#i will tag accordingly in the future

[starbuck]

and I am leaving you and I am sorry

[anxiousgaypanicking]

that last chapter felt more like borderline rape actually..

yes! its tagged as rape/noncon on ao3 for this reason, and thats why i always include dubcon/noncon tags on the hunger hurts chapters. i think i said in the past (i tried to find the exact ask and i couldnt, so i apologize if im remembering this wrong) that itd never be like screaming crying no/stop/etc, and that a lot of it would be more just like fear and whatnot. a lot of logans actual upset comes in the form of janus fucking with his mind as opposed to his body, but yeah, i definitely see how it feels more like rape, because it is assault.

i can start tagging things with tw/cw rape and stuff, but thats why ive been including the noncon tag, because the first half of this book is/will be very noncon-esque, and even the later chapters will be more stockholm until we can pivot to healthy (as healthy as this dynamic can be, i mean)

(i made sure to go through and add the cw/tw rape tags on all of the previous chapters, and will be doing so from now on. i apologize for any discomfort this negligence on my part has caused <3)

[nervouswreckhere]

Behold! My brainchild! aka Moorington family backstory/prequel

Wana didn't know what to make of her brother.

At first glance, he was a typical grown-up - grey hairs and stress lines. He was even trying to grow a beard!

And yet, despite being almost a carbon copy of their father, he was fun.

He took her out of the stuffy room her mom had left her in and then spent an hour and a half summoning sparkly lights for Wana to play with.

But still - him being fun didn't mean he was an okay person. Wana had only known him for three days; she needed more time to gauge his intentions.

Wana couldn't jump to conclusions even if he had shown her the kitchen and made her hot chocolate when she asked him to. She had to be sure.

Merlok might appear nice and funny now, but he could be pretending like da- like Gareth had been.

"Wanda, are you listening?" her father asked, his voice edged with what she thought was irritation. "This concerns you as well."

Wana frowned but turned her head toward him. Looking through her curls, she took in her parents' appearances for the first time since they ushered her into the sitting room.

Her mom's hair was out of her usual braids, looking limp and lifeless without the colorful scarf woven between the locks. Her eyes were devoid of their spark; warm brown turned to cracked mud. She looked haggard and tired beyond anything the girl had seen before.

Even after the Accident, she had looked better.

Her father, on the other hand, looked unbothered. His long white beard didn't have a hair out of place, and his sharp features were stuck in a calm mask. Were it not for the flinty look in his eyes, Wana would have thought he and mom hadn't been arguing for days.

Wana hadn't known he was her real father. She always thought Gareth was her dad - but look at how that turned out.

Maybe Zagryeth being her dad would be a nice change. (Even in her head, she couldn't force the words to sound sincere.)

"Wanda, this is important."

He kept calling her that.

Wanda.

Wanh-duh. It sounded wrong - not at all like her. Too old and harsh. She was Wana Foreman, daughter of the best tailor in Dnullib. She was never Wanda, always Wan or Wana.

"'M listening," she mumbled, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. She looked Zagryeth in the eye, ignoring the growing knot in her stomach.

"For your sake and for mine, I hope you are." A furrow appeared between his brows. "And don't mumble - it is not proper."

Wana stomped down the urge to roll her eyes and scoff. Her mom might find her attitude 'adorable' and 'cute', but she didn't think her father would share the sentiment.

They didn't seem to share anything.

Ignorant of her thoughts, Zagryeth continued. "Are you aware of what happened? Why you and your mother had to come here?"

Wana frowned. "'Cause I did something bad."

For the first time since sitting down, her mom chimed in. "No, honey, you didn't. I should have been paying attention to the signs, then maybe none of this would have happened..."

The girl just looked at her from below her brows. 

She remembered the screaming, the panic. The fear, twisting her mom's soft features into something terrible. Wana didn't think knowing what would have happened could have, in any way, changed the outcome.

Maybe being a wizard allowed one to read minds because her father snorted with derision. "It would have happened either way - the only difference being the girl would have known what was happening to her - and even then, she would have been unable to do anything about it."

Zagryeth turned to face her mom, his mouth twisted and his cool eyes alight. "You should have brought her here the moment she was born. She would have been taught everything she needed to know, and every accident that might have occurred would have been dealt with immediately!"

Wana slouched, suddenly uncomfortable. She entwined her hands together, fidgeting with them as she started counting. One, two, three…

Her mother reared up, her face going slack with shock before darkening with rage. "And if she had been normal?! If she hadn't had power coursing through her veins? Then what?"

...seven, eight, nine…

When the wizard didn't answer, her mother stood up, her chair rattling from the force of her movement. Wana flinched, but neither one of her parents reacted, the girl - forgotten in the heat of the moment.

"She would have been thrown aside without a thought for her future or her feelings! And even if she had powers, what would have happened to me in this perfect scenario of yours?" Mom snarled, her hair fanning around her face like a dark halo as she got up in his face, "Would you have let me stay, or would you have stolen my child from me and left me to rot? Or would you have kept me around because of pity - the mistress and the bastard of the council member?"

Wana's eyes, which were the size of dinner plates, were glued to the arguing pair. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she tried and failed to calm down. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…

"I would have never-!"

"I wouldn't have married you even if you asked! And you wouldn't have! There would have been gossip. Even with your position, the court wouldn't have let this one go! They would have whispered behind our backs, would have pointed fingers."

With each word, the volume of her speech increased.

"They would have criticized the color of my skin, my accent, my age. Everything. Wanda would have gotten the burn of it too! Every single moment she didn't showcase some extraordinary feat of magic, she would have been ridiculed!"

Twenty-nine, thirt- Suddenly, everything screeched to a halt.

Wana's ears rang.

Magic. Magic. Magic.

Did she have magic?

The girl thought back to the day of the Accident. Thought about the cracking sound echoing in her head as the world around her exploded. Before everything disappeared in blaze and darkness, Wana remembered the itch, the feeling that buzzed beneath her skin, expanding.

It had always been there, pleasantly filling in the silence between games. It whispered in her dreams, and it danced with her joy. Was that magic?

She didn't know. But she wanted to learn.

Her father's voice brought her back to the present. The scorn in his voice was clear and scathing against her ears. "Edme, you didn't protect her by keeping her away. You didn't do her a favor."

Her mom faltered, looking crushed; her fire extinguished with a few words. The knots in Wana's stomach returned as she saw the slump of her shoulders and the slight hitch in her breathing.

Zagryeth didn't notice those things. Now it was his turn to get into her face, his voice harsh and mocking. "She will be ridiculed. She will be teased and maybe even bullied. There is little damage control I can do seven years past the point of no return. She will suffer, and that is on you."

A sob tore through the air, breaking the stalemate between the adults. Finally remembering that they were not alone in the room, both adults turned towards their daughter.

Wana was too busy trying to muffle her sobs to notice the looks of panic and horror that passed through her parents' faces. One of her hands was pressed flush to her mouth while the other feverishly brushed the rivets of tears streaming down her cheeks.

She was a big girl - she shouldn't be crying over something as trivial as- as- Another loud sob escaped her mouth, accompanied by a new wave of tears.

Wana didn't want to be bullied or to be pointed at - she didn't want to live here, away from her friends, away from her home. (She ignored the voice in the back of her mind whispering that said friends had already been ignoring her for weeks. She pushed back the daily reminder that home wasn't home anymore.)

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms embraced her shaking figure. The familiar smell of bergamot and fresh linen tickled her nose as she burrowed her face in her mother's hair.

"I'm sorry, Wana." The girl heard her mom whisper. "We shouldn't have spoken like that in front of you."

"D-do we havta come and live here?" whimpered Wana, her sobs slowly subduing.

"I'm afraid so, starlight. But don't listen to what Za- what your father said. You won't be bullied or harassed - I will make sure of it. Your father will make sure of it. Wouldn't you, Zagryeth?"

"But of course!" the wizard exclaimed.

Leaving the safe haven that was her mother's curls, Wana raised her head and took in the tall silhouette her father cut.

Zagryeth was as stiff as a board and just as inviting. His violet hat was a bit askew, and his lips were taut with discomfort. But his eyes, his hard, cool eyes, were serious - he was serious.

He would do everything in his power to ease her path. And maybe, just maybe, she would let him.

Her mom, likely sensing a shift in her mood, loosened her embrace enough to be able to look at her. Her eyes flickered across Wana's face, her thumbs gently wiping off any residual tears. "Better?"

Wana hummed, her gaze flitting back and forth between her parents. Her mind replayed the argument between them and one point stood out to her. Uncertainty crept in as she grimaced at the thought. "You won't leave me, right? Even if I do something bad?"

"No. Never!" Kneeling before her, the woman smiled, her slightly crooked front tooth on full display. "Nothing you do, no matter how bad, could make me leave you. Nothing. Wana, remember that. Nothing."

Looking at her mom now, Wana couldn't help but remember the Accident. She recalled the way the world around her exploded. The sickening crack. The silence.

She thought of Gareth and the empty look in his eyes.

Through it all, her mom had been with her. Despite the terror in her eyes, she had held Wana close, comforting her as best as she could. She stood tall even when the neighbours talked, and the kids started avoiding her.

Now, her eyes were devoid of the fear they had once held, but the conviction in them was the same as then.

"Okay," the girl whispered. "I'll remember."

Her mom's smile widened even further, the spark in her eye reigniting. It was smaller and not as vibrant as it had been, but it was there.

Wana tore her gaze away from her and turned toward her father.

He looked uncomfortable and out of place with his sparkly purple robe and fancy staff, standing straight as a rod in the middle of the ordinary room, but the steely glint in his eyes hadn't changed.

He would be there, his eyes promised.

Wana sniffed and offered him a watery smile. Zagryeth didn't react outwardly, but the girl could have sworn the right corner of his lips twitched.

Her mom shuffled, squeezing Wana one more time before letting go. She stood, impervious to the snot covering parts of her hair and shoulder, and threw a fierce look at her father. "You will not let anything happen to her."

Zagryeth scowled. "But of course not! She is my daughter - I will let nothing happen to her."

Wana wiped her nose with her hand, giggling at his grimace. "Thanks, dad."

A strange expression appeared on his face before he smothered it into a neutral mask. "Your manners will make my job twice as hard.” He sighed, fake exasperation coloring his voice. “The sacrifices one makes for their offspring."

Her mom rolled her eyes, shooting a conspiring smile toward Wana. "Ignore him - you are perfect the way that you are."

Wana felt the remains of her nervousness fade as she watched her father puff his cheeks in indignation.

"Not if she uses her sleeves to wipe off her nose! It's unhygienic and-!" Zagryeth cut himself off as if just realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

Wana had to bite her tongue so as not to let out the laugh building in her throat. This was the first time she had ever seen her father less than serious. She didn't think Zagryeth could ever be anything but uptight.

He coughed delicately in his fist before standing up straight. "Ehem. Now with that issue settled, let us return to the original topic. Wanda's future and education."

Any trace of amusement evaporated from the girl's mind. Her full attention glued itself to the purple-clad figure, anticipation thrumming like a live wire inside her.

Her mother took the place next to her father, standing shoulder to shoulder with the wizard. A somber expression marred her face. "Wana, you have magic. And as far as I understand, you have enough of it to need to learn how to control it."

"Had I known earlier about you," Zagryeth continued, ignoring the venomous look her mom gave him, "there would have been an option to seal your magic until you were older. Then had you wished, we would have gradually removed the bindings so you could learn how to control it.

"Unfortunately, any natural block you might have had - that is on what the seal is built - was completely broken. Now, we may be able to-"

Her mom sighed, a warm but exasperated smile twisting her lips. "Zig, return to the topic; you are losing her."

Wana's mind had started wandering, but her father didn't need to know that. "'M paying attention!"

"Even if you were," Mom pointed out, "he still needs to get to the point."

"Ahem, what I was trying to say is, Wanda, you have two options." Her father's expression turned grave, with no traces of its previous animation. "We can either try and seal it - and if we succeed, understand that there will be no guarantee that we would be able to reverse it."

