#she’s finally growing but The Cost was The Price

[little-limerick-hater]

Sometimes I wonder if Limerick ever regrets what she did or misses the constant presence that used to be by her side and I think the answer is No.

Something something, a tree can’t properly grow in the shade of another.

[guinevereslancelot]

acquired some small apple trees for $10 each and now i have a little orchard 🥲

[ruleofheart]

growing pains — ellie williams

ellie williams x f reader

7k

fluff, angst, smut >O<

ellie if nothing bad happened to her ever, childhood friends to acquaintances(?) to lovers, longing, joel is involved, ellie is a DWEEB! but so are you, car sex, classic misunderstandings

to the lovely folks that asked to be tagged, i hope this meets your expectations… i am terrified of failing you: @macaroni676 @d3sperationn @g3latin

beta read by @heartofrhea my best friend my apologies for being cringelord

The universe can be so cruel. 

You sit at the edge of the curb, curling your legs to yourself to feel less vulnerable. Your phone rolls in your hand, tears of frustration prickling at your eyes. You probably should’ve known better. Well— you do know better. That sinking, intuitive feeling had been swirling in the center of your stomach all night, but you had let your desperation and loneliness take ahold of you. 

You had agreed to go out with some friends and some friends of friends; people you didn’t know jackshit about, but hung out with anyway. You had hoped you didn’t reek of seclusion too bad, feeling like a wounded animal in a crowd of predators. 

But your friends and their friends didn’t really care. They had pulled away from you in the club, losing you to flashing lights and crowded bodies. You searched up and down, called their names in the dingy bathrooms, and even asked the bartender. No dice; you were here to party alone. Now what was the point of even coming along?

Silly.

You initially opted to order an Uber to just get the fuck off the street already, but hey— it’s a Friday night and finals are over. The prices listed cost more than six different coffee runs, and there’s no way you’d be giving those up. 

It’s how you end up sitting on the curb and fervently wiping your tears away, cringing when you remember your hands had been touching all the club door handles and god knows what else. You feel dirty, forgotten. 

You unlock your phone and dim the brightness— the stupid thing almost all out of battery— and turn to what seems to be a last resort, an option that you’ve buried away at the back of your mind for years now.

Pressing your phone to your ear, you can’t help but sigh as the line rings repeatedly, almost positive that you’re completely out of luck. 

It falls silent for a second before there’s faint rustling on the other side, and a voice so familiar, so painful to hear, questions you softly. 

“Ellie,” you say breathlessly; from fatigue or relief, you’re not sure anymore. “Can you come get me?” 

Becoming friends with Ellie Williams was almost too easy. 

That’s just how she is as a person. So easy to be around; her voice and twinkling laugh showing no threat. 

It began with Mrs. Sullivan’s freshman class seating chart; a table of four with you, Ellie, and two other boys who were too preoccupied with copying off each other’s notes half the time for you to even remember their names. You mostly kept to yourself as a weird adolescent, the onslaught of teenage hormones and emotions forcing you into your own little world. 

Ellie, on the other hand, was different. She had noticed the front page cover of Savage Starlight slipped into the front sleeve of your binder, the edges frayed and jagged as if you had actually ripped it off. She was almost offended at the sight of such a careless pull, but found the emotion wavering once she realized you read the comics just like her. 

“Hey! No way!” she had exclaimed with a growing smile, her eyes lit up. She had half a mind to just reach over and take your binder, fingers skimming over the glossy cover. She stopped herself mid-way, mind racing before she asked with just as much glee, “Can I see? I don’t think I’ve been able to get ahold of that edition yet.” 

Your short-lived conversations about Savage Starlight began to transform into lunchroom giggle sessions and bike rides on the way home. She was so easy to fall into; it was almost like she had a part of herself that was reserved just for you, eager for your arrival.

The thing about your dynamic was that it was so intricately woven over time, each thread of yourself intertwining with her own as you came to know each other better. Unabashed adoration and excitement with every laugh, with every moment of eye contact across the classroom and dinner table at home: a twinkle of unwavering youth and closeness.

And the thing was, when it came to you, Ellie was not prideful at all. She would openly admit any given moment that there had to be a hole in her heart that was in the shape of you. The two of you fit so nicely in each other’s lives, slipping into a familiar rhythm that almost seemed karmic, even at such a young age. While you were surrounded by other girls your age navigating their own pent up emotions and typical coming-of-age realizations, turning against each other and whispering dirty secrets, Ellie only seemed to cling onto you— hanging onto your every word with sincerity and trust.

It didn’t take long before Ellie began to invite you over to sleepovers, which was new territory for both her and Joel. He was already a little awkward as-is, navigating life with a teenage girl who had the same foul mouth and temperament as he.

So when you came around, greeting him with little smiles and kind language, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sway in relief, happy that Ellie has someone like you in her life. 

You’d tumble off your bikes, leaving them strewn across the front yard, crushing the grass he labored so hard over. But he didn’t mind, relieved to see the two of you arrive in one piece, losing yourself in video game releases and comic book pages as you both sat in her bedroom. 

Joel became a sort of fly on the wall for you two, ever-present as you were fairly comfortable in their home. Tuning the both of you in and out, listening closely for anything that may alarm him (which, never happened). Sitting across the both of you at the dinner table, serving up a quick and easy bowl of Hamburger Helper to you two. He’d glance at the two of you from under his eyelashes, watching how either you or Ellie would lean into each other as you splayed out homework sheets on the table, muttering to each other in curiosity. The two of you may have been better off sharing a single chair, he’d think to himself in amusement. 

