pull our spiritual selves from our bodies, and depending on how long we chanted, we’d return to them with more or less magic than when we started. She said that everyone in her family did it when they turned 18.

It wasn’t until three days before the equinox that she told us what would happen if one of us were to be judged unworthy.

“Mostly nothing,” she said. I remember her exact words, how her black hair spun as she soared through the air on the swings. We stood in a half circle before her and Sarah as they swung higher and higher. An audience to their aerial court. She said, “Sometimes people lose some of their magic. When the ritual decides they don’t deserve it.”

Eileen asked, “When the ritual decides? It’s sentient?”

“There’s an overseer we’ll call on,” Sarah said. She’d been the only one allowed to read Jess’ grimoire. Her lip curled and she leaned forward so she could look down over Eileen like an avenging angel as she swung overhead. “An impartial entity.”

“I am not a deity witch,” I said. I had long ago committed that I would never call on a higher being in any ritual. Most of our spells had to be modified for me so that I could swear to the cardinal directions rather than to the Morrigan or Hecate. “You know that.”

“You’re not swearing to anyone,” Sarah said and rolled her eyes.

“Which means no one is swearing to us,” Eileen muttered under her breath. But I could tell she had given up by the slump of her shoulders.

“It’s only the unworthy who lose their magic,” Jess reassured. Her eyes flashed at me. “Scared you’re unworthy?”

Yes. I was scared. I know better now than to think lineage has any place in witchcraft. It’s about the magic, always just the magic. But months of hearing their rhetoric had worn at my self-esteem. It really felt like if I didn’t do the ritual, I was as good as admitting I wasn’t a witch. If I did do the ritual…

Well. Obviously, I did the ritual.

I was a hot-headed teen, okay? I felt challenged. I decided that I would wear extra protections. Tiger’s eye and quartz charged with intention. I picked out a silver locket my mother gave me, filled with belladonna. She told me it symbolized beauty and choice.

Now, here’s where I may be the asshole.

I can’t give you a play-by-play of the ritual. It was ten years ago, and calling on that much magic has a funny way of warping memory. But what I do remember is this:

We gathered in the park before sunrise. Seven of us in new colors – spring green, white, soft yellow and pink. Jess made us get rid of anything with a working on it – crystals, cards, and ladders. She collected them all in a linen bag and threw them into the woods. I couldn’t get away with my tiger’s eye or quartz, but she missed the pendant my mother gave me. It was a warm comfort against my chest as we began.

We lit the fire together, each of us frantically thumbing our lighter to make sure the sparks caught at the same time.

Jess brought the chalice. We all cut our palms and let seven drops fall into it. (No, we didn’t use a clean blade. My cut got infected as hell and it itches like a witch. I know better now!) She bade us drink, and we did.

“Now the magic will see us as equal,” Sarah said while Jess prepared the next step. She licked her lips as if savoring the blood. “It will only be our wills determining the outcome.”

Jess doused us with oil and herbs. It smelled sharp and uneasy. I had provided the herbs and knew all of them were either fresh or dried to perfection. But it was rancid. There was rot in the air, but I couldn’t place it then. I wrinkled my nose and took up the chanting with the others to distract myself from the smell.

If you’ve ever chanted before, you know the stages. First, you’re just talking. You say the words and they mean something, but you don’t feel them. Then your mouth gets tired. You start messing up the timing of the words. You stutter. You stumble. The words lose meaning. Most people stop there. They fall silent and sink into a shallow meditation with heads full of fog.

You’re only a witch if you can reach the next step. You keep saying the words. They become comfortable. You wear the words like clothes and feel your cadence curl through you like a companion. Your body goes on autopilot and your mind relaxes. The chant turns smooth as silk. Depending on the chant, you lose yourself to the sweetness of your coven singing. Sometimes, you sink into the earth with them. Other times, you ride the flow of the magic like waves.

This time, the words pulled us away from our bodies. Jess slowly introduced new words to our chant. Words of summoning.

We called upon the Overseer.

Pressure fell around me like a vice. I couldn’t breathe even as the ritual fell from my lips without breaking. Magic had, at that point, always given me control. This? This was a complete loss of it.

I felt myself compressing. Smaller and smaller in the face of the being that was rising in the middle of the flames. It was not an observer. The moment I “saw” it, its endless form writhing in the space between the smoke, I knew that. It was a judge and jury.

It was a spider.

We chanted. It grew. It pulled us from our bodies like spiderweb and spooled our essences onto its forelimbs. It was not what Jess described and, simultaneously, it was. We were being tested. Our psyches were being tested.

So long as we chanted, the being would be contained. However, the longer it was contained, the more of us it could take. If we let it go, what would it do? Would it return any part of our magic to us? Any part of who we were?

Or would it eat?

This wasn’t a test of magic. It was a test of faith. Faith in each other and faith in the ritual.

For those practitioners out there, you can see the problem. I didn’t enter the ritual with faith. My intent was flawed from the beginning. We’d had spells fail because of lack of belief. I had never been the person who didn’t believe.

Until then

My words wavered. The Overseer turned its eyes to me. I could see my magic like thread before it, shimmering against the backdrop of its maw.

Then another tremor. Eileen dropped a word. The Overseer split and looked at both of us. Someone else faltered. One of the coven – I couldn’t see them – fell and went silent.

The sky yawned overhead, empty and cold. The embers from the fire spun up into it and were lost. The Overseer rippled and I felt our coven shrink in the face of it.

I gasped around the chant and looked across the fire. The light licked Jess’ gleeful face. Her eyes hungered for my failure. I could see it. Through the connection of the Overseer, I could feel it.

Jess and Sarah changed the chant. To this day, I don’t remember if they taught it to the rest of us. There are so many parts of the ritual that I’ve left out or forgotten. But I remember them chanting different words. The circle grew discordant.

“I offer my magic so I may be unspun and woven anew,” they said. The words have imprinted themselves like bitters under my tongue. “I offer my magic so I may—”

Some of the other members tried to pick up the new chant. Their voices grew weaker and the Overseer’s limbs began to extend out towards each one of us.

I wouldn’t offer my magic to that thing. I wouldn’t be unspun.  Eileen was stuttering. I saw her fall to her knees. I was close behind.

I threw my necklace into the flames.

Belladonna. Beautiful and deadly. It has meant choice to many women and many of them have been from my own family. It's extreme and it’s final. An end that doesn’t always make room for a new beginning.

Pretty words that cover up what I meant when I threw it into the Overseer.

My intent was Death.

Entities never die. I’m sure the Overseer didn’t. It howled. The wind kicked up and brought the flames into a spiral ten feet tall. Its forelimbs shattered, and I reeled myself back together greedily.

Not all of us were safe from the Overseer’s desperate struggle against my death curse.

Sarah and Jess were alone in the third phase of the ritual. They had changed the chant. They had offered their magic and asked the entity to do with it what it will. They believed.

And because they believed, the Overseer took their magic with it.

I think it was the first coma Jess ever fell into. Her family certainly acted like it. They whisked her back to the East Coast before the end of the year. I heard from Eileen that she woke up shortly after I left for college.

Magicless.

Sarah too.

I fully own that I was responsible for the ritual failing. I panicked. I’ve gone through every excuse over the years. I didn’t know what the ritual really was. I was just a kid. I took magic too lightly. It was their fault for not letting us read the grimoire for ourselves. But, at the end of the day, the real reason the ritual failed was because I panicked and I let that panic break my belief.

I moved on to college and it felt like running away. I’ve never returned to my hometown. I’m happy with the life I’ve built. My magic summer camp gives me time to travel during the winter months, and I feel like I’m making a real difference in young witches’ lives.

Nowadays I teach young witches to never do a working without full intent. If they have doubts, they don’t do it. It’s a lesson I learned the hard way ten years ago. I tell them it can cost them more than their magic. It can cost them their lives.

Eileen is still back home and she says Sarah rarely comes out of her house. Sometimes she sees our former high priestess wandering the school grounds on nights of the full moon. I hear from other members of the coven that Jess’ family put out a bounty on me a few years ago. However, I never saw an assassin so I think that was just a rumor.

So, knowing that they’re still not over it, would I be the asshole for attending my high school reunion next month? I’ve been craving reconnection with my roots, but I’d be subjecting Sarah and Jess (though Jess marked Maybe on the RSVP) to my presence.

I know they must hold a grudge. If they were still witches, that would be a problem. I don’t think I’d be able to defend myself from one of their workings since I blame myself for what happened. But since they’re not, it’s not really a danger. That’s pretty asshole-ish, right? Ignoring their feelings because they don’t have the magic to back it up?

So WIBTA for attending my high school reunion even though the two girls I stripped of magic will be attending?

-----

Thanks for reading! It looks like I'll have quite a few updates for the anthology! I am still obsessed with this format and can't wait to share some of the updates over the next few weeks.

If you'd like to support me before the anthology, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)! I post new stories every week and many of my patrons saw the above story a week early.

The current AITA story takes place in the same universe as our former Cryptid (X). About a poor, poor boy who is just proud to be a regional Nightmare. Why is everyone so mad at him?

See y'all next week!

[adorkastock]

[nerdyperday]

Day 2985 Baby Metroid

[needle-rose]

Quilt!!!

[fen-luciel]

Jealousy part 1

Part 2 here

Warnings: age gap/toxic behavior

Vernestra-Padawan reader/jedi Qimir

I'll update the tags as the story progresses, there should only be two more parts.

I'm not sure how far I'll go with certain behaviors, so leave a comment and let me know what you think <3

(This first part is to provide context, the other two will set the story in motion)

Becoming a Padawan was a lifelong dream. Of course, I was young, so my view of the world and what I would experience in the coming years was very limited. The idea of being taken under the wing of a more experienced Jedi master, learning many more techniques, the missions, the travels, all the people and aliens I could meet... I was bursting with happiness.