Wana gulped, finally comprehending the seriousness of the conversation. "So if I decide to seal my- my magic, I won't have it anymore. It will be gone?"

"Most likely... yes."

She wouldn't have magic. No more itches she couldn't scratch. No more static-filled hair.

No more life-endangering explosions.

"The other option is for me - or some other wizard if you so wish - to teach you control." Zagryeth twirled one end of his pearl-white mustache, gaze pensive. "Simple spells and some basic knowledge to establish a base you can later in life build upon. It will be hard - a life-long commitment."

He turned his gaze on Wana, his steel grey eyes - the same color as hers - pinning the girl to her seat. "Do you want time to think about it or have you already decided?"

Wana took in the look on his face, the lines around his mouth, before turning towards her mom.

She stood silent, her expression unreadable. It didn't change when Wana tilted her head, the question clear in the curve of her lips.

After a few seconds, during which her gaze flickered around the room, Wana looked down at her hands. They were rough and scrapped from all the time she spent outside playing. Most of her nails were bitten down, while the rest were broken and jagged.

The girl sighed and let go of the lip she had been nervously biting. "I want to learn."

"You do?" both her parents exclaimed, their tones differing greatly from one another.

Wana hummed, resolution sparkling in her eyes. "Yes. I do."

And she did. She was all gangly limbs and sharp edges. She wasn't beautiful like her mother, nor was she as effortlessly striking as her father.

She was awkward, a bit hot-headed, and too suspicious for her own good, but Wana liked herself. Magic included.

"I want to learn. I really do. Magic's a part of me - and I like me."

Her mom let out a shaky laugh, her eyes turning misty. "If you are sure, starlight. We will do only what you want to do."

"Within reason of course," her father hurried to add.

Wana chuckled, sure of her decision.

She would be learning magic!

"What will I be learning?" she asked, excitement filling her mind. "Will I learn the spark magic Merlok showed me? Will me and mom be staying here or would we live somewhere else? What type of-"

Her mom sniggered as her father sputtered. None of his solemnity had survived Wana’s whirlwind of moods, and the flabbergasted look on his face was truly comical.

After a few moments - during which her mom shook with silent laughter - Wana finally stopped talking, her expression expectant.

Seeing as Zagryeth wasn't going to answer anything, the woman smiled, discreetly wiping a tear out of her eye. "Let’s try again, one question at a time. Hm?"

Wana pouted but did as asked. "Will we live here? With dad?"

Her mom looked at her father, who had finally regained his composure and nodded. "I think so, yes. Anything else?"

"What magic will I be learning?" Wana questioned, vibrating slightly in her seat.

"Well, your father should-"

"Ahem." Zagryeth coughed, mask firmly in place. "You will learn the basics of all spheres - types - of magic. Afterward, if you want to continue learning, you will either be taken as an apprentice or self-study in the area you have the most interest in."

"What's your specialty? Merlok told me every wizard or witch had one. Does it have anything to do with the designs on your staff?!"

"To a point, you are correct." He waved a hand towards his staff. As if on command, the suspended metal star twirled, sparkling as it went. "I have been told I have an affinity for prophecy. Telling the future and such gimmicks. Unfortunately, I do not believe in fate and preordained paths, so I never truly developed that talent for more than a fun party trick."

"So it was a party trick!" Wana's mom exclaimed, reminding the other two they weren't alone in the room.

"Yes? Kind of?" Zagryeth stuttered, two bright red spots appearing on his cheeks. "I might have already had a drink or two before I met you."

"Or five?" her mom smirked, tilted her head, and put her hands on her hips.

"Absolutely not!" he exclaimed before wilting. "...that was after."

Wana frowned at the two adults, annoyance raging in her chest. "Can we get back to what dad's magic is? Or when I'll start learning? Or-"

"Err, yes, yes. I work with runes and magical-imbued hieroglyphs - passive magic, as we call it. As you can see-" he pointed at the many shelves adorning the room- "I have a few books and scrolls on the topic."

A few was a bit of an understatement. Three out of the four walls were covered in shelves, which, in turn, were bustling with scrolls and books. All of them looked in mint condition, even though most seemed at least a century old.

Wana had never seen so many books before in her life. Actually, she had seen more books in the house than she had seen in the entire Dnullib.

Just as she opened her mouth to ask another question, a timid knock came from the door.

Giving her what she thought was an apologetic look, her father turned to the door. "Come in."

A plump, dark-haired lady walked in. She wore a long black dress over which she wore a white apron - the same outfit the woman that first saw to Wana and her mom when they came here wore.

"Master Zagryeth," she said, curtsying slightly, "council member Trento is here to see you."

Her father startled. "It's time already? No matter." He turned toward Wana and offered her a small smile. "Why don't you write down your questions? I will try and answer them as soon as I can."

Wana returned the smile, shaky as it was, and nodded.

For a second there, she had forgotten her father was part of the wizards' council - and so was a busy man.

This had been the longest conversation Wana had held with him since she got here three days ago. The only other time she saw him at all was during meals, and even they were extremely short.

He didn't know her at all. And yet her tiny smile seemed enough to ease his way out, nodding at her mom as he did so.

Just after the door had clicked shut, her mom slumped loudly in her chair like a puppet whose strings were cut. Her shoulders shook as the emotions from today hit their peak. Wana didn't waste time going to her and hugging her hard.

Her mom squeezed her back just as strongly, rocking the girl back and forth as she did.

"We'll make it through," she said, her voice muffled in Wana's tresses. "Do you hear me, starlight? We will make it through."

"Yes, mom. We will."

And they - she would. Not without change, mind. Wana Foreman, a simple girl, would die so Wanda Moorington, witch in training, would thrive. Not a big difference in the grand scheme of things, but a difference nonetheless. It was after all, history in the making.

part 1 of hopefully more? 

i love making things tragic and this just sprung out of my head as if it was Athena itself - but i am neither Zeus nor is this a paragon of wisdom: i just find wanda neat and i want merlock to be an awesome brother

[lizard-dumbass]

Guys im begging you please tag your spoilers some people have not seen the episode yet

[iphigeniacomplex]

i WAS talking extensively last night about how wizards are sex symbols. like they represent sex. but only the cool wizards with shiny silver stars on their wizard hats for example are sex symbols because theyre firmly existing outside of this normalcy construct and living as these rare and precious selves

[wholoveseggs]

I’m so upset with the lack of Daemon requests so I wanted to give you a challenge.

Reader x Daemon on a dragon. That is all :)

Ride the Sky

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Hightower!Reader} As the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower, your own life feels completely out of your control. But a chance encounter with Prince Daemon gives you the opportunity to step out of your cage and touch the sky.

♡♡ ahhhh I love you @elijahstwink, this was such a fun idea & I 100% believe Daemon would do this... ♡♡

4.8k words - Warnings: smut, hightower!reader, fingering, sex on dragon back, daemon being a flirt & hating Otto, kinda mentions of marital rape? tyland lannister {ew} && caraxes being the best noodle boi...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219

The tower of the hand was always such a foreboding place for you. It never meant good news when you were summoned and this time was no different. You stood there, shifting from foot to foot, and finally, the man you were supposed to call father, turned around from the window. He had been watching the city below, and now his gaze was on you.

"I've heard rumors," he said and you flinched. This wasn't the first time he had accused you of doing something inappropriate. In his mind, a lady was a lady, and she should act accordingly. But it seemed no matter how hard you tried to please him, nothing you ever did was good enough.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he waved you away. "I don't want to hear your excu-”

"I wish to know what I've been accused of, then," you snapped back, your own temper getting the better of you. You knew you would pay for that later, but right now, you wanted to hear what it was.

"That you've been imbibing in too much wine and games, not focusing on your duties as a lady of the court," he said sharply, looking back down at his papers. He began writing and you stood there, seething.

"So?" you finally asked, and he looked back up at you.

"It's unbecoming," he replied, his tone laced with condescension, "Especially when you are here at court, looking for a husband. Any potential suitors do not wish to have a drunken wife. It will not look good for him."

You sighed. It was always about men, what would please them, what would make them happy. Never you. And the way Otto looked at you, the disdain in his eyes, you knew what was coming. He had been making the same noises for a while, that he needed to find a match for you, and it seemed as if he had finally found one.

"Lord Lannister is a powerful ally," he began, and you immediately felt your temper rise again. You bit back the urge to yell at him.

"And you think I'll be a perfect wife for him? A boring drunkard whose bed I'll have to warm?" you asked, and you could feel the tears welling up.

Otto's expression was hard. "I would think him being a drunkard would be something you have in common," he replied.

He could see the distress on your face and his voice softened just a little. "We must look to the future of House Hightower, and Lord Tyland would make a fine match for you."

You shook your head, tears spilling over. "I don't want him-”

"And what is it that you want?" Otto snapped.

You stared at him. You wanted so much, and none of it was the life he would choose for you. You couldn't stand it anymore, and you spun on your heel, heading for the door.

He didn't try to stop you, and you didn't care.

You didn't want to go back to your chambers, because Alicent would be there, and you couldn't face her either. So, instead, you went outside to the garden, trying to find a quiet spot where you could cry and hopefully not be found.

You found a stone bench, tucked away in a quiet corner and sat down. The tears flowed freely, and you cried and cried, wondering what would happen now, what would become of your life.

You felt as if it had been planned out without any input from you, and now you were going to have to marry a man who was full and passionless. All because it was what was good for the family, and what was best for House Hightower.

It wasn't fair.

You let out a sob and stood up, looking for something to throw, to break, just to let out the anger and frustration that was coursing through you.

Your eyes fell on a statue.

It was one of the Kings, long dead, but you couldn't remember which one. You glared at it and then, without a second thought, gave it a shove.

It didn't fall over, but it teetered a little, and then settled back.

"Is that how we honor our kings now, by toppling their statues?" "A voice said, and you whirled around. Prince Daemon was standing there, looking at the statue, and then you, a small smirk on his face.

"I-I didn't mean," you stammered, wiping your tears, but he held up his hand.

He didn't say a word, just walked over to the bench. He motioned for you to sit, and you did. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, and you tried to control your tears.

Your father loathed the prince, and therefore you were expected to avoid him. You had seen him only once or twice, and the first time you had seen him, you were a girl of ten, and he had just turned seventeen.

You remembered seeing him, and being amazed by the beauty of him. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and the fact that he was a prince just made him all the more alluring.

You remembered asking your father if you could marry the prince. Your father had laughed, and told you no, he was not suited for you.

Of course, that hadn't stopped you from having the occasional daydream about the two of you, and here he was, sitting next to you, while you were crying over the thought of your father giving you to an old man.

"What is it like," you asked him, sniffling slightly, "To have the freedom to do what you wish?"

He gave a slight chuckle. "Freedom is an illusion," he replied, his voice quiet, "We are all prisoners in one way or another, even kings,"

"Then I wish for my prison to have a dragon," you muttered bitterly, immediately regretting the words. It wasn't proper to speak to him like that, but he only laughed.

"Perhaps one day," he said, his gaze settling on your face. You could feel his eyes on you, and you blushed, ducking your head.

"Why do you ask about freedom, Lady Hightower," he said in an almost teasing tone, "Is your life not everything a lady could want?"

You didn't meet his gaze, and he observed you thoughtfully, you were a mystery to him as much as he was to you.

"Or perhaps, it is not," he said, his eyes narrowing, "Perhaps you want more than what your father will allow,"

There was a bitterness in his tone when he mentioned your father, the disdain they had for each other was no secret. You didn't wish to add to it, but you couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

"My father is marrying me off to Tyland Lannister," you said, and his lips curved into a small smile.

"And I assume that is why you're here, hiding in the garden," he replied, and you nodded.

He was still watching you, and his gaze made you feel uncomfortable, but in a good way. "I don't want some dull drunkard in my bed, I want..."

You trailed off. It was an improper thing to say, he was the prince, your better. You shouldn't be speaking this way.

"Say it," he said, his voice soft, yet commanding.

"I want my husband to be able to bring me pleasure," you said, the words falling from your lips.

He chuckled, a deep rumble that came from within his chest. You felt even more ashamed by his response, here was the prince laughing at you, thinking you foolish and stupid.