Again, your presence in Ellie’s life and in his home never worried him. It became routine for him as well, watching the two of you bike up the block together almost every day after school. 

One hot summer afternoon, he stood on the porch, prying off the entrance screen door in an attempt to replace it, the critters from the greenbelt nearby winning at their efforts to nibble away at the material. 

From afar, he could hear the growing sound of your chattering, your bike chains clicking repeatedly as you breezed down the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as you two fought amicably, reaching out to each other in a playful attempt to push the other off their bike. He chuckled to himself and turned his gaze back to the screen door, fingers prying at the edges. 

Behind him, Ellie reached a little too far to the side, fingers brushing against your arm before she toppled over sideways off her bike. She collapsed with a laugh-yelp, swearing at you in a way that made you burst out laughing, your shoes dragging across the concrete to stop your bike. 

You hopped off your seat, carelessly letting it fall to the side as you approached Ellie, laughing at her as she pushed herself off the ground. 

“You idiot,” you breathed out in between laughs, nearly folding in on yourself as the incident repeated in your mind. 

“Dude!” she scolded lightheartedly, trying to feign annoyance, and of course failing. She stuck out her arm to show you a deep scrape right above her elbow. “This shit burns.” 

You caught your breath and stepped closer, eyeing the scrape. It was rather gnarly, and you inwardly winced at yourself knowing it was probably going to scab horribly.

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, holding her arm and twisting it to get a better look. Joel eyed the way you two interacted, pulling away from his task as he glimpsed the bloody splotch on Ellie’s elbow. 

From where he was, he couldn’t exactly make out the words that you two exchanged, your voices lowered significantly. From the look of it, you were offering an apology. He didn’t catch the way you smiled up at her apologetically, but he was positive that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him when you leaned in and placed a harmless, healing kiss onto her arm, right above the scrape.

It was, in reality, lighthearted and childish. A testament to your playfulness, your eagerness to please Ellie’s heart. 

And although Ellie didn’t realize it, there was a flicker of emotion that crossed her face. A change in her eyes; in the way that she looked at you. It flew over your head, too; busy smiling up at her, pulling her closer with the strength of the sun’s gravity. 

But Joel noticed. He caught this sudden change, this glimmer on Ellie’s face. He felt the complexities of youth and new emotion washing over him again, a short chuckle leaving his lips as he turned away, focusing back on fixing the screen door. 

Later that night, he pulled Ellie aside. 

“Hey, kid. I’m gonna need you to keep the door open when she’s around, alright?”

“What?” Ellie asked, utterly oblivious. A look of distaste flittered across her features. 

He was trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, knowing all too well that if he pushed too hard or looked too stern, Ellie would just defy him out of her own stubborn nature. He folded some blankets over the couch, eyes avoiding hers. “Just keep it open, Ellie.” 

She groaned in annoyance and threw her head back, hands falling to her sides. She looked truly exasperated, confused with this sudden change in house rules. 

That night, as the door remained cracked open, Joel walked by Ellie’s bedroom to sort some towels in the hallway closet. His ears picked up her frustrated tone; “…wants me to leave the door open now. Never heard of a rule as stupid as that, but whatever.” 

You giggled calmly, then fell silent for a second. “It’s okay. My mom has that rule too, for my brother and his girlfriend.” 

And he could almost hear the way Ellie’s face scrunched up, a confused groan escaping her again. She failed to reply, and the topic at hand was dropped as soon as you leaned over to her and showed her a page from a new comic, rambling on about how the plot hole in this series was diabolical. 

He silently walked away, mind wandering as he tried to think about how to approach this blooming situation, a flicker of both hope and protection illuminating in his chest. 

It was junior year of high school when the foundation of your friendship began to split, allowing something else to slip into it. Something sneaky, deceitful, something that constantly rendered you speechless and warm. 

You no longer rode your bikes or shared comic books; you were much too old for that now! Ellie had just gotten her license, a little too eager to drive Joel’s old beat up truck around with you in the passenger seat. And, of course, the both of you felt like true teenagers when you finally got phones.

You sat on Ellie’s bed, your knees pulled to your chest as you scrolled through your timeline. You giggled at random collages of pictures and videos, occasionally showing your screen to Ellie in hopes that she would laugh with you. 

She sat on the other end of the bed, a rolled joint held delicately in her fingers. Joel wasn’t home, and her bedroom door was closed. The walls of her bedroom trapped the both of you with the smell of it, but you were slowly learning to not mind it as much. 

When you first received a phone, you found yourself diving into social media, trying to keep up with this sudden boom of a new language, new jokes, new form of communication. Ellie, on the other hand, never touched her phone. If she was using it, it was probably because she was texting you. She refused to engage with any social media at all, meaning you had to sit and explain new jokes and trends to her. Sometimes, she’d try her hand at new lingo or an ongoing joke, but failed so miserably each time that you’d roll over her bedsheets in laughter. 

She pressed the joint to her lips, eyes lazy as she looked at you with longing. The brightness from your screen illuminated your face, emphasizing every beauty mark and freckle. 

“Hey,” she started, voice low. “C’mere.” 

You looked up at her in curiosity, putting your phone down. Your eyes stayed trained on her as you scooted closer, the sides of your legs pressing against hers. 

She wasn’t sure if it was the smoke or the way that you peered up at her that made the center of her body feel warm. She tilted her head away from you as she exhaled, the smoke clouding the space between you two; your heart thundered in your chest. 

