#i miss being in the woods in early spring :(

[bucket-of-mold]

Its my first year of college, and therefore my first year away from home for more than a few weeks. I haven't felt very homesick since I left, until recently. While I do miss my family and my house and my old friends, its not to the extent I would call homesickness. However, lately I've realized some things I've taken for granted after living in the woods for my whole life. Now that the seasons are starting to shift and the first signs of spring are appearing, I'm realizing that I can't see and hear the signs I'm used to experiencing. I can only hear the frogs calling in a certain part of campus, and even then its faint. There is only a small patch of crocuses, and I have yet to see any daffodils. My school isn't in an urban area, but its not a very forested area either, and I'm feeling rather homesick for the woods right now.

[oneforthemunny]

boy toys |dom!eddie munson x brat!reader|

​​prompt: after a week of not seeing each other, eddie comes over and sees what's been getting you through your time apart.

contains: 18+ themes, minors dni. dom!eddie, sub!reader, fem! reader, slightly mean!dom!eddie, vibrator, toys, overstimulation, slapping, orgasm denial, light bondage, oral male rec, p in v sex, language

You peeked out the window, grinning when you saw the familiar van in the parking lot, Eddie stomping his cigarette out beside it. You heard the heavy footsteps, boots against the creaking wood. Before he could knock, you had the door open, arms wrapped around his neck, pushing him against the wall by your door.

Eddie let out a sound of surprise, laughing lowly into the kiss, his hands finding your waist easily, pulling you flush against him. His lips were soft, full, sweetly devouring every part of your mouth, leaving your blushing and reeling. His eyes glimmered when he pulled back, giving you a deep dimpled grin that had you swooning.

"D'ya miss me that much, sweetheart?" Eddie chuckled, hands softly rubbing down your waist.

You giggled, shrugging gently, a blush still warm across your cheeks. "Yeah," You admitted, sweetly. "I really did. It's been a long week."

And it had been.

The week had been agonizingly busy with the boutique bustling with customers, new shipments, and changing the styles to fit the new season. On top of that, Eddie's schedule and your's was conflicting, making it near impossible to see each other all week, despite working across the street from each other. You'd passed him one night after closing, where he was bouncing outside of the Hideout, checking IDs and collecting covers.

He'd grinned at you, jogging when the line emptied, pressing you into a quick kiss. "I'll see you Sunday, alright? I'm off and so are you, and we can spend the whole day together. Whatever you want to do, sweet thing."

His promise had kept you going, pushing through the draining week until finally, it was Sunday. You'd woken up early, tidying the house and making sure everything was perfect for him; for Eddie. Not that he minded, he never did, but you wanted it to be perfect.

The two of you walked into your apartment, shutting the door before your neighbor, Mrs. Franklin, could scream at the two of you for being promiscuous again. Eddie's hand hadn't left you, smoothing down your back, entwining your hand in his, pulling you into his arms to kiss you again.

"So, what'd you have planned for the day?" Eddie asked, nose pressed against yours. "Wanna go to Starcourt? I think they're opening at one, but we could go look around. See if they had those shoes you wanted."

Your heart swelled, smitten that he'd remembered such a small detail you'd told him a few weeks ago. You sighed, contently, running your hands down his arms. "Mm, maybe not today." You hummed. "I was thinking we could stay in, together. I have some movies from Family Video we could watch. I got that new scary one you wanted."

Eddie smirked. "You spoil me, sweetheart." He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. "Too good to me."

You blushed, giggling. "I'm just going to change. I don't want to be in my pajamas all day." You said, his hand still lingering with yours when you pulled him to your bedroom.

"So, how did your gig go last night? I'm sorry I couldn't come." You opened your closet, flicking through the racks, while Eddie sat on your bed, the springs creaking under his weight.

"Eh, it was pretty good. Pretty good crowd, too, all things considered." Eddie looked around, taking in your room like he hadn't been in there dozens of time. He looked at the pictures, smiling at the framed one of you and him on your night stand.

"That's great." You smiled, pulling off your pajama top, and tossing it towards the hamper. Eddie picked the picture up, going to wipe a smudge when he paused, eyes widening gently. "I'll be at the next one, for sure. I just-"

"Baby," Eddie's voice purred. You turned around, brows furrowed before your face dropped. Eddie's grin was wide and salacious, eyes darkened. "Whatcha got here, huh?"

You blushed, heart jumping when you saw what he was holding. Bright purple with a long handle; your vibrator. Something a friend got you as a gag gift for a birthday years ago, but a very handy gift; especially after long weeks like this past one.

You shifted, biting your lip softly. His eyes were expectant, lifting a brow for an answer. You shrugged. "I told you it's been a long week." You said sheepishly.

Eddie chuckled darkly, standing as he examined the toy in his hand. You shrunk when he crowded you by the closet, his looming figure tall and dominant. Eddie pressed the button, the vibrator coming to life with a soft buzz. His eyes flashed down at you, a wicked, wolfish grin that had your heart hammering and center pulsing.

"Are you supposed to play with yourself without asking first?" Eddie asked. Your face dropped, eyes rounding up at him. "Hm?"

You shook your head, Eddie caught your chin in his free hand, tilting his head towards you. "I didn't think so." He tutted. "And, I just don't recall you asking me, baby."

Your heart hammered, a shiver spilling down your spine. Your stomach twisted at where the conversation was headed. "I'm sorry." You whispered. "I just... I-I-"

"Uh-uh-uh," Eddie's fingers dug harder into your jaw. "You broke my rule. You know what that means don't you, baby?"

You nodded slowly, palms sweating and shifting on your feet. Eddie turned to toy off, nodding towards your bed. "Strip. Go sit on the bed for me."

You fumbled towards the bed, pulling off your bra and pajama pants, throwing them in the hamper. Eddie looked through your closet, seeing your belts, cute and stylish, hanging on a hook. He smirked, grabbing two. Since he wasn't at his trailer, he didn't have his usual cuffs and restraints, so he'd have to make do with what he could.

You looked at him, wide eyed and awaiting. Eddie sighed heavily, shaking his head at you. "Go ahead and roll over. Hand behind your back." You obeyed, flipping over and wiggling your hips into position, clasping your hands at the small of your back.

Eddie tied them tightly, looping the belt around them, securing them firmly before lifting your hips up higher. "Legs apart." He barked, hand falling down hard on your left ass cheek.

You yelped, rocking until your legs were apart, hoping he couldn't see how wet you were already. He could, of course.

Eddie sighed, running a hand from your hip down your thigh. "I was really hoping I wouldn't have to punish you." He said, smirking at the pathetic whimper that fell from your lips. "But you just had to go and be a bad girl, didn't you, baby?" His finger slipped into you with ease, relishing in the little gasp and moan that followed.

"Is that what you are? Are you a bad girl?" Eddie asked, index finger pumping slowly in and out of you, feeling your walls flutter and clench around him.

You shook your head, cheek pressed into your duvet, eyes pinched together in pleasure. "No," You whined, high pitch and airy, just how he liked it.

"Oh, yes you are." Eddie tutted.

"Nuh-uh, I'm not, Eddie, 'M not." You cried, tears flooding your water line when his finger curled, grazing your sensitive spot.

"Are you arguing with me, baby?" Eddie asked, his mouth right by your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You whimpered when he pulled his fingers out of you, hand grasping your hair, pulling you up so you were cheek to cheek with him.

"I think you need to be taught a lesson." Eddie whispered, leaving you shuddering at his words, hot breath tickling your neck. "Need to learn you can't be breaking my rules."

He let you go with a thud, falling back onto the mattress with a small cry. You moved your cheek to the side, hearing him stalk behind you. He picked up your vibrator, flicking it back on, the taunting buzz filling the room, making you throb.

"I'm torn," Eddie sighed, moving so you could see him, veiny hands grasping the buzzing toy. It made your mouth water. "I'm not sure if I should just not let you come, and just keep teasing and teasing you until I'm sure you've learned your lesson." Your heart dropped, lips quivering and whimpering at the threat.

He dramatically sighed again, looking down at the vibrator, examining it carefully in his hands. He was putting on a show, like when he was playing the part of the Dungeon Master or working the crowd at a show. Exaggerated.

"Or," Eddie looked at you, eyes dark and lust blown. "If I should make you cum over and over and over again until you're begging for me to stop."

Your legs clamped, shifting out of position slightly at the threat. Eddie's eyes narrowed, moving so he was behind you again. He bit his lip at the sight, your ass in the air, exposed and aching for him, at his mercy. He was hard, his bulge pressed uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.

Eddie took the vibrating toy, running it on the inside of your thighs. Your legs quivered, shaking at the touch he was trailing on you. Your breath caught every time he got close to your center, letting the tip of the toy touch just the edge of your lips before trailing back down.

You whined, pathetic. Your body was on fire, on edge with the way he was teasing you. Eddie pressed a hand on your back, pushing your ass up further for him.

"Either way, I think I'll just use this little toy on you." Eddie purred, pressing the vibrator to your folds. You jolted, gasping and writing as it passes over your clit, sending shock of pleasure through your body. "Since you love it so much."

You moaned, loud, pornographic. The kind of moan that Eddie usually only pulled from you when he used his tongue on you, working you open while you tugged on his hair. His brows raised at the reaction, sliding it slowly up and down your slick center, barely pushing it in at your entrance before dragging it back down to your clit.

"Hm, you really do love this, don't you, whore?" Eddie asked, eyes trained on your pussy. You ground your hips closer, fists closing and white knuckled on your back.

Eddie laughed to himself, palming himself through his jeans. You could feel yourself getting closer, toes curling, hips writhing as you gasped, whimpering, moaning closer and closer until...

Your eyes snapped open, the toy removed, pulled back and still buzzing in Eddie's hand. You whipped your head back, eyes wide with shock, betrayal.

Eddie smirked, brow raised. "Oh, baby, you didn't think I'd let you cum that easy, now did you?" He grinned, watching your face crumble slightly, whining and wiggling against the restraints.

"I think I've decided," Eddie started, moving so his knee was propped on your bed, hand pushing the hair out of your face. "I don't think you deserve to cum." You cried out, lips wobbling and pouting. He could've busted right there, your pathetic, begging face. "Not that easily anyway."

He kept you like that for what seemed like hours. Teasing you with your vibrator, expertly toying with you, building up your pleasure, getting you so close just to rip it away, leaving you achy and needy.

You were sobbing, babbling and begging for him to let you cum. Eddie laughed darkly, vibrator pressed firmly against your clit, watching the sweat drip down your hair line, mixing with the tears spilling down your face. Eddie was enjoying himself, hearing you beg and cry, smug that he was the only one who could get you like this.

You felt it coming, closer and closer, you clenched around nothing, screwing your eyes shut. That white hot pleasure was building so close you were dizzy, then, just like that, taken away.

"Please," You choked on a sob, shaky, broken inhales racking your body. "Please, Eddie, I'll be good. I'll be a good girl, I promise."

"Oh? Just like you promised to follow my rules?" Eddie asked, shaking his head. "You're not too good on your word, baby girl."

"Yes, I am." You sobbed, shoulders shaking. "I am!" It was bratty and much more demanding than you meant it to be, but you were tired, and so, so desperate for him.

Eddie raised a brow, turning the soaked vibrator off. It was hot in his hand, the heat from your cunt mixed with the batteries working overtime. He set it next to you, and you sniffled, turning your head away from it.

Eddie grinned. "You sure you're a good girl?" He asked, teasing, mocking. Reaching for his zipper, he pushed down his pants, stepping out of them slowly.

You nodded furiously, eyes round and desperate; submissive. He'd finally gotten you where he wanted you. "Please," You whimpered, lower lip wobbling. Your eyes raked down his skin when he took his shirt off, lingering on his newest piece on his thigh.

Eddie hummed, pulling himself from his boxers before they slid down his legs. He pumped his length in his head, tip angry and red, already oozing pre-cum down the link. You licked your lips.

"I think that you are a good girl, deep, deep down inside." Eddie cooed at you mockingly.

His fingers wrapped around your arms, you'd lost feeling in, and freed them. You didn't get a chance to rub them long, before he had each wrist in his hand, pulling you towards him. You could feel his erection on your tummy, hard and prodding between you two.

"But I think you made a bad, bad choice." Eddie hissed, eyes narrowing. You whimpered when his hands tightened firmly around your wrist. "And you need to make it up to me. Show me you really are a good girl." 

You nodded, standing while he sat on the edge of the bed. You waited obediently, your eyes trained on his, until he opened his legs. You shuffled forward on your knees, eyes finally dropping to his length that was flush up against his tummy.

Eddie nodded at you, and you reached out, pumping the length of him gently, thumb circling his tip, spreading around his spilling seed. Eddie groaned, hips clenching to keep from bucking into your hand. This was your expertise, he'd decided. Using your soft hands and mouth all over him, working him until he was seeing stars. It was even better when you did it as a punishment, desperate and tedious as to make it up to him, regain his approval.

Your soft lips pressed kisses on the underside of his shaft, up and down the vein that was so prominent, down to his balls. You kissed them gently, nuzzling your nose into them, pulling a low groan out of Eddie's throat. He fisted the sheets of your bed, eyes closing and head tipping back.

Finally, you circled the tip of him with your tongue, hand rolling and squeezing his balls lightly, while you moved your head down, stuffing him deeply until your nose touched the hair on his pelvis. You breathed slow and controlled out of your nose, keeping yourself from gagging, swallowing him slowly.

Eddie moaned, ringed hands finding your hair, guiding you as you bobbed on his cock. He was in paradise. Your mouth velvety and wet, tiny gags pulling out of the back of your throat when his length touched it. It had his grip tightening in your hair.

He was embarrassed with how close he was. He'd been hard since the two of you started, cock throbbing and uncomfortable with every orgasm he pulled from you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, easy, baby, easy." Eddie groaned, feeling your lashes on his pelvis, nose nuzzling against him.

He pulled back on your hair, making you release him with a slurp. Eyes round and pleading, drool dripping down your chin. You knew better than to wipe it away, and deprive Eddie of seeing you so ruined.

Eddie smiled, leaning in to swipe at your mouth, spit mixed with his cum, gathering it on his thumb and pressing it into your mouth. You sucked on his finger obediently, eyes still on him.

"Hm," Eddie hummed with a sigh, long exhale out of his nose. "That was really good, baby." He smirked at the way your eyes lit up, posture straightening, his thumb still in your mouth, soft lips suctioning on the digit.

"You think you deserve to cum now?" Eddie asked, cocking his head to the side. "Think you can be a good girl for me? Learned your lesson?"

You nodded eagerly, and Eddie pulled his thumb away. He nodded at you, signaling he wanted a verbal response. "Yes," You said sweetly. You leaned forward, placing your hands on his knee, resting your chin on top of them. "Please? I'll be very good, I promise. I learned my lesson."

Normally, Eddie wouldn't allow you out of position, if it was a different scene. But the way your eyes rounded, begging and pleading, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Eddie couldn't resist.

"Fuck," He breathed, running a hand down your face, cupping your cheek.

Eddie put two fingers under your chin, pushing up until you stood. You started to get on the bed, when he stopped you, a grin on his face. "Nuh-uh, baby," Eddie shook his head. "I think if you want to cum, you gotta do it yourself."

You blinked, confused, before Eddie laid back, propping himself up on your headboard, arms behind his head. You pouted, face falling slightly. You were hoping Eddie would finish you out, pounding into you so hard, you were convinced he was in your brain. Instead, he wanted you to ride him.

Eddie nodded towards his dick. "Don't tell me you're surprised, baby." Eddie laughed, in a tone that made your cheeks heat. "You were such a bad girl, and you expected me to make you cum?" He shook his head, tsking at you.

"No, no, you're doin' the work this time, sweetheart." Eddie grinned at you.

You sighed, climbing onto the bed with shaky legs, straddling your thighs over each of his. The stretch was a little uncomfortable in your groin, but the aching between your legs was worse.

You planted your hands on either side of his shoulders, his hands going to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart as you sank down onto his hard length. You whimpered, closing your eyes at the feeling, head tipping back.

You sunk slow until you were filled, his tip hitting your spongey walls making you clench. "Fuck, baby, you keep doin' that 'm not gonna last." Eddie groaned, hands gripping the meat of your ass hard.

You swiveled your hips, grinding into the coarse hair at the base of him for some friction before lifting, slow and calculated. You got into a rhythm, nails digging into his shoulders while his roamed your body, your legs, hips, thighs, ass, waist, grabbing and gripping at anything and everything.

Eddie dropped his head into your neck when you slammed down, rocking your hips in a figure eight pattern that had you both gasping, moaning out. Eddie's hips started thrusting up to meet yours, and by the look on his face, eyes pinched and neck flushed, he was close.

You whimpered when your hips collided, knocking the sensitive spot in you that had you seeing stars. Eddie noticed, hips meeting again with another hard thrust that had you crying out, nails biting down on his shoulders, and velvety wet walls clamping around him. When you lifted up, Eddie's cock was covered in your creamy spend.

Eddie thrusted a few more times up into you, holding your hips up and guiding them back down as you came down from your own high, tired and sloppy against him. Eddie thrusted one final time before you felt the familiar warmth inside you.

Eddie grunted, cursing and groaning out your name, emptying himself inside of you. His orgasm was big, thick ropes shooting out into you, each one deeper and harder than the last. Normally he'd be embarrassed, hiding in your neck and muttering some kind of excuse, but this time he didn't care. It had been a long week for him too.

You collapsed into his chest, his heaving matching yours, kisses stamped along your hair line, hands roaming your sweaty naked bodies. He was still in you, softening with every breath he took in his come down.

"Did s'good for me, baby." Eddie muttered into your hair, clinging you close to him. "Always s'good for me. My good girl."

You flushed with the praise, warmth filling your chest in the post-orgasm glow. Eddie helped you to the shower, the two of you cleaning each other gently, sharing soft touches and kisses that left you giggly and blushing.

Eddie watched you rummage through your drawers, finding him sweatpants and a t-shirt he'd left over. "You still wanna watch a movie?" Eddie asked, shaking his curly ringlets out, rubbing the towel on them.

You nodded, slipping on your panties on still wobbly legs. "If you want to," You looked at him with a smile. "We can order take-out, too, if you want. Taty says the new Chinese place is really good. I've got a coupla menus in the kitchen you can look at, if you want."

Eddie nodded, grabbing your towel out of the floor, tossing it towards your bathroom hamper. You sat down on the bed, hissing before sitting up, moving the sheets to see what you sat on. Your face flushed when you lifted the vibrator, holding it in your hand as you turned to Eddie.

He smirked, arms crossing over his bare, inked chest. "Now, what are you gonna do with that, little lady?" He asked in a drawl that had you giggling and blushing.

You moved towards the bathroom, setting it on the counter. "'M gonna clean it, then it's going away." You batted your eyes at him. "Promise."

Eddie grinned, stalking over to you, resting an arm on the doorway above you. "Maybe we could use it again." Eddie suggested. "I'll use it on you, but in the way you like. Maybe tie you up, blindfold you, and see how many times I can get you to cum. Whatdaya say?"

You blushed, grinning so yours matched his. "I think that sounds like a pretty good night." You winked at him, setting it on the counter and shutting off the light. Eddie followed you down the hall, pinching your ass just to hear you squeal.

"Ya know," You started, hunched into your drawer to get the menus. "Some guys use vibrators too." You had a wicked smile on your face, one that had Eddie's mouth running dry. "Maybe I could use it on you next time."

It was Eddie's turn to blush, running a hand down his face to try to hide it as you slid him the menu, turning to grab him a beer out of the fridge.

A few weeks later, Eddie was back in your apartment, hands tied to your bed post while you worked the purple vibrator on him.

He was beginning to become more and more fond of the toy.

[pocketjoong]

❥𓂃𓏧PRECIOUS

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS) As a nature witch, you always wanted your own familiar ever since you were a kid, however, fate seemed to have different plans for you.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) cat boy!hongjoong x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) Hongjoong is a cat. mentions of food and drinking. a little bit of violence. mentions of getting injured. questionable editing. lmk if I am missing something

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 8.9k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) My entry for the stuck in summer collab hosted by @a1sh1teruu. This was mainly inspired by cat boy!hwa fic written by @hwaightme! I always enjoy feedback, reviews, and asks so don't hesitate to comment/send an ask!

Humming to yourself, you lock the door to your quaint little cottage nestled in the heart of the woods. Your basket, which is brimming with aromatic herbs and meticulously crafted potions, dangles from your arm as you set toward the nearby town. There’s a spring in your step that reflects the life thriving in the flora around you. As a nature witch, you prefer to live in your element; hence, your chosen abode rests at the forest’s edge, a mere mile from the bustling town you call home.

This distance necessitates a journey by foot, a mile-long expedition riddled with untamed trails and serpentine streams. The unpaved path is untouched by humanity, offering no comfort of a well-trodden road, but in its midst—intertwined with the symphony of rustling leaves, bubbling brooks, and the whispered secrets of the trees—you feel at home.

As you amble past the outskirts of the town, a voice pierces through the tranquil air of the early morning. You falter at the unexpected call of your name and gaze past a waist-high fence to witness Miyeon—the daughter of a fellow witch and cherished friend—hurrying down her front yard with a bundle of fur resting in her arms.

“Y/N! Look! I found my very own familiar,” she says, words brimming with pride and joy. 

Your smile broadens as you congratulate her on her newfound magical connection. As you fuss over the young girl, your friend arrives, scolding her daughter for leaving her breakfast unfinished on the table. After exchanging cordial greetings and a gossip-laden exchange, you bid them adieu, recommencing your journey to Wooyoung’s shop.

As you leave behind the jovial mother-daughter duo, your once-beaming smile begins to wane, usurped by the pang in your chest. The yearning for a familiar casts a shadow upon your heart. Your dreams and visions of such a bond had been nurtured by tales of your parents’ harmonious connection with their own familiars and a childhood fantasy that stemmed from watching and re-watching Kiki’s Delivery Service. Usually, you can easily ward off these dark thoughts, allowing them to be no more than a passing whisper. But today, the loneliness of being a witch without a familiar resurfaces with a melancholic tenacity that defies dismissal.

“Why the long face?” 

Your response to the unexpected voice is a startled screech before you realise that it’s only Wooyoung who is standing at the window of his shop. The playful curve of his lips and the fond glint in his eyes prompt you to mutter a curse under your breath—more in playful annoyance than actual resentment.

You met Jung Wooyoung right after you found yourself in Alusia when you were a bright-eyed young witch, fresh out of the academy. He owned an antique shop inherited from his grandparents and was new in the town too, having arrived only a week prior. In his willingness to find a friend, Wooyoung offered you shelter under his roof when you needed it most—a gesture that solidified the foundations of an unbreakable friendship. Soon, the two of you converted the antique shop into an apothecary—a venture carved from your joint dreams and driven by your unique talents. Wooyoung, with his inherent charm (or, as your mutual friend San teasingly referred to it as Wooyoung being a loudmouth), engaged with clients while you prepared the elixirs and potions that graced the shop’s shelves.

“You are such a menace, Woo,” you tease, rolling your eyes playfully in mock exasperation as you step into the shop, extending the basket to him. He lifts the lid carefully to reveal its contents, his enthusiasm palpable as he thoroughly inspects your offerings. “You are an angel, you know that?! I was running low on most of these and—oh?” In a burst of affection, he engulfs you in an unexpected hug, “You've finished Mrs Kim's potion already? You truly are a wonder, Y/N.”

By the time you step out of the shop to return home, it’s past noon, and the sun is high in the sky, casting a glow that makes you squint against its brilliance. But you smile despite the temporary discomfort because the warmth of the summer sun serves as a reminder of your cherished garden. The thought of the flourishing herbs and thriving plants in your backyard makes you smile.

Skipping lightly across the worn, flat stones that act as a bridge over the clear stream, you revel in the prospect of returning home after an exhausting week. The last few days were a flurry of ceaseless activity—the sheer number of concoctions to prepare left you without a moment to catch your breath. So, the mere idea of spending the rest of the day simply resting without worrying about tasks and obligations sounds heavenly. With each step that leads you closer to your home, a sense of serenity unfurls within you, anticipation blossoming like the flowers that line both sides of your path.