Not that the exercises at the temple weren't stimulating, I was glad to have made friends, to have developed a routine with them, but I was ready for something new.

So, when I was finally introduced to my future master, I was bursting with joy. I recognized her immediately, it was hard not to. Vernestra was an important member of the Order, involved with the Senate, and was known for her numerous successes. It was an honor for me to receive that position by her side.

Over the years, I had been recognized as an excellent future Padawan, with the ability to learn quickly, a strong sense of observation, and a positive and kind character that always accompanied me. I was often praised for the way I presented myself to others. In short, everyone saw a bright future for me, but I had difficulty seeing it myself. I was young and inexperienced and I believed that the important thing was to follow the rules, the rest was just a part of me, something I did naturally.

I imagine that becoming Vernestra’s Padawan was just the confirmation of that golden path everyone saw me on, but I was too caught up in the newness to really think about it.

However, I soon realized that I lost the balance I had created up to that point, I lost some friends, some simply due to distance, others were... cold towards me.

I didn't understand what had changed. I would never have accused anyone of feeling emotions like jealousy or anger towards me, we were children. Missteps were normal, and we were taught that it was right to face them and learn from them.

But if you asked around, many would have described me as someone who never made mistakes, who always responded with a gentle smile, a comforting word, a hand on the shoulder, or even just a pleasant company if you needed to vent. Perhaps that was the problem. I appeared too perfect in the eyes of others.

And yet, the Master didn’t make me feel that way. She taught me everything calmly, I followed her every step, she reprimanded me harshly, but always with care. She soon realized how much I sought validation in everything I did.

It was stronger than me, I believed I was always making a mistake, that I was in the wrong. After all, who was I to say something was right or wrong? I was just a Padawan. A child.

And anyway, it wasn’t the Jedi’s job to give answers, but rather to push people to understand for themselves.

Even though it was a concept I found difficult to grasp myself.

Anyway, that’s how I met Qimir.

He was Vernestra’s former Padawan, now promoted to Jedi Knight and independent in his duties, but he often visited us, either to seek advice from his old Master or just to ask how she was doing. I found him very sweet.

The first time I met him in person, I already knew his name. He had managed to stand out as soon as he started his duties as a Knight. Among the younger ones, there was a sense of reverence towards him even though we had never seen him in person. And besides, it was rumored that he was terribly handsome, not that it particularly interested me at the time.

I remember I was in the library with Vernestra, she had assigned me some basic readings to start my future physical training. Young ones are already taught at an early age to defend themselves and to learn various positions, but it was more about building an understanding of your Force signature, learning to trust your senses. The real training would then be individual for the student once they had a Master, so she had recommended these introductory readings on the various forms of combat and their use.

Those were afternoons I remembered with particular affection. Sitting in silence, she would take a more suitable book or bring her work documents on her datapad, and the hours would pass in an instant. Sometimes, I would glance at her to see what she was doing. She noticed every time, smiled slightly, and gently scolded me, telling me to return to my tasks.

I was happy. I felt cared for, appreciated, but not in the cold manner of a teacher with their student. It was a feeling I didn’t quite know how to place in my heart, and it worried me a bit, but I kept my doubts for another day.

On one of those quiet afternoons, I met Qimir. The room was particularly deserted that day, so the sound of footsteps approaching could be heard clearly along the shelves. Thinking it was the librarian, I didn’t pay much attention and remained with my nose buried in the book. Even when he stopped in front of our table I didn’t pay attention. Then, a deep male voice I didn’t recognize spoke Vernestra’s name.

Curiosity flared up in an instant, and as the two began a light conversation next to me, I slowly raised my gaze, the book almost serving as a shield, my hair partly covering my eyes. In front of us stood a young man in his twenties, dressed in the classic brown Jedi Knight attire, speaking casually to Vernestra. His slightly long, smooth hair, a light smile, and dark eyes framed by a chiseled jaw.

It was the first time I saw him. And the first time my heart beat so fast in my chest.

I didn’t know if it was because he was undeniably a handsome guy. I had never been too interested in that sort of thing, and anyway, it was forbidden for Jedi to have too impure thoughts. It was more... his aura. The amused smile but attentive eyes, the neat but relaxed posture... he seemed to shine with his own light. It was what I felt when I saw a member of the council, when I glimpsed Master Yoda in the corridors, reverence, respect, a bit of fear.

He was captivating, and he seemed to be aware of it.

I didn’t even realize that I had been staring at him longer than I should have. He noticed the insistent gaze on him. I must have looked quite ridiculous, a young girl hiding behind a book while staring at the great Jedi Knight, but the smile he gave me right after almost took my breath away as I blushed, perhaps for the first time in my life.

“And you must be the new Padawan who took my place. Nice to meet you, I’m Qimir” he said, extending a hand, and after casting a nervous glance at Vernestra, who was smiling at me, I hugged the book to my chest with one arm, my palm tingling, unsure whether to return the handshake.

Another inner turmoil came with that first touch. His hands had long, slender fingers, marked by numerous calluses, probably from gripping the lightsaber or the various missions he faced. It was just another reason why I started to admire him. I could see all the dots connecting in this figure that represented everything I wanted to become. A Jedi. A reference point for those in need.

I said my name in a low, timid voice, and he leaned towards me with a slight frown “Such a small voice, are you always like this, or am I making you nervous?” he joked, but I bit my lip, not knowing what to reply, I pulled my hand away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he began to gently rub my knuckles with his thumb.

“Leave her alone, Qimir. She’s shy, don’t start with your teasing” Vernestra scolded him, at which he let go. I hid my hand under the table, clenching it into a fist, my skin tingling.

“Sorry, sorry. It must be a relief for you to have someone like this after me” she sighed but didn’t deny it either, at which I let out a smile and he, noticing, winked at me.

That was the first time I had dealings with him. But soon I began to see him everywhere. When he wasn’t on a mission, he stayed around the temple, so I encountered him in the corridors, in the halls, in the meditation room, and he always had a kind smile for me.

He made me feel special even though I knew it was a selfish feeling. When I managed to study with other Padawans in the library or practiced in the courtyard, he always stopped by to give me a nod. My friends were jealous, but I wasn’t really offended. Qimir was... kind.

It was like seeing the Force alive and pulsing around him. It was impossible not to look at him, not to wish that he would glance at you even just once.

Everyone wanted to be like him. Charismatic. Confident. Everyone wanted to be his friend.

One of the first missions I did with Master Vernestra was another point of contact. Being young, I wasn’t yet allowed in particularly dangerous scenarios, not to mention that if there was one thing I was lacking in, it was combat. I followed the Master almost everywhere, political life was just as important in a Jedi’s path, and I had to understand the mechanics early on for when I would be older, even though they were often more moments of leisure.

The meetings lasted hours, often discussing places, people, and things I knew nothing about. I tried to stay focused, but it was really difficult, and even Vernestra thought I shouldn’t strain myself too much, so she let me roam around, maybe continue studying, or even just take a little break.

One day, ready to depart, we were loading the luggage onto the ship. We were going to spend a few days on Hoth, and I was incredibly excited since I had never experienced a planet with that kind of climate before. As I was lost in my thoughts, a light knock interrupted me. At the foot of the ramp, Qimir gave me a half-smile "Is there room for me too?" I was still intimidated by his presence since we had never really spoken before. I opened my mouth several times, glancing around awkwardly, not sure if he was teasing me or if I was too stupid to understand what he meant.

"I hope you didn’t bring your usual baggage" Vernestra said behind me, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked at her, confused "Excuse me Master, is Qimir coming with us?" I struggled even to pronounce his name, it felt like an insult to do so, as if I didn’t have enough experience to earn such a privilege.

"What, you don't want me around?" he smiled as he walked up the ramp. I squirmed uncomfortably, realizing the embarrassing situation I had caused "N-no, I didn’t mean that—" He smiled even more, but Vernestra intervened again, scolding him "Give her some space Qimir."

The plan was simple: it was a diplomatic mission, and Qimir had joined us to study for a few days with his former master. I didn’t know exactly what he needed, but he wanted her advice. We left a few minutes later, and I avoided the control room like the plague. I only entered once to ask how much longer it would take, burning alive under Qimir’s gaze, then I shut myself in the bedroom and did my homework.

Hoth was as beautiful as it was freezing. But it was worth it; I had never seen such an immense expanse of white, the ground soft underfoot from the snow, the ice mountains, creatures I had never seen before. Vernestra stopped to talk to some locals, and I approached the enormous door overlooking the ice field. I wondered if the entire planet was like this. Did anyone live in those isolated areas? How could anyone survive in such a harsh climate?

A gloved hand rested on my back, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I turned, expecting to see my master, but under the hood, it was Qimir’s dark eyes that looked at me with a gentle smile on his face.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" he asked before turning back to look at the white expanse before us. I nodded hesitantly. Nervous about speaking to him, I bit my lip but managed to gather the courage "Do you know... if there’s anyone who lives in these lands?" He looked at me, puzzled, and I quickly corrected myself "I mean... besides the local species. Or aliens accustomed to these temperatures. Do you think others could live in a place like this?" He let out a small amused puff, "Well, we actually know for sure. There are many bandits or pirates hiding in these lands. Mainly to hide something, you know, it’s not worth sending search teams into snowstorms for a single man" he explained.

I made a sound of acknowledgment, but he continued "And if we’re talking about others... I think so. Someone who likes solitude or seeks peace. It seems like a good place not to be found" At that point, I turned toward him "Completely alone? It seems..." sad. But I was afraid to say it out loud, sadness wasn’t one of those emotions a Jedi should typically feel, but it felt natural to feel melancholy at the thought of people wanting to lose themselves in nothingness, to never be found again.