“Almost done,” she promised, voice only a little raspy. “Missed you; that thing is hoarding all your attention.” The corners of her mouth twitched. 

“Is not!” you defended, shoving her shoulder with your own. “I’m right here.” 

“Yeah,” she began, her hand coming up to tap at your head playfully. “But you’re not here. Let’s do something; been wanting to play a few rounds of that old zombie game.”

It was how you end up pressed into each other’s sides, hollering and giggling at the tiny TV screen on her bedroom dresser. You played erratically, your fingers relying on nonsensical button smashing to survive. Ellie had to constantly revive you every five minutes, but never mentioned it. 

She missed the way you squealed in anticipation with every new round that started, your eyes wide as you spoke with a constant smile. And, maybe it was from her high, but she was a little too intent in the way that she watched you, her mind feeling far away as she memorized every crevice of your face from the side. 

“Ellie!” you scolded, bringing her out of her daze. “No way you already died, the round just started!” 

She turned her attention back to the screen, scoffing as her player screen was black and white, her character eye-level with the ground. 

“Damn,” she muttered, surprised that she let herself slack off for so long. Too lost in your side profile, the dip of your lips, the way your lashes fluttered in surprise when a zombie attacked you in-game. 

Your character raced towards her, shooting around sloppily before you pressed the buttons to revive her. Her hand found itself on the top of your thigh, right above your knee. Perhaps it was the fogginess of her mind, or a newfound boldness that spurts through her; but she squeezed at your leg, her eyes stuck on the screen. “Thanks,” she says a little too nonchalantly, like that was completely normal. 

You swallowed thickly, your own movements faltering. There was a red ring forming around your player screen, indicating that you were being ruthlessly attacked. 

She snickered, her voice playful. “Focus.” 

The two of you kept on, your mind instead slipping up and focusing a little too hard on the way she touched you. 

It was senior year when that particular, sneaky something begins to widen the cracks in your relationship. A feeling that blurred your vision, blurred your mind. A feeling that made it impossible to correctly decipher whatever it was that Ellie was going through, and the two of you began to fall apart. 

It mostly started when Ellie got a job at a skate shop. For the most part, it was relaxed, her days consisting of seeing the same people come and go for wheels and decks. But it meant that she had less time to spend with you. 

Initially, she would use every single day off to see you. To invite you over or to laze around on your fluffy duvet, listening to you ramble about your nervousness as graduation was approaching. She would take you out, spoil you rotten with the excitement of her new paychecks, saying fuck all to saving any money. 

And in reality, you didn’t care about the way she spoiled you; granted, it was nice and certainly made your heart beat a certain way, but you mostly valued that she made the effort to see you still. Exchanging silent words and looks across the classroom was no longer sufficing your yearning heart. 

Months passed and Ellie started to become a little bit more focused on balancing school and work; she was set on saving as college approaches, and you figured that the prospect of growing up had changed her. She was set on a college, set on astrophysics, set on buying Joel some land and maybe, hopefully, spoiling you some more in a few years down the line…

But she was maybe a little too caught up in it. She saw you less and less, accidentally channeling her friendly energy to her coworkers. And while you knew there was nothing wrong with that, you couldn’t help the bitter taste that rested on your tongue when she constantly brought up the names of others that you’d heard of countless times. A part of you wanted to turn to her, ask her so pathetically, why can’t you do the same with me?

You started to really feel like you were losing her when you finally got the chance to sit in her room again, the both of you babbling about what you think college will look like. At first, the comfort of her poster-covered walls and space trinkets settled your restless heart, and you had felt at home with her again. 

It wasn’t until she slipped away to use the restroom, leaving her phone on her bed. The screen illuminated as it buzzed once, twice— three times. You should’ve left it alone, thinking maybe it was Joel warning her he’d be late from work. But you leaned over anyway, reading over the text on the screen.

For one, it was a coworker. You recognized the name on the notification; and for some reason, when you realized it was from the only other girl at her workplace, a horrible feeling nestled into your stomach. 

And then you couldn’t help the minor feeling of betrayal as you realized they had been messaging each other on a social media platform; one of the many things Ellie swore up and down that she’d stay away from. 

You didn’t even follow her on there. She never told you. 

It’s silly, you thought. Ellie can do whatever she pleased. But this new turn of events, this tiny thing that was still so out of character; the foundation between you two felt almost completely severed. 

Weeks passed from that day and you them found yourself pulling away. The both of you were accepted into the same college, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel excited. Ellie begged you to fill out your housing papers on time so that the two of you could be roommates, but you purposefully procrastinated. You weren’t sure you could handle such close proximity with her anymore. 

It was with this that the gap between the both of you widened. She didn’t drive you home anymore; it was time to put your own license to use. You two no longer exchanged knowing looks across the room, and you sure as hell didn’t share dinner with Joel anymore, either. You started to forget the exact layout of her bedroom. 

Graduation came and went; you spent it in solitude, not really counting the presence of your family members. Ellie did race up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, nose burying into your hair, but you were so caught up in it all that you didn’t reciprocate it. 

It was another one of those minor things that widened the gap, made her step away from you both physically and emotionally. 

Even when Joel offhandedly mentioned that he’d be okay with helping you move into your dorm, Ellie made up some excuse on the fly; saying your brother had it covered. She hadn’t even asked you.

So, just like that, summer passed in a blink. You spent your days curled up in your bed, wallowing. Ellie spent it trying to distract herself, losing herself in the presence of coworkers-turned-close-friends. You shamefully stalked her social media, tears pricking at your eyes as she posted places and things that seem so fun, so far away. Places and things that you would’ve liked. 