You stood, trying to hide the fresh tears threatening to spill. "I should return to the keep," you said, "Thank you for the company, your grace,"

You took a step, and then suddenly his hand was around your wrist. His touch made your skin feel hot and a strange sensation spread between your legs. You gasped softly, and he stood up, stepping closer.

He towered over you, his blonde hair gleaming in the sun, and his violet eyes were dark and intense, his lips were still curved in a smile, and he was close enough for you to smell him, the scent of smoke, leather and musk.

"Would you like a taste of freedom?" he asked, his voice low. "Before your cage closes,"

"I-I-Yes," you stammered.

He pulled you with him, and you followed.

He led you down the paths and out the gate, along the long stone road to the dragon pit. The guards bowed, and let him pass, and then, to your amazement, he led you into the pit itself.

"My Prince-” you gasped, but he held up his hand again, silencing you.

In the dark of the cave, you could hear them stirring, the great beasts of his house. There was a deep rumble, a sound that felt ancient and primal, and a shadow fell over the both of you.

You stepped back, fear making your heart race. He turned, and you saw the amusement in his face. "Don't worry," he said, "He won't hurt you, unless I tell him to,"

You heard the sounds of his dragon moving forward, and a large snout appeared from the darkness.

"Lady Hightower, meet Caraxes," Daemon said, gesturing to the beast with a wide smile on his face.

You could only stare as the dragon came forward. His body was covered in red scales, and the wings were enormous, his claws scraped against the stone floor, his neck long like that of a snake, and he had a crown of horns on his head.

You have never seen one up close before, only ever far away and up high in the sky. But now, here, in front of you, he was a sight to behold.

Daemon reached out his hand and the dragon nuzzled it, his large, golden eyes fixing on you. He whispered something to the beast, in the language of Valyria, and then turned to you, beckoning you closer.

You hesitated, and he smiled. "It's alright," he said, holding out his hand.

Tentatively, you reached out and touched his palm, letting him take your hand in his. It was soft and warm, and his long fingers curled around yours. He raised it, and pressed it to the dragon's snout.

His scales were smooth and hot to the touch, and the dragon exhaled a deep breath, the sound like a purr. You could feel his breath on your face, and it smelled of sulfur and heat, and underneath that, the metallic scent of blood.

He nuzzled you, his eyes half closing. Daemon smiled and let go of your hand, and you stroked the dragon, amazed.

"He's beautiful," you said softly, admiring the red of his scales and the gold of his eyes.

"Yes," Daemon replied, his gaze fixed on you.

Caraxes pulled away and then, to your astonishment, the dragon lay down on the ground. You looked at Daemon, not understanding, and his smile grew.

"I promised you a taste of freedom, didn't I," he said, and suddenly you realized what he meant.

You watched, amazed as he climbed onto the dragon's back, and held out his hand to you. "Come," he said.

You stared up at him. His hand outstretched, waiting for you to take it. You didn't know what to do. Your father would be furious if he found out. But this was an opportunity you might not get again.

Without hesitation, you put your hand in his, and let him pull you up, settling you in front of him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. Your skirts were in the way, and you struggled to find a comfortable position. You were suddenly very aware of the heat of his body behind you.

"Here," he said softly, his hands moving up your thighs, and then, you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, until the material was up around your hips.

The dragon raised his head, and stretched his wings, a deafening screech filling the air. You could feel him move, the muscles in his shoulders shifting, his body flexing.

With one last scream, he began to move forward, at a speed faster than anything you had ever seen, and suddenly, with a running leap, his body was rising. Daemon had his arms wrapped around you, holding on to the reins as Caraxes' wings beat against the air.

He rose, higher and higher, and suddenly the ground was falling away below you, and the sky opened up before you. You could feel the dragon's strength as he climbed, the power in his body, and the heat and the wind and the roar of his wings.

The sky was a beautiful mix of reds, oranges and pinks as the sun began to set. You could see the Red Keep and the city below, the winding streets and the river and the ocean beyond. It was a breathtaking sight.

Daemon said something in Valyrian, and the dragon gave a cry and suddenly he was moving forward, gliding along the air, his wings spread.

The horizon was endless, the clouds were around you, and the world seemed small and insignificant, all your problems forgotten, at least for a moment.

"Does it feel like freedom, lady Hightower," he murmured, his lips against your ear.

You flushed at his closeness, the warmth of his body and his voice. "Yes," you whispered.

He took your hands, placing them on the reins. You held tight, feeling the dragon move beneath you, the muscles and tendons rippling, the scales smooth and hot.

"Hold them tightly, and pull on them, to turn him," he said.

You did as he instructed, and Caraxes changed course, heading north. The dragon rumbled and roared, a loud squeaking sound that made you laugh.

You felt Daemon smile against your neck, his hands winded around your waist, one hand pressing into your stomach, and the other resting on your thigh, his long fingers curling around the hem of your skirt, the fabric flapping in the wind.

He held you like that, his grip strong and steady. You didn't want it to end, this freedom, the feeling of his arms around you and the dragon flying beneath you.

The hand that was pressed against your stomach moved lower, his fingertips brushing the inside of your thigh. You wanted him to continue, but you also wanted him to stop. It was not appropriate, and you were unsure of what to do.

"My Prince," you said softly, a hot flush coming over you. He was touching you in a way no one ever had, and the feeling was overwhelming.

"You are far too beautiful to marry some dull Lannister cunt," he said, his voice low, his lips grazing your neck. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress with it. Your breath hitched as his fingers moved underneath the linen shift you wore, brushing the soft, wet flesh between your legs.

"This isn't proper, my Prince," you said, trying to focus on the reins and not the way his hand was making you feel.

"And who is here to see? Or to hear?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, "Only my dragon, and I don't think he'll care,"

He pressed a kiss to the spot where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, and you inhaled sharply, your body arching into his. He smiled, his fingers finding the small nub of pleasure between your legs, brushing over it softly. Your hips jerked and you gasped, your head falling back against his chest.

"A woman like you should be in control of who she gives her maidenhead to," he whispered, sucking little marks onto the delicate skin of your neck, "Who gives you that pleasure you crave."

The wind was cool on your skin, but inside you burned. He was igniting a fire deep within you and you were powerless to stop it.

His fingers moved faster, circling the little bud and then stroking it. He knew exactly how to touch you, and you were helpless under his hands.

You knew that you were being indecent, letting him fuck you with his hand, your skirts shoved up, the dragon soaring through the sky. Your father would kill you if he knew. But the thought of it made you only wetter, and you began to push harder against his hand.

"That's it, chase the feeling," he breathed, his fingers moving faster, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you back against him. You could feel the hardness of his cock, pressing against your back, and the knowledge that he was aroused by you, only made the sensation stronger.

Your hands let go of the reins and Daemon quickly grabbed them with his free hand, keeping the dragon steady. You clutched his arm, your body shaking, the pressure building inside you, your legs trembling.

You let out a cry, and then stars were exploding behind your eyes and he was whispering to you, soft and low, encouraging you as you felt yourself fall apart, coming undone.

You slumped against him, the tension leaving your body, and he was there, holding you. You felt his chest rumble with a laugh and you managed to get yourself upright.

You looked at him, his violet eyes, the smirk on his face. You reached out and touched his cheek, and then pulled him towards you, kissing him.

His lips were soft and warm, and he kissed you back, his tongue parting your lips and entering your mouth. It was a deep, passionate kiss, and when he finally pulled away, you were breathing hard.

He smiled, his eyes darting from your lips down your chest. "Perhaps we should return to the keep, my Lady," he said, his tone amused, "before we get carried away,"

You looked down, and saw the sprawling countryside, a sea of green dotted with little villages and the faint outlines of crops and farmland.

"Where are we?" you asked.

"Near Duskendale," he said, his eyes boring into you. He gave you a smile, and in that moment, you lost yourself completely, mesmerized by him and everything that had just happened.

Daemon pulled on the reins, yelling something in Valyrian. The dragon gave a loud screech, and began to descend. He guided Caraxes lower, heading for a field near a small village.

The dragon landed gracefully, his wings folding against his body. The trees and grass bent in the wind from his wings, and the few animals nearby scattered. You could feel the rumble as his belly hit the ground, and then he was still, his breathing deep and steady.

Daemon hopped off the dragon and held his arms out to you. You let him help you down, his hands sliding around your waist. As your feet touched the ground you stumbled, your legs were weak and shaky, and you had to cling to his arm to keep from falling.

His eyes met yours and he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft and firm, and you melted into the kiss, your fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair. He pressed you into Caraxes side, the dragon curled around the two of you protectively, his tail flicking lazily.

The beast was warm against your back, you could feel its chest expand with each deep breath, a gentle rattling sound coming from it.

Daemon broke the kiss, nuzzling into your neck. Your whole body was on fire, and you could feel the heat of him pressed against you.

"Would you like me to make you come again, lady Hightower," he whispered, his teeth grazing your skin.

"My Prince... I've never...," you managed to get out, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Better me than a Lannister, yes?" he said, a smirk on his face.

You blushed furiously, unable to respond. He was right. You didn't want to give your maidenhead to some Lannister bore. You wanted it to be him.

Caraxes curled tighter around the two of you, warm and surprisingly still, his long neck and head outstretched, surveying the area around you. His eyes were lazy, and he was making a strange rumbling sound, almost content, like a big cat.

Daemon looked up at him, smiling at the beast, then back to you, his hands moving up to cradle your face. He leaned in and captured your lips in a hot, searing kiss that had you clinging to him.

His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you closer. You could feel the hard length of him against your belly, and a hot ache settled between your legs. You had never felt like this before, so hungry, so desperate.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck. His hands moved down, pushing the skirt of your dress up and bunching the fabric around your waist. He lifted your thigh, hooking it around his hip.

With his other hand he unlaced his trousers, freeing his hard cock. You had never seen a man's cock before, and the sight of his had you blushing even deeper. It was thick and long, the tip pink and leaking a clear fluid.

He smiled, seeing the look on your face, "go on, touch it," he said, his voice low.

Tentatively, you reached out, your hand wrapping around his shaft. He was hot and hard in your palm, the skin smooth and velvety. You moved your hand up and down, marveling at the way he grew harder and thicker.

Your eyes flickered back up to his face. He had a satisfied smile on his lips, his violet eyes dark and intense.

"Like this," he said, placing his hand over yours and guiding you. He showed you how to stroke him, the pressure and speed. When he let go, you continued, enjoying the way his eyes closed and his head tilted back, his lips parting as he breathed heavily.

You watched him, entranced by the sight of him, his pleasure growing. He placed his hand back over yours, stilling you.

He took your other thigh and hoisted you up. You clung to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. His hard cock rubbed against the soft flesh of your cunt, and you moaned softly, the ache inside you growing.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he thrust against you. You gasped at the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your clit, the head bumping against your entrance.

You looked up at him, pleading. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark, his hair falling across his forehead. He was so handsome, so strong.

"Please, my prince," you breathed, desperate.

He smirked, his eyes flashing, and then he was guiding himself inside you, the tip of his cock parting the soft, wet flesh.

He pushed slowly into you, and you felt a sharp pain as his cock tore through your maidenhead. You cried out, and he kissed you, swallowing your gasp.

He hummed against your lips, a soothing, comforting sound. His hands squeezed your bottom, holding you steady. He moved slowly, rocking his hips, pulling you into him with each thrust.

"I've got you," he said, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin.

The pain slowly subsided, replaced by a delicious, aching pleasure. You clung to him, your eyes closing, lost in the sensation of him filling you.

You could hear the sound of the wind, and the rustle of the trees. The deep gentle sounds of Caraxes' breathing. And the sound of your heart pounding, and Daemon's labored breaths.

He slowed his thrusts, drawing it out, pushing hard and deep, slamming your body back against the beast with each motion. You clutched at his shirt, nails digging into the soft material, gasps and sighs and half-formed moans fell from your lips. He picked up the pace, faster now, and you both lost yourselves in it, your pleasure was all that mattered.