"Sad?" he seemed to read my mind "You see, emotions are very complicated to recognize. What might seem sad to you might mean peace to others. As Jedi, we often take many emotions for granted, but we often forget to give them context" I listened, hanging on his every word.

The conversation seemed... strange in some way. It made sense. Of course it did, he was older than me, had more experience in the field, and knew what he was talking about. I should have just nodded and thanked him for sharing those words.

I ignored the burning sensation I felt and thanked him in a faint voice It felt silly to do so, but it was the least I could do.

He smiled at me and gently took my hand "Let’s go, we need to warm up a bit. Trust me, in two more minutes, you won’t be able to feel the tip of your nose" he joked. I stifled a giggle and let him lead me inside toward the rooms. I didn’t know if it was because we were both wearing gloves or because of the conversation we had just had, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable being held by the hand.

A couple of days later, I was alone in one of the bases scattered across the ice. Vernestra was in a meeting and had forbidden me from attending due to the sensitivity of some of the information that would be exchanged. The problem was that these places weren’t particularly full of people or things to do. Yes, there was a bar area, but after the third cup of hot chocolate, I was afraid of pushing my stomach to the limit, so I stayed at the entrance, my feet in a pile of snow as I doodled or made small, questionable-looking statues.

I was so engrossed in the crooked little house I was shaping out of the ice that I didn’t notice the snowball being thrown in my direction.

I let out a startled yelp when it hit the hood on my head. I spun around just in time to see Qimir burst into laughter "Why did you do that?!" I stood up quickly, brushing the snow off my head.

"You looked so bored, I woke you up, didn’t I?" he chuckled.

I glared at him with a pout while he continued to laugh, so I decided to get revenge.

I bent down to grab a pile of snow, quickly making two balls. I threw the first one, but he easily dodged it.

He turned with an arrogant smile, ready to boast when the second one hit him square in the face.

I burst into laughter. He wiped the snow from his nose, his smile gone before bending down to grab more snow.

I shouted his name, realizing immediately what he was about to do, and started running through the snow with him on my heels. We didn’t even have time to make proper snowballs, we just grabbed the snow in our hands, compacted it as best we could, and threw it at each other in a never-ending war. Sometimes I noticed people giving us amused looks as they arrived or departed from the base, but I didn’t care, I was so happy that, for the first time, I didn’t even care what people thought of me.

An hour later, Vernestra called us back, giving us a confused look. She sighed and sent us to dry off. I felt a bit embarrassed at that moment, and I apologized for the childish behavior, but she smiled at me and assured me there was nothing wrong with what we had done.

In the end I took a full shower someone had left dinner on my bed, considering how long I had been under the hot water. I ate and, putting on one of the heavy local pajamas, decided to step out into the hallway to ask the Master what we would be doing the next day. I knew she wasn’t in bed yet, based on her nightly habits.

I walked down the hallway on the second floor, where the various guest rooms were located, when I noticed that her door was already open.

I approached slowly and immediately recognized Qimir’s voice.

"I’m just saying, if we block the main routes, they’d be forced to come out into the open" With a sense of curiosity, I pressed myself against the wall to peek into the room. The two were looking at an old map spread out on the table.

"I agree, but it would take too many resources, and we don’t know the exact times or routes. It would take a lot of time" she replied wearily. Qimir, standing next to her, bit his lip before flashing one of his smiles, "Or... we could sneak in"

She sighed again "The point is the same. We don’t have the resources—"

"I’ll go in myself. I’ll cut the power right under their noses, and—" She interrupted him with a wave of her hand.

"Do you realize what you’re saying? Sneaking in like a thief, and then what? Even if I let you do it, they could still escape, and..." He circled the desk, positioning himself in front of her, his back to me, so I barely heard what he said "No one said we need them alive—"

A sudden thud made me jump. I pressed my hands to my mouth, paralyzed, afraid they had heard me "No. Stop this nonsense, Qimir."

I don’t know what they said after that, I was too busy slipping back into my room, the conversation I had just overheard spinning in my head.

Sometimes, as a Jedi, you had to make drastic choices, right?

Or at least, it seemed that way.

I tried to forget about it and went to sleep.

[emyyxy]

clean shaven

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

billy catches afab reader shaving the cat (might be slight sexual tension, first person view)

the razor glides over my skin, slow and careful. one leg is propped up on the counter, my balance a little unsteady, but i’ve done this enough times to know what i’m doing. the bathroom door is cracked open, letting in a slight breeze that raises goosebumps on my thighs. i don’t think much of it. not until i feel it—that shift in the air, the weight of someone watching.

i glance up at the mirror and my stomach drops.

billy’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes fixed on me. he’s quiet, and he always is, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes my breath catch—slow, deliberate, like he’s enjoying something i haven’t caught onto yet.

“need some help?” his voice is smooth, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, something that makes my pulse stutter.

i scoff, trying to act like i don’t feel the heat creeping up my neck. “pretty sure i can handle it.”

his smirk is lazy, but he pushes off the doorframe, stepping into the bathroom like he belongs there. the scent of his cologne lingers in the air—sharp, familiar, the kind that makes my head swim.

“you trust me, don’t you?” he murmurs, getting close enough that i can feel the warmth of him at my side. his fingers barely skim my wrist, but it’s enough to make me tighten my grip on the razor.

i meet his gaze in the mirror, ignoring the way my stomach flips. “not with a razor near my—”

his lips twitch, his eyes flickering downward for just a second.

“i’d be real careful,” he says, voice lower now, almost thoughtful.

my throat feels dry. it’s ridiculous how easily he gets under my skin, how something as simple as shaving suddenly feels like something else entirely.

his knuckles graze my thigh, just barely, like an afterthought. but it’s not.

he hums, eyes dark, unreadable. “smooth.”

i exhale sharply. “billy—”

“relax.” his smirk deepens, his eyes still locked on mine. then, just as easily as he came in, he steps back, slipping his hands into his pockets. “just admiring the view.”

he turns toward the door, but pauses just before stepping out. his head tilts slightly, that smirk still playing at his lips.

“careful with that razor, sweetheart. hate to see you cut yourself.”

and then he’s gone, leaving me gripping the counter, breath unsteady, heart hammering.

asshole.

[vikintor]

Made an enemy

[crab-rangoon-slut]

The Blood We Shed

Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)

Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube

Synopsis: Telemarket and Lyra/you are childhood best friends navigating life with the suitors.

Both of you discover your sick fantasies of killing the suitors and uhhh *reveling in it* while covered in blood are shared.

However, you hardly have time to process this fact before a unfathomable storm reaches the coast of Ithaca... wait is that man on fucking raft fighting the god of the sea? Hello??

Anyway they fuck on Antinous' corpse.

!!THERE WILL BE ODY X PENELOPE REUNION SMUT!!

(Originally on my ao3. I update on there faster and have more chapters out!)

CHAPTER 1

My eyes scan over the words on the parchment—pursuing a scroll on herbal identification I’d recently picked out at the library— until I hear a clumsy pair of sandals walk through the front door. I perk up, recognizing those heavy steps

“Tel–-Whaaaaaat the fuck happened?”

Before me stands my childhood best friend—who just so happens to also be the crown prince of Ithaca—covered in mud and muddy hand prints.

“What? Did you have to chase one of the local pigs around town or something?”

“HA!” Telemachus laughs with an overtly sarcastic tone, “More like the ‘pigs’ were chasing me.” He says gruffly, grimacing at today's run in with the suitors.

“Fucking hell, Lyra they were on one today,” He starts while sounding downright exhausted.

“We had an ale shipment come into the harbor, right? Those fucking bastards jacked the damned thing! Drank half of it before we could unload what was left for Zeus’ sake. Not just that, but one of the men got so drunk that he tr–”

I listen intently, that is up until I fully take him in: bruises here and there in addition to his scraped and swollen knuckles. I notice he has a slightly bloodied nose that he’s been rubbing off on his sleeve.

“—Is that fucking BLOOD????” I immediately get up to inspect him with concerned brows.

“Ok, maybe—”

“TELEMACHUS!”

“LYRA!”

“TELEMACHUS!!”

Ever since we met, Telemachus has always had a big heart— bigger than himself. And that’s where the problems arise.

He’s protective of the people he loves, always has been and always will. Even when we were small he’d try and tell off the asshole kids around town if they’d tried to bully me— usually it’d end with him garnering a black eye and a scraped knee, but he never cared. I’d always return the favor as his partner in crime. We’ve had each other's backs since day one.

I’ve found myself on more than one occasion smiling back at those times, when days were easier. His mother’s suitors were still somewhat behaved, the kingdom less restless, both of us having lesser responsibilities. We’d duel with wooden swords until we tired ourselves out, laying in the grass and daydreaming of days when we’d get into real fights and put our skills to the test. Recently though, I fear that could be any day now… The suitors have grown stronger, violent, and larger in numbers.

I put my face in my hands,

“You can’t take all those dogs at once and you know it. Why did you pick a fight you can’t win??”

“And who’s to say that?” He smirks, flexing like an idiot.

“You look like an idiot.” I say flatly.

“But like, a really strong and still very much ALIVE idiot!”

“Zeus and all the gods above— YOU HAVE MUD SEEPING INTO YOUR WOUNDS!”

He ducks his head behind his arms as I swat him,

“Go clean yourself up. I wanna see what damage I’m working with here.”

“FINE, FINE! Bloody hell woman!” Telemachus says with an exaggerated expression contrived of false frustration while he heads to the washroom.

I stand up from the bed and walk over to monitor him, my back turned to the doorway I stand to the side of. I hear him begin to wash in the basin.

“Do you need me to fetch you a new tunic? That one is a mess.”

He sighs, “I guess I should change—“

I go and retrieve one of his spares he keeps here—a testimate to just how often these occurrences happen.