What hurt more was the constant questioning from your family. Where’s Ellie? What’s she up to?

Hell if you knew. You’d been relying on her story highlights for snippets of her life, and even then they were still so vague. Scenery, music, her guitar. Someone else’s hands holding a deck of cards, videos with incessant giggling in the background. God, you were almost sickly with both wanting and loneliness. 

And, just like that, it was freshman year again. This time, there was no seating chart. No binder for you to slip comic book covers into. No comfort of hopping on your bike and riding home with the only person that matters at your side. 

You were in some sort of emotional purgatory. Your mind blank as you walked around campus, as you stared at your laptop screen in the dead of night, body aching as you slumped over and completed your coursework. The excitement and late nights that you and Ellie had planned were nowhere to be found. 

On the other hand, Ellie busied herself so much, she found that she almost forgot you. Almost. 

Burying herself into her homework, mind trying its hardest to wrap around these new concepts. Partying, though she wasn’t not really there. Smoking some, drinking some. It all still felt lonely. 

She was enjoying this new group of friends, but they didn’t amount to the certain someone that still had their shape, their initials carved into the center of her heart. It was almost unbearable to exist without you; the two of you blending into each other so well, she still found herself saying things the way you did— the intonation, the little lingo, the mannerisms. Your existence was embedded into her own, folding over into her psyche so compact-tight, she knew she could never escape you. 

Ellie assumed that now, at this point, it was about carrying you in her soul even though you were no longer around. The beauty of this life; she’d lost you, but not entirely. Your personality reflecting in her own no matter what, no matter how hard she tried. Her existence was a testament to your own— someone’s been here. Someone’s loved me. 

Weeks passed. Months passed. The both of you constantly shuffling across the same campus, yet never running into each other. Your text messages now buried underneath more recent threads, your shared playlist long forgotten and neglected. 

Winter break hit and the loneliness bit just as much as the cold. When Ellie returned home, she noticed her old bike in the garage, propped up against storage bins, the tires flat. When you returned home, you came back to photos of the both of you, pinned to your wall. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you took them down, throwing them into a box in your closet. 

At the same time, yet separately, the both of you traversed new grounds, and odd fucked up forms of grief. Being in your own space yet running into things that reminded you of someone that you wanted the most. And it wasn’t not like they were gone; yet the both of you let go, deciding that somehow, it was for the better. 

The cycle repeated as the seasons changed. Instead of actually moving on, the both of you just somehow got better at repressing your emotions and acting like nothing happened. Occasionally reflecting on your friendship in a daydream, and then reminding yourself that somehow, it just wasn’t meant to be. It was time to move on— she was never yours. 

It’s summer now, the end of junior year. Ellie’s at her friend’s place, sipping on a poorly made drink as they play card games and tune into a new season of a trending series. She’s cross-legged on the floor, smiling to herself as her friends talk over each other, slamming the cards down on the coffee table and trying to warp the rules in their own favor. It’s fun, and it’s easy to sit back and watch everything unfold. 

She feels her phone in her back pocket vibrating; assuming it’s Joel just checking up on her, she gets up and excuses herself, slipping out the back porch door. 

When she reaches for her phone, her heart nearly stops beating altogether. In fact, she’s sure it does, as her stomach suddenly twists in confusion and pain, a small cough leaving her lips as she tries to collect herself. Your name shines on her screen as you call, and she’s so sure she’s hallucinating (the hell was in that drink?) until she swallows her surprise and answers. 

And there you are. Breathless, exhausted. Immediately, she knows. Despite it being so long, despite the fact that she’s not entirely sure she knows you anymore, she still recognizes the tone in your voice, recognizes that you needed her. 

“Where are you?” she blurts before you can finish your sentence, her body automatically pacing around. “Send me the address.” 

You’re apologetic, sounding defeated on the other side. You tell her over and over again, I’m sorry.

There’s weight behind the way you say it, like you’re apologizing for something more. Like you’re counting all those times you shut her out, the times you let her slip through your fingers. It’s weak and shaky, but Ellie doesn’t bring it up. She’s too busy slipping on her shoes, keys dangling from her fingers as she mouths to her friends that she’ll see them later. 

She stays with you on the phone the entire time she drives over to get you. She asks, over and over again, if you’re okay and in a safe area, and your heart twists with guilt and shame. You stay planted on the edge of the curb, looking like a wilted flower.

Ellie feels her heart drop to her stomach as she approaches the street that you sit on, her headlights illuminating your pathetic figure. She rolls down the window and pulls over, calling out to you. 

Your eyes are low, the shame blatantly evident on your face. Ellie’s not sure how this will unfold; this isn’t exactly the way she dreamed the two of you would reunite. But that look on your face— Ellie knows it well enough. You’re both 15 again, and you’re trying to hide within your own body somehow. She sees the embarrassment, the bitter feeling that sits at the center of your chest. 

You approach her car and observe at her through the window, eyes avoiding her own. You study her form, how much she’s grown. She’s got a new haircut; it’s shorter— gayer. You can almost imagine yourself laughing at her, can almost imagine twirling the short pieces between your fingers. A patch of black ink catches your eye just then, your gaze landing on her forearm. Since when did she get a tattoo? 

She unlocks the door, silently beckoning you in. You slump into the passenger seat, completely defeated, and she reads your body language well enough to know not to pry at the situation. 

She shifts the car into drive but realizes that she doesn’t even know where you live anymore. The car sits there, idle as she tries to figure out what to ask you and how, then you mutter the directions to your apartment, reading her confusion just as well. 