On your way, you come across another stream, its gurgling rhythm a soothing undercurrent to your thoughts. Just as you approach it, however, a soft rustling pierces the air, causing you to halt in your tracks. Your brows furrow and your gaze sweeps the landscape for the source of the sound. Nothing seems amiss, yet the sight of a fawn preoccupied with a hidden something beneath the swaying grass causes you to move closer.

A gasp, involuntary and hushed, escapes your lips as your eyes land on a jet-black cat, its form huddled against the earth, a stark contrast against the vibrant backdrop of nature. However, it’s not the feline’s presence that startles you, but its pitiable state. Laboured breaths escape the creature, and the emerald blades beneath it are smeared in crimson blood. Without much thought, you scoop the injured feline into your arms. Careful of its wounds, you break into a brisk pace, your heart beating in tandem with your desperate urgency.

Foregoing the cottage, you bring the cat to the outhouse that doubles as your workspace. There, you tenderly set it upon a generously sized cushion at the far table. Despite the anxiety riddling your thoughts, your hands are steady as you collect the required ingredients to heal him. Gratitude unfurls within you for the foresight that ensured your own provisions remained well-stocked, even as you had taken most of the supplies to the apothecary.

Once you’re armed with everything you will need, you fuss over the wounded feline. As you carefully begin healing the cat, a whispered prayer escapes your lips—an offering of gratitude to the nature spirits that guided you to the cat for if you had been even a few minutes late, he would not have survived whatever ordeal had led to his pitiful condition. As you work, the sun dips beneath the horizon, casting hues of purple and orange in the sky. The cat’s exhausted form eventually surrenders to peaceful slumber, and though relieved, you still find yourself unable to depart for the comforts of your cottage.

Fetching the futon that you use when the making of a potion demands vigilant oversight, you nestle into its warmth. From the glass ceiling, you smile at the star-strewn sky that arches above you. Like this, under the watchful gaze of the constellations, you fall asleep, unknowing that your life is now intertwined with the cat’s own.

Your eyes flutter open to the soft morning sunlight piercing through the windows of the outhouse and your gaze shifts to the feline. You smile as you see the cat is doing better and leave the cat to its peaceful slumber to fix up a quick breakfast for yourself, only returning with a list of potions you must deliver to the shop the following week.

You put your phone onto your desk and begin your work, enveloped in a symphony of tranquil melodies that mirror the serenity of the forest that lies merely a few paces from where you stand. As you are immersed in your craft, the sun reaches its zenith, casting its warmth upon your workspace. As you work, a subtle shift draws your attention—a faint movement that you catch in the corner of your vision.

Turning to the source of movement, your eyes settle upon the cat, the creature finally stirring from its slumber. Wariness born from a shared unfamiliarity—yours with its nature, and its with yours—causes you to stay where you are. You wait with bated breath as the little guy brings his paws to his eyes to rub them, followed by a languid stretch. A yowl of discomfort leaves him, echoing through the space, and you can’t help but inhale sharply at his distress; he probably hears it because the very next moment, he’s on his paws and hissing at you.

You observe him with a mixture of understanding and patience, knowing that such a response comes from the fear and uncertainty of finding oneself in unfamiliar surroundings. You raise both your hands to show that you mean no harm. 

“Hey, it's okay,” your voice flows with reassurance, carrying with it an aura of compassion that you hope the cat can sense. “You're safe here, I promise. Please, just… rest some more. Moving might cause more harm than good right now, and it took me a while to treat those wounds of yours.”

The cat’s eyes narrow in distrust as his eyes rake over your form. Eventually, however, his cautious resolve gives way, and with a subdued huff, he eases back onto the cushion. You can tell that he is still wary of your presence, so you return to your task.

Stirring the potion, you softly break the silence. “You know, you’ve been out for almost a day. I was growing rather concerned, to be honest.” The cat tilts its head subtly, almost as if he’s curious, so you continue your train of thought. “Your injuries were quite severe. It’s a relief to see you awake.”

As the hours tick by, you remain absorbed in your work. Bottles and vials are filled with elixirs and put into another basket, each labelled with care and precision. While you work, you can feel the cat’s watchful gaze upon you. Once your tasks are completed, you shift your attention to your companion, who is now fast asleep. The feline, who was so cautious of you merely hours ago, now embodies a tranquillity that makes your lips quirk up at the corners. As you tidy your workspace, your heart brims with warmth, and once done, you begin preparations for lunch in your cottage.

The golden rays of the sun filter through your kitchen windows, illuminating your countertop as you cook a simple yet hearty lunch. You walk out of the kitchen, wanting to awaken the cat to give him some food, but as you enter the living room, a curious sight awaits your gaze. The cat is seated in front of the coffee table, blinking at you lazily. At his curious behaviour, your magic reaches out gently, a fleeting touch that reveals nothing out of the ordinary, causing you to hum in confusion. 

Armed with food, you step closer to your companion, emboldened by the silent affirmation that he won’t run away. “Would you mind if I turn on the TV?” Your query hangs in the air, and a melodic meow is the only answer you get before he’s diving headfirst into the meal you had prepared. Considering his response a go-ahead, you tune into Pirates of the Caribbean, the movie becoming a backdrop to your shared meal.

As the credits of the first movie start to roll, you can sense wariness in the cat’s watchful eyes, but this morning’s feral hiss has yielded to a tentative harmony. Noticing how entranced the cat is by the movie, you don’t turn it off as you clean the dishes, a gesture that you suspect he appreciates. Returning to the living room on completion of your chores, you find the once-restless creature nestled upon the sofa in cosy contentment—an image that both warms your heart and fascinates you.

You settle into the opposite end of the couch, and open your grandmother's book of remedies. The sounds from the TV fade into background noise as you read through the tome, and you can’t help but think about how oddly domestic this moment seems.

Emboldened by how relaxed your new companion looks, you decide to talk to him. “Hey, buddy, would you mind if I checked on your wound? Just to make sure it's healing the way it should?”

The feline responds with a subtle shift—a repositioning that unveils its wounded side. As you approach, your heart swells due to the delicate trust blooming between you. If you’re surprised by how quickly he is healing, you don’t let it be known. “Looks like you will be fine by the end of the week. I’d love for you to stay here with me until then, but the choice is yours.”

Your offer hangs in the air for a moment before he meows, sealing the agreement. The cat settles back into the same position in which he’d been watching the movie, so you assume that means he’s going to stay in cat-speak.

Yet, a lingering thought flits through your mind—the matter of a name. “What do we name you, though?” you ponder aloud, your voice a soft murmur. You drop random names that seem fitting for a cat. Most receive only a nonchalant disregard, save for an outright hiss at the name “minion”.

As you are at your wits’ end, an idea strikes you. “What about Captain... Jack Sparrow?” The last part is whispered, so you don’t know if he heard, but you’d shorten it to Captain anyways, so in your humble opinion, it is the perfect name.

In the wake of your suggestion, the feline’s eyes light up in affirmation, making you smile. “Okay then, Captain it is,” you declare softly, marking the beginning of a bond, one forged in the quiet moments and shared names bridging the divide between the two of you.

In a surprising twist, Captain Jack Sparrow defies your initial expectations by choosing not to leave your cottage even after his recovery. The once-wounded feline weaves his presence into the very fabric of your life in the form of a plush cat bed nestled within a spare room. Though, in hindsight, it was an unnecessary purchase as the bed remains pristine and untouched, while the cat himself stakes claim to your couches and book-laden shelves.

During the day, the uppermost shelf of your work area becomes Captain’s sanctuary, where he slumbers amidst the tomes stacked alphabetically. With time, Captain inches closer, from lower shelves to the corner of your very table—a silent testament to the trust that has bloomed between the two of you.

Then, one day, the gentle touch of a paw upon your hand breaks through your concentration. Wide-eyed, you find yourself captivated by the slumbering form of Captain. For the next hour, you don’t dare move your hand, driven by the irrational belief that any movement on your part could shatter the delicate companionship you’ve woven over months of shared moments.

The seconds stretch like an eternity, yet you remain still. When Captain awakens to find you in such a vulnerable state, his response is one that eases your fears—a gentle nudge of his nose against your hand in gratitude and acknowledgement and leaves before you can process what happened.

That night onwards, you find Captain curled up at the top of your closet during the night. The first few times, the sight of his glowing orbs startles you, but with time, you find yourself comforted by this silent guardian who watches over you as you slumber. When you tell Wooyoung about this, his response is one of gentle reassurance. “He probably watches over you to protect you as you sleep during the night.”

Speaking of Wooyoung, the first time you ask Captain to accompany the town on your visit, he seems a little sceptical. “It’s your choice, Captain. If you don’t want to, that’s perfectly alright. I just thought you would like some change of scenery,” you tell him. As you gather your belongings and secure your cottage, you expect Captain to stay back. However, as you lock the door, you find him perched upon the fence, waiting for you. And when you introduce Captain to Wooyoung, it is a new experience, to say the least. Laughter spills forth as you are unable to suppress your mirth as Captain scratches your friend’s hand in an instinctive response to Wooyoung’s attempt to lift him into his arms.

“You have adopted a devil, Y/N,” he screeches, pointing at Captain while cradling his arm protectively. Your cat, on the other hand, is sitting on his haunches while licking his paw—the picture of angelic innocence.

“Please, I would scratch you too if you tried to scare me. The only reason I don’t is because you’d whine about it for days. Captain might just be the guardian I need to keep you in check, aren’t you, bud?” The answering meow causes another round of joyous laughter to burst forth from your lips.

You’d think Captain’s initial aloofness would deter Wooyoung but, Captain's coldness only seems to fuel your friend’s determination as he tries everything he can to get Captain to like him—from treats to gentle pets to whimsical trinkets—all in an attempt to win over the feline. Yet, Captain remains steadfast, his indifference to these gestures firmly intact. And it is not as if this attitude is reserved for Wooyoung alone.

Ever since that first trip where he accompanied you, Captain follows you each time you visit Alusia. As you navigate the streets of the town, he treads his own path, a few paces away and often on higher surfaces while you go about your business. The townspeople, on learning of your feline companion, attempt to win his affection, but he doesn’t seem like people (or people touching him), so eventually, they give up trying. However, he still accepts treats from them despite you telling them not to, but the way he looks at you has you quickly going back on your words. How can you say no when he looks at you with his large eyes that seem to hold entire universes within them?

During one such trip to Alusia, a jewellery shop captures your attention for a moment, but as your mind is preoccupied with the bubbling concoction back at the outhouse, you walk past the display without lingering. In your haste, you don’t even realise that Captain has stopped in front of the big window and isn’t following you. It is only the sensation of something amiss that prompts you to retrace your steps, leading you to the forlorn figure of Captain seated before the shop—a sight that tugs at your heartstrings.

A sigh escapes your lips as you crouch beside him. “Would you like to explore what the shop has to offer?” you inquire gently, recognising the twinkle in Captain's gaze as he looks up at you.

Though your feline companion is a delight to be around, sometimes you can’t help but be sceptical of the little guy. You have often caught him reading your journals or tomes as if he understands them, prompting speculation about his understanding of human knowledge. Yet, those notions are quickly discarded when he settles onto the page with a languid yawn. “Cap’n, my books are not cushions for napping,” you always chide him in playful exasperation, only to be met with a dismissive glare and a subsequent shift into your lap. Amongst all his quirks, one stands out—his remarkable understanding of human speech. Whenever you ask him something, he answers with a meow or a hiss (it’s easy to tell which is for which), just like how he answers your question about the shop with a meow.

With a nod, you offer your arms as a welcoming perch for Captain to leap into and enter the quaint shop. The glittering array of chokers fascinates him, prompting you to lead him towards the displays. He studies each piece carefully, and at the end of this impromptu stop, Captain is adorned with a collar—which is more of a choker, really. A topaz moon and vibrant red marigold pendants grace his new accessory, shining beautifully as the sunlight hits them.

For the rest of the week, Captain's spirited headbutts and unabashed demonstrations of fondness keep you on your toes, simultaneously warming your heart and distracting you from your potion-making. His playfulness leads you to scold him gently because you are worried that he could get hurt while you work. “Cap’n, I know you love your new collar, but I need to concentrate on my work, or you could get hurt.” Despite your reprimand, his adoration remains undeterred, but he does quiet down as you work and lingers nearby, a reassuring presence amid your bustling workspace.

Weeks pass, and one night in mid-August, you are jolted from your sleep by a distressing nightmare—a rare occurrence for you as you rarely dream. Gasping for breath, your magic surges instinctively, tethering you to the calming embrace of the forest that surrounds your home.

As your panic settles and you feel calmer than before, you reach for the glass of water on your nightstand, only to be startled when a pair of glowing eyes meet your gaze from the heights of your closet. It’s a familiar sight, yet the remnants of the unsettling dream create a tremor within you.

“Captain Jack Sparrow, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” Your hand instinctively rests over your pounding heart as you chide him, the mixture of residual fear making your voice tremble.

Observing your distress, Captain gently descends from his vantage point to the expanse of your bed. A soft meow accompanies his movements, and his eyes seek yours before he nuzzles his head against your side. Sighing, you relent, succumbing to his affection. Your touch is tender and reassuring as you pet his head gently, “It’s alright, buddy. I didn't mean to scold you. I was just startled by the nightmare.”

Cocooned in the soft cotton sheets, you lay back down to go back to sleep and notice Captain curling up by your side with a gentle purr. His tail encircles your wrist in a protective gesture as if trying to ward off the shadows that threaten to disturb your sleep. From that night onwards, most nights, you awaken to find him nestled by your feet or right by your pillow—a silent guardian whose comforting aura intertwines with the magic that surrounds you. 

Time passes and one season transitions into the next, and before you know it, you’ve been living with Captain Jack Sparrow for almost a year. As yet another summer rolls around, you notice his presence has brought profound happiness to your existence. While he may not be the familiar you once yearned for, he has become a source of unwavering support, and his mere presence never fails to brighten up your days.

However, there’s an unexpected shift in Captain’s behaviour one day, he seems restless, and it only intensifies during the night. Despite your attempts to understand what’s wrong, you can’t seem to figure it out, which leaves you both perturbed and anxious. As dawn breaks, you decide professional insight is necessary and bring Captain to the town’s vet, only to be told that your cat is in perfect health. Though baffled, you’re relieved to know that Captain is not in any particular danger. On your way back home, you venture into the apothecary only to be met with a frantic San and aghast Wooyoung. 

“What's wrong?” You ask softly, only for Wooyoung to burst into sobs as he throws himself into your arms. 

Turning your gaze to San, his weary visage reflects the toll whatever ordeal he has gone through has taken on him. His voice is a blend of exhaustion and urgency as he relays the heartbreaking news to you, “Miyeon vanished in the forest. She had been working on her first test as a witch-in-training and didn’t return.” 

You know how important the test is, for it is the first step in any witch’s path towards the prestigious academy in the capital. San continues to explain that when the young girl didn’t return home, even as the stars twinkled in the rapidly darkening sky, her mother raised an alarm and the townspeople searched for her throughout the night to no avail.

“It’s as if she vanished into thin air, Y/N,” San’s voice is filled with the fatigue of fruitless searching and worry for Miyeon.

Your brows furrow, “Do you have any idea where she might have gone missing?”

San shakes his head with a sigh, “The only thing we found was her bracelet, and that was miles away from where she should’ve been—near the rocky caves close to the mountains.”

The information stirs a gasp from your lips, for the mountains lie nearly fifty miles away from Alusia’s borders. “But that's miles away. How could she have ended up there?”

Weariness is evident in every line of San’s face as he levels you with a sorrowful look, “No one knows.”

Days stretch on, heavy with a gnawing sense of uncertainty, as Miyeon’s absence continues to hang upon Alusia like a dark cloud that just won’t leave. The ominous shadows that loom over the forest deepen as more individuals vanish without a trace, their fates shrouded in a veil of mystery that defies explanation. Countless efforts have been in vain, leaving everyone in a state of collective apprehension. Venturing into the heart of the forest with San and Wooyoung, you’ve even journeyed to the rocky caves where the bracelet had been discovered. However, you find no tangible clues, and the sombre truth of your fruitless attempts sinks in.

Weirdly enough, amidst the sense of dread and uncertainty that surrounds the town and the forest, your cottage emerges as a safe haven. Whether the protective spells you’ve cast around its perimeter have deterred the sinister force or some other unknown factor is at play, whatever has been prowling in the forest doesn’t seem to approach your home. Your heart fills with relief at this, for it ensures the safety of not only yourself but also of your feline companion.

Captain has been venturing into the forest stealthily; however, you’re attuned to the subtle shifts that accompany his absence. Despite your worry, you permit him these solitary ventures as not only is your confidence in his instincts unwavering, but you also know that he wouldn’t stray too far to put himself in jeopardy. True to your belief, he returns to your side by the time you’re done with the day’s work.

However, one day when Captain doesn’t come back home by dusk, you reach out to Wooyoung, informing him that you will set out in search of your cat. Your friend’s apprehension is palpable even through the texts, and he reminds you of the prevailing danger that has claimed Miyeon and others, yet your determination overrides his caution.

Urgency propels you into the forest’s depths as the sun sets even further, washing the canopy above you in shadows that stretch like fingers reaching out to pull you into their darkness. An unsettling hush descends upon the surrounding area, a peculiar silence that leaves you both aware and wary. Your senses are on high alert as you advance deeper into the foliage and look for your cat.

As you spot a clearing in front of you that is bathed in the ethereal glow of twilight, you notice Captain Jack Sparrow in the middle, his attention fixed on an unseen presence shrouded within the trees on the other side. 

“Captain?” At the sound of your voice, his head whips around, his meow fraught with urgency. As he hurries to your side, his head nudging against your leg, you recognise his plea for you to retreat.

“I’m not leaving without you,” you tell him softly but with enough conviction in your voice that elicits a resigned meow from Captain.

He positions himself in front of you, his lithe form a protective barrier between you and the hidden danger that holds his attention. The silence seems to pulse with malevolent energy, and the hairs on your arms stand on end as you brace yourself for what awaits.

And then, from the gap between the trees, steps out a figure that you have only seen within the pages of the books you’ve read—a demon. His arrival disrupts the eerie stillness, his form emanating an aura that sends a shiver coursing down your spine. Horns, reminiscent of an infernal crown, emerge from tufts of his long hair. Intricate tattoos wind their way along his arms like serpents of darkness, and wings resembling a bat's silhouette stretch ominously, casting shadows that dance in tune with the forest’s secrets. The deep crimson glow of his eyes sears a path into your very soul, leaving you trembling beneath his gaze.

Your heart beats wildly within your chest, your senses keenly aware of the danger that emanates from this being. As the realisation that you stand before a high demon dawns upon you, you cannot help but inhale sharply.

Though fear courses through your veins, your mind functions with remarkable clarity. A plan takes shape, and your instinct for self-preservation and the well-being of those you hold dear compels you to act. Fingers trembling, you manage to send a discreet message to Wooyoung and tell him to bring a priest whose knowledge and skills would be able to banish this entity back where he belongs.

Beside you, Captain Jack Sparrow emits another series of hisses, his agitation a mirror to your own. The feline’s protectiveness seems to amuse the demon, for his lips curl into a sinister grin. “You think your feline companion is any threat to me? You’re foolish to think so, little witch.”

Your heart pounds as you face the looming demon. With your makeshift weapon—a sturdy stick—grasped firmly, you weave determination and resolve into your stance. Your gaze shifts to Captain, his eyes reflecting the trust he places in you. Kneeling before him, you utter your words in a hushed tone. “Can you distract him for me?”

Captain Jack Sparrow meets your gaze with unwavering intensity, an unspoken understanding passing between you two. His nod is resolute, a testament to his loyalty and his faith in you. Without hesitation, he catapults himself toward the demon, a feline embodiment of courage and defiance.

With a sharp breath, you drag the stick into the forest floor as you etch a devil’s trap. Each stroke in the soil forms a link in a mystical chain, a barrier that could keep the demon trapped until the priest arrives with Wooyoung. The forest seems to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation as you carve your intentions into the earth, invoking protection and safeguarding magic into each gesture.

Just as you make the last stroke on the earth, a piercing howl of agony pierces through the silence. Panic claws at your chest as you stand, your eyes locking onto Captain, who now lies amidst the underbrush. The demon’s glee is evident, a sickening grin that sparks a fire of anger within you.

Even as your heart races with a mixture of fury and desperation, his taunting words punctuate the air, “You can’t hurt me either, little witch. You’re too weak to go up against me.”

Your voice, though laced with tremors, carries a fire born of defiance. “You underestimate me, demon. My strength lies in more than just might.”

As the tension builds, you brace yourself, a fusion of anger and resolve fuelling your next steps. For some reason, a smirk dances at the edges of your lips, the action adding to the demon’s simmering fury. His snarl of irritation is a satisfying confirmation that your audacity has hit its mark, goading him into action. Without warning, he hurtles toward you with terrifying speed, and instinct kicks in, your body moving with a fluidity born of desperation as you sidestep his oncoming assault, your heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and a fervent prayer for Wooyoung to be quick. He’s your anchor, your beacon of hope, a lifeline that promises light at the end of the tunnel.

Your attempt to land a punch only garners a momentary victory, a fleeting contact that sends a jolt of satisfaction through your veins before the demon's ferocity reignites. Your “fight” with the demon is more of a dance between predator and prey. The demon is tireless, his attacks relentless, and your resilience the only thing keeping you from succumbing to his power.

As you’re trying to catch your breath while also simultaneously dodging the demon’s attacks, a movement in the corner of your vision catches your attention—a graceful, stealthy approach. It’s Captain Jack Sparrow, emerging from the undergrowth despite being hurt himself. You can see the fire in his own eyes as he moves closer to the two of you.

Your focus narrows as the duel intensifies. Yet, in a split second, your world tilts on its axis. The demon’s strike finally lands its mark, and an agonising pain flares in your abdomen as his blade pierces through you. Your gasp of pain mingles with the harshness of your exhale, the world momentarily spinning as you lose your grip on reality.

Amidst the searing agony, a small hope presents itself—a diversion in the form of your cat. Captain’s launch distracts the demon, his collision with the devil turning the tide of battle. A triumphant surge courses through you as the malevolent entity stumbles ensnared within the conjured lines and symbols of the devil’s trap.

Hope blossoms anew as the demon’s growls turn to roars of rage. It’s a momentous turn of events, however, the sweet taste of victory is swiftly tempered by the urgency of your injury. Blood flows from your wound, a crimson river that threatens to drown you in its tide. 

But as darkness threatens to claim you, the forest is pierced by the sound of familiar voices. Wooyoung’s call is a lifeline, as he and the priest, followed by San, move toward the heart of the clearing. Their arrival sparks a surge of relief within you, the fervent prayers you’d cast finding their answer.

For your two friends, the demon, now in the custody of the priest, takes a backseat to the immediate urgency of your wound. Bloodied and battered, you succumb to the overwhelming sense of fatigue that washes over you, your vision flickering as you teeter on the precipice of consciousness. As the world blurs and wavers, you hear Captain’s mournful meows and Wooyoung’s desperate pleas as San works to stem the bleeding. Darkness envelops you, but not before you grasp the hands of those who are by your side, hoping to give them some comfort.

As you gradually resurface from the depths of the unconsciousness, you’re met with a hazy awareness of your surroundings. The soft rustle of leaves, a gentle breeze, and the warmth of the sun’s rays brush against your senses, weaving together a mosaic of sensations that bring you back to the world of the living.

As your eyelids flutter open, the world swims into focus, and you realise you’re laid down in the comfort of your bed. With careful and deliberate motions, you navigate meticulously to take note of any aches along your body. The pain is there, an ever-present reminder of the brutal encounter with the demon, but it’s not as overwhelming as you initially feared.

Summoning the strength to sit up, you’re acutely aware of the effort it takes. Your muscles protest the movement, a chorus of twinges and discomfort that underscore the extent of your injuries. You exhale a measured breath, grateful for the incremental progress that you’ve made in whatever number of days you’ve been unconscious. 

You wonder if Wooyoung or San are downstairs, for you hear movement and sounds drifting through the air—evidence that you're not alone. With a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, you muster the energy to call out. “Hello?”