His face was a picture, pleasure and devotion and tension and complete and total ecstasy. Your name was on his lips, a litany of beautiful profanities fell from them, a mix of Valerian and common that made the redness in your face grow deeper. You began to grind your hips against him, rolling them as he moved with you, his movements becoming erratic. His hand came down to cup the back of your neck, holding you steady as he leaned in and captured your lips in a messy kiss.

He stilled, letting out a low groan as he pressed himself deep, holding your hips in place as he filled you with his seed. Your body shuddered and twitched and you whimpered against his mouth, clenching down on him. It was too much, and you followed him over the edge, a bright burst of light going off behind your eyes as you succumbed to the feeling.

He rested his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, his eyes closed and a look of pure bliss on his face. You giggled, running your hands through his hair, and he managed a lazy smile.

"Think of me when Tyland is trying to stick his cock in you on your wedding night," he said, his words warm and breathy against your lips.

You chuckled, then turned sad, remembering that your wedding would take place soon, and you would never see Daemon again.

He seemed to sense your sadness, his hands cupping your face, his eyes full of promises he could not keep. He said nothing, just kissed you again and held you, pressing you back against the dragon.

Caraxes purred, you could hear a faint rattling, like old armor, and the dragon's chest expanded and deflated slowly, the rhythm soothing.

You stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, Daemon wrapped around you, his hand tracing gentle circles on the exposed skin of your thigh.

You sighed, content and warm and happy, but knowing that the spell was soon to be broken, and you would have to return to the reality of the life that had been laid out before you.

"We should be getting back," you said, frowning. You didn't want the moment to end, but you had been gone for far too long, and your maids would be wondering where you were.

Daemon nodded, reluctantly pulling away. He laced up his pants and then helped you straighten your dress. You tried to flatten the wrinkles with your hands, but there was no helping it. You had been flying, and then you had been fucked, thoroughly, by the heir to the throne, and there was no hiding that.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes full of promise and heat. You blushed, and he grinned, pulling you back to the dragon.

The ride back was slower, the dragon gliding gently through the sky, and you had the urge to cry. You wanted this feeling, of freedom and warmth and safety, to last forever.

You sat back against Daemon's chest, his arms tight around you, the wind whipping through your hair.

Caraxes flew lazily through the sky, and you could see the Red Keep getting closer, the massive walls looming large. The dragon descended, the air rushing around you, and then the beast landed in the center of the courtyard near the dragon pit, his wings beating wildly, sending clouds of dust and dirt swirling around him.

He roared, a great and terrible sound, his long neck twisting and his wings stretching. The beast was restless, and he seemed unhappy to be back in the confines of the castle.

Daemon leapt off the dragon, landing gracefully, and then turned and helped you down, his hands lingering on your waist. He gave you a wicked smile, and you blushed, unable to meet his eyes.

"I swear," he said, lifting your hand and pressing another kiss to your knuckles, "I'll burn down Casterly Rock just to get a taste of you again."

You chuckled, a blush coloring your cheeks, then you looked him in the eyes.

"And I will gladly watch it burn," you said, grinning.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, and then he was gone, climbing back onto Caraxes and taking to the sky. You watched them disappear, the great, crimson beast disappearing into the clouds.

You stood there, alone in the courtyard, watching the sky long after he had disappeared. Your heart was heavy, despite his promises, you knew that you would never see him again.

You turned and walked back to the keep, your mind filled with memories of your time together. It was a small moment, a stolen moment, but you knew you would hold on to it…

And be reminded of it every time you looked to the sky.

[shinymoonforest]

MY BABIES AAAAAAAAAAAAA

*POINTS TO THESE TWO* HYPERFIXATION AUGHUGHGGH <33333 BERRRI SAID IT PERFECTLY, THESE TWO ARE OUR CURRENT FIXATION AND WE SINCERELY HOPE YOU ENJOY BURNT TOAST/ECLIPSE <3333

THERE WILL BE MORE CONTENT TO COME FOR THEM IN THE FUTURE!!! 

actually abt to post art ive made in a sec ehehee

ALSO - IF ANY OF YOU GREMLINS (/aff) WERE TO EVER MAKE ANY FAN CONTENT OF THESE TWO PLEASE TAG !!! ME AND BERRI WOULD LOVE TO SEEEEEE <3333

(((just no weird shit please and thank you <3)))

Whatever happens at The Paraverse Gala, stays at The Paraverse Gala.

" E-EDGAR..? "

LOCAL DRUNKARD STARBOY KISSES SILLY LITTLE SUNLIGHT BABY AT A FUNKY MULTIVERSE GALA!!

OFFICIALLY ANNOUNCING THE DEBUT OF THE NEWEST QUEERS IN THE NARRAVERSE: EDGAR AND SILAS!

EDGAR, THE BELOVED STARBOY, BELONGING TO ME

SILAS, THE SWEETHEART SUNLIGHT, BELONGING TO @shinymoonforest

THIS LITTLE SHIP OF OURS HAS TWO NAMES!!~:

Burnt Toast: Silas and Edgar while Edgars in his more regular, human form

Eclipse: Silas and Edgar when Edgars a little more spacey, and cosmic, like his Beta form and such.

THESE TWO NARRATORS ARE QUEER AS HELL FOR EACH OTHER!!!!!!

WE'VE BEEN BRAINROTTING OVER THESE TWO FOR WEEKS, WE HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE THEM JUST AS MUCH AS WE DO!!!

[hotvintagepoll]

Vintage movie recommendations for getting through these dark times? 🙏 Looking specifically for anything joyous, especially if it's queer/progressive for its time. Thanks!!

ooh ok! that's a big ask, because queer/progressive doesn't always show in the ways we expect in older movies. still, joyous i can do, and as poly as I can I'll try for:

the talk of the town (you knew i would say this). jean arthur, cary grant, ronald colman are all tangled up in all sorts of ways, legally but also including in each other's pajamas. it's free on youtube and tubi last time i checked!

singin' in the rain (you also knew i would say this). cosmo brown, weird little third wheeling queerplatonic ideal that you are. gene kelly, debbie reynolds, and donald o'connor have fire chemistry and all three of their characters love the other ones so truly and with such joy they break all of hollywood with the power of song. (it is gorgeous and sublime that the story is built so only these three ever actually engage with the musical format—the format that is, in universe, the way of the future—structurally equating music and musicals with love. no one else gets a song or a villain number or a little ditty that's not a literal musical number. only these three break the story and heal it at the same time.)

the adventures of robin hood—i swear to god will scarlett is good for nothing else besides being robin's hot little friend. will alone makes this movie queer for me. also, watching a movie about a socialist uprising against a cruel and unjust government sure feels apt! for no particular reason! (this one is also on tubi.)

the philadelphia story—jimmy katharine and cary are absolutely a threesome in this movie and it's a crime they didn't just make more of this movie, again and again, forever. is there a plot? they're all by a swimming pool, it's hot, there's champagne. what else do you need for a film. oh yeah there's some discussion of autonomy and women's rights and wealth and class and marriage, some of which i disagree with, but i think mostly it's katharine hepburn in an evening gown and jimmy stewart in a white terry cloth robe and cary grant standing there not minding in the least. (content warning: there is one instance of a racial slur [not directed at anyone but still there], and one shove. also on tubi.)

the lady vanishes—i love this movie, so much, couldn't tell you why (i can: michael redgrave is here being hot). there are two bit characters who read as queer coded (they are also obsessed with cricket and are mocked for being english by the narrative, which is nice), and there's a weird plucky joy in michael redgrave's performance that feels like a departure from your usual Solid Very Serious Male Heroic Main Character. this movie does trend mildly xenophobic in a very England-in-the-30s type of way—there are shady "foreign" characters and other batshit stereotypes—but nothing I think that would cause direct offense. (let me know if I'm wrong on this though and I'll tag accordingly). this one is free anywhere and can be watched on youtube.

the wizard of oz—i know you've probably seen this before but it's worth seeing again. yes you're allowed to cry at the end i always do

[spidehpig]

the crooks are out, and the streets are grey

aka a prison pen pal au

HUUUUGE fucking thank you to @ceilidho for all of the writing advice and beta reading this and just generally being a big motivation and indulging in all of my random cod thoughts lol

this is incredibly self-indulgent. tags will be updated accordingly with a warning on each chapter when necessary. i'm a big fan of ghoap being perverted violent freaks if you couldn't tell.

thanks for reading besties. sorry there isn't any direct reader x ghost interaction yet. i promise it's coming.

you can also find me on twitter

[cw implied sexual harassment, future dubcon, explicit sexual content] 18+ MDNI

AO3

Part 1

It starts with a little slip of paper shoved under the bars of his shared cell with Soap. 

An official notice to inform inmates of the start of a new pen pal program the following week. Some rehabilitative bullshit about encouraging good behavior and rehabilitating prisoners on track to be released within the next few years. Ghost can’t help but roll his eyes as he crumples up the slip of paper and makes his way to the prison yard. Doesn’t give it another thought. 

That is until he receives a letter. Packaged in a little envelope with the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen, addressed to the one and only Simon V. Riley: Inmate #634. The envelope had been torn open with a letter opener, read by prison staff, and searched for contraband, of course, before it made its way through the slot of his cell door. It comes in a lilac envelope and it's even adorned with a pretty little heart right next to his name scrawled in cursive. 

Ghost shoves the pastry he swiped in the cafeteria from a new inmate into his mouth as he rips open the letter with mild interest. He lets out a snort when he sees that the staple holding the pages of the letter together was ripped out by whatever guard had gotten stuck with mail duty today. He knows that you’ll have already received an angry voicemail from the prison advising you that all mail to inmates must be paperclip and staple free upon arrival. 

He glances over the letter with disinterest, a couple paragraphs introducing yourself and one detailing your excitement about joining the program. He only skims his way to the second page where you start to ask him questions about himself before he’s crumpling up the pages to shove under his bunk. He’ll be free of this place in a mere sixteen months; doesn’t need a bloody pen pal to encourage good behavior. 

He knows that there is anger and violence rooted deep within him. On a good day, it simmers in his chest, a warm heat that lies dormant. On bad days, it burns so hot that he can feel the angry heat creep up into his throat. It makes the words that spill from his mouth cruel, and his calloused fingers twitch as he stomps his way over to the courtyard to beat the old punching bag until his shirt is soaked through with sweat and his knuckles are raw and bloody.

Not all bad days end with him wrapping his split knuckles with bandages from the infirmary. Sometimes they end with him in solitary and picking another inmate’s dried blood from underneath his fingernails. He hasn’t had a bad day like that in over a year now. 

If he’s being honest with himself, it’s only because he doesn’t want to jeopardize his early release. Most of the other inmates know well enough now to leave Ghost be. The last inmate to piss Ghost off ended up in the infirmary with three broken ribs and two of his own teeth spat into his palm. 

Poor sod ducks his head like a quivering dog every time he meets Ghost’s gaze now; surely won’t make the mistake of cutting in front of him in line at the cafeteria again. Ghost hasn’t been outside of a prison in the last seventeen years but he can’t imagine a civilian would try to swipe food from his plate or pick a fight with him just to see if they could win it. 

So he lies through his teeth at every psych evaluation. Tells the doctors that the exercises they suggested are helping him manage his anger. He has a feeling they don’t quite believe him, but he hasn’t had an episode in over a year to justify their reservations. And since they don’t question his ability to rehabilitate into civilian life, he tells himself that he’ll be fine on the outside. All he has to do is keep to himself until Johnny gets released eight months after him. He just needs to behave for another year and he doesn’t see how writing letters would make any difference.

He had thought that if he just ignored the letters they would eventually stop coming, but despite his obvious reluctance to partake in the program, the letters keep coming. Every last one in a pretty lilac envelope, notably staple free since the first one. He gleans little from her letters. Some young bird that signed up for this pen pal exchange. She’s twenty-one and has an interest in criminology. 

Ghost decides that he hates her for it. 

Each letter gets shoved under the bunk; most of the time he doesn’t even bother to open and read them. He rolls his eyes when Soap whines and begs to trade pen pals with him. Apparently the poor mutt got stuck with some seventy-four year old retired veteran and he doesn’t think it's fair that Ghost got paired with a young woman. 