The sound of Ellie’s music is quiet, practically just a gentle hum as the two of you sit, rigid as you keep your gazes locked on the road ahead. You don’t intend to explain yourself or have some sort of emotional come-to-jesus moment with Ellie, figuring that this situation alone is already stressful enough. 

But, she clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak, eyes still locked on the street signs. “You see the trailer for the new Savage Starlight adaptation?” 

You give her an awkward chuckle. “Yeah,” you say, nearly whispering. “Looked like trash, honestly.”

Ellie laughs at that. Laughs. And god, it’s not the kind of laugh that kills her, but it’s a solid one; an honest one. It sounds so good as it erupts from her chest, the sound of it pouring into your ears and over your heart. Christ. 

Your eyebrow twitches and you have to turn your head to look out the window— you can’t let her see the look on your face. You’re sure your eyes are wide and pooling with some sort of desperation. 

And, of course, Ellie catches it. But she just cares too much about you, so she lets all these little thing slip by to keep you comfortable, to keep you with her for even just a second longer. 

The conversation stays trained on little comments, acknowledging new video game releases and comic book trailers as if the both of you are in high school again, caught up in your nerdy obsessions. The air is thick and steady; the both of you dancing around this thinly-veiled attempt to be normal. The smallest things, such as the sound of her clearing her throat, or her hand coming up to scratch at her cheek, make your skin crawl with anticipation. 

You brace yourself for the ball to drop, holding it so tight to your chest, you’re almost suffocating. 

And while there’s no way you’ll drop this act, desperately clutching onto this feeling of faux normalcy, you know Ellie will. She’s much too blunt and forward focused to let you both sit in this awkward, paper-doll like scenario; steadily crafting your sentences, training your eyes to avoid her. 

And, god— it’s almost too easy to let your body relax, to slip back into your old comfortable patterns with Ellie right next to you. Because she’s never been prideful, and never will be, with the way she smiles to herself and breathes: “I missed you. It’s been… really long,” she says the last part with a bittersweet chuckle. “Too long.” 

Your chest caves. Stupidly, eagerly, almost like it wanted to, this whole time. Your body feels prickly and warm, but you school your face to remain somewhat neutral. 

“Yeah,” you offer dryly. “I’m kind of surprised, actually.” 

At that, Ellie tilts her head, fingers fluttering around the steering wheel. “How come?” 

“That, like, you even showed up. And you’re actually being nice and taking me home. I figured you kinda hated my guts towards the end.”

Ellie’s body has a physical reaction to that, and she taps on the brakes by accident. Not hard enough to send the both of you flying forward, but just enough of a push. You whip your head towards her, watching the way she furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head. 

“Sorry. Not trying to be defensive, but why…” She swallows thickly. “Why would you think that? And of me, of all people?”

She’s so, so gentle with the way she says it. Her voice quiet and low, not wanting to scare you away with this sudden confrontation. She reeks of true curiosity and something else that seems like hurt. 

“I just,” you start, trying to gather your words, then pause, not really recognizing where Ellie is driving. “Hold on. Where are you—?”

She pulls into an empty parking lot, stopping the car at an awkward angle, careless about her parking etiquette. 

“I’m sorry. I really just wanna clarify things,” she breathes out, her tone hurried as if you’ll slip and fade away if she doesn’t explain herself fast enough. “But, if you want me to completely fuck off, I’ll take you home. Just tell me.” 

You remain quiet, looking at her with a face that reads half anxious, half eager. A mix of the two, both emotions so similar in nature that maybe it kind of looks like… excitement. 

Ellie turns her body in her seat so that she can face you directly. “I was never tired of you, ever.” She takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to pace herself and keep her voice steady. With you, she can become passionate very quickly, so she needs to remain cool. “If anything, I thought that you felt that way about me. You stopped comin’ around, didn’t even try to room with me, and completely bailed on my attempts to see you. Did I do something?” 

She’s completely disarmed. Her words woven with nothing but good intentions, the look on her face desperate for some sort of reconciliation. She eyes you carefully, and if you looked hard enough, you may have been able to catch the glimmer of want in her eyes. 

Overcome with emotion, you fumble. Too busy with wanting to just defend yourself, swinging around your sword with your eyes shut in the hopes that you won’t get hurt, you don’t even try to match her energy. 

“Well, yeah,” you bite back, not nearly as careful as she was. “You changed. Everything changed. You made other friends, new friends, and just left me behind,” you accuse sharply, not thinking straight. “You… went behind my back.”

Despite the way that you speak to her, Ellie’s face softens. She knows what this is about. She’s too understanding, too willing to do anything to get you back in her life. As the realization slowly dawns on her, her heart flutters both with yearning and a deeper need. 

It’s how you end up pressed against the backseat of her car, her mouth on yours as her hands roam freely around your body. You shut up rather quickly, mind blurring over with the oncoming release of years of pent-up wanting. You tried to keep arguing back at her, and she did nothing but talk to you in that sweet tone, with eyes that scream I love you.

It isn’t that she’s trying to coax you, or anything. It just happened as you begin to increasingly realize that she is not going to fight you; she just wants you. She needs you to know that, she has to make herself clear. 

Fog creeps up the car windows as she presses her knee in between your legs, rocking against you slowly. 

Ellie’s pacing herself; she’s thought about this a few times, guiltily. But in her mind, it’s always been in her bed, her mind crafting the scene of your body, your little sounds. It was like she had to slap her own hand away from herself sometimes. 