In response, the sounds shift—a plate clatters in the sink, and footsteps echo through the corridors as they draw nearer. You await the reply with a mixture of anticipation and unease, as the door to your room creaks open, revealing an unexpected visitor who seems as surprised to find you conscious as you are to meet him. The stranger stands framed in the doorway, his presence both enigmatic and captivating. Your gaze sweeps over him, capturing the details that distinguish him from any other human.

His silver hair shimmers like moonlight swept in an artful disarray around his face. His brown eyes are warm and expressive, and his petite nose adds a touch of whimsy to his features, a charming little thing that lends him an air of approachability.

Yet, what captivates your attention most are the silver cat ears that adorn his head. They peek from behind his tousled locks, a hint of something magical, a connection to the feline that has become such a significant part of your life. And there, nestled against his throat, rests the same choker you had bought for Captain—the final object that weaves a thread of familiarity between you and this stranger.

You blink at the unexpected revelation, your mind whirling as it tries to reconcile this silver-haired stranger with the raven-furred feline companion who had been a constant presence in your life for over a year. The pieces of the puzzle rearrange themselves in your perception, forming a new and baffling image that challenges your understanding of magic and reality.

“Please don’t tell me that you’re the cat who’s been living with me for the past year,” your incredulity and confusion are woven into the words that hang in the air between you.

He blinks back at you, the innocence in his gaze casting a surreal contrast against the situation you’ve found yourself in. “Um, okay?” His response is soft, almost timid, and a pang of empathy stirs within you.

“But, you… I didn’t sense a single ounce of magic in you,” you murmur, your words imbued with a touch of bewilderment. The dichotomy between his appearance as a cat and now as a being with apparent human attributes leaves you struggling to grasp the threads of truth.

He shifts uneasily in the doorway, his cat ears betraying his discomfort as they flatten against his hair. As your brain races to piece together the implications of his transformation, Captain—your erstwhile feline friend—interjects with a soft sigh, “That’s because our magic is way different. Nature witches can rarely sense dark magic unless it’s threatening.”

“Oh… WAIT— WHAT DO YOU MEAN DARK MAGIC?” 

The elusive and sinister nature of dark magic indeed renders it undetectable to your innate senses. But to think you had been living with a creature who practised dark magic made you shudder.

“I am a mage, well—I was one until I declined a fae’s advances. They cursed me to live as a cat for the rest of my life,” he confesses, his voice carrying the weight of a burden he’s carried for far too long.

Your emotions teeter on the precipice of uncertainty. Part of you instinctively yearns to distance yourself, wary of the unpredictable nature of dark magic and its ramifications. Yet, another part—perhaps the more empathetic and compassionate side—compels you to understand.

“And how did you turn back?” you inquire gently, the words wrapped in a blanket of cautious curiosity. You observe his response closely, measuring his demeanour, and his expressions, seeking any sign of deceit or danger.

He meets your gaze squarely, his eyes carrying a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. “I called in a favour another fae owed me. They helped me out and managed to undo some of the curse… but I was to stay a cat until I felt the heartbreak of almost losing someone precious to me,” he confides, his voice trembling with an authenticity that resonates with your intuition.

“Precious?” You echo the word.

The notion seems almost surreal, a subtle revelation that has you momentarily flustered. Your heart flutters in an unfamiliar rhythm, a dance choreographed by the unexpected emotions swirling within you. 

He observes your reaction, a gentle smile playing upon his lips as he regards you with tender familiarity. “You're precious to me, Y/N,” he admits, the words carrying an honesty that sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze is a caress, drawing you into the depths of his sentiment. For a heartbeat, the world narrows to just the two of you, and you find yourself holding your breath.

He probably senses the shift in your breathing and looks at you in concern, so you force yourself to inhale, coughing a bit as you choke. Once he sees you’re fine, he continues, his words laced with a trace of melancholy. “So… you almost losing your life changed me back. Not fully, though, never fully. I’ll still be able to turn back into a cat and then back into this form. That’s what I’ve been doing while Wooyoung and San come to check up on you.”

The notion of him resuming his dual existence as both a cat and this silver-haired individual evokes a sense of both wonder and sympathy. Your gaze lingers on him, searching for traces of the feline friend you’ve known for so long within the person before you.

“Oh…” The word slips from your lips, laden with a complexity of emotions that you struggle to articulate.

He shifts slightly, his demeanour carrying an air of uncertainty as he speaks. “Um… I can leave if you don’t want me around any—”

You interject, the words tumbling from your lips before he can finish his sentence, a resolute assertion that quashes any hint of rejection. “No! I just… I'll just need a while to… uh… yeah.” You gesture vaguely, the swirl of emotions within you manifesting in a flurry of gestures that you can’t seem to articulate into words. He nods at you, and the silence that falls over the room is punctuated only by the soft rustling of fabric as he shifts his weight.

“Would you like something to eat?” he offers, seeking to ground the situation in something familiar. “I'm not the best at cooking, but I make a nice porridge and considering you haven’t eaten in a couple of days, it's best if you have something light to eat.”

Your quick nod is accompanied by a brief departure and a swift return, a bowl of porridge cradled in his hands. When you notice that he’s about to leave you alone again, you can’t help but call out. “Wait.” As his steps pause in response, you invite him to stay with a gentle smile, the words unspoken but the sentiment clear.

Curiosity laces your words as you venture into uncharted territory. “So… can you still do magic?” The inquiry stems from a genuine desire to understand the extent of his transformation and the implications it holds.

He takes a seat beside your bed, his posture relaxed as he contemplates your question. “I haven't been able to use any magic since you got injured. The demon, he hurt me with the same knife he used to hurt you… and uh, I think whatever magic I have sort of reacted with yours…” His gaze finds yours from beneath the fall of his bangs, an unspoken query hidden within his eyes, “Do you feel any different?”

“I can't tell right now…” As silence settles between you, you sense the opportunity to delve further, to uncover a piece of the puzzle that he’s held close. “What's your name?” you ask, your voice soft yet insistent.

“Huh?” He seems momentarily taken aback as if the question isn’t something he expected.

“Your name,” you repeat.

“Kim Hongjoong.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” The response seems to hang in the air, a bridge between the past and the present, a marker of his identity before the curse that had transformed him.

An uncomfortable quiet follows, the weight of revelations and the unspoken understanding rendering words momentarily inadequate. Seeking a refuge in the familiarity of action, you take another spoonful of porridge, the act providing temporary solace.

Breaking through the silence, he cautiously inquires, his voice softer than before, “Is it okay?” The gaze you direct at Hongjoong carries an unspoken question, “The porridge?” he clarifies.

Your response is a nod as you offer him a tentative smile that reflects your gratitude. “It's really tasty. Thank you.”

Hongjoong’s nod is a humble acknowledgement, his gaze holding a fleeting yet meaningful connection with yours. As the seconds tick by, another awkward silence settles, but this one holds the gentle promise of the unknown.

That evening as the sunset paints the evening sky in hues of purple and orange, you find yourself in the presence of Wooyoung and San. Their eyes, suffused with the relief of your recovering strength, mirror the unspoken concern that brought them here. Nestled at your side, Hongjoong has resumed his feline form, a steadfast source of familiar comfort as Wooyoung tells you about the people who had gone missing. As the priest banished the demon, they were liberated from the captivity of the demon who was using them as a source to draw power. You are glad to know that Miyeon and the others have safely returned to their homes, and the four of you enjoy an evening filled with the warmth of companionship.

As your body completes its healing process, a newfound awareness awakens within you—an inkling that your magic has indeed undergone a transformation. Engaging Hongjoong in conversation about this, you both reach a consensus that teaching each other about your respective magic could be the key to unravelling the intricacies of your unique connection.

You start small, inviting Hongjoong to partake in nurturing the growth of herbs and other flora and having him observe the delicate craft of potion-making. With patience and thoroughness that speaks to the depth of your understanding, you slowly and meticulously introduce him to the art that has been your life’s calling.

Conversely, Hongjoong takes a more theoretical approach. Armed with the wealth of knowledge he has amassed over the years, he embarks on the journey of studying dark magic alongside you. Evenings become an intimate soiree of shared books, a merging of his wisdom and your practical expertise. The pursuit is not without its challenges, especially for him as the concepts of dark magic are both familiar and alien, a delicate dance between his past experiences and his present identity.

Slowly but surely, the awkwardness of your interactions dissipates, and you settle into a rhythm, an understanding blooming from the mutual pursuit of knowledge. Hongjoong’s presence becomes an inseparable part of your magical undertakings, his assistance serving as both catalyst and amplification. The mundane tasks of your craft transform into collaborative ventures that find their completion with newfound ease and velocity.

In this partnership, you both traverse uncharted realms, unearthing hidden gems of wisdom and forging new techniques. You discover the intricacies of advanced protective charms, the nuances of spellcasting, and the delicate balance between the ethereal and the tangible. Every conversation brings new insights as his eyes aglow with passion while he delves into explanations that light up your understanding.

Hongjoong isn’t oblivious to the subtle shifts in your demeanour either, the way your attention seems to gravitate toward his words with an almost magnetic pull. He playfully teases you when you zone out while listening to him, but beneath his banter lies a quiet satisfaction at having captured your focus.

One summer evening, almost two years after you found and healed Hongjoong, you find yourself basking in the warmth of his presence. As Hongjoong delves into the mysteries of Tarot cards, your attention wavers. Mesmerised by his words, your gaze inadvertently drifts to his lips, where the graceful dance of his explanations seems to take on a sensual rhythm of its own. Lost in the tempo of his speech, you’re barely aware of your growing fascination until the sound of his clearing throat breaks through your reverie. Flushing in embarrassment, you avert your gaze, your heart racing at having been caught by him.

Hongjoong chuckles softly, a melodious sound that carries warmth. His fingers, feather-light and tinged with confidence, slide beneath your chin, lifting it until your eyes meet his. His touch is tender, a silent reassurance that dissipates your unease, even as his eyes search yours with an intensity that ignites a flutter in your chest.

The air between you seems charged with unspoken desires, and as Hongjoong’s gaze darkens, your heart skips a beat. His presence is magnetic, his proximity an intoxicating pull that leaves you breathless. The realisation that this is a defining juncture in your connection dawns upon you, your anticipation matched only by the uncertainty of what's to come.

“May I kiss you?” Leaned in so close that his breath dances upon your lips, Hongjoong’s voice is barely a whisper as he seeks permission, his question hanging between you like a promise. His eyes, fixed on your mouth, reflect the yearning that pulses through his veins.

Your nod is almost imperceptible, a fervent agreement that is all the confirmation Hongjoong needs. His lips descend upon yours with a delicate reverence, his touch a gentle brush that sends sparks through your very being. A deep, resonant purr thrums from within his chest, the vibrations of which reverberate against you as he draws you closer to himself.

Hongjoong’s kiss unfolds with a tenderness that contrasts the unspoken longing that has been growing between the two of you. His lips move against yours in a rhythm that speaks of his own vulnerability, each touch conveying a deeper sentiment. But as you respond in earnest, his tongue glides across your lips, prompting longing to flare through your veins.

Your lips part, the connection broken only for a moment as you both draw a ragged breath. Yet, the space between you feels electric, the air pregnant with the promise of what’s to come. Giving in to desire, Hongjoong’s kisses trail along your jaw, igniting sensations that tumble forth as a soft, involuntary whimper. The velvety brush of his lips against your skin seems to write a narrative of its own as if he’s trying to make a home in your very soul.

With a husky murmur, Hongjoong guides you forward, his voice a seductive entreaty that resonates through your core. As his teeth graze beneath the collar of your shirt, a shiver courses down your spine, “That's it, love,” he exhales, his words a sultry invitation to unravel the depths of your desires. “Let me hear you.”

The fervour of your shared moment is interrupted by a sudden, urgent knock on your door. The sound jolts you both out of the cocoon of passion, and you exchange a hasty yet intense kiss as if to imprint the sensation on your soul before pulling away. Breathing heavily, you share a lingering glance before reluctantly untangling yourself from his embrace and heading to the front door, your heartbeats echoing the electricity that still courses through your veins.

As you open the door, you’re met with the sight of Wooyoung and San, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. They look at you and Hongjoong with knowing smiles as if they can sense the transformation in the air, but they refrain from commenting. It’s a silent acknowledgement of the intimacy that has bloomed between you, and you’re grateful for their unspoken understanding.

In the days that follow, you and Hongjoong continue navigating your newfound connection. The kiss remains unspoken, yet its imprint is undeniable. The two of you seem to share a mutual agreement to explore this uncharted territory without the constraints of labels or expectations, allowing your relationship to unfurl naturally.

With Hongjoong by your side, every interaction becomes a wordless conversation, every shared glance a testament to the bond that has formed between you. The ease with which you navigate each other’s thoughts and emotions astounds you as if you’ve known each other across lifetimes.

With Hongjoong, you find solace and a rare understanding that extends beyond the realms of mere companionship. With him by your side, life seems to flow effortlessly, and even the challenges that come your way are met with a united front, the strength of your connection acting as a shield against adversity.

As time passes, you realise that what you have with Hongjoong is more profound than any bond you could have hoped for had you connected with a familiar. Yours is a love that has grown from mutual respect, shared experiences, and the unspoken promises that linger between your glances.

You might have longed for a familiar as a young witch, but now you realise that fate had something even better in store for you—a soul who understands you in ways words can never express and a heart that beats in harmony with your own. With Hongjoong by your side, you found the person who complemented your magic, someone who loved you and would go to the ends of the earth for you, and you knew that you’d do the same for him.

[silverpetrichor]

My Love Is Mine All Mine

A/N: I know I’ve been MIA but the mania surrounding Gravity Falls right now has awoken me from my slumber. I’ve had a huge crush on Ford since I got into the series during the pandemic and I just had to write this.(I've also never written smut before so please forgive me if it's cringe.) I’ve never written him before, so forgive me if he’s a little (or a lot) OOC. As always constructive criticism is welcome and please enjoy! 

Last Summer. . .

You were helping your brother cook dinner for his heavily pregnant wife and 2 kids. Laughing and joking as your younger brother arrived with his husband, wine and dessert. It was shaping up to be another ordinary evening hanging out with your family when you got the call. 

Next thing you know you’re hugging your loved ones goodbye before opening a portal to the outskirts of Gravity Falls, Oregon. Staring up at the darkness enveloping the town that you’d only heard of in passing, watching on in horror before assisting the others in reinforcing the natural barriers around the town to keep it from spreading…  

“—Y/n! Earth to Y/n! Are you okay?” Your coworker asked as you looked up from where you had zoned out while shelving the new books.  

“Yeah? I um, I’m fine really. Just lost in thought for a second.” you respond. 

“Oh, okay. Well, I was just trying to tell you that it’s lunch time,” Tracy said, smiling up at you. 

You tilted your head to the side, brows furrowing “Geez, already?” you looked at your watch, and low and behold it was noon already.  

You cast one more glance to the book still in your hand, a post apocalyptic romance who’s cover had evoked memories of the centralized apocalypse that had taken place last summer in the seemingly innocuous town. You recall arguing with the council about actually getting involved and helping the town instead of just doing damage control. You didn’t like the stances they often took, and were preparing to go in despite their decision when all of a sudden the oppressive feeling of Bill’s presence vanished and with it your need to be there, standing sentry. 

Or, so you thought. Now, you have moved from the hustle and bustle of New York City to the quiet and peculiar little town of Gravity Falls. All because you dared to go against the council and nearly disobeyed them, you were now stuck as a librarian here indefinitely. Merely monitoring the situation and living in a cottage not too far from the Mystery Shack, hidden by magic and finally inhabited again after decades of going unused after the last council assigned witch moved.

You shook your head as if shaking off your thoughts, shelving the book in your hand and heading to the breakroom in the back where your homemade lunch sat in the fridge. 

You ate your lunch with Tracy in relative silence letting her do most of the talking. She was a sweet woman who was a few years older than you, in her early forties married with three rambunctious kids. She was also very talkative, which you didn’t mind despite being more introverted yourself. 

You never liked the quiet anyway, ironically enough even though you had moved out to a cottage in the woods, you always had music or something playing. You’d even gotten a fluffy pet cat a week before who moved out here who you dubbed Lady Arson the III. 

You’d actually grown fond of this little town despite being a city girl, this town had its own unique charm. Even though you had to chase some gnomes out and renew the old wards on the old cottage. (Thank the stars you had a magical ingredients supplier for the unicorn hair you needed. Unicorns are such stuck up assholes and if you never had to interact with one again it’d be too soon) You had redecorated the cottage and made it your own. You also found a nearby lake to go swimming in relative peace during the spring and summer.  

You talked for a while with Tracy as you found yourself having a bit of fun. While you missed the city there were plenty of things and people that made it worth it. Like your crush on your friend Ford Pines. . . 

He came to the library every other day or so in the afternoon sitting in the back alcove reading and writing in a journal with weathered pages. You’d actually managed to strike up a rapport with the man instead of hopelessly pining after him in silence. (Which you still did but you felt less pathetic when your hands would wander late at night when you couldn’t sleep)  

And, speaking of the devil, Ford was present with his teenage niece and nephew Mabel and Dipper. You found them in the back of the library searching the shelves for a book as you came around the corner to reshelve the last of the book on your cart. 

“Good afternoon Y/n!” Mabel excitedly stated, having noticed you first as her brother and grunkle were absorbed in searching the shelves. 

“Afternoon Pines family, what trouble have you gotten into today?” You greeted and asked, taking in their disheveled appearances as you raised a brow. 

“We were exercising a category five ghost in the woods near Fiddleford’s mansion when we encountered a hostile gremloblin!” Mable replied as her and Dipper shuddered in unison. 

You scanned them for injuries upon hearing this, before asking if they were okay. They nodded their assent before Mabel leaned in and whispered “But I’m pretty sure Grunkle Ford has a concussion or something.” 

Your eyebrows raise as you release your hold on the cart you’d been pushing. You tap Ford’s shoulder and he turns around, rather quickly almost stumbling. As he does you notice the gash on his forehead covered in Hello Kitty bandaids, that are clearly Mable’s work. But despite that you still see some red on the gauze the two bandaids are holding down. 

“Hello, beaut—I mean Y/n!” clears throat, while rubbing his head with his free hand, “How are you doing today?” Ford asks awkwardly, blushing. 

“Certainly better than you, you’re bleeding! Come with me.” You say, grabbing Ford’s hand after seeing the slightly dazed and unfocused look in his eyes and the bloody gauze on his hand. 

You pull him to the breakroom, the twins following. Ford huffing and blushing even harder at you holding his hand. You sit him at the table as the twins walk over to the vending machine drawn to the candy and chips in it respectively. 

You wash your hands quickly before going to bend and look under the sink and after a minute or two of rummaging around, pull out the new first aid kit that you’d brought to replace the old barely full one. Ford’s head tilts and his eyebrows raise as he mentally thanks the infinite cosmos for pencil skirts and the fact that you seem to love to wear them. 

When you stand straight he guiltily turns his head to the side, finding interest in the fake foliage and book themed posters hanging about. You raise a brow at his odd behavior, chalking it up to his concussion and head over after smoothing out your black pencil skirt. You walk over, heels clicking on the linoleum floor as you take off your colorful blazer before rolling up your white blouse sleeves.  

You open up the first aid kit with practiced efficiency after laying out a piece of paper towel from the roll in the middle of the table. You sanitize your hands quickly with an alcohol wipe before you gently pull the Hello Kitty bandages and gauze off his forehead. Apologizing quietly as Ford winces still, you move to grab the alcohol. You end up muttering another apology as he winces whilst you dab at the slightly deep cut with a soaked cotton ball.  

Ford’s face stays flushed as he realizes how close your chest is to his face. Trying his best to not make it obvious that he’s staring at you in that way. His eyes flicker to your face, focusing on how cute you look with your face scrunched up in concentration as you gently dab.   

While Ford struggles to be covert about his feelings you seem to be fairing slightly better with a barely there flush to your face. You place butterfly bandages on his forehead after dropping the alcohol soaked cotton ball onto the paper towel. 

You then gently grab his hand before unraveling the gauze, and dabbing at the cut with another alcohol soaked cotton ball. 

Mabel looks over, noticing the look in each other's eyes and Ford’s blushing face. A smirk falling over her face as she realizes what is happening, nodding to herself.

“Matchmaking time!” she whispers under breath before choking on a gummy kola. 

Dipper rolls his eyes as he slaps her back, the gummy kola flying out her mouth. Of which, she promptly picks up off the floor and eats much to Dipper's disgust. 

“So…Y/n huh? Do you. . .like her?” Mabel asks Ford as they leave the library, raising her eyebrows and smirking. 

Ford chuckles nervously, blushing furiously “What? I, I uh. . I have no idea what you’re talking about!!” He says, eyes shifting about nervously. 

“ Oh my gosh! Yes you do!! You love her! Love, love, love her!!” Mabel yelled, jumping up and down around him as the trio walked back to the Mystery Shack.   

“And I thought I sucked at hiding my feelings.” Dipper nudged Ford, laughing. 

Ford sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he nodded in defeat before telling Mabel to quiet herself despite no one being near. 

“Yes, I am very fond of Y/n. I find her to be endearing and enchanting in everything she does,” Ford muttered as he nervously laughed. 

“Well then Grunkle Ford, you should ask her out!! All the other blind dates I've tried to set her up on went nowhere!!” Mabel said as she skipped backwards in front of him and Dipper.  

“I don't know, I mean, aren't I too old for her? And I haven't really had any sort of  relationship in a while.” Ford muttered as the Mystery Shack came into view.  

“Trust me, Grunkle Ford! You got this! She's into nerd stuff like DD&MD! She's a librarian and she’s a historian!! And she likes listening to you rant about your research! Plus she's beautiful! It doesn't get any better than her!!” Mabel yelled as they sat on the couch outside the shack. 

“Yeah, in fact I know just what I need to do!!” Ford declared as he grabbed a graph journal full of blueprints for inventions out of one of his trenchcoat inner pockets.  

****** 

“This was a terrible idea,” Ford whispered as he hid from Flirt B0t 3000.  

“Wow, really who would've thought a robot built for romance would've been a terrible idea? Let's see, uh everyone!” Dipper harshly whispered back. 

“This is Giffany all over again,” Mabel sighs as she hands Ford her compact so he can check around the corner for Flirt B0t 3000. 

As he did so, the robot's half melted face snapped in their direction, its intact eye rolling to look at him through the mirror. 

“When I say run, you run as far and fast as your legs can take you and don’t look back,” Ford harshly whispers, tightening his grip on his gun. 

“But Grunkle Ford!! We can help!” Dipper responds as he clutches a crossbow in his hand. After Weirdmageddon, he’d asked Wendy to teach him how to use one. 

Before Ford could argue further, Stan came around the corner baseball bat in hand. “Take this you stupid robot!!” He screamed swinging his baseball bat, just as Flirt B0t 3000’s head turned to face him. 

It’s head flies clear off, Dipper shooting it with his crossbow as it flies in front of him. Stan beat the headless body repeatedly until it stopped twitching and was nothing but a pile of mangled metal and wires. 

“Grunkle Stan!! How’d you know we needed help?” Mabel asked as she ran up to him, hugging him. 

Stan let out a small “oof” upon impact before explaining “Well, when Ford mentioned making a robot to practice asking out Y/n with and then none of you picked up the phone when I called, I figured it went horribly wrong. And would you look at that, I was right!” Stan kicked the robot's remains once more.   

“Thank you Grunkle Stan!! But did you see that shot!?” Dipper asked, laughing. 

“Sure did kid! Wendy's one hel-heck of a teacher ain't she?” He asked, giving Dipper a noogie. 

“Yeah!” Dipper agreed, grunting as he tried to get out of his head lock.

Stan released him before walking over to Ford and popping him upside the head. 

“What was that for Stanley?” Ford cried out rubbing the back of his head. 

“You know for someone so smart you sure can be a real dumbass sometimes. I may not be the best at romance or reading signals but even I can tell that you and her like each other. So for God's sake just ask her out already!” Stan harshly whispered to Ford as he gave him a hug. 

“Yeah, you're right. I mean the worst she can say is no right? Oh God what if she says no? I don't think I can do this!” Ford panicked, pacing. 