It isn’t until he receives yet another letter from his unwanted pen pal, this time addressed from another country, that something finally makes him stop in his tracks. The bird is apparently studying abroad and when he opens the envelope, a flimsy polaroid floats down into his lap. He doesn’t bother to read the newest letter and instead snatches the picture up between his thick fingers. He can’t help the groan that escapes his lips the second he flips the polaroid picture over.

Ghost hardly even looks at the sweet smile and bright blue ocean behind her. No, that’s not what catches his attention. His gaze immediately flicks down to the swell of her breasts taking up half of the image. What would be an innocent selfie to most might as well be a page ripped straight from a playboy magazine to Ghost. Clearly taken at the beach after a swim in the ocean, sweat and ocean water glistening on your skin, and Ghost can see the peaks of your nipples poking through your thin bikini top. 

And fuck is that enough for him. He hasn’t had a woman in, well, ever, and the guards keep confiscating his playboy magazines, so this will have to do. A low grunt escapes his chest as he reaches down to palm his cock that’s now twitching to attention. He pauses to make sure Soap is still snoring, loudly , in the bunk above him before he reaches down to grope at his stiffening prick. Unzips himself from his prison issued track pants and palms at his stiffening cock over the thin fabric of his briefs. 

He hisses between his teeth when he dips his hand under the band of his briefs and the rough skin of his palm tugs against the sensitive skin of his cock. Has to yank his hand back and spit into his palm before wrapping his thick fingers around the base of his cock. His other hand grips the picture of you between his fingertips as he pulls his foreskin back to reveal his swollen tip already leaking precum. It twitches in his hand as another glob of precum leaks down his prick. 

He has half a mind to wake Soap up and shove his cock down the boy’s throat. If he fucks his throat deep enough he could pretend it’s the tight heat of your cunt clenching around his cock while he laps at one of the nipples peaking through your bikini. 

Ghost’s fantasy is shattered the second the little shit sleeping above him wakes with a loud snort. He watches Soap’s head peek over the side of his bunk, pretty blue eyes clouded with sleep as his disheveled mohawk dangles over the metal bunk. 

“Yeh could’ve asked for a helping hand yaknow that, Ghost. Yeh know I’d—” Soap’s voice cuts off abruptly, eyes narrowing on the polaroid clutched in Ghost’s hand and the other wrapped around his prick.

”Whatcha got there, Ghost?” Soap drawls, accent still thick from sleep.

”Fuck off, Johnny,” Ghost grunts as he looks back down at your picture and gives his cock another stroke.

No use in deterring his mutt once his sight is set on a bone though. He feels the bunk shake and squeak as Soap scrambles down the ladder, the pervert already tenting his boxers as he crawls into Ghost’s bed.

”I said fuck off, Johnny.” Ghost grits his teeth and clutches your picture to his chest. Trying desperately to reimagine the swell of your tits pressed against his chest when you finally sink down on his cock. But Soap is relentless. His needy slut straddles Ghost’s thighs with a smirk on his face. 

And fuck it, his boy is gagging for it, he might as well. He doesn’t acknowledge Soap’s incessant teasing and instead fists a hand through his soft mohawk before shoving the brat’s head between his legs. 

A low growl escapes his chest as the man’s lips wrap around his throbbing cock. And fuck, does his mouth feel good, tight and wet as his soft lips slide down Ghost’s length, throat swallowing around him. He loses himself in the feel of Soap’s practiced mouth, eyes only snapping open when Soap lets out a deep moan. Before he can even think, the palm of his hand is connecting with Soap’s cheek, hard . It draws a low moan from Soap’s throat which only serves to irritate Ghost more.

”Shut up,” Ghost snaps and pushes Soap’s head down on his cock until he feels the man flinch and gag around his prick. Usually he loves to hear the whorish sounds that fall from his boy’s pretty lips but right now, he’s trying to imagine the way you’d cry out and beg as he inches his cock into the tight heat of your cunt. Ghost slaps his boy across the cheek again when Soap lets out a low growl and scrapes his teeth on the underside of his cock. 

Soap seems to get the message, his moans and growls slowly quiet, swirling his tongue around Ghost’s swollen glands before sinking down until his nose is buried in Ghost’s pubic hair. Ghost loses himself in the wet heat of Soap’s throat once more, eyes rolling back as his head knocks back against his pillow, your pretty smile contorting itself into a cry as he bullies his cock into your cunt. His hips buck and bruise the back of Soap’s throat with every thrust while he dreams of fucking your pretty cunt full of his cum. He cums with a snarl on his lips and Johnny gagging around him. Holds Soap down on his cock as he reaches down to squeeze at his balls one last time before ripping the boy off his cock with a sputtering gasp. 

Soap is immediately scrambling up the bed, grinding his prick against the swell of Ghost’s thigh.

”C’mon, Ghost, lemme see, just a peek I swear that’s all I need,” Soap whines, frantically grinding his cock against Ghost’s leg. Ghost blinks as the bliss from his orgasm melts away, the bunk creaking from the force of Soap’s desperate thrusts, the man panting and grunting above him. 

He languidly flips your photo between his fingers, any streak of possessiveness gone now, as long as it’ll get his mutt to stop humping his leg faster so he can get some sleep. 

“Ah, fuck , Ghost, looks bonnie, don’t she,” Soap pants as his eyes flit over your bikini photo, the grind of his hips losing their rhythm for a moment. 

“Bet ‘er ass hasn’t been fucked yet,” Soap groans.

”Make ‘er take us both.”

”Bet she tastes sweet.”

”Pretty thing.”

Ghost barely registers Soap’s babbling above him, just grabs his ass and guides his hips against his thigh until Soap is cumming in his briefs with a low moan. When the boy finally calms down enough to catch his breath, he pulls the cum soaked briefs off of his boy and tosses them across the cell before pulling the mutt to his chest as they both doze off.

Ghost wakes annoyed, drenched in sweat and cum and Soap snoring loudly against his neck. The little shit has the audacity to grumble and pout when he makes Soap go sleep in his own bunk. When he hears Soap’s start to snore, he sits up, stealing Soap’s pencil and a spare sheet of paper. He starts scribbling words back to you. The first letter he’s responded to. His handwriting is ugly and near illegible, but he thinks you should be able to read most of it. He hangs his arms out of the bars of his cell and whistles at the guard stationed down the hall. Shoves his letter to you in the guard’s hand and grunts at him to send it to his bird.

The guard, Andrews, he thinks, scoffs snatching the letter from Ghost’s fingertips before banging on the cell door.

”MacTavish! You got a letter for your lovebird too?”

Ghost groans, already prepared for the bitchfest that’s about to happen.

Soap awakes with a loud snort, head snapping up over the edge of his bunk and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.” 

“Aye fuck off, you limp dick prick,” Soap growls and scrambles down the rickety bunk to press the length of his body against the cell bars as he curses the guard that taunted him. A litany of Scottish curses fall from his lips as Soap presses his forehead to the bars and goads the guard into approaching their shared cell. The little spitfire has himself so worked up he’s pacing the length of their cell and spewing insults at the guards on duty.

“I know yer playing favorites, Andrews. Think yer funny giving me some old bastard, don’t yeh?” Soap hollers into the hallway and slams a fist against the bars of their cell, pressing his forehead against the bars once again, growling and swearing some more when Andrews takes a step back, barking out a harsh laugh. Ghost can practically see the metaphorical fur on Soap’s hind spike up at that, just a moment before he spits at the guard’s feet. Andrews, the scrawny little fucker, lurches forward to swat at Soap’s fists clenched around the bars of their cell with his baton.

“You better back up and watch that mouth of yours Mactavish, or it’ll be another two days in solitary for you,” Andrews snaps at Soap and shoots a knowing directly at Ghost. 

And oh does Ghost hate when Soap gets sent to solitary. Can’t use his boy’s holes when he’s locked up on the other side of the prison. The rough drag of his own fist just can’t compete with the tight heat of Johnny’s throat or arse. Especially now that he’s got a bird back home to think about. Ghost grips the back of Soap’s sweat soaked shirt and yanks him back from the cell bars, grunting at him to give it a fuck rest.  Ghost retreats to his bunk when Soap finally cools off, watching as Soap flops down onto the chair at their shared desk and starts to angrily scribble in his journal, occasionally grumbling to himself under his breath. He settles back against his pillow, content with thinking about his new bird on the outside until the guards release them for breakfast. He almost feels bad about not writing to you sooner. Poor girl tired of her letters going unanswered, you really were just begging for his attention when you sent a violent inmate a photo of your tits now, weren’t you?

[ofstoriesandstardust]

can't take the home out of oklahoma - i. (k.c.)

a/n: eeee! a fever dream later, i've finally cobbled together the first part of my top gun: maverick and twisters crossover fic! it's going to be lengthy so we are in for quite the ride! it's way heavier on twisters, so any non-top gun fans should have no problem reading this. future parts will deal with darker content that's only referenced right now, so that'll all be tagged and marked accordingly. for now, it's just my standard cup of angst. reblog and comments are always appreciated!!

summary: After a twisted stroke of luck, you leave behind your whole life in San Diego, California and find yourself in Oklahoma with Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers.

warnings: swearing, weather inaccuracies, flashbacks, reference to past trauma, alcohol

word count: 5.7k

Your finger rubs gently over the crinkled piece of paper Jake had torn off for you, the phone number and the name Tyler Owens written in the neat penmanship the blonde prided himself on. 

If you ever find yourself down South and need something, Jake had said, a bit out of breath as he’d run out of the house after you. If you need anything, call that number. They’ll help you. 

The cursor blinks back up at you on the call pad, your cracked screen making a mockery of you. The chaos of the San Diego airport whirls around you, pressing in on you the longer you sit here. 

You take a deep breath and press call. 

-

His phone starts vibrating on the table and he frowns, eyebrows furrowing as the team, crowded around the table in the RV, goes quiet. 

He answers, despite it being an unknown number. “Tyler Owens.”

“Hi. Uh,” A shaky breath comes from the other end of the receiver before introducing themselves to him. “Uh, Jake Seresin gave me your number. Told me to call if I needed anything.” 

His gut drops at the name, a clench in his heart. “What can I do for ya?” 

“Look, I’ve- I’ve had a rough week and I’m, I’m sort of finding my life upside down. And uh, I guess I’m just grasping at straws here. Jake said, he said you could help me.”

“That so? Well, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to be more specific. How can I help you? What can I do for you?”

“A- a purpose, maybe? I need a purpose, something to do. Um, I’m in San Diego right now but I need to get out of here.”

Tyler frowns, eyes flicking around at his team. They’re all curious as to what’s unfolding, and he scrubs at his forehead, knowing they’ll be upset with him for pulling the trigger on this without talking it through with them first.

But damn it, this girl sounded scared and Jake had sent her to him. Had told her he’d help her, and he would see to it that he did. 

He wasn’t going to leave her behind. 

“Tell you what, get yourself on a plane to Oklahoma. I’ll come get you. You can come work with me and my team.”

“You- your team?” Though she sounds hesitant, she almost sounds relieved at having some sort of direction now. 

“Storm chasers. Ish. We’re doing some field research out here in Tornado Alley, but I’ve got a team, the Tornado Wranglers. And honestly, we need another set of hands out of here managing the backend of things.”

The word managing was the wrong choice as it immediately sends his team into protest. Boone stands up abruptly, Javi and Kate whispering protests to him, as Lilly starts making a face. He waves a hand, wanting them to be quiet. 

The last thing he needed was for this girl to hear, to hang up, to not follow through. 

“Okay.” You say, and he thinks he hears you stand up. “Okay, I’ll find the soonest flight out. Um, what kind of things do you need help with? My background- it’s not in science.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure we could find something around here you can help with. Research grant editing or something.”

“I’ve actually got experience with that.” You say with a choked laugh, and Tyler can feel the relief bleed through the phone. He smiles a bit, pressure easing as he does. 