So while this isn’t exactly what she had daydreamed it would be, she still wouldn’t complain. Regardless of the situation, you were pressed into her, panting and sighing in ways that made her mind turn to soppy mush, overrun with desire and emotion. 

And, while she’s set on taking care of you and showing you just how much you meant and still mean to her, she can’t help but want to make you admit it too. 

She pulls back from kissing you, her eyes glazed over as she looks at your face. Holy shit.

Skin so warm, and you already look spent. She swallows, suddenly doubting how long she’ll be able to hold off. 

She bites back a satisfied smile before she dips down again, her face hidden in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, kissing all the way down. 

“Take this off,” she murmurs, fingers pulling at the waistband of your skirt. You do your best to follow her orders, cramped up in the seat, pulling your knees towards yourself in an attempt to shimmy out of the fabric. It catches on your ankle, hanging, and you giggle at the state of the situation. Ellie’s heart melts over itself, beating erratically; she’s going fucking crazy. 

You’ve done nothing but moan, twitch, laugh, and flutter your lashes. She hasn’t even felt you yet, hasn’t even seen your body in its entirety. And she’s gone. 

She almost raises an eyebrow at the sight of your skimpy little underwear, but her question catches in her throat. You were at the club, after all. Something sinks in her stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, observing the way the fabric clings onto you. 

Her fingers massage at your inner thighs, her knee firm in place as she keeps them set apart. Her digits dance right against your core, pressing against the fabric. You twitch, rolling your hips into her, fingers catching on the seatbelt behind you, gripping on for life. She laughs, but not necessarily at you. 

It feels like it takes her years (well, technically) to push your panties to the side, eyes falling hazy as she stares right into you. You’re so vulnerable, you try shutting your thighs close, but she pushes them apart again. 

“I know,” she hushes you, dipping lower to nip at your lips. “I know.” 

Her fingers trace over your folds, and you think you’re about to explode. You hadn’t expected Ellie to be the type to make this agonizing and painful, but you know you probably deserve it after your showcase of attitude. 

She draws her hand back and brings her fingers up to her mouth, sucking on them nonchalantly. A satisfied sigh escapes her as she finally, finally gets to taste you on her tongue. She lets her hand travel back down, and you turn your head to the side, shutting your eyes in anticipation. 

“Look at me,” she commands softly, stopping her fingers right where you want her. 

You nod, giving her the false promise that you will. Ellie sees right through it, and with her free hand she gently grips onto your face, turning you to make eye contact with her. 

She needed to see your face as she fucked you, she needed to know, after so long of wondering, how you looked when facing pure pleasure. 

Your lashes flutter, eyebrows screwing together as she slips her fingers inside your warmth, pressing the heel of her palm against your clit. She’s gentle in the way she stretches you out, working you through it with such care and patience. 

Ellie revels in the way your chest heaves already, pupils blown out with bliss. She moves her knee and lets you shut your thighs together, trapping her hand in place. 

“This is all you needed, huh?” she teases, her voice only a little prickly, but her smile says otherwise. “For me to touch you like this.” 

You nod silently, too busy biting on your bottom lip and rocking your body onto her fingers to reply. 

“Answer me,” she demands with the same softness, setting the tone. Her gaze is locked onto your face, memorizing every twitch of your brow, every whine that leaves your lips. 

It’s almost ridiculous how brainless you are already, melting beneath her entirely. 

“Needed you,” you manage to breathe out, nodding your head again. “So bad.”

Ellie hisses a swear, and she can’t help the way she leans into you, pressing her body against yours. She curls her fingers inside of you, the palm of her hand nudging at your eager bud. She groans to herself as she feels your walls twitch around her digits, her head dropping low as if she has to stop herself from spiraling. She’s hanging on by a thread; a hair, wanting nothing more than to fuck you senseless. But it’s been too long, and she’s got something to prove to you. 

Her eyes shine as she feels your body grow tense, your wriggling becoming more constant. She slows down her pace, watching closely as your mouth drops, a pout playing at your lips. 

“Please,” you begin, and she smiles. 

“Please what?” 

“Please, fucking just,” you try grinding on her fingers, lashes fluttering. “Oh my god,” you sigh, that little attitude trickling in your tone. 

She scoffs, almost meanly. She stops her movements entirely, fingers falling slack in your pussy. “Yeah? Do it yourself, then.” 

And to her surprise, you do. That attitude is wiped clean from your voice as you whimper pathetically, body rolling, walls fluttering as you try to fuck yourself with her fingers. She stares at you in awe, throat running dry. 

It takes her a second, but she blinks and she’s falling back into you. Watching as you desperately chase your release, bumping your clit onto her hand, and you absentmindedly grab onto her arm, trying to anchor yourself. 

She sucks her teeth and sighs to herself. She had intended to drag this out, to make you beg, to make you say that you were hers all along. But with the way you hold onto her, shamelessly rutting your hips, her name falling off your lips like a prayer— she already knows it’s all true. 

She’s kind enough to start thrusting her fingers again, moaning at the way your slick bundles at your entrance, coating her fingers and slipping down her hand. It’s obscene, but she doesn’t care. In fact, it gives her more of a reason to clean you up afterward. 

“Ellie,” you breathe suddenly, your little prayers becoming less coherent as a certain feeling creeps around, engulfing your body and mind. “I’m gonna cum,” you whine shamelessly, the heat in your stomach spreading lower and lower, your body tingling. 

She leans over you again, watching over your face as your eyes slip shut. 

“Go ahead, baby. Let me hear you.” 