“Look Poindexter! You got this, you're the total package, even with those sideburns! Just take a deep breath and go ask her out before you lose your nerve,” Stan said, nudging Ford.

Ford ran out of his laboratory in the basement and headed for the library. 

“Ten bucks says he chickens out,” Stan says, waving at Ford's retreating figure. 

The young twins sigh in unison, shaking their heads at Stan's antics. 

******

Since Ford had awkwardly asked you out that first time a little over a month ago, you’d been spending almost all of your time together. Flowers from Ford littered your cottage and desk at work, and Ford would often have smudges of your dark red lipstick on his face. Even Lady Arson the III approved of him, and she never seemed to like any of your dates. You were both falling hard and fast for one another. 

But you still hadn’t told him about the whole you being a witch thing. Afraid of losing him, even if he was a lover of the supernatural you didn’t know if he still would, once you tell him the truth. You haven’t felt this way about someone since college. But every time you thought about telling him, you chickened out. 

Tonight though, you were going to have a picnic on the hill near your cottage and Ford was going to bring a telescope so you could stargaze. After mentioning to him how you loved astronomy but only ever got to see the stars in textbooks and online since you grew up in New York.  

You hoped nothing paranormal would interrupt your date, seeing as you were planning on finally telling him about your powers maybe. But of course, you just had to say it out loud. 

And well, now here you are in your cute floral sundress and cardigan fighting a very hostile spirit after it had attacked you and Ford while you were skipping stones at the nearby lake. Ford almost cracked his head on the rocks when he stumbled back in shock, at hearing the haunting childlike laughter reaching into his trench coat for holy water.  The category four spirit took this as an opportunity to attack, its cute face morphing into that of horror as it rushed towards the two of you.   

But then much to his surprise, you shoved him behind you before raising your hands and suddenly it slammed against a forcefield you had seemingly created if your glowing hands were any indication. Then a blast of blue light emanated from your open raised palms and the spirit froze before evaporating into thin air.

You sighed in relief before lowering your hands and wiping your brow. You then turned and began kissing Ford's face, pecking all about after you checked him over for injuries.You finally pull away when you feel satisfied with Ford’s blushing disposition. 

“Thank the stars you're okay! I can't believe we stumbled upon a hostile spirit all the way out here. My wards and presence usually keep stuff like this from happening,” you said sighing deeply. 

Ford stuttered his brain attempting to reboot after seeing you use your powers and you kissing his face so much,”Your wards, as in magic? Magic that I just saw you use. Why didn’t you tell me?” he questioned as she paced in front of him, running his fingers through his hair. 

“Well, I—” you cut yourself off sighing deeply. “My being a witch isn’t exactly an ice breaker that I bring up on dates. You know how I haven’t had a serious relationship since college? It ended when she found out I was a witch and since then I just have gotten used to hiding that side of myself from anyone that didn’t already know. So yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I just didn’t want to scare you off because I’m falling for you and I think I might actually even be in love with yo—” Ford cuts you off, grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you passionately. 

You stutter, before humming into the kiss. Cupping his face in your hands as one of his hands makes its way to your waist.  You have matching goofy smiles as you pull away for breath resting your foreheads against one another. 

“You could never scare me off because in case you couldn’t tell, I’m in love with you too, darling.” he whispered softly to you, staring into your eyes as you bit your lip bashfully. 

You could feel the heat flushing your face as you felt him pull you closer. In the moonlight, you could see that he was blushing fiercely. You kiss him deeply, opening a portal behind you as you pull him backwards. 

You trip and fall right onto your bed at the cottage, much to Ford’s shock as he pulls away from you. He looks around baffled. 

“Fascinating! You can create portals? I knew that witches existed but I didn't know you could do that!! What else can you do?” Ford asked excitedly as he began to sit up reaching for his journal.  

You followed, grabbing his trench coat lapels, kissing him and flipping him to his back. Ford’s hands went slack, his focus recentered on you as you pulled away with a self satisfied smirk.   

“We can have a Q & A later, right now I’m more interested in other things,” Y/n breathed out before grinding on Ford's lap, feeling his hardness grow underneath you. 

Ford blinked, swallowing as he let out a whine at your continued movement. You kissed his lips again before muttering a soft “Off,” lifting the hem of his turtleneck. He eagerly obliged–almost knocking you in the face if not for your quick reflexes–practically ripping off his trench coat and turtleneck and flinging them across the room. You pulled your cardigan off as you admired his slightly pudgy and hairy physique before running your hands up his hairy yet muscular arms.  

He moaned as you ground down on him again, gripping the back of his neck as you clung to him. You giggled into his mouth, kissing him before standing to remove your sundress and flats. Ford followed suit, kicking off his combat boots and damn near ripping his pants and underwear as he pulled them off. Almost tumbling to the ground as he did so, causing you to both giggle. Until he looked up at you, breath catching at the sight of you still in your matching black lace bra and panty set.

He surges forward, kissing you like a man possessed and kneading your ass. You moan into his mouth, as you feel your panties dampen with your arousal. You feel his hard cock standing at attention, smearing precum onto your stomach. 

Before you know it, Ford has you lying on the bed kissing a trail down to the apex of your thighs. He lingers at your chest, sucking at your nipples through the lace before removing the barrier entirely. You shudder at the attention he gives your nipples, sucking one and rolling the other in his hand. 

You whine as he releases his grip on your chest and his mouth moves south. He teasingly kisses your aching clit and nips at your thighs before slowly pulling down your underwear. 

You buck your hips slightly at the feeling of his breath on your now exposed cunt. 

“Gorgeous,” you hear him whisper before diving in and eating you out like you were his last meal.  

You mewl as he laps at your folds before latching onto your clit and sucking. You buck your hips and whimper as you attempt to shut your legs. Ford pins your right thigh with one hand before moving to open you up with his other. 

You gasp and grasp at his hair roughly when you feel his index finger at your entrance before slowly sinking into you. You moan loudly, whining as he thrusts his finger in and out before adding another. Your eyes slam shut as your back arches at the feeling. 

He scissors his fingers briefly before he makes a come hither motion with his fingers. You begin to shake, your heels digging into his back from where your legs have been perched over Ford's shoulders. 

You whimper out a soft “oh fuck,” the only warning Ford receives before you're cumming all over his face. Whining and moaning as he fingers you and sucks at your clit through your high, moaning into your cunt. Which triggers another harsher orgasm as you sob out, pushing Ford's face away. 

You look down at him between your thighs, his face flushed and glasses askew as he kisses your thighs. As if to apologize for the accidental overstimulation, your chest heaving and thighs twitching still as you smooth out his messy hair. 

You sit up and pull Ford's mouth to yours by the nape of his neck. Kissing and licking into his mouth roughly, tasting yourself on his tongue. He moans into your mouth cupping your face gently. 

You both pull away to breathe, foreheads pressed together. “Are you sure you're up for more?” Ford questions against your lips. 

You smirk as you reach down to grab his cock, stroking its ruddy head. “Oh, I'm just getting started baby boy” you whisper in his ear as he whimpers in yours. 

You flip your positions again, spreading your thighs over his as you position yourself over his cock. Grasping his cock and guiding it towards your entrance, your other hand gripping the sheets by Ford's head. You moan in unison as you sink down his thick cock, gasping when you're fully seated. 

Ford whines as you begin to ride him, slowly at first before gaining a rough rhythm. You pin his hands above his head as he gasps at the sudden move.  Moaning loudly as you nip and lick at his neck, his eyes rolling back. 

You giggle sinfully in his ear, before moaning as he flips you onto your back. Ford grips your hips “My turn,” he growls out before beginning a punishing rhythm that has you crying out once more, tears streaming down your face. 

Your hands grip the sheets before clawing at Ford's back, causing him to moan, and move a hand to grip at the bedspread. 

“Fuck!! I'm close, are you there yet darling?” Ford pants out. 

It takes you a minute to speak coherently, gasping out “Inside, cum inside me! I need it, please” you manage to babble out through your tears.  

“Shit,” Ford hisses, moving to rub at your clit in rough circles. 

You whine and cry out Ford’s name as you writhe, your grip on Ford adjusts as you pull him in for a rough kiss. 

You both moan into the kiss as your walls flutter around his twitching cock. He groans at the feeling, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. You pant into each other's mouths as he breathes out “Cum for me, darling.” 

You let out a silent scream as you cum for a third time, Ford groans as he feels your wetness drench yours and his thighs as you squirt on his cock. His head drops to your neck as he bites your shoulder, shuddering as he thrusts deeply, his spend coating your walls as you pant and sigh. 

You lock your feet together around his waist as he collapses onto you. You play with his hair as the smell of sex and sweat permeates the air in the afterglow. 

You wince as you feel his softening cock slowly pull out. He groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of your wet cunt. You feel your combined cum drip down to the crack of your ass as you sit up. 

“So, I'm a mess. Wanna help me clean up?” You smirk up at him, eyes glinting deviously. 

He laughs before pulling you up, “I thought you'd never ask,” you both smile into the kiss you share as you grab his hand, kissing it and leading him to your bathroom.  

You might just send the council a thank you basket for sending you to Gravity Falls after all. . . 

******

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I had fun writing this!

[moscnios]

Straw Hats x Fem Gardener S/O platonic fluff HCs! The main reason I request this? FLOWER CROWNS! But also, S/O is good at growing crops and flowers, so she must have a greenhouse on deck to grow fruits, tangerines, vegetables, any medicinal herbs, flowers, anything! So helpful and sweet! And also, FLOWER CROWNS!

★ WITH A FEM GARDENER CREWMATE! headcanons ★

── featuring. the strawhats.

── cw. f!reader. no pronouns used. platonic. very brief mention of homesickness. not proofread.

── notepad. sigh i love you platonic and domestic hcs of the strawhats. you complete me <333

never in all of your years did you think you would find yourself gardening on the sea with a group who had come like family to you, a group you couldn't see yourself living without

building your new greenhouse on the deck was a group effort because it was supposed to be a surprise for you

you loved being at sea with the strawhats, you wouldn't trade it for the world. but it didn't stop you from missing home

a spring island somewhere out there, where the love and life are just as plentiful as the beautiful green that covers it

to bring a piece of your home back to you, the strawhats all chip to help make you a greenhouse where you continue your gardening while on the sea. something you never thought you could do

you somehow didn't find out about what they were planning, despite a few of your crewmates being blabbermouths.

after a girl's day in the island port town, you landed on a few days ago with nami and robin, you finally see it.

"surprise!" your crewmates, your family, jumps out all covered in wood chips and paint of all colors. some were covered in more paint than others. you swore your captain was wearing a yellow shirt that day, but with the amount of blue on it, it may as well have been blue.

you love your greenhouse! well, it wasn't just your greenhouse anymore. it was another place for you and your crewmates to spend time together.

it's the perfect place to have early lunches on sunny days and a late dinner on calm and cool nights under warm string lights.

your extensive knowledge of plants and your natural green thumb make you a versatile member of the crew.

on one end of your greenhouse, you were growing medical herbs for chopper's research and medicines. on another side, you made a special place for nami's tangerine trees you helped her take great care of.

on another corner were many vegetables for sanji's amazing dishes. and close by were the sweetest fruits in all of the grand line that would sometimes go missing the next morning

which is why you have decided to start locking up the greenhouse at night.

but who can forget, the flower crowns !!

a small gesture that would have a lasting impact on each of them, all with their own flower that you believed best represented them based on the flowers' meanings and your crew's personalities.

luffy puts his crown around his hat. when the flowers start to die and lose their color, he will become sad and ask you to make another one for him to replace it.

zoro was confused as to what exactly you wanted him to do with it until you motioned for him to put it on his head. it's uhhh...definitely not for him. but you're like a sister to him so if you flash puppy eyes, he'll wear it

sanji finds the crown you made for him adorable. he finds you even more charming for going out of your way to make it for him. he doesn't deserve such gifts from you but he is happy to wear them to make you happy. he preserves them so he can hold onto them forever.

robin definitely helps you make the flower crowns with all those extra pairs of hands that she has. like sanji, robin preserves the flower crowns that you give her. she will take a piece of them and put them in resin to make homemade jewelry from.

jinbei is your favorite to make flower crowns for. with all of his long beautiful hair, you are constantly putting big, colorful flowers in his hair because he sits there and just lets you do it. sometimes he'll even put flowers in your hair. flower pals !!

brook, like jinbei, enjoys it when you put flower crowns and stick flowers in his hair over cups of tea.

usopp pretends that he doesn't want one, but he secretly does. so after he politely declines and you (pretend to) take his word for it and walk away, he's so sad. pls no, give it to him !!

chopper loves making flower crowns with you. he could make them all day. he loves wearing several of them on his antlers, so he can spin, turn, and dance and they flow in the wind.

nami loves extravagant flower crowns. the bigger and more colorful, the better. she will throw little hints that she really wants one made of sunflowers and roses, such as saying how much she really REALLY wants one, and will sigh out loud when she's in front of the flowers. so when you actually surprise her with one, she's so happy she could squeeze the life out of you. you're her favorite for a reason

franky is so gentle with his flower crown. he's terrified that he may accidentally break or bruise the flowers that you worked so hard to put together. he will pull out the tiny yellow hand to put it on or take it off. he is going to make this thing last !!

MANGEKYOU 2024 ── do not copy, repost, or translate my works onto this platform or any other !

[lonewolfwriting89]

PRIMAL

Alpha!Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: His skin was scarred, mapping his dangerous past, displaying his masculine strength. A true Alpha. His hair, dirty blonde, was wild, stray strands dipping into his molten gaze.

Warnings – Language. Smut. NSFW. Alpha theme. Hints at Werewolf!Simon

A/N: A very late kinktober fic, hope you all enjoy 👻😈🐺 apologies for missing in action lately xoxo

————

Maybe it was the sunset.

Maybe it was the impending rain.

You didn’t know what it was, but there was something different. Something electric. The dying light bled down through the trees across the face of a man that you thought you knew. There was something in that filtered light of early evening that made him even more desirable. A way that urged you to act on those fantasies that you had kept hidden in your secret heart.

You could smell the coming rain on the wind as it drifted lazily through the maze of trees and brush, the smell of summer. Maybe spring was known as the time for lovers, but the summer had always done it for you. Hot and moist, at times; pungent. Like the light scent of his sweat that teased your nose.

Simon exerted a kind of benevolent control over you. He had since the day you had met him, standing against a tree and watching you walk along the worn path beside the creek that led through the deep, dark woods. You’d asked his name many times, but he would never tell you, and he never asked for yours. How many weeks had you been walking with your new friend? Three? Four? And yet you still didn’t know what to call him.

This day had been different from the start. For one thing, the way he was dressed. He was leaning against his tree, as always, but gone was the rugged flannel shirt and heavy boots. He stood there nonchalantly in nothing but his faded black jeans. His feet were bare against the floor of the forest and his broad, triangular shaped torso disappeared into the narrow band of his pants. For the first time you were being given the opportunity to take in the sight of the muscles that had teased your waking dreams for the last few weeks. You were tortured with wonder at the thoughts of what was under his tight shirts, the muscle apparent, but modestly covered.

You liked what you saw. He was well built, rippling muscle tense and solid. His skin was scarred, mapping his dangerous past, displaying his masculine strength. A true Alpha. His hair, dirty blonde, was wild, stray strands dipping into his molten gaze.

“Can I walk with you?”, he asked. He always asked the same question, never presuming. You smiled when you said yes. Could this handsome man really be so naïve as not to realise that the only reason you walked in the woods everyday was to see him?

Your hair was tucked deftly away from your face, underneath the hood of your red sweatshirt. The red of the shirt was the only splash of colour to stand out amid the lush greens and earthy browns of the woods. You wore cut off denim shorts and trainers below the red sweatshirt, enjoying the silk of air as it brushed your bare skin. The flapping tails of your white cotton blouse fluttered in the breeze where they hung from under the sweatshirt.

You both walked along the edge of the creek together for some time, watching as the sun began its descent in the western sky and the rain clouds began to gather darkly in a line to the east. The scent of copper came on the wind as the smell of the distant rain blew through the forest. The leaves turned their white undersides skyward with the updraft of the wind.

And that was when you came to the full realisation that you wanted this man. Right now. This quiet, unassuming man who walked and spoke with you for hours, never needing anything from you in return. That he didn’t seem to need you, made you want him more. Simon wasn’t aloof; he was just comfortable, confident. The smoothness of his walk and the grace with which he moved belied a sense of pure unselfconsciousness. The Man in the Woods was truly at home in his skin. At home in the forest.

Simon looked you in the eye and knew what was on your mind immediately. You looked away nervously, wondering how much truth he had seen in your face. You had nearly been lost in his frosted steel gaze. Lupine eyes.

“I want you—I’ve always wanted you”, he said matter-of-factly, “Will you have me?”.

“What?”, you asked, incredulously. You knew you heard him, but his words had stunned you momentarily.

“What did you say?”.

He stepped closer to you and you involuntarily backed away from him. When your back came into contact with the trunk of a large oak tree you abandoned your thoughts of flight. Where would you run anyway? Did you even want to run? The unexpected nature of his advance caught you off guard. It wasn’t how you were used to being approached by men. It wasn’t a corny line in a city bar. It was an honest, up front statement and a serious question, spoken with a purity of mind and an innocence that was out of place in such a lustful proposition.

“I said, I want you. Was that clearer for you?”.

You didn’t move, the stability of the huge tree at your back helped to hold you up on wobbling knees. You didn’t speak, your lips merely trembled.

He leaned against the tree, an arm on either side of your head, as he leaned slowly down, putting his face level with yours. His scent surrounded you, drowning you in an overwhelming lust. Simon whispered again, “Will you have me?”.

You lowered your glimmering eyes and reached your hands out, taking his hips and guiding him against your body.

You felt Simon’s muscled chest pressing against yours, forcing your shoulders back against the curve of the tree trunk, making your breasts stand out, high and proud. He took the zipper to your red sweatshirt and brought it down slowly, in one fluid motion, sweeping it from your shoulders. He stripped you of the sweatshirt and discarded it at your feet. Your nipples pebbled under your flimsy blouse, poking out under the white cotton.

His hand snaked up your body from thigh to breast, his fingers capturing your nipple, rolling it, pinching it. You mewled softly, turning your head and closing your eyes, taking in every sensation.

He leaned in and you tilted your head to receive his kiss, your mouth slightly open, lower lip still trembling. You felt the familiar hot, wet sensation in the juncture of your thighs, but rarely this heated or this soaked. Your pussy pulsed along with your pounding heart and you began to subtly thrust your hips forward, grinding your mound into the hard bulge in his pants.

Just short of completing the kiss, he stopped, extending his tongue slowly and softly, tracing it delicately along the edge of your lips. Feather soft and deliberate, his tongue stretched out and licked your full lips. Your tongue waited impatiently, desperately wanting to reach out and welcome Simon into your mouth, but you held back. The longing was exquisite torture and you were about to burst when he finally crushed your lips to his.

Too soon he broke the passionate kiss, pulling away from you with a quick, soft bite to your lower lip, tugging it gently with his sharp teeth. Had they always been that sharp? Your mind was hazy with pleasure. With one hand he pulled your hair, maybe a bit too roughly, but you had no complaint. With the other hand he began working the button and zipper of your denim shorts, expertly opening the front of your pants to his exploring fingers. Your soft cotton panties were pink and offered no resistance as his hand dove beneath the thin elastic waistband, to your boiling centre.

Simon’s thick fingers nudged and teased your engorged clit, stroking it softly. He nibbled at your neck, drawing your skin into his mouth and brushing it lightly with his tongue. The pressure of his teeth and the softness of his tongue combined to drive you over the edge.

Buttons be damned, you thought, ripping open your blouse, exposing your firm, peaked breasts. Your own hands found their way to his head, entwining fingers in his silken hair and urging his head down to your breasts. Simon happily complied, moving down and sucking one pert nipple into his mouth. As you moaned from the new sensation at your breast, he slipped a finger tentatively inside of you, eliciting an even stronger moan.

As with your lip, he bit softly on your nipple and tugged, slowly rolling his tongue over the puckered skin surrounding it. He pulled you away from the tree, just far enough to slip the white cotton blouse completely from your body, and then he pushed the bare skin of your back against the rough bark, as he moved to your other nipple. You squeezed and released handfuls of his hair, pressing his face to your chest, as he dropped the white blouse on top of the red sweatshirt. Fabric becoming damp from the dew on the floor.

A small cry escaped your lips when the long, thick finger in your pussy found just the spot. Taking that cue, he concentrated his ministrations in that area, and soon you were cumming, walls spasming around his digit. Your body went rigid against the tree, eyes squeezed tightly shut, as the small spasms coursed through you in slow, undulating waves. You pressed yourself greedily against his hand, wanting the waves to go on and on. The sensations at your breast and core were overpowering, your body shuddering, breath ragged.

The distant rain finally caught up to you both, coming down through the heavy forest canopy, making the woods around you sizzle with every little drop. The cold rain on your hot skin sent up little plumes of steam, and Simon let out a moan of pure ecstasy, low and drawn out, luxuriating in the feel of the water on his flesh. He turned his face up, letting the rain drip lazily onto his face, into his mouth. You cast your eyes down and watched the tiny rivulets making their way down his muscular chest and abdomen, through the little line of hair coming up from the waistband of his jeans and disappearing into them.

Brazenly, you allowed your tongue to follow their trails, dragging your tongue hungrily down Simon’s neck, biting and kissing as you went. Down over his chest, stopping to lick and suck his nipple. Biting and kissing down over his stomach, you soon found yourself on your knees in front of him, eyes fastened on the tautly stretched fabric of the denim over his crotch, the shape and size of his cock obvious as it pressed against his hip. You nibbled along his shaft through the jeans, up to the head and back down, pressing soft kisses against the bulge.

Simon felt he was going to explode when you dragged your teeth firmly along the same path that you had just nibbled, your hands coming up and massaging his heavy balls. He groaned gruffly, fists clenched at his sides, fighting for control.

The button was hard to open, due to the tightness of his pants, but you managed and your fingers took the clasp of his zipper, pulling down slowly, one agonising tooth at a time. When you finally had lowered the zipper enough to allow, his cock sprung out, achingly hard and visibly pulsing. With every beat of his heart it leapt slightly. The head was a dark purple and the shaft had one large vein running across the top. It disappeared into the patch of wiry hair at the base of his abdomen.

A glistening drop of clear liquid formed in the slit at its crown and you darted your tongue out, touching it briefly to the tip of his cockhead. The little drop held to your tongue in a long, thick string before breaking and dropping onto your bottom lip and chin.

Wrapping your hand around his cock, you gripped it firmly, giving a little squeeze and watching with delight as more of the clear liquid oozed out. Simon groaned again, reaching out and placing his hands gently against the sides of your head, urging you forward, pleading wordlessly. You looked up and met his gaze, staring down at you with pure black eyes, hungry and needful, almost violent in their gleam. His lips were parted and he breathed slowly and heavily through his mouth, his chest heaving.

One long shiver coursed through his entire body when you finally bent your head and took him into your mouth. Your eyes had been just as hungry as his and you devoured him ravenously, sliding your lips up and down his hard length, feeling every ridge and sinewy knot beneath the skin. You let your saliva pool on your tongue and spread it liberally over his shaft, slipping your mouth down until your nose was pressed into his hair, and then pulling back slowly with a long sucking motion, before diving right back down. You took him into your throat and coaxed him with the muscular contractions you could produce, summoning the load from him. You pulled back once more and heard him grunt and then groan again, feeling his cock swell further in your mouth.

“Not yet”, he breathed, desperately pulling his throbbing hardness from your mouth. He was going to explode if you didn’t stop and he had very precise intentions for his seed. It was not to be wasted.

A few more loving licks along his cock was all you had time for before he grabbed your shoulders and brought your to your feet. Once again, he pressed your back against the oak tree harshly.

Simon slid down your body onto his knees, his tongue delving quickly into your naval, and then dipping down to the edge of your pink panties. As he nuzzled your sex through your shorts, he slipped off your shoes and socks, his big, calloused hands slipped leisurely up your legs. From your ankles to your knees he teased your skin with his fingertips, a slight tickling across the backs of your knees. His hands reached up behind you, grabbing your ass and pressing your body to his face. Simon grabbed the loosened waistband of your denim shorts, brought them down smoothly and you stepped out of them, arching your back against the tree for stability. Just as quickly he brought his hands back up and grabbed the elastic band of your panties and brought them down, baring your completely to his eyes.