“Then we’ll make sure we put you to work.” There’s a beat as he hears the intercom in the airport go off in the background. “Listen, text me when your flights supposed to land. I’ll make sure I’m there to get you. We’re out in the field right now, so it may be a bit of trek out here, but I’ll make sure you get here.” 

You confirm and he hangs up and his team starts yelling before the phone is even back on the table. 

“We don’t need another team member man-“

“A manager? What kind of business do you take this for?” 

“Are you serious? Kate and I, we’ve got the grant stuff covered-“ 

“This really tells us how you feel about us, Owens.” 

He glances at Kate, who’s looking at him with a guarded expression he hasn’t seen since he first met her. She doesn’t excuse herself, simply pushing her way out, climbing around the back of Javi and Boone. 

-

It would be hard to miss Tyler, the way he’s signing an autograph, cowboy hat atop his head as he leans against the truck branded with the Tornado Wranglers logo.

You stop dead, a cold feeling washing over you at the eerie reminder of the person you’d just left behind. 

This Tyler Owens might be Jake Seresin’s doppelgänger, and based on what you’d seen during the flight you were beginning to suspect the only difference between them is the way they chased the adrenaline high. 

During the flight, you’d bought in-flight WiFi for the first time in your life, just to learn who these people were, who you’d be spending time with. Trying to understand what you’d gotten yourself into. 

Tyler perks up at the sight of you, a smile growing on his face. He holds out his hand and you take it, noting the genuine smile. You shake his hand, swallowing around the burning desire to ask the question. 

“Welcome to good ol’ Oklahoma.” He welcomes. “You ready to hit the road? The team is a bit of a ways out.” 

You nod as Tyler grabs your small duffel bag, throwing it in the back of the truck before you can even ask. 

You climb in the front, taking note of all the gadgets the truck is equipped with. “What’s all this?” You ask, as he turns the key, pulling away from the curb. “Storm chasing stuff?”

“You could say that. The trucks decked out with all kinds of stuff.”

The radio is soft in the background as Tyler talks to you about the team, about what you’ll be doing. 

As Tyler talks, as you talk, as you both think of things for you to do, you begin to lose interest in the conversation as the Oklahoma skyline begins to paint itself into a deep orange. 

“Can we stop?” You ask, voice full of wonder as you peer out windshield, watching the sky transform itself. 

You feel Tyler look over at you, before turning on his blinker despite the lack of cars around. The truck rolls to a stop as you dig around, pulling the disposable camera you’d bought from the bottom of your backpack. Tyler hasn’t even parked before you’re slipping out of the truck, walking around the front to take a picture of the sunset. 

“I haven’t seen a sunset like this since I was a kid.” You breathe, the camera clicking as you do. 

“I hear California has pretty good sunsets.” Tyler says, sticking his hands in his pockets as he stands next to you. 

You shrug.  “They do, but if you’re in the inner city, a lot of times the good ones are hard to catch. They’re easier to see at the beach but the marine layer blocks a lot of the good ones.” You say, turning to Tyler. “At least in my opinion. We can get back on the road now.” 

He nods, eyes steadily watching you as you turn on your heel, climbing back in the truck. Tyler’s a few beats behind you, still standing in the same spot as you buckle your seatbelt. 

The rest of the drive is quiet, the flow of quiet country music coming through the radio as the Oklahoma skies turns from dusk to night. 

By the time you roll up to camp, it’s clear that Tyler’s team has gone to bed, save for one. 

An older man perks up at the sight of you, climbing to his feet from his chair. “Ah, Tyler. Was just about to call and see where you were. This our new teammate?” 

Tyler nods, introducing you to this man. You step forward taking his outstretched hand. 

“Dexter.” He says, a smile on his face. “You must’ve had a long day. We’ve got some leftovers, can I get you anything? We’ve also got our extra tent set up, it’s where you’ll be sleeping.”

You glance at Tyler, although you’re not sure for what. Reassurance maybe. “I’d love some food. And a water maybe? I don’t have a water bottle with me anymore.”

It’s almost a natural instinct to wince at the thought of the loss of your emotional support water bottle that was probably laying in some crevice in the wreckage in Texas. 

Dexter sets to work as Tyler settles himself in front of the fire, a beer in hand. “We’re meant to head to town tomorrow anyways. We’ll stop, get you stuff to help out with the team. Maybe some new camping gear and whatever.” He takes a sip of his beer, cringing as he does. “Just realizing you’ll probably have to sleep on the dirt; I don’t think we’ve got any extra protectors after we visited the last wreckage. We should probably get more stuff tomorrow anyway.” 

“It’s no worries.” You say with a wave of your hand. “I was a Girl Scout for like, eight years, so it’s not a big deal. Won’t phase me.”

A head pops out from a tent nearby. Tyler perks up at the sight of him, as the man sticks his hands in the pockets of the zip-up he’s wearing. “You want a jacket?”

You glance down, realizing you’re shivering. “Uh, yeah, that’d be nice.” 

He gives you a cautious smile before looking to Tyler. “Hey Ty, man, I’ve got an extra pullover in the back of the van, can you grab it?” 

Tyler nods as the man reaches a hand out. “I’m Javi.” 

You shake it, introducing yourself.

“You from around here? You don’t sound it.” 

You shake your head. “San Diego, actually.”

Tyler comes back the same time Dexter comes back with your food and Dexter waits patiently as you scramble, pulling the soft material over your head. 

It smells strongly of rain in a way you can’t explain. In a way, the smell brings you a sliver of comfort. 

You take the food from Dexter as you do, thanking him. 

“Dexter, this is incredible.” You say around the bite. 

“It’s an old family recipe from down in the bayou. I’ve tweaked it so we can make it out here on the road, but it’s a crowd pleaser when I do.”

“You from New Orleans?” You ask and he nods. “My boyf- my ex boyfriend now I guess-“ You say, taking another bite in hopes to hide the awkward way you swallow around those words. “He’s from out there too.” 

Dexter sighs. “I miss that place, I do. But it wasn’t easy to stay after Katrina. I lost my whole family.” 

Your heart pangs, at his words, and it aches, at the thought of the person you’d left behind. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” You say softly. 

Javi clears his throat. “You need anything else?” You shake your head and he stands up again. “I really oughta get to sleep, but we’ll chat more tomorrow, yeah?” 

You nod and Javi gives you another cautious smile. In your heart, you want to believe there’s maybe a little hope hidden in it too. 

Dexter also bids you and Tyler goodnight, and the two of you sit there, the crackling fire filling the silence as you eat. 

“Thank you Tyler.” You say softly, staring at the burning embers after you’ve finished eating. 

You know you should explain to him how it all happened, how you got here, but Tyler doesn’t ask and you can’t forget the vision in your head of Steven’s cold eyes, unseeing. 

“You’re giving me a second chance here, and I really do appreciate it.” You settle on instead. 

He nods. “Whatever I can do to help.” 

You excuse yourself, bidding the man goodnight, only to find yourself tossing and turning on the hard ground. 

You thought sleep would come to you easier, with how emotional the last week has been, but everytime you close your eyes and a breeze rolls through, it all comes flooding back, the haze of freezing rain, of a rusty storm grate, a heavy body, and so much blood-

The sound of a door shutting (from the RV if you had to guess,) causes you to open your eyes, sitting up on the makeshift bed. 

“I don’t want her here Tyler.” A female voice says, and you frown. 

There’s a beat. 

“Too bad Sapulpa, she’s staying.” Tyler responds. 

“Stay here and do what?” The girl asks incredulously. “We don’t need her help. And I didn’t know you’re suddenly in the business of helping out random strangers who call you in the middle of the day-“

“This is our whole business, Kate.” He says firmly. “We help people. Strangers. That’s what we’re here to do, remember?”

“And how are you helping her?” 

Tyler’s quiet for a minute again. “We’re giving her a second chance.”

“A second chance? Are you serious?” The girl, Kate, huffs. 

“It wasn’t that long ago it was you who needed a second chance. We gave that to you, remember?”

Another zipper being yanked cuts off Kate’s response. 

“Yo!” It’s Javi. “Can y’all argue about this tomorrow?” 

You don’t hear the sound of Kate’s footsteps but you hear the slam of the RV door loud and clear. 

Tyler goes through the motions, getting the camp cleaned up, before putting the fire out. And then you hear him slip into the RV and for the first time in days, in the quiet of the Oklahoma night, it feels like you can breathe. 

-

You awake with a gasp, clawing at the blankets as if it was Jake’s flannel, holding on for dear life through the storm. 

You swallow back the bile threatening to spill over and blindly climb from the nest of blankets, pulling the zipper down, and stumbling into the sun. 

You swallow as someone’s head turns. It’s a girl, sat at the table the crew has set up outside. You pull yourself from the tent, unable to shake your nerves as you take in the soft baby pink hues above her in the sky. 

You introduce yourself softly and she gives you a tight smile in between bites of yogurt. “Kate.”

Your heart clenches, realizing this must be the girl you’d heard last night. 

It’s an awkward silence the two of you sit in, the baby pink fading from the sky as Tyler pulls himself from the RV. When she sees Tyler, she quietly excuses herself and brushes past him, floating back into the RV.

“You oughta get that screen fixed.” Tyler comments, sitting down next to you. 

“Haven’t had time.” You say with a shrug as you glance at the screen on your phone. It was more shattered than it was cracked, a hazard really, but what could you do? 

“I’ll take you to a place in town today that’ll replace it for cheap.” Tyler says around a bite. “Can I get you anything to eat?” 

Tyler’s team appears over the next hour, and he introduces them as they do. Dexter appears from the RV first and then Dani and Lilly from the back of the van. Boone gets dragged out from the van by Lilly twenty minutes later, and Boone pulls Javi from his tent because “if I have to be awake so do you Miami.” 

Kate doesn’t leave the RV for the rest of the morning. 

-

“They don’t like me.” You say quietly, drumming your fingers on the car door as Tyler drives to the motel that evening. 

“They barely know you-“

“Cut the shit Tyler, I heard Kate last night.” You say sharply, sending him a cold glare. “They don’t want me here.” You roll out your shoulders, looking back out the window. “If you want me to go back, it’s okay.” 

“And send you back to god knows what?” 

“I’d be fine.”

“Kid, you sounded so damn terrified on that phone — I’m not inclined to turn around and give you back to that fear.”

You swallow around a sigh, feeling Tyler watch you as he drives. 

“Give me a week. Give me a week to make it work. And if you still feel like you need to go back, hell, I’ll pay for your flight.” 

You look at Tyler, noting the serious look in his eyes. 

“Okay. One week.”

-

The next week feels simultaneously long and short in the worst ways. 

Short, in that it feels like your time is running out. 

Long, in that there are no storms to chase, dissipating before the team ever has a chance. 

Long, in that you sit around most days, doing your own research on grants and sponsors and the backgrounds of potential investors and articles on social media growth. 

Long, in that you don’t really talk to any of them, except for the one time you look over at Javi’s computer, just to tell him that his sentence didn’t make any sense. 

Long in that, Kate refuses to be anywhere near you and Boone ignores you and Lilly shuts you out of conversation and Javi sort of looks at you like you’re some sort of alien placed down next to them. 

It’s only on the sixth day, when you’re collecting everything you’ve worked on all week to give to Tyler in the morning before he takes you back, that something happens. 

The storm is too far away for them to chase it, to get any research done, but Tyler and Lilly agree that the team should head in, to be there to help out and hand out food in the aftermath. 

Because, apparently, that’s what this team is known for. 

You feel awkward here, watching the team spring into action. You feel out of place, not knowing what you were supposed to say or do as these people dug through the rubble of their lives. 

You were supposed to help people. Tyler had said you could help people here. 

The team is distracted just enough, that it’s you who catches it, not them. 

The sounds of a cry, somebody softly shushing them. You round a corner, heart breaking at the sight. 

There, a small little boy, maybe around the age of 8, is holding who seems to be his little sister as she cries. 

The poor girl can’t be any older than 3 or 4.

“I want Mom.” She blubbers out and the boy shushes her. 

“I know, sissy, we just gotta-“ The boy looks around helplessly. 

“Hey.” You call out, stepping around the rubble. “Hey, do you need help?” 