It’s a demand but she still says it so softly, a certain tenderness behind her words. You choke on your own moan, body practically seizing as your thighs tighten, fingers digging into her arm. You chant a repeated I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, and Ellie smiles as you do anyway, your cunt swallowing her fingers with your release. 

Her hand relentlessly slaps against your core, even though you begin to tear up and beg for her to stop. She smiles to herself before she slowly drags her fingers out of you, bringing them back up into her mouth. 

It’s not nearly enough. While you slump back into the seat, panting, body still shaky from such strong sensations, she’s busy maneuvering her body to sit on the floor of the car and propping your legs onto her shoulders. 

You blink as you slowly come back to reality, your mind hazy. 

“Ellie,” you start softly, reaching out your hand. 

She reaches up and intertwines your fingers, eyes locked on your dripping cunt as her voice carries over to your ears. “I’m right here. Can’t let it go to waste.” 

Your eyes roll back, another string of moans escaping you as Ellie shuts her eyes and latches onto your clit, moaning into your pussy. 

The hours of the night escape both of you, becoming lost in each other in the back of her car, cementing your fate. 

Ellie laughs at your blank expression, her hand rubbing down her face in disbelief. 

“That was so… garbage. Beyond garbage. Landfill levels of trash,” you say weakly, the soft lights of the movie theater reflecting off your face. 

She continues giggling at your side, hand over her mouth in an attempt to be quiet despite the fact that the movie is already over. 

You playfully swat at her arm, turning to her, face ridden with shock. “There’s no way you’re not disappointed! This shit was such a waste of money. We were better off pirating it.” 

She shakes her head and smiles to herself, hand wrapping around your own as she pulls you to stand up with her. “I think it was well worth it; it was, like, funny bad.” 

You stand, wrapping your arm around her own as you two trail down the steps of the theater. You continue picking the movie apart, disdain in your voice. You have a reason to be passionate; this lazy attempt at turning Savage Starlight into a box office success had taken a terrible turn, the movie filled with stupid one-liners and god awful acting. 

You should’ve known; it’s been a month since the trailer dropped— or, since you and Ellie came back together. A month of everything falling into place, the pieces of your individual lives slipping back into the way they used to be. A month of constant, whispered confessions, making up for lost time; lovelorn kisses, touches fueled by years of yearning. Pursuing your lives together again, and of course, falling back into your geeky little habits— the one thing that brought you together in the first place, anyway.

You shouldn’t have walked in with such high expectations after the both of you predicted how awful it was gonna be once you both sat down to rewatch the trailers together. 

As the two of you make it outside of the building, Ellie bites her cheek at the way you continue to ramble, the passion in your voice making her heart swell. There is just too much to adore about you. 

“Hey,” she starts, voice low. 

You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

Ellie nods her chin in the direction of her car, mischief written all over her face. “I know a way to give you a happy ending.”

You groan in annoyance, pushing her away. Your voice rings out and into her ears, settling her restless heart as you scold her, a smile showing through.

“Ellie!”

[little-diable]

Working for the devil - Tommy Shelby (smut)

It's been a while, huh. Anyway, I'm back with another Tommy fic, finally. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Reader has been working for Tommy for years, but every now and then it's time for some negotiations about her worth, just pwp really

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, power play, undefined relationship

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (2k words)

“50? That’s more than last month.” Arthur’s voice filled the night, louder than both had anticipated. Her glare forced his eyes away from her features, rather focusing on the shovel she leaned against.

“The risk of being caught is getting higher, it has to be worth it.” A smirk played on her lips, fuelled by the uneasiness the older Shelby brother emenated. She hadn’t been surprised to see him instead of the others, knowing that he was the one that supposedly feared her the least, and yet she couldn’t help but silently hope to see a certain pair of piercing blue eyes again. 

“I have to talk about that with the others, I’ll be back in an hour.” She didn’t get a chance to protest, could only watch the man be swallowed by darkness once again. Silence wrapped itself around (y/n) as she sat down on the bench near the entrance of the cemetery. Her eyes wandered up to the sky to count the stars, getting lost in her thoughts while the minutes kept fading by, slowly turning into a full hour.

Only the sound of boots meeting the gravel ground managed to rip her out of her trance, having to shake her aching neck before rising back to her feet. (Y/n)’s eyes met the pair of blue ones she had been hoping to see, unable to bite down her growing smile, „It‘s good to see you again, Tommy.“

"50, (y/n)? I thought we had a deal.” She allowed herself to study the handsome man for a moment, watching the blue smoke engulf him as he exhaled his drag. The cigarette kept burning, shedding some light onto their surroundings. 

“We did until I was arrested last month and you didn’t come to my help like our deal promised. Deal’s off the table, Shelby, have to make a new one, and that one will cost you some more.” The grin tugging on her lips drew a humourless chuckle out of Tommy, a sound that was swallowed by his movements as he pointed his pistol at her forehead. The sight drew another laugh out of (y/n) while she shook her head at the man she had known for years.

“Should I sink to my knees? Add some drama to your play?” Her tongue kissed her teeth as Tommy cocked his gun, staring at (y/n) as death clearly whispered to him, urging him on to kill her. “I have to say, I’m almost disappointed, is this the price I have to pay for doing all your dirty work?”

“I don’t have time for games, (y/n). You’re not of high value to me, you’re just my property, I can do with you as I like.” Another chuckle, another impatient drag of his cigarette. Life was slipping right through her fingers and yet (y/n) couldn’t find it in herself to care. She had always known that her dirty work would eventually force her to end up like this, facing a gun while tainting the one who had pushed her into her misery all those years ago.