Ravenous.

Leaning his head forward, he placed a firm lip kiss above your cleft, inhaling your scent deeply as he pulled away. Driven by your smell, he lunged at you, biting into your hip, the last vestiges of his self-control being all that stood between pleasure and pain. A surprised gasp, followed by a soft moan, answered his bite.

The rain began to come down heavier, the canopy of the forest barely slowing the drops. A cool wind picked up, twisting through the trees like a sentient being, seeking and finding the two lovers. You both shivered, but only partly from the chill.

Simon picked up your right leg and placed it over his shoulder, spreading your for his kiss. His tongue moved out slowly, finding your clit, engorged and reddened. Pulsing with animalistic desire. You raised your head and cried out, one arm bent back along the trunk of the tree, the other holding his head. You involuntarily ground your pussy onto his face, hard against his mouth. Your left leg nearly buckled when he curled his tongue around your clit and gently sucked it into his mouth, coaxing your orgasm in much the same way you had attempted to bring his. He sucked at you softly, yet voraciously. He was a man starving for you, trying to engulf you entirely into himself. A deep, resounding growl rose from his throat, the air vibrating from his lips and sending you once again over that edge.

You let out a small scream just as a distant clap of thunder began to rumble over the forest. You rode the waves of the thunder as it faded away. You cried again, another orgasm ripping through you, pulling your entire being to your centre. To his mouth.

The tree bark was rough on your back, possibly cutting your flesh, but you were beyond caring. You leaned forward, pressing harder to his lips, and then slamming yourself back against the tree in pure wantonness, over and over. There was no pain. Only blinding pleasure.

You didn’t realise it when he brought your leg from his shoulder and back to the ground, so lost in ecstasy. Your body trembled still, the remnants of the climax still rippling outward from your core, as you sagged against the oak, eyes closed. Every nerve in your body refocused its intention to carrying on the devastating feelings coursing through it.

The ripples were coming slower as the thunderstorm grew ever closer. You tried to sink into the tree, to feel everything at once. You felt the cool rain dripping on your skin, a trailing drop running to, and then going around your nipple. You curled your toes into the wet, mossy ground. The soft murmur of the rain on the leaves sang to you.

A loud, obnoxious clap of thunder brought you out of your reverie and your eyes snapped open. You gasped, startled, as you realised that you were face to face with Simon again. He was gazing at you with a predatory gleam in his icy eyes.

In one move he was against your body and inside you, sliding up into you as you stood against the tree. With his hands on your hips Simon raised your body and lowered you onto his cock, thrusting himself madly into you, too insistent to care about anything else.

You turned your cheek against the tree, exposing your neck, and he could no longer hold back. A bestial groan escaped his lips, followed by a snarl through clenched teeth. Every muscle in his body was wire taut, the force of his thrusts lifting you from your feet, suspended between the tree and Simon. You planted your feet firmly on top of his thighs and rode him, taking each pounding stroke as deep as gravity and flesh would allow.

His eyes remained focused on the smooth curve of your neck, the delicate slope to your shoulder. The need began to slip from the corners of his mouth as he saw and heard your pulse. Simon couldn’t take it. He lunged forward and bit you, hard. Too hard. You cried out, but you never broke your stride. He tasted a small bit of your blood on his tongue and it drove him to the point of rage.

Lightning split the sky just above, with an instantaneous crack of thunder. Not far away from you both, a tree fell, burnt and smouldering. The rain was pounding down on you. The wind drove it down and into the forest, hard against your rutting bodies.

You screamed with another orgasm and he howled with rage, pain and lust as he emptied himself inside of you. Thunder and lightning crashed above you, pale in comparison to the rapacious nature of the beast coursing through both of you. Simon looked into your eyes and saw the lightning flash. You looked into his and saw the truth of what he was. Half man, half beast.

You rode out the storm and the passion, moving slowly, kissing and touching. Caressing. You brought your feet back to the ground, pumping your hips slowly, letting him go soft inside of you as the storm blew away, almost as quickly as it came.

At last, he slipped from your core and he stepped away from you. You said nothing. The rain dripping from the forest canopy, the receding thunder, and your breathing were the only sounds. With his hand he softly stroked your cheek, gazing intently into your eyes. Then he turned and walked away, naked, into the heart of the forest.

You watched him go, wondering if you would ever see him again. Touching your hand to the bleeding bite at the bend of your neck, you winced absently. The pain was negligible, but it would surely leave a scar. A scar that would undoubtedly tie you to him.

The thunder rolled on and a wolf howled in the distance, answered by the howls of many others. Through the canopy of trees you could see the moon trying to peek out from behind the lingering storm clouds.

Only now, it seemed to call to you.

————

[sunshinevanfleet]

karma - j. kiszka

pairing: jake x reader

a/n: hello! i'm gifting you all some enemies to lovers jake smut <3. i worked really hard on this one so i hope it's okay. this one is college!au jake. it's not edited so pls forgive me for any silly mistakes. also if you're sensitive to bullying (not really but? if you squint) then pls don't read. ok love u all!!!

genre: smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), enemies to lovers

word count: 4.6k

summary: the reader is locked out of her dorm room late at night, with no way inside. her only escape is the man she can't stand, jake kiszka.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, explicit sex scenes, etc.

Karma sure was a bitch. 

Sitting in the hallway floor of your dorm building, well past 2 AM on a Wednesday morning, you were beginning to wonder what you did to deserve this. Soaking wet from the rain, missing a shoe, and locked out of your dorm room, you were pleading with every force in the universe for your roommate to somehow miraculously return early from Spring Break to let you into the room. Your phone and keys were locked in the bar that you and your friends left hours before, and you were effectively locked out until you could get in touch with the housing office in the morning. What a wonderful time to be alive. 

You debated it in your head; maybe it was the time you laughed at your roommate for falling down the stairs. Or when you refused to give your brother twenty dollars for gas money. Most prominent in your thoughts, though, was when you’d become fed up with your neighbor and hammered on his door to scream at him over the endless noise he made day-in and day-out. Maybe if you had a smidge more patience, you would be able to knock on his door and at least ask for a towel, considering he was the only other person on your floor that stayed at school for break. 

A heavy sigh departed your lips as you shifted, leaning your head back against the wall. You closed your eyes, though it did little against the fluorescents in the hallway. A headache pulsed dully at your temples, your mouth dry and your limbs starting to ache after the long walk back to campus. Sitting here, abandoned and helpless was its own unique form of torture. You knew your out. The door beside yours stood there, the thin wood taunting you in its frame. The man behind it, Jake Kiszka, was your natural enemy. The complete and utter bane of your existence. It wasn’t only that he was a pest of a neighbor– fucking and shouting and playing music at all odd hours– he was also argumentative, arrogant, and an absolute fuckboy.

Even before you’d marched to his door and practically beat a hole in it, his reputation preceded him. The amount of girls in your lectures you heard whispering about him was unbelievable. He was the campus heartbreaker. True that he was fantastically attractive, and a talented musician. But from what you heard, and experienced… he was a complete asshole. You’d had your share of questionable interactions with him, and wanted absolutely nothing at all to do with Jake Kiszka. 

The last hour sitting in the hallway gave you plenty of time to think over your situation. It was hard to believe that you weren’t getting your divine retribution. Your only escape from sitting in this misery for the next six hours was the guy you absolutely despised. As you sobered up, you understood clearly that you were being bullheaded. Bratty. Stubborn. Wouldn’t it be worse to have to grovel at Jake’s feet?

As you were weighing your options, the sound of footsteps jostled you from your thoughts. You peeled your eyes open, blinking at the brightness as they adjusted. Standing before you was exactly the person you didn’t want to see. Jake peered at you, lifting an eyebrow as he examined your disheveled frame crumpled on the floor. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding halfway concerned. 

You laughed humorlessly, running a hand over your face. You refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing in on his booted feet. You were sure you were being punished now. This was no coincidence that you were literally at his feet, having to ask for help.

“I’m locked out,” you muttered, voice bitter. “Left my fucking phone and keys at some shitty bar. What are you doing?” 

The challenge in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. The corner of his mouth quirked up, a flash of amusement flickering behind his dark eyes. He took a step back, leaning against the wall across from you. His arms flexed as he crossed them over his chest, muscles stretching beneath the skin. You tore your eyes away. 

“It’s spring break,” he said, as if that explained it all.

“Hmmm,” you said, nodding. “Off fucking some sorority sister, then?”

Antagonizing him was the last thing you should be doing right now. You were actively aware of that, and didn’t care. A dark chuckle left his lips. 

“What’s it to you?”

You shrugged. “Just glad it was in someone else’s room, this time,” you conceded. “Would’ve been a good night for me to get some sleep.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. Jake maintained his cool facade, seeming unbothered by your digs. 

“Well,” he sighed, “not that it’s any of your business, but I took a day trip to see my family.”

You swallowed hard. You almost felt a little bad for assuming he was off ruining another girl’s life. You huffed, wringing your hands in your lap. His eyes bore into you, dark irises still flashing amusement as he stared at your pitiful form on the ground. He was pleased, as you knew he would be. He expected the universe to repay you this retribution, and here he was to witness it all. 

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” You broke the silence, skin crawling with discomfort.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he wondered. A rage-inducing smirk spread over his lips. You gave him a dark look.

“You really don’t know?” A frown settled on your features. It wasn’t entirely the fact that he was the campus playboy, nor that he was obnoxiously loud with his nighttime escapades, but also that he had humiliated you in front of a dozen people. It was a touchy subject, and there were very few people you brought it up with. Of course, he didn’t remember it as vividly as you did. He was popular, well-liked, and not interested in the likes of you. 

“No, Y/N, I don’t,” he said. He sounded truthful, and that made things worse.

You laughed, the hollow, bitter noise echoing through the empty hall. “You made a fucking joke out of me last year, Jake,” you said darkly. “Back at that stupid fucking frat party.”

“You do realize how many frat parties I’ve been to, right? You’re gonna have to be more specific…”

“That Lambda Omega Phi Halloween party,” you muttered, face flushing at the memory. “I don’t know why I even went in the first place. Somehow, Maddie convinced me, and look at me now…” 

He frowned, looking seriously confused. “I still don’t follow,” he said. 

You forced your gaze up to meet his eyes, shaking your head. You’d cried over the humiliation before, but now there were no more tears. Only anger. You knew he could be an asshole, but you had never expected him to do anything to you of all people. You always kept to yourself, minding your own business. 

“It was late,” you began, “pretty much everyone had gone home. There were maybe ten or fifteen of us left. Someone suggested we spin the bottle. Make it a sort of spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven situation. I was uncomfortable to begin with… Imagine how I felt when you looked at me for a second, and laughed. You said, ‘We can’t invite this one to seven minutes in heaven. Little birdie told me she’s still a virgin.’ Everyone laughed.”

“Y/N–”

“I don’t want to hear your excuse, Jake,” you said, cheeks burning. “You asked me why I hate you, that’s why. And after you said that about me, in front of all of those people, I have to come home and be your neighbor. I wish you knew how that felt.”

He stared at the ground, shaking his head. When he looked back up, the amusement in his eyes was gone. His lips were set in a flat line, expression almost remorseful.

“I was drunk, Y/N, really,” he said, his voice soft. “That was wrong of me to say. Really, I feel like a piece of shit. I only remember bits and pieces.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

“I know… I can’t say anything to make things better. I will say that I’m sorry, and I mean that.” 

“Okay,” you replied. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Talking about it made it more real in your memory. It made things come flashing back: the sound of the laughter around you, the teasing smile on Jake’s lips, your stomach dropping as you realized you were once again the butt of someone’s joke. Once you graduated high school, you thought you were completely done with bullies, but you’d learned the truth that night. You would never be able to escape being teased for your timidity. 

“Really, Y/N–” he was almost pleading, his voice much lighter and softer. Strained, as if he were in pain.

“Enough,” you said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No,” he argued, “it’s not fair. That I treated you that way. Maybe I had a reason, though…”

You glanced up at him, your brows furrowed together. What reason could he possibly have for embarrassing you like that? You’d rushed out of the party, tears pouring down your cheeks, mortified. There was no reason to justify that. 

“I hope it was a really fucking good reason, Jake,” you hissed.

He laughed sheepishly, brushing his hair back off of his face with one hand. “It wasn’t, still isn’t,” he sighed. He refused to meet your gaze, instead staring down the empty hall. “I just– I’d seen you around campus, sat a few rows behind you in Intro to Anthropology, hell, I’d heard you talking or laughing through the dorm wall, and I… I liked you, Y/N. A lot…”

Your eyes widened as he spoke, confusion jumbling your thoughts. Embarrassment bloomed further throughout your body. You practically gaped as he continued, pouring his heart out to you.

“You’re so clever, and you always shared interesting opinions and offered perspectives I hadn’t considered in class… I saw you at that party, and you looked beautiful– hell, beautiful doesn’t even describe you. You were like… some kind of art, just walking around casually. I saw other guys looking at you, noticed them getting excited… What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want any of them to have their chance with you in spin the bottle…”

“You could have just told me,” you said, breathless.

“I realize that, now,” he continued, “but I was drunk. I was jealous. So I did something stupid, and believe me when I tell you I regret it. So much.”

“Even after I tried to break your door down?” you laughed, unable to process the information he was telling you. He liked you? It was surprising enough that he didn’t hate your guts back, but to actually like you? Romantically? He was dropping bombs on you tonight.

He grinned, “Even more,” he admitted. “All those girls I brought home… None of them were anything compared to you… I’m not proud to say that I pictured you more often than not… writhing underneath me, your perfect little blushing face.” He flushed at the very thought, pressing his lips together.

Your heart threatened to burst from your ribcage, beating rapidly. No one ever spoke to you this way. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, the tops of your ears, and you tried to hide the satisfied little smile on your lips. The situation unfolding around you was surreal. None of your friends were going to believe this when you recounted it to them in the morning.

You didn’t know what to say, so your mind settled on one burning question.

“You really think I’m a virgin?”

He blinked at you, taken aback. For a few beats, the two of you were silent. Then, he finally stuttered out a reply, “W–well, maybe. I don’t know. I just said it to keep those guys away from you.”

A real laugh broke the quiet in the hall this time, and you smiled. The reality had yet to fully wash over you; Jake Kiszka liked you? Of all people. That was something… You shook your head, taking a deep breath.

“Well, I guess I won’t spoil the surprise,” you said, voice teasing as you shrugged. “Too bad I’m stuck out in this hallway,” you continued, “I’m sure you really would like to get to know me…”

Your eyes flicked up to him, a tiny smirk playing on your lips. He rolled his eyes, scoffing as he stepped past you to unlock the door to his dorm room. 

“If you wanted to come in, all you had to do was ask,” he said, trying halfheartedly to sound annoyed at you. A satisfied chuckle left your lips, and you stepped inside at his gesture.

“Why would I do that?”

“What? Ask for what you want?”

You nodded.

He smiled innocently. “That’s what good girls do, Y/N.”

You were relieved that your back was facing him. The flustered look on your face would have thrown your game completely off had he seen it. 

“Good girls, hm?” you mused, peeling off your damp jacket and tossing it on his desk chair. He flicked on the lamp in the corner of the room, illuminating you in a faint amber glow. His eyes sparkled in the light, watching your movements. 

He said nothing, observing you. You glanced around the room, admiring the messiness of the room. There were clothes scattered around, books laid haphazardly on the floor, posters pasted crooked on the wall. Your roommate would never allow your room to look like this. Something about the clutter made it cozier; it just made sense that his room would look this way.

“So this is where you bring all those good girls, huh?” You looked at him expectantly.

He lifted a hand up, scratching at the nape of his neck. He shifted beneath your inquiring gaze, then took a step forward to drop his keys on the desk behind you. You stared up at him, though the glint of his belt buckle at eye-level was rather enticing, you wouldn’t give in so easily.

“You know,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. His fingers traced the line of your jaw, slowly coming to lift your chin. “You look really fucking good from this angle.”

Your tongue darted out to moisten your lips. You tilted your head to the side innocently, fluttering your lashes at him. “You think so?” One of your hands trailed up the inside of his leg, tracing over the denim of his jeans lightly. He shivered slightly beneath your touch, his gaze latched onto yours with an intensity you’d never seen from him before. 

“Mmm,” he grunted his approval, then breathed out a few more words, “but I could think of a thing or two that’d make this angle even better…”

“And what would that be?” you teased, fingers inching closer to the bulge straining against his pants. He groaned as you traced the outline with a single finger, barely ghosting over it. 

He chuckled, shaking his head at your antics. “God, you’re a fucking tease.”

“Would you rather a tease or a virgin?” you wondered aloud, still fucking with him. Your hand finally palmed his bulge completely, eliciting a lewd sound from deep within his throat. Your eyes widened, saliva pooling in your mouth at the thought of making him whimper and writhe at the faintest touches.

“Fuck,” he grunted as you fiddled with his belt buckle. “What kind of question is that?”

You breathed an amused breath through your nose, shrugging, “Just a question.” A devilish smile danced on your lips. You peeled down the waistband of his jeans and boxers, eyes still on his even as his cock sprang free. His breathing deepened as you wrapped a fist around the base, stroking it with a light touch.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Probably not,” you replied. “You might be able to make it up to me, though…”

Without waiting for his reply, you took the head of his cock between your lips. You let your jaw go lax, your tongue doing all of the work as you took him deeper into your mouth. His fingers pressed into the skin of your neck as he guided your chin over his cock. Jake’s mouth hung agape, eyes almost blank as he watched you suck him off.

A shaky breath stole from his mouth, “Ah, god, you’re fucking good at that…” His irises darkened considerably, going from deep amber to nearly black as lust shrouded his gaze. His lips glistened with spit, mouth open as he tried to steady his breathing. A few grunts and choked moans broke the quiet in the room, accompanied by the slick sounds of your mouth on him.

You pushed yourself further down to the base of his cock, your nose nearly brushing his pubic hair as you took him into your throat. He pulsated inside of your mouth, something like a whine tearing from his throat as you gazed up at him through wet lashes. His other hand tangled into your hair, both of them now guiding you as he gently rocked his hips into your mouth. You bobbed your head in time with his rhythm, relishing in the musical sounds of pleasure coming out of him. As the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat, you tightened the muscles around him. He growled, the sound sending shivers straight to your center. 

You took him deeper, your throat squeezing around the head. He sucked in a sharp breath, and you hummed around him. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes, saliva dripped over your chin, but you didn’t care. The look on his face was intoxicating; his eyes clamped shut, mouth hanging open in an expression that almost made him look pained. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna–”

You pushed even further, gagging around him as your nose finally brushed his skin. He gasped, the hand in your hair tightening as he pulled you away unexpectedly. A string of saliva followed your mouth before dripping down your neck. Your chest heaved as you panted, the air cooling the mess on your chin as you stared up at him.

“Made a mess of that pretty little face,” Jake whispered, thumb dragging through the slick on your mouth before dipping in between your lips. You swirled your tongue around the digit, bleary-eyed and lightheaded. His cock jumped in your hand, a sigh escaping his lips at the feeling of you slowly pumping him. 

“Mmmm,” you hummed around his finger, bobbing as if you were still sucking him off. He watched you for a moment, transfixed by the filthy sight of you below him. Mascara smeared beneath your eyes, spit glistening on your swollen lips, your cheeks flushed. 

“Pretty girl,” he mumbled, “wanna see how pretty you look riding me… C’mon…”

You stood, legs shaky already. He lifted your shirt over your head without hesitation, fingers expertly unhooking the back of your bra. You shivered, exposed to the cool air and his salacious gaze. His eyes drank in your figure for a second. They dragged over your messy face, down your clavicle, and to your exposed chest. He wasted no time in leading you to his bed, your back pressing into the sheets. His lips enclosed around one nipple, fingers tweaking the other as you arched up into his touch, sighing. 

His thigh notched itself between your legs, the denim rubbing deliciously against your needy core through the thin layer of your shorts. You rocked against him, desperate for any contact. He smirked against your chest at this, breaking contact for a second. “Needy angel, aren’t we?” 

“Please–” you breathed. You bit down on your bottom lip, watching the way he sucked and nipped at the skin of your chest, leaving dark marks on the skin. The throbbing in your center was becoming unbearable, the friction from his leg not enough to satisfy the desperation spreading through your veins. You needed him, now.

“Please what, angel?” He looked up at you, deep brown eyes through a shade of lashes, and your heart fluttered. You had to close your eyes, holding back the moan that threatened to spill from you just at the sight of him. His lips were a swollen, sanguine shade of red from the friction, shining with saliva. His eyes shone dark brown, honeyed like molasses. Damp pooled between your thighs, gluing the fabric of your panties to your soaked core. 

You swallowed hard, and managed to gather your bearings. “Please, I need to feel you…”

A genuine smile found its way to his face at this, the cocky look playing in his eyes making you want him even more. If you were in your right mind, you would have scolded yourself for letting him charm you. But it was so easy to fall for Jake Kiszka, especially when he was perched between your legs, looking so eager to please.

“Okay,” he muttered. He leaned over you, lips finding yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, his breath sweet and addicting as your lips moved together. “Feel me, then, angel. Take what you need…” His breath fanned against your lips, and the two of you switched places. You took a second to peel off your shorts and panties as he quickly undressed.

He watched through hooded eyes as you straddled him. Your thighs were sticky with your arousal already, glistening tantalizingly over your skin. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth as you pivoted your hips over him, slicking his cock in your juices.

“Don’t be too long,” he whispered. The look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine; it was as if he were watching his very life-force, the need in his eyes burned hot behind those irises. 

A deep breath fanned out of your nose as you finally sank down onto him. You threw your head back, a piercing moan came from you as he filled you to the brim. Tears pricked your eyes at the stretch. 

“Jake,” was all you could manage as you adjusted to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“Take it, angel,” he said, voice deep and saccharine, “Go on, take what you need.”

You balanced one hand on his thigh as you began to grind against him. Your other hand gathered your hair into one hand, cooling the burning around your neck and chest. He dragged against your walls, the feeling sending sparks all through your body. You squeezed your eyes shut as your clit bumped against his pubic bone. Jolts of pleasure shot through you.

He breathed hard, one hand splayed over your thigh while the other rested behind his head. Low pants and moans spilled from his lips. That attentive gaze drank you in, every little detail carved out of soft flesh and muscle. You saw the way he admired you, and wondered how you didn’t notice it before. 

Shifting positions, you lifted yourself up to bounce on him, and he breathed a small whimper. You smiled, leaning over him as you began to lower yourself once again. You maintained a steady pace, fingers hooking through the necklace hanging around his neck to pull his lips up to yours. You panted, sharing breaths for a second before you connected your lips. Bracing yourself against his chest, you increased your pace until you were making your own head spin. He was hitting all of the right spots, stars blooming in your vision as you hastily approached orgasm. 

The muscles of his abdomen trembled beneath you, and he groaned as you pulled away from the kiss to breath. “God, fuck, Y/N.”

You smiled, chest heaving with every breath. “I’m almost there,” you whispered, using every bit of self-control not to cry out his name over and over again.

“Shit,” he hissed, as you swirled your hips at a different angle. “I am, too. Let go, for me, yeah?”

You nodded your agreement, fingers pressing into his chest as you lifted up. The room filled with breathless moans and the sound of skin slapping together. You brought your other hand down to your clit, toying with the bundle of nerves as you hurdled towards your orgasm. Your mouth fell agape, pornographic noises ripping through the room around you. Your thighs shook and ached as you rode him through your release, milking every ounce of pleasure out of the man beneath you. He cried out your name in his velvety tone, his body tensing as he reached his own orgasm.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he held you in place, eyes locked onto yours as his release coated your insides. 

“Don’t stop,” he muttered, hips jerking into yours as you continued your pace. The muscles in your legs tightened, though the pleasure pulsing through your body shadowed the pain. 

“Jake, I can’t—” you mewled, body weakened from your orgasm.