I hear him chuckle from the other room,

“That’s fine. I’ll change in a second, I’ll settle for a towel for now.”

I hear a hiss of pain escape the washroom.

On instinct my body turns slightly to the sound, “Hey, are you ok?”

“Yeah, just scrubbed a bruise a little hard,”he says with reassurance in his voice, “I’m just about done.”

I pass him a large towel, my body still turned away from the door frame as he finishes up a moment later. I move to my bed and pat the spot next to me as he bundles himself.

“Here, sit. I’m going to get you some cloth for those scrapes.”

“Ok—“ he mutters somewhat embarrassed, realizing how often I’ve had to patch him up as of late. Even though he’s not as expressive as he’d like to be about it; he really appreciates the care I put into fixing him up.

I return with the cloth and some leaves. I’d found myself researching more pain relieving plants as of late— trying to be proactive for Ithaca's klutziest, overconfident fist-fighter. Though he could definitely hold his own with a sword, his form with hand-to-hand combat is still a work in progress. I will admit, he’s won a lot more fights lately, which I’m very proud of him for. But I do wish that fact didn’t give him the confidence to pick opponents that are out of his league.

I place down the items next to my grind stone and crush the leaves before I place them on the wounds of his knuckles.

Telemachus visibly relaxes as I spread the paste across his hands,

“That actually feels kinda nice…”

I smile softly, “I’m glad. I was hoping it wouldn’t hurt.” I wrap his hands in the cloth, careful to make sure that it’s secure from any movements and gestures.

“Tilt your head.” I tell him, getting up close while I’m trying to stop any bleeding.

“Yes mother.” he teases as he does what I ask of him. I shoot him a warning look.

“Ok sorry! Sorry!” He chuckles as he accepts the cloth and holds it to his nose and ensures it’s securely in place.

“Thanks Lyra. Seriously.”

I sigh, hardly putting any real frustration behind it.

“It’s okay, you just have to be more careful,” I say sitting down diagonal to his chair,

“I worry.”

“I know,” he says, “but I can’t help it! It’s fucked up that they get to walk around and get away with murder. Literal murder, Lyra! And NO ONE does anything about it.”

“I know….” I’m silent for a moment.

“I know you have Athena to aid you but remember YOU are still a mortal. You’re not invincible.”

He considers my words,

“Yeah. No you’re right… sometimes I forget that.” He admits sheepishly,

“But I’m not done yet, just wait and see. I’m going to kick all of their asses once and for all soon enough; that’s a promise.”

I smile at the idea. “I know you will.”

I sit back up and throw his fresh clothes at him, “but you can’t do that if you catch a cold, warm up a bit”

[maybeacloud]

Only The Good Die Young || E. Bridgerton

Summary: Fem!reader is staying with the Bridgertons for the social season and decides to confront Eloise about her feelings.

Word count: 0.8k

Warnings: None

<A/N> This is the first piece of fanfiction I have shared with anyone so it might be a bit rough, but if you have any feedback don’t be afraid to comment! Also, English isn’t my first language, sorry about any spelling errors :P

…

It was already past dark and most of the Bridgerton household had retired for the night. Only one person remained, curled up on a small sofa in the drawing room, her nose buried deep in a book. You could not help but stare. You were not sure you could ever get enough of it. Eloise’s hair, which had previously been pinned up, now hung loose around her face, and a burning candle cast a gentle light on her face.

You walked up to her, drawing her attention away from the yellowed parchment. “May I speak to you about something?” You said hesitantly, suddenly too nervous to meet her gaze.

She laughed “Of course you may. You can always come to me.” Her smile was as warm as always, and her eyes looked like deep blue waters in the flickering candlelight. You suddenly felt hot, as if you skin was burning, and you forced yourself to look away.

“If we are to remain friends-“

Eloise cut you off; “Of course we are, what makes you believe that we would not?” She tried to make it sound light hearted, but the words came out sharper than she had intended.

“If we are to remain friends” you started again “I can not keep secrets from you”

You looked down on your friend. Her face had settled in a worried expression. You suddenly regretted bringing up the topic but that was to no avail. You must finish what you started.

“I have these - feelings - that I would like to discuss. And I do not expect you to feel the same way…” at this point you had started pacing back and forth like a trapped animal.

“… but in these past few weeks I have come to know you as someone who is not quick to judge others, and I sincerely hope you will grant me that kindness…” Your steps slowed.

“For I hope I have not misjudged you, ms. Bridgerton.”

As you turned to look at her, your eyes meeting for the first time since you started you rambling, you knew you had to tell her. You could not keep a friendship build on lies.

Her eyes were wide and her lips were parted slightly as if she was wanting to say something. You stood in silence for a moment allowing her time to intervene. But she just tilted her head slightly, her eyebrows furrowing into an expression of worry and confusion.

You realised you had dragged this out for far too long. And you suspected your nervous fidgeting had not helped soothe your friend’s worries.

“Every time I look at you, Eloise, it’s as if my whole world disappears and I am left with nothing but blank space; I am left grasping to find my way back to reality because if I am alone with you my mind will wander to places it should not.” You could not afford to stop talking, for if you did you might not find you way back.

“I am willing to throw away whatever dignity I have if it means I get to hold you, and it scares me. Because I- I have never felt like this before.” That last sentence came out more as a whisper.

Eloise sat still as a statue, unchanged, and for a second you started to wonder if you had imagined the whole thing, but then she moved. She straightened her posture, looked down at the book laying on her lap and hesitated for a moment before fixing her gaze back onto you. You suddenly felt unable to breathe, as if a weight was put on you chest.

Eloise, without breaking eye contact, untangled her bare feet from her nightgown and slowly stood up, meeting you at eye level.

Her face was impossible to read as her expression seemed to change constantly.

“Eloise, I-“ You started to apologise, but all words left you as you felt her hand reach for yours. Her touch was warm, like a small spark that quickly grew into a burning fire. She held onto your hand, still with her eyes fixed on you. And without thinking you took a single step, almost closing the distance between your bodies.

She was close enough for you to feel her warm breaths against your skin and you could not pull your eyes from her face. You were desperate to memorise every freckle on her face, the way the flickering shadows from the candlelight softened her features and then there were her eyes. They were like a frozen lake; idle on the surface, but beneath it lies a deeper water, constantly moving with the current. They wandered across your face before settling on your lips.

“Tell me…“ She trailed of, her voice was low and husky. A shaky breath escaped your lips and she took that as an invitation to start slowly guiding your hand upward until your palm rested against the bare skin right below her collarbone. “…tell me if you want me to stop.”

And with that she fully closed the distance between you, and as your lips met hers you knew that you never wanted her to let go.

…

[writtenroses1813]

Tbh I don’t rlly get the whole “1st person vs. 3rd person” debate on reading/writing because I don’t have a preference they’re just…different ways of storytelling.

When I’m reading 3rd person, I’m sitting around a campfire with an elder as they cast shadows about and the fire dances and they tell all the children the great feats of the heroes

When I’m reading 1st person, I’m on a lunch date with my best friend and they’re telling me the crazy shit they just been through

[jjkpilled]

“Do you know how pretty you are?”

WARNINGS: mentions of disordered eating, body image issues :3 enjoy!

As I stood silently infront of my mirror observing my figure, he walked in. He didnt say anything, im sure he didnt even see me. I continued silently flexing my stomach to make it look flatter, and sucking in my jaw to make the line sharper.

“Thats whats wrong with people these days.” he broke the silence, causing me to jump slightly.

“hm?” Satoru walked towards me and stopped just behind me, him being around a foot taller than me, he could see me in the mirror.

“They-… tend to make such beautiful girls think theyre any less than they are. With all these-… standards.” I stayed quiet, until i felt his lengthy fingers snake around my waist, pulling me backwards into him.

“Do you know how pretty you are, princess..?” Honestly right now I felt like anything but a princess… I continued my silence as his hands trailed up and down my sides, his distinct chuckle making my heart race.

“Well..? do you…?” He repeated, i didnt really know the answer to that. Because, sometimes i felt pretty. But.. sometimes i wanted to crawl into a hole and never be seen again.

I wasnt sure how to respond so I just shrugged. He sighed and walked away, was he upset with me…? My attachment issues wanted me to fall to my knees, crying and begging for his forgiveness, but the logical side of things told me to just shake it off.

Maybe he wasnt sure how to help.

“Have you had lunch?” He echoed through the house, getting louder as he re-approached my room.

“Mhm.” I hadnt, but I know he’d yell at me if he caught me skipping meals again.

“Dont lie, princess. That’s not cute.” damnit. He always knew when I was lying.. it was weird.

“Im not.” I sighed, turning around to face him. He had his dark, round sunglasses propped up on his head. He looked at me through those piercing blue eyes and quietly made his way towards me, cupping my face in his hands.

“Why?” he asked, to which I cocked my head sideways at him in confusion.

“Why do you do this to yourself…? Who made you think like this..?” He said quietly, his hands running through my hair. When I didnt answer his question he grabbed my face and slightly squeezed.

“Why are you so quiet today?”

“I-I dont know…” I, pathetically, answered. He sighed and unexpectedly hugged me, tight. I hugged him back and he… started sniffling…? Was the Satoru Gojo crying on me?

“Youre so.. beautiful.. and you dont see it… Yet you-… You hurt yourself a-and.. you just- youre gonna kill yourself some day doing that! A-And, it seems like you dont even care!” He cried, he didnt cry.. he just- wasnt a person who did that… yet, he was quite literally sobbing on me.

“Are you starving yourself?” his question was met with silence, he let go of me and took a step back.

“Answer me, damnit! I need to know! Are you fucking starving yourself, again?!” I felt tears welling up, i shook my head quietly.