The boy nods. “Mom said not to move but-“

You hold your hands out. “Stay where you are, okay? I’ll come get you and your sister alright?” 

The boy nods, clinging to his sister’s hand.  You make your way through the rubble, kicking things out of the way to make a path back before finally reaching the two kids. You kneel down best as you can, leveling yourself to them as you introduce yourself. 

“I’m here to help. Can you tell me your name?” 

“I’m Jack.” The boy says. “This is Bella. She’s bleeding and I can’t find my Mom-“

“Hey, hey.” You soothe. “We’ll get you guys some help and get you out of here, okay? We’ll find your Mom.” You look at Bella. “Bella? Are you okay if I carry you? I’m going to help you find someone to patch that cut up, okay?” Bella nods and Jack lets her go as you scoop her up. You hold out your hand for Jack as the two of you navigate your way out.

As you weave your way through people, you ask Jack soft questions about himself, where he goes to school, if he likes dinosaurs or trucks, distracting him as he talks to you. Once you get the two kids to the EMTs, you duck around the side, in search of someone from your team. 

“Kate.” You call, as she’s sifting through rubble, calling for a dog. She glances over at you. “Hey, I’ve got two little kids here who can’t find their Mom. I’m gonna stay with them but can you let the team know? Just in case anyone sees her.” 

The face Kate makes is difficult to read as she nods. You sigh, making your way back around the truck. 

Bella’s all patched up and Jack is studying the logo on your shirt, lighting up when he recognizes it. 

“Mom lets me watch their YouTube channel sometimes!” 

You scoop Bella back up in your arms, holding a hand out for Jack to jump down as you do. 

“Oh well then I’m guessing you don’t want to come see the tornado-proof truck?” 

-

It’s late in the day when Bella and Jack’s Mom comes running down the street, hysterical. Tyler and Kate aren’t far behind her. 

Her arm is in a sling and there’s a few bumps and bruises on her, but otherwise she’s fine. Both of the kids light up at the sight of their Mom, and she’s tearful, thanking you over and over for helping them, for watching over her babies.

You wave her off, citing babysitting as just another thing you’re used to, a big family and all that. 

It’s as they’re walking away, Dexter asking if you want any food, Jack shouts out. 

They turn back, Bella running back to you with the stuffed animal she’d been holding in hand. You kneel down as she holds it out for you to take, heart aching as you look at the stuffed pig. 

Bella had seen it atop your stuff when you’d taken them in the RV and had been holding it ever since. 

It was one of the few things you had of your life left behind but you know when it’s time to let something go. 

“You keep it okay?” You say softly. “You take care of yourself little Bella?” She wraps her arms around your neck, the stuffie clutched between her little fingers. You return the hug, exhaling as you do. Bella lets you go, returning to her Mom and her brother and you stand back up, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Do you want some food? You’ve been with those kids all day.” Dani says softly, holding the box. 

“How’d you find Mom?” You ask quietly, crossing your arms. 

Tyler sighs. “Was sitting with her the whole afternoon when Kate came down the street, hearing her talk about her missing kids. Kate connected the dots.”

Your arms wrap around yourself tighter. “Kate, I told you I was with those kids. I told you to tell the team in case anybody found Mom.” 

Kate opens her mouth but no words come out as Lilly’s eyes slide between the two of you. 

“Here.” Lilly says gently as she holds the box out, taking it from Dani. “You should eat. Been a long day.”

“I’m not hungry.” You say. “I’m gonna get in the truck, let me know when we’re leaving.” 

-

You sling your backpack over your shoulder, the truck door shutting behind you as you walk up the motel steps. 

The backpack, downsized from your duffel bag as Tyler had gone through the Oklahoma necessities with you, which was hardly anything you owned, feels heavy as you do. 

“Hey.” Kate’s voice calls out. “That was a really nice thing you did for that little girl.” 

Tears sting at your eyes as you push the key into the lock, pressing against the door with your body weight to get the door to unstick. 

You think Tyler says something as you shut the door but under the hot water of the shower rushing down you, you can’t hear anything else.

-

You clear your throat, announcing your presence as you do. Tyler and Kate pause in their conversation as they look over to you. 

You set the folder down in front of Tyler, Javi’s pullover in front of Kate. 

“Just wanted to give these to you. Tyler, do you want me to just wait in the truck?” 

Tyler peeks at the folder as Kate asks “Wait for what?”

“What is all of this?” Tyler asks, flipping through the pages. 

“Research on potential investors and their backgrounds. Just so you guys don’t get into another StormPar situation. There’s some stuff about grants, donors in there. Other stuff I tracked down about how you could grow your social media, ideas I had. There might be a couple of pages about laws on people donating, not sure. It’s everything I’ve done this week. Y’all don’t have to use it but I just thought it might be helpful as lead points.” 

“This is- this is really great stuff.” Tyler remarks. “It’s gonna be a real loss to not have your brain on our team.” 

“Wait - are you leaving?” Kate asks, eyes flying between you and Tyler. 

“I’ll meet you at the truck.” You say, turning to leave. You think you hear Kate repeat the question to Tyler, but you shut the door to the RV before you can hear their conversation further. Across the parking lot, Javi calls out, but you wave him off as you climb into the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck. 

Your heart feels heavy as you look at your own Javy’s contact. 

It would be so easy to pick up the phone, to tell him you made a mistake, to beg him to let you come home. 

He would too, and he would pick you up from the airport, and he’d wash the Oklahoma from your skin, and he’d hold you through the loss. 

But then you remember Jake’s defeated look as the two of you had assessed the damage, the way he’d asked you to lie. 

You remember the blood-

A startled gasp leaves you as someone knocks on the window. 

It’s Kate. 

You roll down the window.

“You’re leaving?” 

You eye her, unsure why she appears to be almost nervous, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her arms. 

“Yeah?” 

“Why?” 

You shrug, surveying the team in the parking lot. “It just didn’t work out. I didn’t fit here.” 

“But-“ She worries her bottom lip. “Where will you go?” 

“I’ll figure it out.” You say simply.

You’d have to because you knew the alternative would be devastating to everyone you’d ever known. 

She sighs, eyes flickering to Tyler, who’s moving closer. “Well, we’re headed to my Mom’s tonight. You should stay one more night. You’ve never even had real Oklahoma barbecue.”

A dry laugh escapes you without your permission. “Kate, what are you playing at here?”

She seems shocked, not expecting your question. “What do you mean?” 

You roll your eyes, huffing. “Kate, c’mon, you told Tyler you didn’t want me here.” 

Her face drops as her arms fall by her sides. “You heard that?” She says quietly. 

“Yeah.”

She licks her lips. “Look, I ain’t good with new people. I’m- It’s a me thing.” She looks down, scuffing her boot on the ground. “It’s my problem and I misjudged you. I’m sorry. Give me another night to show you how it could be.” 

“Why the hell would I stay to see how it could be when I know at this moment I’m not wanted here?” 

“I do.” She says softly. “Want you here. I was wrong and I’m sorry.” 

You let out breath through your nose, meeting Tyler’s eyes through the windshield. 

You think of Dexter’s food, Javi’s pullover, Dani and Lilly’s gentle insistence you feed yourself last night. 

You think of the Louisiana area code sitting open on your phone right now. 

“One night, Kate.”

-

“I sure am sorry you’ll have to sleep on the floor. I just wasn’t expecting an extra person from the crew but we can make sure you have somewhere to sleep tomorrow night-“ 

You cut her off, holding your hands out for the dishes from dinner. “That’s very kind of you Ms. Cooper, but I’m just fine sleeping on the floor.” 

“Please, I keep telling you to just call me Cathy and, well, you could stay in Kate’s bed?” Cathy offers as you take the plates from her. 

“Think you’d find my throat slit tomorrow.” You mutter and Tyler barks out a laugh. 

“You deserved that one Kate.” 

Cathy turns to her daughter, a look on her face. “What did you do?”

Kate pulls a face, holding her hands out. “What- Nothing, Mom!” 

Cathy hums, eyebrows furrowing but you cut them off. “The floor is just fine, Ms. Cooper. Um, do you mind pointing me in the direction of the bathroom so I could change?”

-

“Do Tyler and Kate have a thing?” You ask, taking a sip of the hot chocolate Lilly had made as Javi chuckles next to you. 

You’re watching the group fight over Uno, you and Javi sat in front of a puzzle. 

“They did at one point. When they first met, but they burned out pretty fast. Figured out they were better off as friends.” You hum and Javi’s grin grows. “Why, you thinking you want to start something up with Owens?” 

You blanch and shake your head. “No, I think I’ve more than had my fill on macho thrill seekers for this lifetime.”

Javi lets out a laugh, a real one, for the first time all week. You smile, thinking of how Tyler would fit in with those pilots like he’d always belonged there. 

You were all set on those types.

Kate though…

If Kate hadn’t been so cold to you, Kate would’ve been the type of girl you could see yourself falling for. 

Witty, bright, a soft smile always worn on her face. She’s at ease here and it makes your heart hurt to see. You want to someday be as at ease as she looks, wedged in between Boone and Dexter, the brightest smile you’ve seen from her on her face. 

“So how the hell does a city girl like you find herself in Oklahoma?”

You slide a puzzle piece into place. “I don’t, I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s okay.” 

Javi sighs, quiet for a minute. “Look, I’m sorry we were so off-putting when you first got here. We’re a tight knit group and we’ve been through a lot together. And-“

“Javi.” You cut him off with a tight smile. “You don’t have to explain. I get it, okay? You guys aren't the first group to not want me around and you won’t be the last, alright?”

He heaves a breath, an unreadable look on his face. “Just- if anyone might understand the things you’re running from, it would be us.”

“Who says I’m running?”

Javi raises an eyebrow and you sigh, setting the pieces you’re sorting through down. 

“Look, I’m not running. I’m just- I’m just trying to leave something behind.” 

Javi studies you for a few minutes as you set back to work on the puzzle. 

“Shame you and Kate can’t get along. You two are more alike than you think.”

-

You awake with a start, fingers clenching in unfamiliar fabric. 

“Are you okay?” Someone asks softly and you blink, Kate coming into focus. 

Right, you had- you had slept next to her last night after she’d worn you down. You couldn’t deny how nice it had sounded to sleep in a real bed. 

“Fine.” You breathe, willing yourself to forget the shouts of a friend left behind.

She frowns as she pulls her pants on. “I’m, uh, sorry for waking you up. Gotta help Mom with the cows.” 

You wave a hand, pulling yourself to sit up in the bed. “Want a hand?” 

“Mom would kill me if I let a guest help. Why don’t you get some more sleep, okay?”

You lay back down as she quietly ducks out of the room, but you know sleep won’t come. 

You’re restless so you pull yourself from the bed, padding down the staircase and sitting in one of the chairs on the porch. Tyler appears a minute later, an extra coffee mug in hand. You take it from him with a quiet thank you before the two of you start to watch Kate. 

“So California, are we gonna talk about it?” Tyler asks. 

You sigh as Tyler kicks his feet out. “Well, you’re gonna ask me questions I don’t want to answer and I’m gonna ask you ones you don’t want to answer, so unless you want to start copping to some things…”

Tyler shakes his head. “Won’t talk about it then, California.”

You eye him. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me that. Sort of hard to leave that life behind when you keep calling me that.”

“You gonna stay?” Tyler asks, looking over at you. 

You shrug, finger running over the rim of the mug. “I don’t know that I should.”

“I know it’s been a rough start with them.” Tyler sighs, shoulders hiked up. “But they’re good people.” 

“I don’t doubt that.” 

“You’re good people too.”

“Doesn’t make me a good fit here.”

Tyler sighs. “It’s my fault, I should’ve approached it a different way. But if you leave, we’d really be missing out. You’ve got those fancy degrees and you’re smart and you’re one fucking selfless girl. We could use someone like you around.” 

Kate and her Mom appear, Kate’s bright smile appearing as she pulls herself onto the railing of the porch. 

“You guys hungry? I’m gonna go get started on breakfast.” 

“Starved.”

“Wanna come see the barn?” Kate asks you as her Mom opens the screen door. 