“You can, angel, I know you can…” he whispered, leaning up to grasp your face in one hand. “Keep going…”

“It’s too much–”

“One more, Y/N. Just give me one more.” He pressed his lips against your throat, biting softly against the skin. His fingers dipped between your bodies, rubbing your clit fervently. Your entire body seized, hands holding onto him for dear life. “Come on, baby…”

You cried out his name, moisture pricking your eyes as you rocked against his hand. He was softening inside of you, your walls clenching around him as he coaxed you through your second orgasm. Burying your face into his neck, you whined at the feeling. 

“Almost there, baby, I know you can do it,” he cooed, lips ghosting over your jaw, up your hairline, onto your forehead. “Oh, you’re so good for me…”

He made a pleased noise as your release washed over you again, black spots clouding your vision. The sounds coming from you were animalistic, and unrelenting as you sobbed against him. He pressed gentle kisses against your temple and forehead, easing you through the overwhelming pleasure. Your body finally stilled, body going lax against him as you struggled to catch your breath.

“I knew you would be a good girl for me,” he said. He brushed the hair off of your face and neck, gently separating the two of you and laying you down on the bed. You sprawled over the sheets, the air cooling the mess between your legs as you lay there trying to slow your heart rate. 

“That was…”

“Mind blowing,” Jake finished for you, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips before pulling away and standing up. He pulled his jeans back on, rummaging around in the room as you laid an arm over your eyes. You let your body relax, muscles aching from the effort of riding him. 

After a second, you hissed at a cold feeling between your legs. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, watching as Jake wiped the mess from between your legs.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “didn’t wanna run down to the bathroom…”

“It’s okay,” you relaxed back into the bed again. It was a tad amusing that he kept a pack of wet wipes in his room, but you said nothing. You were too exhausted. 

He tossed the soiled wipe into the trash bin by the desk, then flicked the light off. He passed you a t-shirt that smelled like him, and you pulled it over your head. His bed was more comfortable than your own at this point, your mind drifting away already after only a few seconds. 

“You all right?” he asked, concern coloring his voice as he settled into bed beside you. You threw one arm over his abdomen, slipping closer to him in the darkness.

“Mhmm,” you replied.

“All right sleepyhead,” he mumbled. He pressed his lips against your temple softly. “I’ll take you to get your shit from the bar tomorrow.”

[princess-tulip-writes]

my illyrian baby • cassian

genre: fluff

summary: mornings in valeris are magical, but a certain baby bat doesn’t appreciate it when his girl admires the starry dawn by herself.

a/n: this just a quick morning thought i had while getting ready for work :) its not edited so im sorry.

there was not a single sight like this one; speckles of starlight painting the sky as the sun rose, shades of pink and orange swallowing the dark night as morning greeted the night court. the air was crisp and welcoming, like a baby fawn in the mossy woods during spring time, and your morning cup of tea seemed to taste better than usual as you sat on your porch, enjoying the sunrise.

stealing a few moments for yourself before being clung to all day was a ritual you wished you could maintain every morning, like this one. something about valeris made loneliness feel like a warm hug, as if you were never truly alone, and perhaps you weren’t. perhaps, maybe in some way, the souls of your loved ones stuck with you here, always lingering and watching over you. valeris was a very mysterious place, even after centuries of residency you still had so many secrets to uncover about the city, and it certainly wouldn’t surprise you if sprits were trapped here, following their dreams in the after life that had yet to accomplish in their life and finding happiness in the city of starlight—at least that’s what you hoped anyway.

taking a long sip of your tea, you sighed contently as the silence of the morning enveloped you in a tight embrace, causing a content smile to tug at your lips. silence was rare for you these days, not that your mate’s roudy nature annoyed you or anything, the occasional silence was nice though. it was new, refreshing to take some time to yourself. but, after a full hour, you missed him. you missed his warmth, his touch, his laugh, his voice, his face—

as if the both of your mind’s were linked, the loud groaning of hardwood sounded from behind the open door, and your smiled wider as sandalwood and mountain air found you, filling the fresh morning air with his scent as he neared.

he was clumsy in the early morning hours, even at the beginning of training most days, so when his large feet stumbled over nothing, you didn’t flinch.

“baby…”

his whine turned into a yawn, causing your gaze to finally tear away from the sunrise and settle on him for the second time today, but the first time seeing him awake today. you may have stolen a loving glance at him before you slipped outside earlier that morning, but you’d never boost his ego like that by telling him.

his arms stretched over his head and his wings flared out completely as he stepped onto the porch, finally having enough room to fully expand to stretch all of his crampy limbs. especially the large wings that spend most of their time tucked tightly behind his back. his hair was a tangled mess and his face was puffy with a good night’s sleep, yet he still looked like the most beautiful male you had ever seen.

he smiled lazily at you as he caught your gaze.

“g’morning.” he yawned as his arms fell limp to his sides. his wings tucked in slightly, but still stayed flared and you were sure it was just him showing off. not that you minded of course.

you returned his smile. “good morning, cass.”

cassian’s hazel eyes seemed to clear up at the awaited sound of your voice. waking up without the warmth of his mate atop of his chest was not something he was happy about, and finding you star gazing without him caused a pout to replace his smile.

“why’d you leave me?” he whined, his shoulders and wings slumping as he stepped closer to you.

his arms wrapped around your middle, and his face nuzzled in your neck before he took a deep inhale of your preshower scent. the natural smell of your skin in the morning air always made cassian’s heart feel warm and full, if he had it his way, you wouldn’t shower at all.

but that’s gross, you always remind him when he suggests the idea. so he drops it and enjoys the short lived scent while he can.

your free hand, the one that didn’t have a glass mug in it’s hold, settled on top of his larger hand as he began to take a handful of your chub.

“i wanted to watch the sun rise before it was too late.” you answered softly.

he huffed into your neck. “coulda woke me up. maybe i wanted to watch it with you.”

a soft kiss was pressed to your neck after he spoke, causing your lips to upturn.

“i’m sorry.” you whispered.

you couldn’t explain to him that you wanted some time to yourself, even if you knew he would try to understand. he was sensitive when it came to you, and although he would pretend to be understanding, he would feel a bit rejected and most likely pout all day. so, instead, you played it off.

“wake me next time.” he grumbled into your skin, sending vibrations down your shoulders. “please.”

his plea was a soft whine, giving away just how grumpy he was about waking up alone, and you couldn’t fight the guilt that built up from it.

“i will, i’m sorry.”

your hand squeezed his reassuringly, sending strokes of love and apologizes down the bond to soothe him from within. it seemed to have worked because his arms tightened around you slightly and his breathing slowed down. the tickle of his stubble scratched your neck as he nuzzled in closer, wanting to savor the feeling of you before the day begins.

for a few moments, silence filled the air as you continued to watch the dawn turn into skies of blue, sipping the rest of your tea as you both enjoyed each other.

“missed you, sweetheart.”

you chuckled. “you had me all night. i was only gone for an hour.”

cassian groaned in disapproval to your answer and nipped your neck playfully, causing you to yelp in surprise. his soft tongue was quick to run along the sore spot, and soothed the irritated skin under his wet mouth. “still felt like forever.”

you rolled you eyes at him but felt a sense of appreciation for his need for you. it was flattering coming from a male like him; powerful and so so sexy. how the hell did you get so lucky?

“i don’t like waking up without you.”

you turned to look at him, as difficult as it was given his position, and placed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. his hair was soaked with his scent, causing your ovaries to scream out for him.

“neither do i, my love.”

his arms tightened around you again, but this time it was an action of security, to remind him that you were there now, in his arms and making no effort to abandon his embrace. your body felt as if it was made for him, the soft plush feel of you against his hard body was safe, like home. he never wanted to see how empty the feeling would be without it.

a few more minutes passed as the two of you fell into a conversation about the day ahead, sorting out each other’s schedules and knowing the where abouts of each mate for assurance that you’ll both be okay. this routine wasn’t rare, in fact it was nearly a daily occurrence given how scared you both are after the war of losing each other. cassian was terrified especially, the thought of losing his whole world, his mate, his girl, made his stomach queasy and bile rise in his throat. without you his life would be nothing, he wouldn’t survive.

as the sky became blue, a rumble of your mate’s stomach brought you back to the reality of your usual mornings.

“want me to make you some pancakes? i’ll add the chocolate chips you love and some powdered sugar.”

his ears perked immediately at the slight mention of food, let alone your cooking. the male was convinced that every me you ever made him was with love, even when you were angry with him. you put so much thought into how he liked things, adding special ingredients you know he likes and serving it to him with a smile and a cheek kiss most days.

you made everything so much better.

a grin creeped on his features as he lifted his face from the crevice of your neck. his eyes finally met yours, and he couldn’t stop his lips from finding the skin of your temple as you looked up at him. next, was your lips. his eyes darted down to your lips, and before you could catch on, he dove in and took your breath away.

the pouty illyrian was no longer there, now the general was awake and greeting his wife for the first time that morning with a kiss.

your lips molded together, tongues smoothing against each other as his hands found your hips, flipping you over to face him so he could get to you deeper.

with you, he always wanted more. nothing was ever enough, he needed all of you.

“i love you.” he mumbled against you.

you smiled into the kiss at the sound of voice, setting down your mug on the table behind you without disconnecting, then wrapping your arms around his middle, his strong, hard torso.

“i love you too, my illyrian baby. always.”

[theprenderelliepalace]

Perception

Pt 3 , Pt 2, Pt 1

Summary: Y/n was just dropping some books off at the Salvatore residence. She expected to find trouble, being the odd one out and everything, she didn't expect his name to be Damon Salvatore. What happens when the infamous leather-clad vampire was just as unprepared for her?

Warnings: angst, violence, weaponry, swearing, probably a crisis of some kind

Word count: 1.9k

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Damon's POV

Six months ago...

I was hunting, like usual. My lust for a good time as sinful as the creature of the night that I was ( as my brother would so poetically put it).

I scanned the town square with a bored expression on my face, I was anything but. My heart rate was ellivated by vampire standards. I could feel the pulse of adrenaline through my veins, I could taste the sweet, metallic, tang of prey's blood on my tongue already. The perks of being a vampire, I guess. Everything was heightened to prepare for the kill, that's what made it so exhilarating.

To some extent, the thrill of the hunt was more satisfying than the kill, for me, at least.

When I was in my early 120s, I was tangled up with this exquisite gypsy-girl from Romania. She was human, but she thrived on the thrills of life. I smiled to myself as I remembered how she'd told me to chase a high like I would chase a pretty girl, one night of passionate sin for the thrill of adventure. Her English had been terrible and she'd been high as a kite at the time, still, her words had clung to me a little harder than I thought they would.

Now, I almost felt like the old man that I was, sitting on a darkened park bench in the middle of a nowhere-town that I had once called home. I was reminiscing, when seconds ago, I was pumped up to catch and feast on some hot sorority girl spending her spring break away from college. I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of whatever emotional rush I was wigging out on.

I looked up, it was an accident, happenstance really, and still I had my breath knocked away by her. She had this secret fire about her as she walked towards the Grille. She was 100 feet away, a ridiculous distance to be noticing all those little details that anyone else would've missed. The way her eyelashes fluttered over her cheeks, the way her hair danced as she walked, the way she held a secret smile that was only for herself. Then she stopped.

I was half-heartedly brought out of my trance, realizing that I was on the edge of my seat without remembering when I'd moved. I blinked. She was talking to someone. I rolled my eyes as my enhanced vision brought me to Caroline Forbes' face. She was smiling widely at the girl, her arms gesturing in a false bravado of warmth. They hugged, I noticed that the girl went stiff, her inner fire that had me literally lost for words, bound up into a little ball as she searched for words to say to a long lost friend. Not very friendly, if you ask me. I scoffed, getting up. I considered making my way over to the pair when Elena Gilbert and the Judgey witch joined the party.

The new girl visibly seethed at the sight of Elena. For some reason I felt something stir within the magic that kept me alive after death. I stumbled backwards, gasping for breath I didn't need. Okay, what the hell?

The new girl was storming off now, away from the dumbfounded trio and off in the direction of the woods. For the same inexplicable reason that I had just been knocked backwards, I followed her. I found myself thinking that I should make sure she was alright. I stopped, stared at the faraway treeline and vaguely wondered if I was high and when I'd consumed another substance that wasn't AB positive.

Suddenly I was walking again, I was a couple hundred paces away from her now, she marched with a fury that I would've found funny if I didn't feel so weird as my legs moved on their own. I should stop this, I'll call Ric and get drunk at the Grille and forget about this stupid girl. She's nobody, and you're Damon Salvatore for God's sake, pull yourself together.

I looked around, I was in a parking lot. The bays were dirt and gravel and there was a trail that led into the forest up ahead. I tensed. I had known these woods my entire life; I went hunting in them, alone, for weeks at a time when I was a boy, but for the first time in my life I was completely lost. My head thrummed in my disorientation and my vampire instics were going haywire, there was danger, I should move, I can't move.

Then she was on me. It was so fast I didn't even know what was happening until I was flat on my back in the dirt. I groaned, my ears buzzing with the impact of hitting the ground. I opened my eyes and saw her standing over me. I wanted to smile at her, even at the worst time possible, that was my first instinct. She looked beautiful silhouetted against the stars. Her chest rose quickly as she steadied herself after knocking me down. That must've taken an insane amount of force for this-this child. Suddenly I was back. Who the fuck does she think she is pinning down in the goddamm dirt? And what the fuck was I thinking letting my guard down?

I moved my shoulders, tensing to prepare for the impact of knocking her off me when I saw the glint if silver clutched in her steady hands. It was a small handgun, delicate in nature with the pungent odour vervain radiating from the barrel. She had a deadly glint in her eye as she readied herself for the kill. Without thinking about it, I felt my head collapse against the ground in revelation, she's a lot like me...

"What d'ya want, vampire?" She said it with a snarl so venomous I almost jumped. I cocked my head to the side to see her better.

"What's your name?" I said it hastily, like the words spilled out of a nasty gash in my throat before I could stop them. I felt weirdly calm knowing this girl could possibly kill me at the flick of a wrist.

"What?" She looked surprised. Then she laughed, it was short and to the point but it was brilliant. A symphony of death and teenage turmoil. "You're about to be shot in the face and all you can think about is some girls name?" She looked at me with a skeptical smirk.

I shrugged, not feeling as blasé as I looked. "Character flaw."

"Clearly." She paused. "You do that practiced confidence thing pretty well." When I stared at her, she clarified. "I mean, it's plain to see you're stressed. I guess I would be too if I had a gun to my face."

"You've never killed before. You're not going to start now." I was testing her, waiting for that weak spot, still, the thought of harming her made the magic in my blood curdle. I held my hands out in surrender at my sides. Her grip tightened around her pistol.

"Clearly I'm not the only person in this town with eyes." She muttered it under breath, but I wondered what it meant as she slowly deliberated what to do. "If I let you up... that's probably a bad idea, right?"

"Well, if I was you, I would've shot myself already. So not really a good start darlin'." I smirked at her. Almost... She looked away, it was only for a second, but it was enough. Suddenly I was out, her stance was unsteady, her determination altered. It was the perfect chance to get the hell away from here. It wasn't often that the Damon Salvatore was known for running away, but I'd be damned if I let myself die over the wildest trip I'd ever had. Or whatever this was. "Better luck next time killer. Try target practice before you wave that thing around-" I was almost laughing, I was almost free.

There was a crippling pain in my right foot. The burn of vervain had me doubled over before I could blink. The ring of the gun firing was still blocking my senses. She was standing where I'd gotten away from her. Her shoulders raised and her brow set. "I don't like vampires following me and I don't miss. You do the math and then think about how many limbs you got." She waited for an answer, why she thought I would, was beyond me. She took a step forward pointing the gun to my left. I shuffled backwards, raising my hands in surrender.

"Alright! Alright. Calm down. I'll leave you alone." I grimaced at the pain that shot through my leg when I limped up and tried to steady myself.

"Huh. First time I've heard that one." I couldn't really tell if she was serious or not, but honestly , I didn't care. I needed to get out of here and away from this nutcase. I turned and began the painstaking journey back to the Boarding House. "Y/n." I turned back to look at her. She'd lowered her weapon and was looking at me with big questioning eyes, I wished I had the answers.

"You shoot all the guys that hit on you, Y/n?" And then I was gone.

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

The next six months were probably the strangest in my entire afterlife.

Between the teenage drama and the life threatening war with the Original fucking vampires, I was so tired I could barely walk straight. And still, all this time all my every consuming thought, was about this girl. This girl that was passed out in my arms in the woods, this girl that I was going to drive to Georgia for to get much deserved answers. This girl that was my- something impossible.

We'd been on the road for 2 hours when she started to stir. I tensed my hands around the wheel when I thought about what I needed to tell her. Vampires, through some mystery of the Great beyond, couldn't follow nature's path. Our souls were so burned by the magic of vampirism that it was inconceivable, impossible even, to find our other halves. The balance to the darkness, the humanity to the beast.

It wasn't in our nature to be fated to anything. We were a species of the night, cruel and unforgiving. We didn't get to be balanced. It was always the monster, so long as eternity shall be. That is what The Maker said anyways. What if he was wrong? I shuddered at the thought. "Damon?" Her voice was croaky, she sounded as weak as I knew we both felt.

"Hey. Listen, don't move yet. Just get some more rest. We'll be there soon." Coward.

She groaned. "Where?" I kept silent. She followed suit. I heard her shuffle in her seat. The rustle of her hair was almost unbearable to listen to, her breathing just as heart-wrenching. "What did you mean when you said we were mates?"

I sighed. "It means you and I might be the rarest thing the vampire world has seen in 750 years." I turned to her. She probably needed to know more than that if I was going to break the bond. "We're bonded by-" I turned to look at her just as a car rammed into the side of her door. "Shit-" I gasped as we flew to the right. The car barreling across the highway. The crash of metal and the shatter of glass was the last thing I heard before Y/n screamed and then there was nothing...

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger! >:) I wanted to give some perspective for why they're so weird with each other. So I thought Damon could tell his side of the story, pretty well. And its Damon, come on! What else would you be here for?

And who's The Maker???? Read to find out...

Requests are open! Comment and rebolg to let me know what you think!

Masterlist

[lushlovers]

Milfiestest, J. Burrow

summary; an early midspring saturday morning for the burrow's

warnings; swearing, petnames from joey yum, mention of the manspread, domestic married couple activities, discussion about how much of a milf and dilf u and joe are...

word count; 1.2k

note; i've been needing to write some girl dad! joe for a while, i love writing domestic family stuff its the best ever when all else fails. i will add to and possibly make an au out of this, you guys will be introduced to Dallas at some point.

Saturday's in the spring are arguably the most peaceful yet stressful days in the Burrow household. Having to entertain three kids all day was quite a chore, but Joe's home so, how difficult can it be? the answer to that question is probably not what you'd expect. With their husbands around most people get more done, but when you're husbands here, you might as well count him in with the kids.

Waking up at 7:40 instead of the crack of dawn to get everyone ready for school is the highlight of the morning. Joe's in bed too.

"Rise and shine, Joseph," your voice was barely understood due to your face being shoved into your pillow, glancing over in your man's direction proved he was no where near rising and shining. Invading his personal space was amazing, especially when he still warm from sleeping.

The skin of your cheek nuzzled against his chest, listening to the thump thump of his heartbeat. His presence alone was beyond comforting, he was just the person who could calm any stress or anxieties you felt. You pressed quick, chaste kisses to his bare collarbone, inhaling his scent, allowing it to flood your nose.

He began to stir ever so lightly, his lashes fluttering a bit as his eyes opened. The stare of his piercing eyes on you was inevitable when waking up this way, "morning, mama," he spoke up for the first time. His voice was still riddled with sleep, sounding a bit deeper, "Good morning," you beam, still giddy over the nickname that's stuck for as long as you can remember, long before you even were a mama.

Joe enjoyed the way you hid your face in his chest when he called you names or told you how much he loved you. Still blushing like the teen girl in glasses you were in high school, he'd never get over your reactions.

You both soaked in your bit of quiet time, Annika was old enough to be sleeping in a bit later than she used to in the earlier stages, thank God. But she still screamed bloody murder if left alone in her crib for long enough. Meaning times like this were few and far between.

Geo, on the other hand, climbs out of his bed and runs straight down the hall to bang on your bedroom door. Who needs an alarm clock when you have a five year old anyway? Speak of the devil, the all too familiar knocking of tiny fist against the white wood was a snap back into reality.

"Mama, I'm hungry," he whined, slapping the surface of the door he hadn't yet master how to open. Baby proofing the doorknobs proved very effective in his and his sister's case, however Dallas had figure out the concept rather quickly, he knew his boundaries in the house so no problem there.

"Mom's coming, Geo, go check on your sister, yeah?" Joe shouted slightly, just loud enough for the boy to hopefully hear him, his tiny feet could be heard across the hardwood floors. Joe watched you slide out from under the warm linens, stretching out your muscles, and heading in the direction of the in suite as you yawned.

Joe took advantage of this time to get himself up as well, opening to bedroom door so the kids could come and go if needed. The sound of the door creaking caught your attention, peeking your head around the doorway, Joe laughed a bit at your state. Hair pulled back so it was in your face, purple tooth brush pressed against your cheek, and tooth paste adorning the corner of your pretty lips, always so gorgeous to him, even when you didn't feel it.

Back to what you were doing, in the bathroom, watching your husband join you in the massive mirror, "I've missed you guys so much, y'know?" He mumbled, putting a bit of toothpaste on his toothbrush, keeping a close eye of your reaction.

Nudging him with your shoulder, "We've missed you more, it's not the same unless we're all here," You inform him, truly, if Joe's not around any bit of fun is dulled considerably. Like there's a void that's only filled by his existence. When Dallas was little, you were able to take him to most of the games, but traveling only got more difficult as your little family expanded, leaving you to stay home and watch the games on tv most of the time.

Kissing his cheek as you dropped your toothbrush into the storage cup on the counter, "I need to go check on Geo, God knows what hes gotten into by now," Joe simply hummed as you headed into the room down the hall that was drowning in pink.

In your defense all the pink was not your idea, Joe was meant to have a little girl at some point and when he found out he was, he drenched her room in Disney princess and pink anything and everything.

The light was on and Geo had his face squished against the bars of the crib, having a conversation with his babbling little sister. The boys loved their girls unconditionally. "Geo baby, go get Dallas up so we can figure out breakfast, please," Geo's a good boy, the most helpful, productive five year old you've ever met, maybe you're biased because he's your baby but even so.

Scooping her up, Annika sat on your hip as you found a diaper in the tiny cabinet you had situated next to her changing table, they were all growing up so fast. Pretty soon she'd be focused on potty training and looking for a time for her to start going to daycare for the entire week. As of now, she went twice a week and on those days you'd be working with Joe's parents on important business stuff.

"I wanna do it!" Joe shouted, running into the door as you laid the baby comfortably on the table, stepping aside for him to do the job instead of you, "Since when do you like being on diaper duty," you asked, arms crossed over your chest, staring up at his face with creased brows. "Since," he glanced at his non-existent watch, "Right now, don't complain Mrs Burrow."

This form of Joe was someone almost no one but you and immediate family knew, comfortable sweats, unruly hair, and a random t-shirt he's probably had since high school, cooing at his little girl. Wrapping up the dirty diaper and dropping it into the trash can, "Good morning, little mama," He greeted, lifting her up into the air as she laughs at his goofy faces and voices.

"Why are you the dilfiest dilf ever?" Another good question, this time asked as you grab a handful of his ass, "Woah there, ma'am watch the hands," He grunted turning to face you, so his bum was out of your reach, "Good question, baby, why are you the milfiestest milf ever?"

Annika looked at you both, trying to comprehend what was going on around he, but she was too invested in the necklace around your neck, her chubby arms reached out for you, just so she could play with the metal. Just as you went to grab her, Joe moved way from you quickly, distracting her from you with more silly faces.

"I don't think milfiestest is a word, Joseph."

[puffein]

WAITING HOURS AND SUNRISES | late spring [v.]

summary: wanda's abrupt change in attitude marked the beginning of an unrepairable disaster. pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader warnings: angst, profanities, insults, mean wanda word count: 1117 a/n: my personal fave chapter...!

series masterlist playlist!