“Stop lying to me!” He yelled, he didnt yell, ever. At least not at me. But.. he seemed really upset.

I whimpered quietly as he tightly gripped my shoulders, enough to send a painful jolt down my spine.

“You are going to stop with this nonsense! Do you hear me?! Do you fucking hear me, y/n?!” I nodded while tears started to trickle. Seeing this made his anger immediately subside. He hugged me tightly.

“Do you… know… how pretty you are…?”

[calyx-arts]

You Got Shiny Vee'd!

A shiny version of the Eevee TF that I drew for Eevee Day!

Posted using PostyBirb

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part I

Word count: +4300

Warnings: SA, abuse (kinda Cinderella vibes), almost rape, seriously 18+ please🙏

This was written only because few scenes, that will be in the next part, is occupying my mind for weeks now and I need to get rid of that to make space for anything else. At this point I have no idea what to do with this anyway. I have potential villain/s and that's it. Nothing more - I still didn't get much further, only a hazy outline of story that could work, but it's still more than I had when I started to write Heal me

This most likely isn't up to everyone's taste and it's a bit raw and harsh (like winter), but who knows. You might like it nonetheless

Hopefully it will help me get rid of whatever is eating on me since August, so I can again be productive and write something..different Anyway, enjoy🫰

Edit: as I read it after a long time I surprised even myself.. in many ways =_= Where did this come from - seriously? Sorry if there are still mistakes. I usually do at least five rounds of checking before posting anything, but this.. I can't possibly do another round. Don't tell me I didn't warn you. 18+ really!

Let's start new year with angst 😵‍💫

Part II

I stood by the window, wrapped in warm fur. My eyes roamed over the crumbled ruins of houses disappearing under layer of heavy snow behind the inner walls, icicles longer and thicker than my forearm, glittered in sun. Silver snowflakes danced above that graveyard of half-fallen stone walls that were sticking up like black fangs surrounded by pure whiteness.

These lands used to be prosperous and lively, dozens of families lived under the governance of my father, the lord whose family was assigned to protect the border with Autumn Court. Because of the good relationship with the lords on the other side of border, father's family used to be one of the strongest and most important in entire Winter Court. But that was story of past.

Everything started to crumble when my father took a lady from Autumn as a bride. Like ice and fire, people of Winter never fully trusted the wielders of fire from Autumn, despising them; looking down through the fingers at my poor mother. Rumours spread faster than plague, infecting every heart on its way. Nobody cared they were true mates, it didn't matter.

The day I was born was the day when everything went to Hell. People started to leave, moving to who-knows-where. When my powers manifested for the first time, they started to run away in big groups until just few were left behind, mostly only vassals and families of staff at our castle. Fire wielder born in Winter.. it was as if my father brought in a demon disguised as one of them. As soon as I started to notice and understand the side glances, the disgust and even the rage on faces of faeries around me, I swore to never again use the magic circling in my veins and buried it deep down. Of course, every act against the nature demands a price to be paid. My price was almost constant migraine and often nose bleeding, yet it was better than using the powers.

I was three when my mother suddenly died. She was weak and unwell ever since I was born and the harsh blizzard that hit whole Winter Court that year, was too much for her; or that's what I was told. She was always cold and it caused her a great suffering - something we had in common.

During the following months my father was rapidly withering and aged a lot during that time, refusing to eat until I burst into tears, scared he would leave me, too. That broke him and finally, he ate. He started trying, living to take care of me.

In his efforts to protect me and save the name and position of our family, when I was ten, he married a widow with son from prestigious family. The boy was eighteen at the time. Ever since they started to live with us, I felt his intensive gaze glued to my back anywhere I went. I tried to ignore it, really tried, but it was getting worse and worse lately.

Faint sounds of jingle bells scared away pictures of the past and all dark thoughts and I straightened up, watching the horizon. At first I saw nothing, only blinding whiteness. I squinted, listening carefully. No, it wasn't a cry of cold wind, that were really jingle bells and they were quickly getting closer. And then I finally saw it.

Pair of reindeer passed through strait between the steep mountains that were protecting this valley, hauling huge sleight seemingly made of the polished ice. When they reached the first ruins, I recognised the emblem of High Lord's family at the sleigh's side. I immediately rushed from my bedchambers and ran to father's study at the ground floor. By the time I reached its doors, the sleigh were already passing the gates.

"Father!" I heaved. "We have guests! Message from the High Lord!"

Father looked up from the stack of documents, slightly startled, putting down the glasses. "It must only seem to you, sweetheart. There's no way-"

"Guests! We have guests from capital!" My stepmother shrieked as soon as she opened the doors. Then she noticed me and wrinkled her nose in disapproval. Despite my father's belief, she never liked me nor considered me her daughter. She managed to suppress her hate in presence of him, but she never omitted the oportunity to hurt me, verbally or physically. "I thought that you are unwell when you didn't join us for the breakfast," her lips curled into cruel grin. "You look well to me."

"I saw royal sleigh from the window," I mumbled, averting my eyes. She hated when I even merely looked at her. Once she claimed that the disgusting fire in my pale eyes burnt her and punished me for it. Whether it was true I didn't know. Except of the fire magic, I looked like a normal High Fae of Winter Court. My long white hair had slightly silver shade, my skin was pale and eyes had color of frozen river.

Father stood up and swiftly headed to doors. "If it is so, we have to welcome them accordingly. Where's Zima? Are maids preparing the refreshments?"

"I instructed them to brew the best tea we have and prepare some warm refreshments on my way. Zima is training, but I sent butler to call him in," Morena replied as she hurried after father. I followed after them, keeping my distance.

The second she mentioned him, her son appeared. He observed the situation and his cold, almost white eyes landed on me. He took his time as usual. It felt as if he was trying to peel off all of the clothes from my body. Cold shiver ran down my spine and I tugged the fur cloak even closer.

"I was told that we have visit from capital. Is it true?" his raspy cold voice caused that I instinctively cringed.

"Yes, dear," Morena looped her hand to his arm, excited. "Royal family's ignored us for years now! This has to be some good news finally!"

My father sighed. "I have bad feeling about it.."

Chirping, Morena led Zima to the foyer. I matched my steps with father. "It certainly will be okay. No need to worry," I smiled gently.

Father only pressed lips into thin line. We arrived just as the sleigh stopped at the stairs and importantly looking male in thick fur cape got out.

"I'm Isen, High Lord's main advisor," he said without paying any respect to us. He was looking down the length of his nose at us with frown, then his eyes slowly wandered all around the mostly empty, dark and cold hall. Compared to the High Lord's castle, ours had to look like a nest of poor villagers to him. That much was clear from the strict lines around his mouth that only deepened. "I brought a message from His Highness. Can I have a word with you, lord Cherith? In private, of course." His gaze stopped on me and one of his brows raised as he surveyed me from feet to head with almost interest.

I held my breath, looking down as ethics dictated. However, he wasn't the only one looking at me. Morena's rage was staging into me like daggers and my stepbrother's sick possessiveness made me feel even more uncomfortable.

Father's brows knitted with worry and he cleared his throat.

"Yes, sure. Please, follow me to my study."

"How about a cup of warm tea?" Morena offered with sly smile.

"There's no need of tea. I don't plan on staying here long," the adviser declined coldly.

Morena paled and froze on spot. "As you wish, your-"

They were gone before she finished the sentence, the soft click of doors echoed in hallway. She turned to me, baring her teeth.

"What was that? What have you done to catch his interest? You little witch!"

"I did nothing," I tried to defend myself, already knowing what would follow.

She grabbed my elbow harshly. "Come!"

I was resisting, but she pulled me all the way to the closest lounge. Zima followed without word with perverted grin. He loved to watch my punishments. He locked the doors and warded them.

Morena pushed me to the table. "Pull your skirts up!"

"But I did nothing bad, I-"

"You dared to look at me with your dirty eyes today. That alone is enough good reason for punishment! Hurry up, if you don't want it to get worse."

Tears stung my eyes. No matter what I would do, I wouldn't get out of here without punishment. Even if I tried to call for help, all staff at this castle ignored me. I couldn't ran from this, so I did as I was told.

Zima stepped away from the doors for better view and his mother took out thin wand she was hiding in her skirts. As usual, she whisked the back of my thighs until she drew blood.

I bit on my lower lip, suppressing the cries of pain, my fingers fisted the edge of the table. I wouldn't give her such satisfaction. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks - that was the only sign of my protest.

When Morena was done with me, she simply left, immediately losing interest in me. Though, my punishment wasn't over. Zima was still in the room. I suspected that his mother knew very well what he was lately doing to me, yet she never stopped him, never told him anything.

"Don't dare to move," he hissed as he stepped even closer.

His trousers fell down and I could hear strange noises from behind. Thankfully, I didn't see him nor what he was doing there. Nevertheless I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, the worst part was just about to come yet. My fingers balled into fists. I could feel his hand on my legs, his fingers digging into my flesh as he groaned. And then it started. He pressed his hips against my clothed back, rocking back and forth as something thick and hard poked me, sliding down my underwear and between my thighs. Both of his hands landed on my sides, holding me down. I held my breath trying to block his disgusting moans and groans. Once a single sob escaped me, I was unable to stop the following ones.

I didn't know how long it took until he finally groaned for the last time, something wet covered my inner thighs and he pulled his trousers up. He leaned over me, whispering into my ear, slightly breathless. "One day, you will be mine. Truly mine. You can't escape me. I'm looking forward that day."

The doors closed behind him and I shivering pulled my skirts down and fell to my knees. I curled into a ball on the floor and cried. The stinging pain of beating slowly subsided as the shallow wounds healed. However my soul was behind the point of mending for years now. I had enough of this. I couldn't take it anymore, but what could I do? Where could I go to get rid of my stepmother and especially of her disgusting son. Bile rose in my throat and I crawled to the window, pushing it open.