“Now hang on, California ain’t said if she’s staying. No reason to show her the barn if she’s gonna be leaving.” 

You sigh, look down at the mug you can feel going cold. You rub your thumb over the Oklahoma written into the side as you think of Kate’s smile, of Tyler’s kindness, of Dexter’s food, of Javi’s pullover that had somehow ended back up in your bag after giving it back to Tyler and Kate yesterday. 

You blink, looking back up at them. “Okay. Yeah, okay, I’ll stay."

ii.

[frogchiro]

KIN'S KINKTOBER IS HERE!

I'm extremely pleased to announce that I finally bit the bullet and will finally be partaking in this year's kinktober and I can't express how excited I am!!

Since this is my first, please be gentle with me ;; Every day I will post a short-ish story about reader with a chosen character and a title which is also the prompt for the story.

Also, and I cannot stress this enough, I decided to combine kinktober with spooktober in this list, so please note that this might contain potentially sensitive content. Everything will be tagged accordingly, plus my blog is 18+ so proceed on your own accord.

So...without further ado, I present the first few prompts! More will be added in the near future! <3

Day 1: "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder"- Creepy!König x Reader

Day 2: "Cowboy Casanova"- Slasher!Graves x Reader

Day 3: "The Hunter and the two Bunnies"- Hunter!Ghost x Bunny Hybrid!Reader x Bunny Hybrid!Graves

Day 4: "Prize"- Gladiator!Ghost x Lady-in-Waiting!Reader

Day 5: "The Boy next door"- Slasher!Gaz x Reader

Day 6: "Birdie in a Golden Cage"- Makarov x Reader

Day 7: "A Butcher's Love"- Slasher!Ghost x Reader

Day 8: "It's a man's world"- DBF!Price x Reader

Day 9: "Hop on darlin'!"- Sleazy!Biker!Graves x Reader

Day 10: "What are friends for?"- Gaz x Reader

More coming soon...

[snapscube]

In Dawntrail did you enjoy a different character playing the main role, or do you prefer when the player character is leading the narrative?

this is definitely a major point of contention in the fanbase rn and i can generally see valid feelings/criticism on both ends of the spectrum. i myself do fall somewhere in between the most extreme takes on this. i won't go into too much detail about actual events but ill tag this as spoilers anyway just in case. ok so my thoughts are:

firstly, i like Wuk Lamat a lot. i don't think she deserves even half of the pure unfiltered ire that she is receiving from a large subset of the community rn. the amount of people who have already turned being a wuk lamat hater into an advertised personality trait really frustrates me. i really enjoyed seeing her personal journey through the story and i was overall very satisfied by her inclusion. however, i do not think the story was perfectly paced or balanced, and i definitely do understand where people are coming from when they say that they could have used a little less of her in the forefront. honestly it did kind of ultimately disappoint me that we missed out on a lot of potential interaction/development with someone like Krile, who in spite of being promised a big breakout role in this expansion still somewhat felt like a SLIGHT (i have to stress slight) afterthought. she did get some notable moments of development and emotion, but i feel like there could have been more.

okay but, your question is about our role as a player in the narrative. i hold the opinion that for THIS EXPANSION SPECIFICALLY, the warrior of light taking somewhat of a narrative backseat actually made a ton of sense and fit the themes of the narrative as well as the promise of a somewhat breezy summer vacation for our heroes. now, i will say this: i really do not agree with the idea that the WoL should be in a mentor role indefinitely because our story is done developing and we need to give the spotlight to "the next generation" of heroes in the world. i appreciate the SENTIMENT of this, but like for me personally.... i don't want Pella's story to be done, yknow? i definitely would be disappointed if this was the DE FACTO role she played in every expansion past this. but i don't even think that is factually what's going to happen. we're currently in a setup phase! and, again, bringing it back to this narrative and the themes within, a lot of Dawntrail about the experience of entering unfamiliar places and learning about the customs and the traditions of people already within it to best help them without unwelcomely trampling on their culture in the process. i think a story like that is the PERFECT time for the WoL to take a bit of a backseat. wuk lamat is also somewhat unfamilar like us yes, but Tural is still her home and she is about to be tasked with leading it. i feel like centering our character in that equation would feel.... really disingenuous? it was kinda frustrating sometimes when it felt like hey.... there's a situation happening right now that can be solved by skilled combat and you have a literally god killer standing right here doing a frown emote, but at a certain point i could chalk it up to growing pains or necessary suspension of disbelief in the interest of the overall emotional hook of the narrative. a lot of those moments could be explained away with enough thought about the character motivations and culture at play, though sometimes it does feel like a stretch. again, far from a perfectly written MSQ. it starts slow and it's messy and it throws a LOT of stuff at you that doesn't always pay off like you expect or want. but i dunno! i think we're gonna see some really interesting stuff come to the forefront in the future, and i think especially now knowing that much of the playerbase thought we took TOO much of a backseat here CS3 will probably adjust their focus accordingly next time. so i can't be too upset really about the stuff i wasn't into. the rest of it was great imo!

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Can I ask a wuestion?

What iif tenjikud girlfriend beaten up by their enemies after their rough fight. I wanna know see their reactions. Especcialy İzana and ran

Tenjiku When Their Girlfriend Gets Hurt By A Rival Gang

♡ SFW, angst, fluff, fem reader, violence against reader and random gang, murder but not anything detailed, Tenjiku members getting their getback ♡

note: yes anon, you may ask a "wuestion" lol

note 2: I've been ultra busy lately, essays, research papers, group projects, applying to jobs and all that jazz lol, things have been good tho

note 3: I put Ran and Rin together, scenario works for both regardless of which brother you're with

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Izana

🎴 Whoever hurt you must've had a death wish, you think Hanma is the grim reaper? Nothing compares to Izana running full speed at somebody

🎴 He tracks each of them down and essentially tortures them (as he should)

🎴 He refuses to kill anyone, he just beats them so bad that they wish they were dead

Kakucho

🩷 Kakucho is usually a very calm man, but as soon as he saw you, limping and covered in bruises, it was over for the bastards that messed with you

🩷 Launches a full fledged attack against the other gang and beats the shit out of their leader, then proceeds to use the leader's body as a weapon to beat the shit out of the other members

🩷 Once he's done he rushes home to take care of you, you're his top priority afterall

Ran & Rindou

💜 Whether you're with Ran or Rin, everybody knows that you have both rulers of Roppongi backing you up

🩵 So when you get jumped by a gang that has beef with Tenjiku, everyone in that gang's general vicinity knows it about to be a bloodbath and vacates accordingly

💜 They pull up on them, straightfaced and ready to pop off on whoever hurt you

🩵 Rin's putting them in leg locks and Ran's breaking faces with his baton, they're a duo at heart and tag teaming is their specialty, especially when they're standing up for you

Mochi

🍡 Shion is really gonna be calling him a gorilla the way he went apeshit (I'm sorry that was corny af lmao)

🍡 He's baffled by the audacity those motherfuckers had to put their hands on you knowing you were his

🍡 Puts every last one of them in the hospital, then beats the shit out of the person he had assigned to watch over you because what the fuck were they doing and why did they leave you alone 🤨

Mucho

💙 As soon as you call him and tell him what happened he has Sanzu pick you up and goes to take care of the 'problem'

💙 Comes home with blood on his clothes and acts like nothing happened

💙 He doesn't talk about what happened while he was gone, and you don't bring it up either. You have a shared silence about these types of things

Shion

🩸 Turns into a certified attack dog, but on the outside he tries to stay cool, calm, and collected so he can focus on you

🩸 Gives you all his attention and affection, vengeance can wait because his girl is hurting (future husband lowkey)

🩸 Once he thinks you're okay enough for him to leave you alone, he's speeding to the rival gang's hideout and bodying everybody, zero fucks given

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl

[gunnerfc]

Center Stage - An Aitana Bonmarí x Popstar!Reader SMAU

A Few ANs to start:

i) There is no face claim! I’m just using different pictures that fit the vibe of what's trying to be conveyed!

ii) This will have a mix of Social Media posts and Fics!

iii) Not sure how many parts this will have right now!

iv) This may have smut in future parts which will be tagged accordingly!

Summary: Y/n Y/l/n is a global popstar currently on the biggest tour of the year. During the show’s stop in Barcelona, a certain Catalan footballer tries to get her number to the popstar but is unsuccessful. The internet goes crazy when the singer attends a Barcelona Femení game on an off day after they learned about the failed attempt by the footballer! Will the two ever get a chance to meet or is it not meant to be?

Or, a loosely inspired Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce SMAU but with more drama!

➸ part i | part 1.5 | part ii | part 2.5 | part iii | more coming soon!

[ggyweek2024]

GGY Fanweek 2024

Hello Gregory/GGY fans!! March 7th is coming up next month, aka the original release date of the TFTP book GGY, and it will be its FIRST anniversary!!

to celebrate, I (@puhpandas) am hosting a GGY Fanweek! Heres some more info below:

The week will take place from March 1st to March 7th

This prompt list above has two word prompts, and an AU prompt for each day in the week. there are not three prompts each day unless you want there to be, theres just multiple options!

for each prompt, you can use your art medium to create something centered around that prompt. the usual is art/fanfiction, but other mediums are welcome!

each prompt is very widespread and can be anything you want it to be. its up to you to come up with something cool! All characters other than GGY are welcome. The only must have for each prompt is that it includes GGY somehow. whether it be past, present or future.

dont be a freak. no NSFW allowed along with the usual weird stuff. it will not be reblogged on this account and shared if so. if your work includes anything extreme like gore or certain phobias, please tag accordingly!

This prompt list was released as early as it was to give every participant enough time to preemptively create for each day.

All 7 days are NOT required to participate. you could only create for 1 day and it'd be just fine. this is for fun!

when each day arrives, post your work on tumblr and tag this account and tag #ggy fanweek 2024. its totally allowed to share your work elsewhere as well!

You are not to post your work until the week arrives, and you only post your work on its respective day. (example: day 5's prompt only when it is day 5 of the week)

Each work will be reblogged on this account so it will all be in one place! like an archive

when the week arrives and you post your work, PLEASE tag this account! i need to be tagged so i can reblog your work here!

For any fic writers, if you post your work on ao3 (not required), it would be awesome if you added your fic to the GGY Fanweek ao3 collection

Have fun!! this entire event is all just to have a good time, so please no stress! create whatever you want to in your own time, no matter how much or little. this is to celebrate GGY/Gregory, so let all your passion loose here!!

edit since ive seen some people confused about the AU prompts: the AU prompts are not for an already existing/established AU by me or someone else. its a 3rd option if the word prompts dont interest you, but im also just giving you a scenario to place the characters of your liking into. even if youve never seen an example of the AUs before, theyre pretty self explanatory in their names!

another edit: for archive reasons, I'll be tagging every reblog of every week contribution with tags that apply. for example, I'll be tagging which day the post is for and which prompt they chose. I'll also be tagging every character involved in the work.

so if you ever want to navigate the blog and find works for a specific day or prompt, this is how! in the search bar type a characters name and it should show you everything applying to them! this also works for specific days and prompts!

[superfruitland]

★ live life

casey jr can't help but miss the future he came from. he'd rather live in an apocalypse than pretend he belongs in a world like the present. he misses his real family, especially after the family he has spent two years with have all changed for the worse after the invasion.

...little does casey know donatello is about to bring back a world of hurt for him.

★ orange = minor amounts of blood and/or mild gore. tagged with #tw blood and #tw gore.

★ pink = bright colours and mild eyestrain. tagged with #tw bright colours and #tw eyestrain.

★ purple = talk and/or depiction of death. tagged with #tw death as well as other applicable tags, for example #tw family death.

ask to tag, and tell me if i haven't tagged something accordingly!

★ main story

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 ...

‼️ currently on hold - i have plans to continue my story eventually down the road

updates whenever i feel like it!

★ miscellaneous stories

au comp 2024 → 1 2 3 4 5 6

character ask answers (returning soon!)

reference sheet

extras

DTIYS 22/07/24 → 22/08/24

★ back to blog masterpost