New Brunswick, New Jersey

Early-July 2022

Thomas Christopher Greene once stated in a book, "Time can be slowed if you live deliberately. If you stop and watch sunsets. If you spend time sitting on porches listening to the woods. If you give in to the reality of the seasons." 

But right now, time doesn't slow down for you as you sit hours and hours long on the window ledge of your best friend's dorm living room. You can feel the hardness of the wall right at your back, your knees pulled up tightly on your chest, arms wrapped loosely around it.

You gave in to the reality of the season though, summer nights are always wonderful for some people, however, these past summer nights have not been made for you as you have spent them waiting patiently for a certain someone to arrive safely in the comforts of their room. 

Your hair shifts lightly with the swift motions of your head turning upon hearing the quiet sound of keys and profanities right behind the door. 

Altering your body out of the ledge soundlessly, you mutter, "Where were you?" 

"Jesus, you scared me." Wanda's soft voice echoes throughout her dorm, clearly having the knowledge that her loud voice wouldn't wake up her already sleeping roommate. 

She huffs out, slender fingers going through her unruly hair, "You're here again?"

You watch her quietly, nodding your head in resignation as you walk past her, "Just wanted to see if you arrived safely." you say.

Wanda. Wanda has been doing this for the past months. Going out late, going home late. Missing your friendly dates, the sitcom days, the months of months plans the both of you made last year was now forgotten, thrown out like a piece of antique.

Useless and vintage.

You didn't know what changed.

"I'm not a child, you know." she harshly replies, accent coming out strong and venomous. You halted your steps, shoulders tense at the voice she was using at you.

"You don't have to go here, bother Darcy, and wait for me to arrive like some obsessed best friend who can't seem to live without hanging out with me. Stop being so clingy."

Okay.

"I just wanted to see if you arrived safely," she mocked, her phony voice skirting around the corners of your breaking heart. "Bullshit. We both know you're just afraid to be alone. Well, guess what Y/N, I am sick of that. I am sick of you."

Ever felt like someone stabbing you right in your chest, okay, wrong. This doesn't feel like stabbing to you, this felt like a bomb going off, and the pieces of your heart fly in different directions and it doesn't stop there. The pain continues on as someone's pair of hands and feet crush every tiny piece laying steadily on the floor.

That pair of hands and feet are Wanda's.

"You're not gonna say anything?" she says exasperatedly, face warp in aggravation as she stares at your back.

You have many things to say to her. Many unsaid things that you know will go deaf in her perfectly working ears. You want to say how she's been a shitty best friend ever since she met that dude at a party, how you are grasping at that tiny piece of friendship that you knew is being broken piece by piece as the time goes by, how when you look at her, you don't see her, you see a stranger living in the body of your best friend. Of the one you dearly love so much you would go into deeper depths just to see her happy.

You wanted to say that but instead, you utter these words, "What do you want me to say?"

Wanda groans, "Anything! Just— I don't know, say something." she says desperately, trying to make you understand something that you clearly can't comprehend.

"I'm gonna go." You take a step forward, towards the door only to be stopped by her tight grip on your arm.

"You can't just go."

"Wanda, I can't fucking understand you right now. Are you drunk? Are you high?" you snapped at her, voice in an edge as you turn to stare right at her face. 

She opens her mouth to say something but you are clearly not done with your words.

"What do you want me to fucking say? That you've been such a bitch lately? That, what, the old woman I met on the bus weeks ago felt more like a best friend than you ever did for these past months? What do you want me to fucking say?" you finally declare, your brows furrowed, jaw tense with fist clenched tightly against your palm. 

Wanda loosens the grip on your arm as she drinks in every word you have said to her. Not wanting to stare longer at the realization that is coming to her face, your back faces her again as your hand clutches the doorknob and latches it open for you to walk away.

"Y/N, wait—"

You whip your body fast to glower at her, "No, you listen. I fucking don't know what has gotten into you to treat me like this. We were doing fine then I just woke up with you ignoring me. I did this because I care and the friendship I have with you matters."

The timbres of your voice quiver, undertones of heartache can be heard in the staggering of your hardened voice, "But fucking shit, Wanda. You could've just told me you're tired of being in this friendship. I would have respected that, you don't have to make me feel so worthless."

Watching the light trembles of her lips and the brave step she took closer to you, you can see the morphing of hurt flashing right at her face. You're confused. She intentionally spurted those words at you, how come she has the guts to look so anguished?

"Y/N, I just—"

But you are already walking away, time slowing down with your breathing rigid and labored. Your steps are filled with regret at how you have thrown those words at her. You didn't mean it, as much as you want to mourn for whatever has gone downhill for the both of you, what you have said to her was the truth and you didn't really care right now as you are greeted with a magnificent vision of the sun slowly rising for the world to see. 

Funny, you should have listened to Thomas Greene and spent your time sitting on porches listening to the sound of the woods instead of waiting till the sun rises just to make sure your best friend arrived safely.

general masterlist ◄ ►

—୧ taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta @sokovianbaby @vivs46 @kyaraderuwez

[trollmaiden]

With the economy in shambles it’s hard to buy yourself a new home, well don’t worry because I got the home for you!

No paperwork! No Lying! No refunds!

7357 64th Lilac road BT 56537

1 Bed, 1 Bath, 1 Foot,

This open concept is perfect for a single dime sized person or a random chipmunk, you choose! This cozy den sits on the Edge of the Bright Tree Court and right beside a summertime spring, we will not be held responsible if a bored noble Kicks your home across the forest or for any other kinds of damages that occur.

Price : water collected from the inside of a geode or crystal

5834 48th Stump Rot 107

7 ? bed, 9 ? bath, and 1 mushroom ring,

This spacious abode is perfect for those who love to host and it even comes with it’s own natural aroma of moss, wet dirt, and decaying wood. Under the home is a long and complex tunnel system which includes some strange creature that sings Lady Gaga songs upon being offered a bowl of porridge, the map for the tunnel is not included in the purchase.

Price : the beating heart of a oak tree, ice that never melts, and a Man without folly

82766 73rd Magenta Ave apartment 04

1 room, 2 bees,

If you’re here for the hustle and bustle of life you’ll be at home staying here, to your north is the Court of the glass winged Queen Alfhild the gracious, to your east is a goblin market, in the west there’s a spirit Halloween except for the month of October and sometimes November, and finally down south there is a fox that offers free rides in exchange for gossip.

Price : find the answer to my riddle

What lives in both wine and bread? What speaks without a mouth? and What blooms during death?

53881 25th Dickcissel Rd apartment 13

2 bed, 1 Bath,

A comfortable fit for new parents, It’s not just a apartment, it’s a community. There’s plenty of sweet smelling flowers that bloom for spring till early autumn, there is also a public bird bath with a wonderful view, If a serpent or squirrel devours your eggs you can’t cursed us or any of our descendants.

Price : your most beautiful Feature

1263 274th Brook vile 739

1 room,

It might be tight but it sure is cozy! There is a pond not too far away and following the dirt trail will lead you to your new neighbors, Mr and Mrs tuftear who own a bookshop, and Miss Dormouse, who will share her garden with you as long as you eat dinner at her place every once in awhile and are nice to her thirty five grandchildren

Price : you have to marry Bogus, he is a very respectable and talented young man who will treat you right,

[strangersteddierthings]

Gut Instinct: Interlude - Lucas

[Art] [Ao3] [Prologue] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Interlude] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven] [Interlude]

Saturday morning was… rough. He had woken up hungover for the first time in his life, and maybe his last because he’s not sure this feeling is worth the fun of last night. Then the police had shown up and spoken to Jason.

Lucas had planned to go home, check in with his parents and then figure out what he and Dustin were going to do during spring break, since Mike was gone.

But the sound Jason had made, when he’d stalked past everyone and just wailed in the woods. Lucas had known then that he couldn’t abandon him. Lucas wasn’t as close to anyone on the team as he was with Dustin and Mike, but he still considered Jason a friend.

He couldn’t leave until he knew that Jason was going to be alright.

Then Jason told them all what the police had said.

Lucas couldn’t leave then. What a shitty friend he would be if he just left when Jason had just learned that his girlfriend had been murdered.

He would admit to being a little thrown off his guard to learn that Chrissy had been found in Eddie’s home, and that Eddie was nowhere to be found. But even so, he couldn’t imagine that Eddie would do something like that.

Yeah, Eddie was kind of scary and mean, but not enough to Lucas to believe he’d done it.

So, Lucas stayed Saturday night, too. There was a lot of hushed whispering between Jason and the guys on the team that Lucas knows to be Jason’s friends outside of just being on the team with him. They tried to include Lucas in the conversation, but Lucas is only half listening.

Maybe that did make him a bad friend to Jason.

He just can’t stop thinking about Chrissy being dead and Eddie being missing. It makes more sense in his brain that Eddie was kidnapped by whoever killed Chrissy than it does that Eddie might be a murderer.

It just doesn’t make sense that someone would pick to kidnap Eddie over Chrissy. That’s the part Lucas can’t wrap his brain around and is why he hadn’t spoken up in Eddie’s defense to the guys.

Now it’s Sunday.

Lucas wakes up alone and knows instantly that it’s early. The sun hasn’t even fully risen, judging by the light outside.

The sound draws him outside, and he finds Jason, Patrick, and Andy loading the back of Jason’s car with stuff. Dangerous stuff.

He’s not naive enough to believe they really just want to find Eddie to talk to him. Lucas wants to find Eddie, too, but not for whatever they’ve got planned.

“What are you guys doing?” Lucas asks, even though he knows.

“We’re gearing up,” Patrick answers, throwing a bag into the back of the car.

“Preparing for the hunt,” Andy says, wiggling a very big, very heavy looking wrench in the air.

Lucas pauses, unsure how to proceed.

Jason drops what he’s holding and approaches Lucas, reaching out to grab onto one of Lucas’ shoulders. “Hey, man. Relax. We’re not killers like Eddie. We just wanna talk to him. Get him to admit to his crime.”

“Yeah,” Andy adds, “A little friendly neighborhood chat.”

Jason, who had turned to look at Andy when he spoke, turns back to the silent Lucas and says, “Hey. You didn’t know Chris. If you’re not up to this, you can go home. There’s no judgment. You’ll still be one of us, alright?”

Lucas hesitates. He’s Jason’s friend and he’s Eddie’s friend, and he knows with a certainty that he won’t be friends with one of them by the end of this. Whatever ‘this’ ends up being.

Lucas thinks to the championship game, and how all of Hellfire turned up. He just can’t imagine a version of Eddie that turns up for his game would then go home and murder someone. “I- I’m sorry about Chrissy. I am. But Eddie…” Lucas trails off, afraid to admit out loud that he’s friends with Eddie.

Jason must see the fear, because he drops his voice so Patrick and Andy can’t hear and tries to assure Lucas, “I know he seems scary, but the freak’s no match for us. But I can drop you off at home if you’d rather. I meant what I said. You’re one of us.”

It’s an out that Lucas didn’t even know he needed until Jason offers it to him. “I’d like to go home.”

A half hour later finds him banging down the door to Dustin’s house. He wants to know if Dustin heard, if Dustin knows why Chrissy might have been at Eddie’s place. And now that he’s thinking about it, he wants to know if Max is alright. She lives at Forest Hills Trailer Park, too.

[simpingforstardew]

muse

pairing: sdv elliot x reader

synopsis: elliot is struggling with severe writers block; if only he had a muse...

note: a while ago i talked about having a derivative idea for an elliot x reader fic; here is that fic !! the premise is completely unoriginal, but i'll leave the references at the end of the fic to avoid spoilers hehe

warnings: i don't even know for this one gang, wholesome w/ an ending that could be read as spooky? let's call it a doomed romance !! tw/ relationships that are doomed by the narrative !!

word count: 1.5k

Adronitis

A heart so damaged; tender; sore—

You ever-blooming sycamore,

Through hunger pangs; my deliriousness,

I mourn my mortal catoptric tristesse.

With starving dreams, your warmth I crave—

I worship you, I must embrave,

Indulge me, lay your fear ahind.

Our sanctuary; your piece of mind.

My amorous famine demands more […more what?],

So I feast on your smile […] petrichor.

i am just writing this right niw so it

looks lije i am being pro ductive oh Yoba

andnow leahs comin g over this

is alll shit im jist going to star t overrr

“How’s the writing going, El’?” Leah peers down at Elliot with a smile, wiping the sweat from her brow. “We’ve been at it for a while without a break, you know?”

“Oh, Leah! It’s going splendidly, and yes, it seems we have…” Elliot coughs, avoiding eye contact while tearing the paper from his typewriter. “Why don’t we call it for today then?”

“Without showing me what you’ve done? C’mon,” she whines, “What do you have?”

Elliot and Leah had decided, sometime early last Spring, to meet in Cindersnap forest every Wednesday to work on their current projects. ‘Parallel play for artists,’ Penny once called it when walking Jas back to Marnie’s ranch. For Leah, this weekly rendezvous has (so far) allowed her to complete 2 clay sculptures, 3 wood sculptures, 23 drawings, and 8 paintings; for Elliot, the last few months has allowed him to create…

“Nothing,” Elliot sighs, packing his typewriter’s case with a frown. “I have, somehow, written nothing! I mean, I wanted to craft a Petrarchan sonnet, inspired by Poe’s romantic, yet macabre sensibilities. I ended up with trash I couldn’t even make hendecasyllabic. It’s embarrassingly Shakespearian and—”

“Whoa, whoa, buddy, that’s okay. That’s fine. I’m not sure what any of that means, but…” Leah scrunches her freckled nose, hoping to find the right words to calm Elliot down, “It seems like you’re expecting perfection from a first draft. Maybe we should call it for today, and you could revisit your poem tomorrow?”

“Yes, you are right,” the authors scowl softens; after a moment of meditation—feeling the summer breeze tangle in his hair—he looks towards Leah with a smile. “I will see you next week, Miss Faraday.”

Elliot didn’t return to his typewriter until later that week, deciding instead to bask in the sun’s warmth on the beach. The author sits on the pier with a contented sigh, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore providing a soothing backdrop to his afternoon reverie.

Even still, despite the Elysium that he has found himself in, Elliot cannot shake his frustrations; his linguistic discouragement plagued his every thought.

“Ahoy there, my boy! Perfect weather for fishing don’t ya reckon?” Willy smiles, closing the front door to the Fish Shop behind him. Elliot

“Ah, hello Mr. Tucker,” Elliot waves as the fisherman sits beside him, attaching a small blue tackle onto an impressively shiny rod, “I suppose it is, although I fear I don’t have my fishing gear with me today.”

“What’d I tell you about calling me that? No need to be so formal, son,” Willy chuckles, casting a line into the vast depths of the saltwater, “Say, aren’t ya usually off in town around this time? Feel like I never see you this early on a Wednesday.”

Elliot still had to adjust to the predictive routine of a small town, and the horrifying consequences of straying from said routine: becoming the topic of mid-afternoon gossip.

“Yes, well, I um—,” Elliot sighs, looking into the deep blue below as if the ocean concealed the antidote to writers block, “I have been, writing with Leah every Wednesday and… actually can I ask for some advice?”

“O’ Course ya can, my boy.” Willy nods.

“I have been… struggling lately,” The taller man slumps as he runs a hand through his auburn hair, his voice heavy with uncertainty, “I feel as if I have lost my spark, my… capacité artistique. I cannot, for the life of me, write anything of quality! I just… I feel broken, Mr. William.”

Willy takes a moment to think, slowly breathing in the salty air, “Hmm, I see your problem, lad— but it’s important to know yer not broken. Aye, nothin’ about ya is broken.”

A fish tugs at Willy’s fishing line: desperately; hopelessly.

“It’s like if yer pal Willy couldn’t fish anymore… I’d sooner swallow a sea urchin than lose my ability to do what I love,” Willy pulls the rod towards him, putting up a fight with whatever poor creature is on the other end of the line, “but sometimes it’s tricky doing what ya love 24/7, son! You got to remind yerself to take breaks, and…”

The creature is hurled out of the ocean, flapping helplessly as the fisherman releases it from his tackle. Willy holds the freshly-caught octopus up to Elliot.

“Remind yerself why ya love it!” Willy chuckles, before mumbling to himself about throwing his newest catch in a tank lest he ‘gets inked’.

As Elliot sits in contemplative silence, the ocean offering solace: the rushing winds, the distant cry of seagulls, even the smell of salty air. Over the last year and a half, he has grown to love it all.

As he rises to his feet, Elliot considers his friends’ advice. He certainly didn’t want to remain in this slump forever; so he needs to find a reminder of why he loves writing; a source of reinvigorating inspiration.

He needs to find a muse.

A muse in a village with a population of 27.

‘Well,’ Elliot thinks, slamming his cabin’s door shut behind him as he slides onto his desk chair. He sets up his Olympia SM 9 for the second time today. ‘If I can’t find my muse in life, I will simply create my muse in art.’

For a moment, the black page loaded into the typewriter stares back at Elliot, mockingly. Then, as suddenly as the crash of thunder that bellows from above, the author began to write.

Elliot bursts into the Fish Shop, his manuscript clutched tightly in hand, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “Willy, my friend, you’re incredible!” he cheered, his excitement palpable. “I truly could not have done this without your support.”

Willy grins, offering a sincere thumbs-up. “Glad to hear it, lad! So what was your reminder, eh? What got you back on track?”

Elliot coughs, a flush creeping up his freckled cheeks. “Well, you see… I made it up.”

Willy arches an eyebrow, bemused,“Ya made up yer reminder for why you love writing? Now, son…”

“No, no,” Elliot hastens to explain, “My love for writing is genuine. But my muse, my darling muse, is not.”

“I’m not following, my boy.”

“I have spent all night crafting the narrative of a completely fabricated person, it’s all here,” Elliot elaborates, “They’re genuinely kind, talented and hard-working, despite never being appreciated. They have the most charming mole on their neck, and they’re delightfully witty! After their grandfather passed away, they—”

“Son,” Willy interrupted gently, his tone tinged with amusement, “Yer a peculiar one, ya know that? How is this going to help with yer writing?”

“It does sound ridiculous, but dedicating my sonnets to this idealised character… thinking of them as I work on my novel… It has been phenomenally motivating!” Elliot laughs, re-reading through the pages before stopping in his tracks, “Oh, I do apologise old friend, I barged into your shop like a man possessed.”

It had been months since Elliot had felt such a fervent desire to write; his unbridled excitement was contagious; a smirk spreads across Willy’s face, crinkling the corners of his dark green eyes.

“If it were anyone else instead of you, I’d be furious, lad,” Willy chuckles, reaching into his mini fridge, “‘Ere, I whipped up too many crab cakes last night, and I know they’re yer favourite— consider it a gift.”

As Elliot arrives back at his cabin, writing snacks in tow, the muffled playing of his piano greets him. He chuckles softly, before preparing to shoo Harvey out of his home so he could resume his day of writing.

“Sincerest apologies, I—,”

“Oh! Honey, you’re back so soon.” Turning away from the piano, your eyes catch Elliot’s with a familiar warmth. You admire the way your boyfriend’s hair always forms delicate waves when exposed to the sea spray.

The author was struck speechless, his heart pounding as he stared at you with more focus than you have ever been subject to.

It couldn’t be real. And yet there you are. You. The muse Elliot had crafted— who's entire life was written mere hours prior on the pages that were now strewn about the floor— was standing before him in flesh and blood.

Every flawless detail exactly as he had imagined.

“Elliot, darling, are you okay?” Your smile becomes wry; nervous as to why your lover was acting so peculiar, his pale skin was now a ghastly white. “Would you like me to pour some wine? We can—”

Before your suggestion was made, Elliot was gone; the door slamming shut behind him.

note #2: okay if you didn't catch it, my inspiration was the 1960 episode of the Twilight Zone: 'A World of His Own', and (more relevantly) the 2012 psychological horror romcom Ruby Sparks !! if you check out either that episode or movie, pleasepleaseplease lmk what you think <33

[twstfanblog]

*~Murder Movie Madness~* PT 2

Word Count: 2.6K Pairings: First-year poly minus Ortho and Yuu Warnings: Animal gore, Swearing, Me typing out a country accent

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

They spent nearly another hour outside in the woods, exploring the grounds and coming to terms with the fact they were currently trapped in a horror-slasher film. Epel had to routinely stop as his heeled sandals kept making him nearly roll his ankle, leaning against trees with his head hung down and Jack's oversized varsity jacket falling off his shoulders. Not to mention Deuce having to peel leaves off of his body and cringing at the feeling of dirt against his oiled skin.

The cabin was a godsend, a massive house that had the appearance of a decently modern building but the decor of an old-time lodging inside. They found suitcases in the upper rooms of the cabin, filled with other clothes they could change into (much to Epel and Sebek's happiness). Deuce took a shower, free of the oil he woke up in, but seeming to still have a fine layer of body shimmer in every nook of his person. A trait that Epel learned he shared while changing.

Once freshened up and redressed, the group could truly appreciate how nice the cabin was. Jack had found a note card folded on the massive kitchen island tucked into a bowl of fresh fruit. A short message wishing them a fun and safe spring break, signed by two different signatures of Arnold and Lucy. Epel had claimed they must of been side characters who came to the cabin beforehand and prepped the home for the characters' stay.

The fully stocked fridge, every inch cleaned and sparkling, and a hot tub on a tastefully decorated back patio was now all theirs to use. A perfect location for their group to all climb into, drinks in hand, as they proposed a game plan after their long day of horror movie survival prep in the early afternoon.

“Ok…” Yuu wasn't sure what their glass bottle had. If it was soda or booze, but they would take whatever at this point, “We're still in the first act; the killer most likely won't strike or even show himself until tomorrow or late tonight.”

Sebek nodded from beside them, “I haven't seen many movies, let alone horror films. But if we're dealing with a lone assailant their strategy would be to pick us off one by one.”

“So we stick together.” Jack sipped at his water, still tired from chopping down a tree with an old axe. The tree had been fashioned into thick planks that they planned to use to barricade all main entry points when night fell.

The firsties had unfortunately hit the ground running once they had calmed down; being constantly thrown into life-or-death situations preparing them to adapt on the fly. They began properly surveying their surroundings, making note of the terrain and every maintenance building on the property. Searching for any other signs of life in the small radius from the cabin,  but finding nothing in their search. While Jack and Sebek used their combined survival training to further refine their plans, Yuu and Epel spent time going over the various gardening tools at their disposal to use as weapons. Epel had noted with the type of vegetation surrounding the cabin, a machete would be the perfect tool to get around. A tool that was noticeably missing…

Deuce hums, merely enjoying the toasty waters, still partly upset that his second shower hadn't removed any of the body shimmer he was mysteriously coated in.

Sebek spoke up as Epel and Ace came back from inside, everyone having agreed to go places in pairings, “Since the killer is most likely a stealth hunter, the egg bombs should be helpful in detecting him from a safe distance.

Ace and Deuce had destroyed the two cartons of eggs from the fridge. Hollowing them out and drying them before filling them with a mixture of flour and garlic powder. They had been finished and passed out in makeshift bags made from the couch's throw pillow fabric. should any of them see the killer they were to throw an egg or two at him in hopes the flash of white in the green scenery and the smell of garlic powder would make him painfully obvious to even the less scent-inclined members.

Each firstie had picked a weapon for self-defense; Epel laying claim to a shovel and Yuu asking Jack to bend a hoe to more closely resemble their trusty golf club. Both Deuce and Jack had taken Epel's metal bracelets, bending the metal to act as brass knuckles. While Sebek had taken to sharpening the axe and keeping it by his side, Ace had stated he was not a close-range fighter in any sense and would simply stick to one of them for protection.

Climbing into the hot tub, Epel leaned against Deuce, “Did anyone have any idea where Ortho is?”

“None of us know this movie. He might have been spared because there weren't enough characters for all of us.” Yuu spoke, “If we're lucky he's chilling back at Ramshackle, if we're not, he's trapped in the disk void, pissed.”

Ace hummed, “We've got limited magic so Ortho most likely has enough battery power to keep awake for however long this is gonna last.”