The freezing cold air filled my lungs and few snowflakes landed on my cheeks, mixing with the tears that already started to turn into ice. This kind of pain was welcome. At least for a moment, I could forget. I sighed heavily. What kind of life would I have if my mother didn't die? I wondered. She for sure wouldn't let anyone treat me like this. For her, I wouldn't be nuisance nor the monster.

The sharp pain split my head and my vision went black. I hissed, massaging my temples even though I knew it wouldn't work. A wave of nausea made me empty my stomach. I again closed the window and wrapped myself in the fur cloak. Slowly breathing in and out, I sat down and waited until it got a bit better.

After a while I heard hurried steps at hallway and dared to peek out. It seemed that the lord Isen was done here, leaving. I hurried to the foyer, wiping my mouth and adjusting my appearance.

"I hope that you understood the instructions and you and your family will act according the High Lord's will," I heard his reserved voice as I got closer. My stepmother and her son were already there, waiting. Morena seemed to be confused, but she didn't even look my direction as I joined them. Her son narrowed eyes on me in malice. However, it was my father who worried me. His shoulders were slumped, he was paler than usual, terror and pain marking his face.

"Yes," was the only thing he said. Lord Isen immediately turned away without second glance at my family. His eyes landed on me for a short moment though and he was off. Reindeer shook their heads, ringing the jingle bells and the snow creaked as the sleighs moved.

"What did he come for?" Morena asked the second the entrance doors were firmly shut.

My father only shook his head and his sad eyes searched for me. "My sweet little girl, can you accompany me for a while?"

I was already eighteen yet he still called me like that. My heart filled with love. "Sure, dad." I took his big, warm hand and he led me back to his study.

"What's going on?" Morena demanded, following us, her son at her heels.

"Later. I'll tell you later," father stopped them with a simple gesture.

We walked down the hallway in silence. Father locked the door of his study and pulled me into a tight hug. He let out a shuddering sigh.

"What happened?" I asked softly, holding him just as close.

Father was still silent. When it already seemed that he wouldn't answer, he took a deep breath. "High Lord thinks that it's time for his heir to get married," his voice was strangely raspy. "And he chose you to be the bride."

I froze in disbelief, lump raising in my throat. I felt sick again. "Me?" My voice was weak and shaky, mirroring my terror. "Why me?"

"I thought it's long time forgotten and royal family already crossed out our name from the family tree," he sighed, leading me to the small sofa near to the hearth with flickering flames. "Long, very long time ago, royal family needed someone reliable to protect our Court from the Autumn as the natural barrier of mountains didn't seem to be enough. The High Lord decided to entrust such important task to his cousin who he was very close with. He gave him new name and extensive land at the border. It's a position that is inherited in our family for generations now."

Even though I understood what he was implying, I still didn't see the reason why to choose me. Father had to read it in my eyes because he squeezed both of my hands in his big one and smiled sadly.

"High Lord needs to strengthen the position of the heir and the royal family. Unfortunately, there isn't any suitable lady between their close relatives, so he decided to call upon our ancient bonds and wants you. The noble families in power aren't very reliable these days and keep plotting against the royal family. But we, despite everything, still keep on our oath and serve well, so High Lord counts on our loyalty now."

I swallowed hard. "Do-.. Does he know about..?"

Father nodded. "He knows about Evalyn, your mother, but that's all. He, as the rest of the court, has no idea about your powers. By your appearance, he probably assumes you took after me."

"If he finds out..?"

"I tried to object," father sighed heavily, tears shining in his eyes. "Unfortunately, it isn't a proposal. It's an order. You are the only reminder of my beloved Evalyn I have. I swore to protect you, my little girl, but the moment you get married, I won't be able to fulfil the promise... I can't even imagine what will happen once young Kallias or his father finds out about your magic."

He pressed face to my hands, cool wetness trickling into my palms. "I thought I have enough time to find someone kind who would love you and take good care of you somewhere far from this Court. Somewhere where you could live freely without being looked down. But I failed you.. I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry, my precious child.."

His words were breaking my heart and I wept with him. He was trying so hard for me all these years. Because of me he lost almost everything, yet he never blamed me for it and always thought so dearly of me. And now, he was even apologising.

"Please, don't, papa." His shoulders trembled and he started to cry even harder. "You protected me whole my life."

Suddenly, he raised his head, pale eyes wild. "You have to go. I'll send you to your family in Autumn Court. They will hide you - royal family won't be able to forcibly take you. Not without risking a war. We can say that you ran away. Yes. That could work." He stood up, pacing.

"Papa, no," I stood up too. "You can't do that! Royal family could take it as a betrayal and punish you for that."

"Who cares what will happen to me? As long as you are safe, everything would be okay."

I hugged him, crying to his shoulder, willing him to understand.

"I care, dad," I sobbed. "I won't allow it. I'll rather go to Mountain Home and endure it. I will live as up to now and-"

"You can't not use your powers for the rest of your life. It's too dangerous. It could kill you. It's already causing you so much pain."

I looked him into the eyes, determined. He was my only living family, the only person I held dear in my life. I wouldn't let anything bad happen to him. I couldn't. "No! I can do it. I wil go!"

* * *

It was already late at night when I finally returned to my bedchambers. I was exhausted. It took some time to persuade my father, but at last he agreed. It hurt so much to see him in such a state, so sad and broken. However, there was no way around this. I had to do as I was ordered by High Lord and marry his son, Kallias.

At dinner, father broke the news to Morena and her son. Morena made a big scene, but over all she seemed happy to get rid of me. Zima took it seemingly calmly. He didn't say a word and frowning stared at his plate with dinner he hadn't touched. I had a bad feeling about that, his words still ringing in my ears.

One day, you will be mine. You can't escape me.

Maybe this wedding was the getaway from this situation I prayed for, given by the Mother herself. The question was whether it was reward or different form of punishment though. Anyway, I had no saying in it and had to obey.

After the dinner, I spent the rest of the evening at father's study, talking with him about everything and nothing. He wasn't a drinker, yet he opened a bottle of wine and offering me a glass, we gazed to the flames in hearth until we grew too tired and called it a night.

I reached for the door handle of my bedroom, the metal cold in my hand. I twisted it and opened the door, already excited to dive under the thick and warm comforter while soft crackling of fire would lull me to sleep. I halted as the gust of freezing cold air rolled out from inside, biting into my flesh. I suppressed the urge to tug the fur cloak closer and looked around, or at least tried to. Curtains were closed, the room was completely dark except of few last coals in hearth. I heard movement from somewhere near my bed, soft rustling of the sheets. Someone or something was here.

A pale big hand with long fingers shot out from the darkness, grasped my arm and pulled me in. The door closed with loud click, followed by the sound of lock. I was trapped. I was so scared I couldn't make a single cry as I was nudged backward and fell on the bed. The person straddled me, trapping me under their heavy body, hand on each side of my head. The smell of strong alcohol filled my nose.

"You can't escape me."

I cringed at the hoarse deep voice, the voice I knew. Whole my body started to shiver. I clenched my teeth, but even that couldn't stop their chatter. It was Zima, my very drunk step-brother.

"You are mine and you always will be."

His cold fingers wrapped around my throat, slightly squeezing as if testing it. Then they slowly slid down to my chest and under the dress, leaving a burning pain wherever his skin met with mine. He yanked on the collar with such strength that the fabric had torn. The freezing cold clenched its claws into my skin and I cried out in pain and horror.

"I won't let some brat to take what is mine. To touch what belongs to me. This all is mine, only mine."

He sounded like a crazy man. His cold hands cupped my breasts and pushed them together while his face nuzzled between them. His wet tongue licked my skin and sucked on my nipple and I cried and screamed. The pain his cold touch caused me, was agonizing, much worse than the horror of being so helpless. I tried to push him away, punching his ribs and anywhere I could reach, yet it seemed he didn't even notice.

I was dizzy and nauseous. Just when I thought I wouldn't be able to take it anymore and faint, the doors in connected sitting room opened and a maid called out.

"My lady, your father is sending you a tea! I brought also your medicine!"

Zima stilled, listening.

"My lady?"

He cursed and his weight disappeared. The window on the other side of room opened, letting in even more of the coldness and he was gone. I managed to sit up and pull the fur cloak over the torn dress with trembling fingers just before the door opened and maid peeked in.

"My lady..? For Mother's sake!" she wailed. "Why it is so freezing cold here? My lady, are you okay? Why is even the window ajar?"

It was Lucy, a young maid who began to work here just recently. Unlike older maids, she was very kind to me and often came to help me dress or brought me a tea. She immediately ran to the window and shut it close, locking it. She turned on few lights and add logs to the hearth. When the fire came to live again and flames started to dance over the log, she rushed to me.

"My lady, are you all right? You are so cold and shivering. What happened?"

I tried to hold it back, but when she started to rub my arms and back to warm me up, I burst into tears.

"I'm so happy to see you, Lucy."

"Everything is okay now," she comforted me. "What happened?"

I cried even harder. I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell anyone about this. Who would believe me anyway. And the moment my father would find out.. I didn't even want to think how he would react. It would break his weakening heart for sure. I didn't want to lose him. He was my only family.

Lucy just pressed her lips together and brought in the tea.

"Here. Drink this, my lady. It will warm you up."

I reached for the cup. The fur cloak a bit loosened and Lucy gasped.

"My lady! Your neck! You have frostbite all over your throat!"

The breath hitched in my throat, panic rising. I had to come up with something and very fast. If she noticed that it was in shape of a hand, that my dress was torn and the wounds on my chest.. She was clever girl, she would piece together what happened.

"I-it's nothing. It will heal in no time. Could you prepare me a bath, please? I'm really cold."

She nodded, but her gaze lingered on my neck, brows furrowed.

"It's only good that you will leave soon," she mumbled and left.

I swallowed hard. She knew. With such, all servants probably knew, yet they never said anything. They never helped me nor said anything to my father. When it came to the servants who worked here since before I was born, it wasn't so surprising. They couldn't care less for me. However, when even those who came recently, didn't say a word.. well.. It had to be because of Morena. She most likely threatened them all.

Dread washed over me. Maybe after all it was really good that I would leave soon. If only to get rid of Zima and his mother. But what about my father? What would happen to him after that? More I thought about it, more restless I grew. If only father could stay in the capital with me.

That night I couldn't sleep. The bath helped a great deal and warmed me up, yet I couldn't stop shivering, jolting at the slightest sound. The wounds healed really fast, however my heart needed much longer.

Most of the time before the day of the wedding, I spent locked in my chambers or with father in his study. I couldn't relax even when Lucy told me that Zima left the castle and wouldn't be back before I would leave. Last days at my home I spent in constant state of alarm and haste, preparing to leave my old life and to survive the new one in capital with faeries I'd never met.

And at last, the final day of my current struggles came.

[sirjaketkiszka]

Jake Kiszka One Shot: Stand Guard

You and Jake have the tour bus all to yourselves after a show. He wants to put it to good use.

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Jake x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,483

Warnings: 18+!!, sexual content, unprotected sex, cursing, dirty talk, grinding, very light choking, teasing, begging, overstimulation, slightly rough!Jake, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, the pet name “baby,” and, of course, mediocre writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

Jake Kiszka One Shot Masterpost

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Jake grabs my hand as soon as he’s off the stage, forgetting to wave a final goodbye to his fans. “Geez, Jake, what’s the rush?” I yell, my ears still ringing from the concert. I try to keep up with him as he speed walks down the backstage halls, and to the back exit where we entered the venue many hours ago. Looking behind me, I see the band’s main security guard following us as well.

“We have the bus to ourselves for a bit,” He quickly says while pushing open the exit door. Frantically looking around, the three of us make sure there are no fans waiting outside while we rush to the tour bus.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, a little out of breath, when he stops in front of the tour bus’s entrance.

“Just get in, please,” He nudges my lower back and opens the door for me, allowing me to step in first. When I do, I look over my shoulder to see him whispering to the security guard, who seems to stay standing outside the door. I catch the final words of their conversation, “Keep watch.” Jake says as the guard nods, closing the tour bus door behind him.

“What are we doing?” I ask, but he ignores my question by pulling me in by the waist. He places a gentle kiss on my lips, and I kiss back.

“I missed you.” He says while pulling away, a devious smile on his lips.

“I missed you, too,” I respond, giving him a questioning look, “What are you up to, Jake?” The question pulls a chuckle from him.

“I said we have the bus to ourselves, didn’t I?” He smirks.

“Huh?” I look around the bus and realization dawns on me, my eyes widening, “You want to– Jake! Really? Here?!”

“Yes, here.” He leans in, capturing my lips with his, but I pull away quickly before we can get carried away.

“But your security-”

“He’s keeping watch, don’t worry,” His eyes are reassuring, “No one’s coming in here.”

After considering his words for a moment, I shrug and lean back into him, our lips meeting each other once again. Swiping my tongue on his lower lip, I feel his grip on my waist tighten, pulling me in even more. His lips part slightly, our tongues dancing fluidly. He tastes of whiskey and sweat, the sensation shooting straight to my core.

A muffled moan escapes my throat when one of his hands leaves my waist and rests on my neck. The grip on my throat is gentle, hardly noticeable, but he uses the leverage to push me further into the bus. He stops when we reach the bus’s couch, which resides behind the driver’s seat.

He sits on the couch first while pulling me down with him, our lips still moving against each other. My legs find their way on either side of his hips, falling into a straddling position. When I settle down on his lap, his hard cock immediately pushes against my clothed cunt, pulling a surprised gasp out of me and breaking our kiss.

“See what you do to me?” His voice is thickly laced with lust, coming out in barely a whisper. His hand on my waist lowers to my hip, as well as the hand previously on my neck, and he guides me up and down his erection in a grinding motion. We let out satisfied, needy sighs in unison, his eyes bouncing from mine to his lap. “I could come just like this, baby.”

His praises cause heat to rise to my face, blush cascading along my cheeks. “Please touch me, Jake,” I beg, “I need to feel you.”

“I love when you beg, baby,” He says, his hands still guiding my hips, “Keep riding.” He instructs me, reaching for the bottom of my shirt. I raise my arms and let him take it off, my hands coming down to rest on his shoulders. I continue my pace as he leans forward, peppering kisses along the tops of my breasts.

My head tilts back, quiet sighs leaving open lips with every quickened breath. Not wanting to remove his grip, he uses his teeth to tug on the straps of my bra, sliding them down my shoulders. Still using his teeth, he pulls one of the bra cups down, exposing my breast. The cool air of the tour bus causes my bare nipple to harden, Jake quickly gathering it in his warm mouth.

A moan hitches in my throat as I try to be mindful of the company right outside of the bus. His hot tongue swirls circles around my hard nipple, and he catches it in his teeth, slightly tugging on it. When my painful whine fills the bus, he sucks on the stinging peak to soothe the pain.

Removing his mouth with an audible pop, the lingering spit becomes cold, sending a chill down my spine. He quickly moves to the other breast, performing the same ritual as the previous one. The mixed feeling of his affection and my grinding clouds my mind with pure need and lust. “Jake-”

“Stand up, baby,” He tells me, urging me to get off of him. When I do, I watch as he stands up as well and takes his suit jacket off. He grabs my hand and leads me to the very back of the tour bus. We pass by rows of bunks, the tour bus bathroom, and we arrive in the separate room where a larger U-shaped couch resides. Releasing my hand, his hands fly to his pants’ zipper and button, “Take them off.” He says, nodding to my own pants, pulling his down, as well as his boxers in the process.

The sight of his erection causes me to pause, my dilated pupils spreading to the edges of my irises, no doubt. A cocky smirk is plastered on his face, and I shoot him a playful glare, finally taking my pants and underwear off. He takes my hands and sits down, “Come here,” he demands, impatience on his tongue.

Doing as he says, I go back to straddling him. His hands are on my hips again, guiding me back to his bare erection. When my naked cunt rests on his cock, not yet inside me, he lets out a choked groan. “You’re so fucking wet,” he’s back to guiding me back and forth on his cock, “Soak my fucking cock, baby.”

“Yes, Jake,” I manage to let the words out in a pleased sigh when the feeling of his erection rubbing my clit catches me off guard. He continues to move my hips at a steady rhythm, making me pant with that familiar feeling creeping in my gut.

“Put it in, baby,” He lifts my hips, losing all friction. He nudges his head toward his cock, telling me to put him in myself. My shaky hand comes down between us and when my fingers wrap around his cock, it’s soaked, hot, and hard. His hips move up slightly, chasing the feeling of my firm grip. “Don’t tease me.”

“I would never,” I say, fighting back a mischievous smirk, “I want this as much as you do.” I really do. Holding his erection, I slide the tip up and down my wet slit, both of us holding our breath at the feeling.

“Come on, baby,” He urges, his voice bordering on a whine.

His grip on my hips tightens in anticipation when his tip nudges my entrance, not putting it in yet. I guide his tip back up to my clit, circling it. My jaw falls agape at the sensation, and Jake’s eyes snap up to look at me, no longer watching my hand.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks, irritation flaming in his eyes. I quicken the pace on my swollen clit when I notice his reaction.

“Yes,” I moan, my head falling back. My thighs twitch around his legs, signaling my growing peak.

“No,” Jake grunts, lifting my hips higher, making me lose the grip on his cock. “Not yet.”

“Why not?” I ask innocently, my chest heaving slightly.

“What did I say about teasing me?” His voice is dark and his eyes match his tone, making the hair on my neck and arms stand up.

“I wasn’t-”

“No more talking,” He says, swiftly lining his cock with my entrance and setting me down, my pussy stretching around him until he fits snugly inside of me. I open my mouth to moan his name, but nothing comes out when the dull, but welcomed pain causes me to hold my breath. “Yeah? Want to try that again?” He taunts, tilting his head when he examines my face.

Satisfied with my lack of response, he lifts my hips once more and guides me back down, slowly pumping in and out of my cunt. The pain disappears and is replaced with growing pleasure from every pass of my g-spot. Finally, I move my hips with his hands still resting on them, my breathing becoming heavy.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” He asks, pulling my gaze to look at him.

“Yes,” I whisper, afraid of being too loud; still conscious of the company outside.

“Let me hear you, baby,” he leans forward and whispers in my ear, “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

“He'll hear us,” I pant, my eyes squeezing shut when my climax slowly builds up again.

“Who cares,” he says nonchalantly while leaning back, “look at me,” My eyes open and our gazes hold, “Just focus on me, baby, focus on how good this feels.” He starts lifting his hips to meet mine, the pressure in my gut growing quickly and intensely.

“Oh, god!” I yell at the new pace, forgetting my previous concern, “Fuck!”

“That’s right,” He forces my hips down harder and faster, “I wanna hear you.”

“Fuck, Jake, I’m so close!” My high-pitch moans and the sound of our skin connecting fills the small room, “Keep going, please,” I beg.

My brows furrow, preparing for an intense orgasm, and I feel the walls of my pussy begin to flutter around his cock. “Yes, Jake, I’m going to come!” I cry out, keeping the same relentless pace.

“Not yet,” He grunts out, lifting me off of his cock. A yelp exits my throat, my building orgasm dissolving in my lower belly, gone just as quick as it arrived.

“What?” I ask, confused and in disbelief, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You heard me,” He lowers me back onto his cock, slipping in easily this time, “You’ll come when I tell you to.”