“Gonna last…” Deuce suddenly shot up, sending Epel off his shoulder at the movement, “Wait, are we gonna die while in here?”

Jack shook his head, “Interactive movies aren't lethal in that sense. Though…yeah we might…end up getting killed for the experience…”

Yuu finished off their bottle, submerging it into the bubbling water and pouring it out over Sebek's head, “Why the fuck is this a thing you can pay money to go through? What if one of you guys die tonight?”

“No one's dying! We're all staying alive and leaving this situation unmurdered.” Ace managed to keep Yuu and Sebek from slapping at each other, sighing before he relaxed back into the waters, “For tonight, let's just relax and enjoy yourselves…But, not too much, this is a horror movie after all…”

And they did. The group spent the rest of the night having fun. Grilling the meat and various vegetables from the fridge, playing catch on the patio with the football. A game that ended on a bad throw and the ball disappearing into the darkening treeline.

One last group soak in the hot tub and they all piled back into the house. The front and back doors locked via boards of wood and makeshift door stoppers placed to keep them closed. They all gathered in a single room, locking it down with boards, door stoppers, and the furniture placed in front of the door. Squishing tight into the master bed, each of them wearing shoes before they started to sleep in shifts. A valiant effort but sadly at a point all of them were fast asleep, unable to notice the red-eyed figure staring at the master bedroom window from the tree lines.

Morning light had barely reached the bed when the window broke. Everyone had startled awake at the sound of glass crunching, Sebek bolting up brandishing his axe in a defensive position before realizing no one new was in the room.

Deuce sleepily pointed toward one of the windows facing out to the lake, “Window…it…broken. It wasn't like that…night night…”

Ace sighed, patting Deuce’s head as the other card soldier drifted back to sleep, “Come on, Juice. Time to wake up and see what bullshit we're dealing with…”

Sebek and Jack had already gathered around the window, both muttering as they noted the newly formed cracks.

“Came from outside, obviously.”

“From below, but we're on the second floor, so again, obviously. The cracks though…”

“Yes, there was more distance than just below the window. At least from the treeline is where they threw whatever cracked the glass.”

Epel had climbed out of the bed, helping Yuu dismantle their bedroom barricade, as he called out over his shoulder, “Why the hell do you two know glass forensics?”

“Siblings.” Jack and Sebek said it in sync, eyes still scanning the glass.

Ace laughed, rolling his eyes at Epel’s confused expression, “Obviously.”

They all piled out of the bedroom, walking out and onto the patio only for Yuu to groan and roll their eyes seeing they had been changed again, “Outfit change, I guess…”

Everyone had spontaneously shifted clothing, walking out of the cabin seeming to be the trigger. While most of the group kept outfits they didn't mind staying in, Sebek and Epel were once again the unlucky ones. The half-fae walked out in suspenders and Epel only managed a few steps before he tripped over nothing and fell bikini'ed chest first onto the wood floor, knocking the wind out of himself.

“Ah…aaaaaauuuuugh…What did ah trip over?”

Yuu groaned again, trying to run a hand through their hair only to feel it was placed in a ponytail, “Please don't let the hot girl curse start. That's the worst trope.”

Ace pulled a face, “Hot girl curse? What's the hot girl curse?”

Epel looked bewildered at the empty entryway he had tried to step through, hoping to find an uneven board or something but only seeing the old rug.

“Oh, please. Don't act like you don't see what's happening. We're all playing stereotypes and, unfortunately, Epel got hot girl.”

Epel was slowly getting his breath back, reaching out to Jack's offered hand, “No, Ah'm serious, what did ah fucking trip on?”

Ace responded to Yuu, standing beside them, “The hot girl? Epel's the hot girl, is that the hill you wanna die on?”

“Ace, he's wearing a fucking neon yellow bikini top. He has been assigned hot girl. Just how Jack is the jock, Sebek is the nerd, Deuce is hot guy, you're comic relief, and me and Ortho are obviously final girl energy.”

“Ok, I was following until you said Juice was the hot guy, but me as comic relief? You? The final girl? What makes you think you have that title!? And Ortho isn't even here!”

“My willingness to murder for way less than the insurance of survival and Ortho is a fucking mini tank. He's been the final girl this whole time, you IDIOT-”

Deuce’s groan pulls everyone's attention to him. The spade soldier looking down at himself with a distressed expression, “I'm covered in oil again! And now I don't have a shirt!”

Ace looks his boyfriend up and down, eyes locked on his bare chest before shrugging and walking down the patio stairs, “You look fine, come on.”

“Told ya~. Hot boy, Deuce-”

Jack had followed after them, Epel and Sebek behind him with Epel clutching onto Sebek's arm, “Don't call him that…”

They found the lost football from the night before. A few feet away from the area of the broken bedroom window. Now seeing where it had landed, Sebek had pointed toward the tree line.

“The distance is a bit far for a human to throw. But if the killer isn't supposed to be fully human, he's potentially been watching us the whole night from that point.”

Ace shivered, glaring into the trees, “Creepy…”

And unfortunately, like the pack of dumb teens they were, they walked into the woods. a second search of the woods for clues or any sign of Ortho. Weapons clutched tightly in hand and refusing to move to far away from each other.

Sighing, Deuce wiped at his arms in hope to remove leaves sticking to his skin, “So annoying…I've gotta shower when we get back to the-...Guys!?”

Everyone turns around, watching a frantic Deuce wiping at his arm and the bright red smear along his arm.

Ace rushed over to his side, wiping at Deuce’s arm in an effort to see how he was bleeding, “It's barely been an hour! What even made you bleed!?”

Jack and Sebek both looked around, the beastman's ears swiveling around in an effort to hear anything in the woods. They continued to fuss and panic the longer nothing happened. Ace only quieted down at having a drop of red splatter on the back of his hand. As another drop fell he looked up, yelling and pulling Deuce along with him while staring into the treetops in horror.

The group followed his line of sight, expressions turning terrified at the scene before them. A fully grown buck was hung meters in the air, its antlers keeping it locked in the thin branches of the tree. It was gutted open, the blood and organs lazily dripping blood from its ripped-open midsection. The group all jump back as a mass of the animal’s innards fall out and plop wetly onto the dirt.

Ace lets out a wet-sounding retch, turning away to spit out the acidic taste in his mouth, “Oh, that’s fucking gross…”

Sebek sucked in a breath, gripping tighter to his axe and looking around, “The blood is still fresh. The killer did this only recently-”

Yuu spoke up, their scared expression having faded to one of question, “How’d this deer get here?”

…

Jack pursed his lips, his nose scrunched up as though offended Yuu was asking questions, “What do you mean? Obviously, it got there from the killer butchering it to send a message.”

“No, listen. We looked around yesterday, none of us saw any deer. So is there a small deer population on this island or what? Did he bring a deer here to scare us-wait, can deer swim?”

Ace spat once again, glaring over his shoulder, “Is that really what you’re concerned about right now!?”

Yuu turned to the scowling half-fae, any terror they had felt long gone, “Sebek, you were raised in the woods, do deer swim?”

“We are trapped on an island with a murderer and you want to know if deer can swim?”

“Just say you don’t know, god damn. Epel, can deer swim?”

The Pomfiore student had started to calm down, looking at the deer from a more practical side, “Yeah…yeah, deer can swim…normally only when they're hot, but they can swim…” He frowned, thinking it over in his head and remembering just how far the town was from the island, “Not sure they could swim this far out though…”

Deuce looked between the two shorter members of their group, “Are you both…really having this conversation right now?”

“Actually, Epel?” Yuu pointed at the deer, “Can we eat that? Like can we get that down and eat it for dinner tonight?”

Jack instantly lost any disturbance in his body, walking closer to Yuu and Epel ready to physically restrain them from scrambling up the tree, “Ok, no…no. We don’t know where that deer has been. It could have diseases.”

Yuu shrugged, gesturing to the deer lazily, “That’s what the cooking is for, Jack.”

Sebek sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and regretting the multiple choices that led to this moment. Lilia had only giggled when he stated he was invited to a movie marathon with the other first-year group, stating he was sure to have fun. He only laughed harder hearing it was for horror movies. Silver had to step in to explain when Sebek also revealed it was a competition to scare Yuu with a horror movie, since Lilia was barely breathing let alone speaking. His only explanation was that Yuu was not…a standard movie viewer. And as he watched the human-pixie stand their ground on being allowed to eat the mutilated deer instead of feeling an ounce of fear, he realized the Vanrouge duo were trying to warn him of the fact Yuu was most likely to ruin any horror movie experience.

Looking around he felt a bolt of panic pass through him, Epel was missing. He opened his mouth, moving to shout for everyone’s attention only to step back as the deer carcass slammed into the ground right before his feet. The thud it made startled everyone to focus their attention on him, staring at the body in wide-eyed terror.

From up in the trees, Epel grinned down at the group, “I got him! Let’s take this back to the house and get some stew started.”

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 31 - Dusk

Tidmouth Train to Hell:

Pip and Emma stared at the timetable, not quite sure what to make of it. “Why is there a massive gap?” Pip finally said, still trying to wrap her head around the odd space from dusk until the next day. “Oh, that’s a Halloween tradition,” replied Bear, looking over from his own train. “Every Halloween they put us all away early for some reason. Never quite understood why, but each to their own and all that!” Pip scoffed, while Emma looked more bemused than anything.

The High-Speed diesels were still new to Sodor, and had only been once before, on trial during the summer period. This was their first October on the Island of Sodor, and all month they’d been amazed to find that the engines were far more interested in the holiday and its various traditions than the mainland was. Particularly, it was extremely popular amongst the native Sudrian people, who had been performing several rituals and festivals since the start of the month.

Emma had been far more curious about the whole thing than her sister, and decided to ask one of the older engines, in hope of getting some information. “Well,” hummed Percy, “it’s a Gaelic thing. Sauin, I believe the Sudrians call it. It’s like Samhain up in Scotland, and is all about the end of the harvest season. I remember how much Sir Topham the First put emphasis on listening to the local Sudrians about how important the rituals and festivals were. For example, at the start of the month is the cleansing ritual; it’s a bit like a spring clean, but in autumn. It used to be when the men would go out and start chopping wood for winter according to Edward.” At that moment, the signal clunked up to show green, and Percy puffed away.

Pip snorted from her end of the train. “Asking about all these silly holidays again?” she asked. “They’re not silly!” protested Emma. “They’re—” “An excuse to get more days off work,” finished Pip crossly. “Now come on, we’ve got a train to pull.”

Pip and Emma ran the WildNorWester express to London, stopping only at Crovan’s Gate, Barrow and Preston. It meant the two were often the most out of the loop on all the important gossip of the railway, as they were over on the mainland and missed it. One such titbit of gossip the pair missed was the track repairs being done at Crovan’s Gate. On their return run a week later, Pip and Emma were stopped at the platform to wait while several old signals and a set of points were replaced.

Their repair shed had recently been completed and stood on one side of the line while the narrow gauge railway sat on the other, the mainline trapped between the two and the Works. Pip and Emma had been switched onto the wrong side of the line to avoid a massive section of missing track. This put Emma right next to the Skarloey Railway sheds, where Duke was resting. “Excuse me,” Emma called. “You’ve been on Sodor for a long time, Duke – do you know much about Sau---een?” “Sauin,” corrected Duke kindly. “And I certainly do. My old line used to run through the heart of old Sodor, so I learnt all about it.” “Not this again!” groaned Pip from the other end of the train. Duke and Emma ignored her.

“Sauin is a festival to celebrate the end of the harvest, the start of the winter season… and the point in time when the barrier between our world and the Otherworld is at its weakest. The month begins by preparing for winter and giving thanks to the sun, before pivoting to asking for protection from the winter gods and giving sacrifices to the ancestors as thanks for their guidance. Then, it ends with Sauin itself, which is better known as Halloween. People celebrate the wicked and supernatural, then stay indoors overnight with scriptures for protection painted on the doorway to ward off evil spirits. It’s said they begin to break out of the Otherworld at Dusk, and party in our world until midnight…” Duke broke off, looking contemplative. Emma wasn’t sure why, but she felt uneasy all of a sudden.

A group of people walked along the platform, offering blessings to the stranded passengers and burning incense. Pip refused to be blessed, and then the group made their way over to Emma and Duke.

“Ah, if you wouldn’t mind,” Duke said. A man stepped forward, painting a sigil on Duke’s forehead in red paint before waving the incense around him. Duke smiled warmly, his old eyes closing as he relaxed while the ritual was performed.

“Oooh, can you do me next please!” asked Emma. The group nodded. “Of course we can,” one said. “Explain it to Emma while you do,” Duke added. “She’s new, and this is her first Sauin.” The man stepped forwards, dipping his thumb in some more paint.

“Alright then Emma, I’m going to paint a sigil for protection on your forehead in Ancient Sudric, and then we’ll bless you with the incense.” A few of the more curious tourists wandered over to watch, intrigued by the ritual. The man painted the sigil in careful strokes on Emma’s forehead, and then several of the others walked around her as much as they could, waving the incense over her radiator grills and wheels.

“Thank you!” said Emma happily when they finished. “I… I actually feel better already.” “You should,” hummed Duke. “It’s a popular Ancient Sudrian tradition to get blessed prior to Sauin night – just in case you’re caught out after dusk.”

Pip just rolled her eyes down at her end of the train.

Emma asked a few more questions while they waited, before finally deciding to broach a topic she’d been unsure of since she’d begun asking around about Sauin. “Why is the timetable completely empty on Sauin night?” she asked. Duke frowned. “I said everyone stays inside, so why would anyone want to take the train?” “What about tourists, or goods?” quizzed Emma. “This is Sodor – there’s always another reason.” “You’re… not wrong,” sighed Duke. “Every Halloween, a train runs from the Rolling Bridge to Tidmouth. It’s on no timetable, and has no schedule. Some engines assert it leaves at dusk, while others suggest it crosses the island in the blink of an eye. What is known about this train is that it arrives at Tidmouth at exactly midnight… and continues on through the buffers.” “Through the buffers?!” squeaked Emma. “What, do they crash the train on purpose?” “Oh no,” sighed Duke. “It’s a train to the Otherworld – though some of the workers call it the ‘Tidmouth Train to Hell’. It’s pure black from one end to the other, and absolutely no one is allowed to set eyes on it.”

“What happens if someone does?” asked Emma, spooked. Duke sighed. “Well – a man was walking along the line in ’37 when he saw it. He was found a gibbering wreck on the trackside, white as a ghost and shivering like mad. He spent the rest of his life in a mental asylum, poor chap.”

Emma winced; at that moment, the signal turned green, and the two High-Speed twins were cleared to go. The passengers hurried back aboard, and the twins set off.

“It’s poppycock,” sniffed Pip as they rocketed along. “Ooooo, be afraid of ‘The Tidmouth Train to Hell’. Duke’s trying to have you on. I bet if you ask a sensible engine like Henry or Gordon they’ll tell you it never happened!”

Pip was proven very wrong. Emma decided to ask the pair that very night, and to Pip’s surprise they immediately confirmed Duke’s story.

“Oh, old Jefferies,” hummed Gordon. “Duke told you about him? I’m surprised he didn’t use one of the earlier cases – when I arrived, people still didn’t believe in it, and we’d find three or four every Halloween stumbling about the line screaming and gibbering and acting like lunatics. I remember very vividly Glynn going down the line and picking them all up in a compartment coach so they could be kept separate and brought to the hospital safely. By the end of the 20s, every had learnt better than to be out on Halloween. Sir Topham always ensured that we were in our sheds on that night too, and his son and grandson have both followed his example.”

Pip and Emma were both stunned!

“So… it’s real?” asked Emma slowly. “It’s very real,” Henry said grimly. “I’ve seen a peek of it through the shed windows. It’s a frightening thing, let me tell you! All black, with great red headlamps and it’s puffs sound like screams. We all stay in here and tell ghost stories and try not to think about it. And I’d suggest you do the same – I know you’ve got the last train of the day. Do not be late getting here.”

Emma agreed that she definitely was going to be on time, and even Pip seemed nervous.

The week went by, and the two new engines watched as more and more Sauin festivals were held. These were less and less about the harvest, and more and more about the oncoming winter and the spirits. A number of the native Sudrians and older engines began to have protection sigils painted on their foreheads when they went out; Duke was joined by Skarloey, Rheneas, Thomas, Edward, Henry and Gordon within a few days. Donald and Douglas, who’d learnt about Samhain back in Scotland, had their own sigils written in Scottish Gaelic. Duck and Oliver got their own Scottish sigils written in support of their friends.

All around them, Pip and Emma watched as Sodor prepared for Sauin night. Hotels filled to capacity, with large parades held celebrating the spirits in several of the bigger towns and cities.

And then finally, Halloween came. The day was incredibly slow, with barely any passengers at all riding with the railway. Pip and Emma wondered if it was worth pulling their train at all – at least, until they set out on their last express of the day. It was packed.

“Why are there so many?!” exclaimed Emma. “We’re going to be barely able to hold them all!” “It’s everyone heading to the mainland to avoid Sauin night,” James said, puffing in. “You’ll be hard pressed with this many – I think it’s cause there was a fog warning put out earlier; no one wants to be caught out past dusk with that in place. Spirits and fog? No thank you!”

James steamed away to shunt his coaches into their siding, while Pip and Emma prepared to head off. It was a struggle setting off. Every single seat was filled, and a number of others stood in the corridors, making the trip extremely difficult. Even more piled on at Crovan’s Gate, where almost all the Skarloey engines had already been hidden away in their shed. Emma watched the slowly descending sun with worry.

“If we get held up on the mainland even once, we’re not going to be back for dusk,” she fretted. “We’ll be fine,” replied Pip. “Worst comes to worst, we’re a little late. ‘The Tidmouth Train to Hell’ isn’t a threat to us.”

Oh how wrong Pip was.

The big sheds at Tidmouth were filling to capacity rapidly. The usual crowd had filed in, as had Edward, BoCo, Thomas, Percy, Toby and Daisy. The sheds were so full that the tank engines had to share a road between two of them; Duck and Oliver on one line and Percy and Toby on another. The scripts had been painted on the doors, and the storm shutters rolled down on the windows. Daisy huffed grumpily, glaring out at the yards as thick fog and mist wafted in. “I hate having to spend the night here, it’s so bad for my swerves!” “Oh belt up!” groaned Thomas. “It’s better than being out there – no one wants to be out there.” “Speaking of out there, where are Pip and Emma?” asked Gordon. “Dusk is in half an hour, and they aren’t back.”

Edward, sat on the turntable, winced. “I heard they had a full train leaving Tidmouth. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been waylaid. Let’s just hope the stationmaster at Barrow parks them there for the night.”

Pip and Emma would have no such luck. The pair were late leaving London and Preston, filled up once again with people wanting to get home for the holiday – but the platform at Barrow was deserted. The fog had truly begun to set in, leaving long shadows where none should be.

“You can’t stay here,” the stationmaster said grumpily. The sun was beginning to sink over the horizon. “There’s no space, and you’re not a Northern engine anyway. Go back to Sodor.”

Pip and Emma both tried to argue – but it was no use. At least the lack of passengers meant they didn’t need to wait around. The pair roared out of Barrow, trying their best to claw back time from the setting sun. Dusk was coming fast: too fast. The fog was willing it on faster, thick cloud cover blocking out part of the sun and making it increasingly harder to see.

Vicarstown flew by, followed by Henry’s tunnel and then Crovan’s Gate. Clear signals guided them through each station, the two honking their horns loudly. It was almost as if they were heralding the dusk, trying their best to make it back home before night came. Dark figures watched their progress from deep in the shadows, hiding where neither twin could really see them. “Faster Pip, faster!” called Emma. “I’m giving it all I can!” called back Pip.

Finally, Tidmouth came into view, one door still rolled up for them. Pip and Emma were quick to back through it, the door slamming down behind them just as the last rays of the sun vanished over the horizon, leaving behind only the fog.

“Cutting it close there,” said Gordon darkly. Both Pip and Emma winced. “We were held up on the mainland… a lot. And then the stationmaster at Barrow wouldn’t let us stay there.”

Gordon huffed. “Stupid man – he’s got no sense. Why, the other day!—”

He was cut off by James shushing him. The two shot glares at each other, before allowing Edward to pick up his story again.

The old engine wove stories throughout the next few hours, telling tales of twisted grins and haunting ghouls heralded by owls, of spirits sent to help and those sent to destroy. The engines relaxed, enjoying the night even as the hours ticked on. Pip and Emma could have fooled themselves into thinking it was just another horrible storm trapping all the engines in the shed.

That is, until a most horrific sound pierced through the air, shattering Edward’s story and leaving all the engines deathly silent. The clock showed a minute to midnight. The sound came again, a ghastly howling and screeching and moaning that seemed to work its way into the engines’ frames and bury itself there, leaving them all shaking. The doors and windows began to rattle and shake, as if hundreds of people were banging on them, trying to pry them open.

“Out after dusk!” they howled. “They were out after dusk!” Pip and Emma began to shake, terrified.

Another ear-piercing whistle filled the air, made of even more tortured howling and screeching. Then came the screams. As the engine thundered towards Tidmouth, each beat of its cylinders sounded like the screams of the damned. The entire shed seemed to shake, as the horrific banging and rattling continued.

“Out after dusk! Out after dusk! They belong to us! They belong to us!” Pip and Emma quivered, petrified. The other engines looked equally terrified – all except Edward. As the cacophony reached a peak, he took a deep breath.

“You are not welcome inside. We are protected. This shed has been blessed; these engines have been blessed. You are not welcome inside!”  

“ONE HAS NOT!” boomed the creatures outside. Pip gasped – she had refused the blessing!

The engine grew nearer; time seemed to slow. Edward took a level breath, and spoke again.

“You are not welcome inside. We are protected. This shed has been blessed; these engines have been blessed. You are not welcome inside!”  

“ONE HAS NOT!” came the furious reply. Before Edward could speak again, there was a horrendous roar and scream of whistles, brakes and steam – the Tidmouth Train to Hell had arrived. It roared past, it’s red lamps illuminating against the doors. The shed walls groaned, as if nearly at braking point. The windows rattled harder, dents being made it the metal. Daisy shrieked and fainted.

Thomas began praying under his breath in one language; the twins did the same in a different one. The train sped into the station, thundering towards the buffers. One dent slammed against the glass of the window next to Pip, cracking the glass. A gnarled nail pierced through the shutter.

“You are not welcome inside. We are protected. This shed has been blessed; these engines have been blessed. You are not welcome inside!”  Edward thundered again, his eyes darting over to the shutter.

The train hit the buffers.

The creatures outside let out a chorus of tortured screams. They were in agony, ripping away from the sheds and howling in pain. The nail was torn from the shutter, giving Pip just enough space to see dark figures writhing on the ground.

The clock ticked over; a new day began. The creatures let out one last screech. The floor seemed to open up around them, hellflames licking up at the night fog and illuminating the entire night in a sea of blood red. The creatures screaming and screeched, dragged downwards and suffocated in the earth before they could be scorched alive by the flames.

And then there was silence.

“Oh…” managed Pip softly.

Everyone looked shaken. Edward sighed softly, and looked over at the twins. “The last time an engine was out after dusk and wasn’t blessed was in 1916, during the war,” he said quietly. “Thomas mightn’t remember it – but I do. It was a loaned engine who told us all that Sauin was stupid… that is, until the creatures of hell surrounded the sheds and began demanding we give him over. Glynn kept trying to keep them out, but he slipped up. The engine’s shed door was ripped open suddenly, and he was… dragged out. We never say what pulled him out – but whatever it was bent that door open like it was a tin can and shoved it back down afterwards. We all heard the loaned engine’s screams as it was given to the creatures and torn piece from piece…”

Edward paused, and gazed at the shed doors, looking wary.

“It’s said that engine became the Tidmouth Train to Hell, crossing the island and giving the spirits and creatures time to roam free before arriving in Tidmouth and condemning them all back to hell, to make sure none can inflict that fate on another.”

He finished his story and looked around the silent room. Daisy was still unconscious, and it was a miracle none of the others had followed. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the dent shutter and cracked window, a stark warning of how close the creatures got.

No one slept that night.

And suffice to say, Pip and Emma were never late again on Sauin.

Back to the Master Post