“But, Jake-”

“You’ll have to beg first,” He says, “Keep riding my cock.”

“Okay,” A shaky breath passes my lips as I lift my hips, sinking back down when his tip nearly slips out. I keep the pace slow at first, my body still recovering from my near orgasm, and when the pressure builds in my gut again, my hips move quicker. Needy moans and concentrated grunts leave our parted lips, dangling in the empty space between us.

“Keep going,” He encourages with a grunt, “You look so good doing that, baby.”

“Please, Jake, I think I’m getting close again.” I let out in a tired sigh.

“Not yet, baby,” His grip on my hips strengthens, keeping me from changing the pace to my liking, “I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.”

I groan, letting him control the speed. It’s consistent, but it’s not enough to push me over the edge. The feeling of tingling stalls in my gut, never building up to where I want it. It’s too much stimulation, causing my eyes to close in order to concentrate. My moans border on desperate whines, needing to chase my climax.

Growing frustrated, one of my hands travels between us, searching for the bundle of nerves that begs my attention.

“Ah- nice try,” One of Jake’s hands grabs my wrist, stopping my hips, and keeping me from rubbing my clit. “I don’t hear you begging, sweetheart.”

“Jake, please, I need to come.” My eyes sting from frustration.

“Then keep begging,” He demands, his hand returning to my hip and resuming the consistent pace.

When the feeling becomes unbearable, I lose all other senses. I have no idea how loud or how quiet I am. All I can focus on is chasing a release, “Please,” I whine, “Please, go faster.”

Surprisingly, he actually listens, and his hands begin forcing my hips down at a fast pace. Finally, the heat in my belly spreads again, letting me know my climax is near. “Keep doing that, Jake, please don’t stop.” I’m hoping my words are encouraging him enough to continue, and more importantly, to let me orgasm.

“Beg for it, baby.” He says, slightly slowing the pace down again. “Tell me what you want— Let me hear you.”

“Please, Jake, let me come on your cock,” I answer, my whining voice surely loud enough for outsiders to hear. “I need it.”

“Good girl,” He speeds my hips up, causing my hands to reach for his shoulders from the strong force behind his thrusts.

“Oh my god!” My voice gets a pitch higher the closer I get to an orgasm, “So fucking good,” I say through gritted teeth, my eyebrows scrunching at my approaching orgasm.

“Yeah?” He taunts while sliding one of his hands from my hip to my pussy, his thumb brushing roughly against my aching clit. “How’s this?”

“Fuck, yes, Jake,” My head falls back, jaw falling open. Obscenities fill the entire bus, and my orgasm finally hits. “Holy shit, I’m coming!” My hips violently sputter against his, my pussy walls squeezing his cock in a pulsing pattern. For a moment, my vision goes hazy and my ears ring, making all senses dull while I ride out my orgasm. My thighs are clenching tightly around him, the final spasms of my climax involuntarily squeezing him.

When my orgasm subsides, Jake continues the same pace of my hips as he still rubs my clit. The sensation becomes too much to bear, the aftershocks of my orgasm already receding and being replaced by overstimulation. “Jake-”

“I’m not done yet,” he doesn’t let up as his cock slides in and out of me, wet sounds of my previous release filling the air around us. “It feels so good when you come on my cock, baby.” He praises, his thumb still pressing firm circles on my clit. Whiny moans catch in my throat, unable to come out when he fucks me harder.

After just a few more thrusts, he gives me a quick peck on the lips and lifts me up, pulling out of me. “Stand up.” He demands.

Standing up, I step away from him, immediately being met with trembling legs. He stands up as well, his fist pumping his erect cock. “Come here,” he orders as he situates me to stand in front of the couch. I’m facing him, my back to the couch, when he tells me, “Turn around.”

Turning to face the couch, I’m now staring at the wall. I feel his presence behind me when his free hand grips the back of my neck and bends me forward. My hands land on the headrest of the couch, my legs still standing straight as I’m bent at the waist. “Spread your legs.”

I do as he says, feeling his hand on my lower back and pushing down slightly, “Arch your back, baby.” Doing as he says, it causes my ass to stick out, “Yeah, just like that. God, you should see yourself right now.”

Looking over my shoulder, I watch as he steps closer to me, still pumping his cock. When it’s out of view, I feel the tip teasing my entrance, my back arching further at the feeling. My hands grip the couch in anticipation when one of his hands grabs my hip.

In one swift motion, he thrusts back inside of me, earning a small yelp from me. “Fuck, yes,” Jake huffs out, already pumping in and out of me, “You take my cock so well.”

Moaning in response, my walls squeeze around him. His free hand reaches around, finding my clit with ease, and he rubs thorough, firm circles around the bundle of nerves, “I want you to come again.” He states.

“I’m not sure if I can,” I whine.

“You begged me to let you come,” He says matter-of-factly, “so you can do it again, baby.”

I let out a frustrated moan, his pace on my clit relentless. He slides in and out of me vigorously, the new position making his cock discover different angles in my weeping cunt. I feel another orgasm coming on, but no matter what, it never reaches its peak.

The sound of skin slapping fills the room, his grip on my hips becoming firmer, “I don’t have much longer, baby, I need you to come with me.” Jake says from behind me.

“I’m trying,” A small whimper catches in my throat, “I can’t do it again.”

“We’ll see,” Jake grunts out, no doubt losing his control. He pounds harder, and faster, his fingers on my clit working faster as well.

“Oh, fuck!” I cry out as my moans become consistently louder, with every breath carrying a moan soon after.

“Oh, you poor thing.” His words come out in a low, frustrated grunt. His hand moves from my hip to my hair, gathering it and firmly tugging on it, pounding even harder while using me as support. “This is what you wanted, baby,” He says through clenched teeth, “You can do it, come on my fucking cock.”

The force behind his thrusts causes me to stand on my tip toes, pushing my grip further into the couch cushions. Jake’s breathing is getting heavy, and his thrusts are getting slightly sloppier, but it’s barely noticeable. He’s really starting to lose control as his grunts and moans grow louder and more frequent.

“Just one more time, baby,” He manages to get out in between low grunts. “Fuck, fuck,” twando more thrusts and, “Fuck!” He can no longer hold it when I feel his cock jerk inside of me. Although the strength of his final thrust sends me over the edge, my second climax erupts simultaneously with his first.

“Oh, God!” I cry out, making my moans mix with satisfied sobs, and my second climax begging my legs to give out. His cock twitches inside of me, amplifying the pleasure, and spurts of hot cum coat my walls as they squeeze him in return. My arched back spasms and my ass rubs against him as my clenched stomach releases the final pulses of my orgasm.

“That was so good, baby,” He whispers from behind me, his voice exhausted. He bends over me to leave sloppy, wet kisses on my back and shoulders. Finally releasing my bunched hair, the dull ache of my scalp soothes, “I’ll never get enough of you.” He says close to my ear, his voice soft and genuine.

After a moment, when our breathing has evened, he pulls out of me and I feel our mixed fluids run down my thighs. “Stay there,” He orders, crouching down and inspecting my soaked cunt. I swear I can see his pupils dilate even more when I look back at him, watching his cum leak out of me, “Such a fucking mess. I love it.” He places a tender kiss on my ass, standing up.

He quickly leaves the room, leaving me in my bent-over position, and returns with a wet washcloth and my shirt that we discarded earlier. It’s warm when he begins rubbing up my thighs, folding the cloth over to use clean sides with each wipe. “All done,” He says, playfully swatting my ass, making me stand up straight. “Let’s get dressed.”

We both get our clothes on, with Jake changing into a more comfortable after-show outfit. He takes a seat on the couch, away from where we just were, and pats the spot next to him.

Taking a seat next to him, I curl up into his side. He gently brushes the hair from my face, and plants tender kisses on my temple, forehead, and the top of my head. “I really did miss you.” He breaks our comfortable silence.

“I missed you, too,” I smile at him.

The tour bus door opens, catching our attention, and the security guard finds us in the back of the bus, “The other boys will be here soon.”

“Geez, man, don’t you knock?” Jake jokes, chuckling.

“Well, I didn’t hear anything for a while so I figured you were done,” He fights a smirk, “And I can see that you are.” He says, leaving us.

My smile fades and my cheeks turn a dark shade of crimson, “Wait, what did he say?”

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Sorry for the silly ending lol! I hope you enjoyed!

Btw— let me know if I ever miss any warnings for all of my writing. By the time I post these, my brain is jumbled and I can’t remember every single warning. Thank you!!

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@sunandthemoontwinflames

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[needle-rose]

Okay I’m not going to reblog the post that inspired this for reasons that will become clear

But I always Really disliked interpretations of Beauty and the Beast (whether the Disney film/s or other animal bridegroom stories) that insist on how “the beast was ~hot~ before he transformed”

And give zero thought to that character’s experience of being cursed to live in a horrifically Wrong form for years on end. And finally being restored to something that feels correct and familiar—and can you imagine the first reaction to that, from the person who fell in love with you and with whom you’re in love, the one who broke the curse, saying “hm I liked you better before”?

I get it might be some kind of attempt to turn the “ugly” curse on its head and instead view it as the more attractive form

But that’s Not The Point!

The animal bridegroom tale is one of the oldest in the indo-European language family and it is time and again about coming to love someone for who they are rather than how they look. If anything the human transformation at the end can be best read as the phenomenon by which the person one loves becomes attractive in the lover’s eyes Because they are beloved.

And you know what sure I acknowledge and respect that interacting with it as a monsterfucker story is something people are going to do and will find the story appeals to them for that reason

But I feel like the instant you think of the Beast character/animal bridegroom as a Human Being who has been transformed against their will, as has traditionally been the case, those interpretations bother me in a way I still struggle to articulate.