“Perhaps I should have joined the brothel all those years ago instead of working for you, your reasons for a visit would have been more pleasurable than this.” The cigarette was thrown to the ground, stumped out by his shoe. 

“Is this what you want? A fuck?” She couldn’t deny the attraction she had for Tommy, the draw she hadn’t been able to get rid of ever since meeting him. He held some special kind of magic over the girl who had worked for him since she had been a mere teenage girl, preferring to be close to the devil himself than living on the street without a safe place nearby. A draw he had always seemed to ignore while it had swallowed her wholly. 

“I’d certainly prefer it over being shot by you.” A beat passed, then another before the gun was dropped from her forehead only for (y/n) to face his emotionless features. Tommy’s gloved hand found her throat, pulling her in for a teeth-clashing kiss that left (y/n) choking on her gasp. The kiss was heated, fuelled by desperation and anger, emotions she had never linked with Tommy Shelby but which were now more prominent than ever before. 

“Swap the bodies, bring me the skull and then come find me.” He left her standing in the dark, heavily panting with a racing heart. And with one last laugh clawing through (y/n), she slowly turned towards the graves, set on getting another job over and done with. 

……

“Here, the skull.” Dirt clung to every part of her body, from her boots to her hair. She had instantly found her way back to Tommy after the job had been done, entering the mansion without waiting for another command. A trail of soil and mud had been left behind on the floor, painting her walk from his entrance hall to his study. 

“Go wash up, I’ll find you something to wear.” (Y/n) didn’t ponder over his words, happily grasping the opportunity to clean herself up in a space that was much nicer than hers ever would be. She didn’t spare her reflection a single glance as she cleaned herself, stripping out of her dirty clothes with a happy sigh. 

The sound of Tommy knocking on the door to push a shirt into her direction, without looking at her, interrupted (y/n)’s well cherished silence. She tugged the shirt over her wet hair, letting it cover most parts of her clean body with a smile. It smelled like him, engulfing her in the scent that hadn’t changed over the past years. A comforting sensation that left her heart skipping beats while she found her way back to Tommy. 

“Where’s my payment?” He watched her from his chair, smoking another cigarette while his eyes wandered up and down her frame. Slowly, she walked closer - all until she came to a halt in front of him, shuddering in delight as his hands found the backside of her naked thighs to pull her into his lap. The smell of smoke and whisky wrapped her in its embrace, clinging to (y/n) just like she was now clinging to Tommy, waiting for his next move. 

“What will it be, (y/n)? 50 or the fuck you’ve always been desperate for?” His low voice made her shudder, a sight that made a knowing glint appear in his bright eyes. Tommy’s hand grasped the back of her neck to pull her in for another kiss, similar to the one they had shared hours before. But something was different this time around, he tasted of longing and an unfamiliar kind of urgency that made hope grow deep inside of her. 

Perhaps this hadn’t been as one-sided as (y/n) had always feared it may be. 

“What about next time? What will my next payment be?” Her trembling voice filled his study as Tommy’s hands wandered down her back to grasp her waist. She feared he may leave marks on her skin, marks that may never fade again and remind her suffering self of her weakness when it came to Tommy Shelby. A childish weakness she won’t ever get to shake off. 

“I won’t pay you more than 30, (y/n).” The shirt was pulled from her frame, exposing her naked body to his wandering fingers and his hungry eyes. Tommy’s fingers felt cold against her heat, he brushed them along her folds to spread her dripping arousal on her pulsing bundle. (Y/n)’s moans grew louder with every unfamiliar touch, unable to hold back as he claimed her body while already owning her soul. 

“40,” she choked on the number she spoke. Tommy had added more pressure to his touch the second his hot mouth found her hardening nipples, sucking on one. She was losing her grip on the situation, on her negotiation about the payment allowing her to feed herself for the next month. All her mind could focus on was Tommy Shelby, the devil himself, the one soul even the reaper feared. 

“We’ll see about that once you leave.” He rose to his feet with her clinging to him, legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her to the couch placed close to his desk. He sank back down to keep her settled in his lap, all while she worked on the buttons of his trousers, feeling his hardening cock press against the fabric. 

“Tell me, (y/n), how do you want it?” Tommy’s raspy voice made her chuckle, eyes focused on his while grasping his twitching cock. She held eye contact with him as she spat down on his tip, allowing her to pump him while a groan clawed through the handsome man. 

“Now I get to choose? What a privilege.” Power thumped through her veins, urging her on to move her hand faster while Tommy reached for her waist, keeping her close with a tight grip. It almost felt as if he was scared of her being nothing but a play of his mind, a vision that would fade the second he came. A vision he’d cling to for all restless nights to come. 

“Fuck, be careful, doll, I can take away that right from you any second now.” She gave him a tighter squeeze, leaving him groaning once again. After a few more pumps, she allowed herself to kiss him, tongue meeting his for a small fight for victory.

“Can I ride you?” Perhaps she was simply aching to feel the power she currently held over him for a tad bit longer, perhaps she wanted to keep control over the situation, whatever it was, it kept her focused on his surprised expression. Tommy stayed quiet for a moment or two before he slowly nodded his head, allowing her to align his cock with her aching heat before sinking down on him. 

His head rolled back, just like hers, letting deep moans claw through them as her walls clenched his cock. (Y/n) moved slowly, trying to adjust with her hands placed on his shoulders and her eyes squeezed shut – no money would ever manage to give her this sensation, nothing would ever make her feel as appreciated as she did at that very moment. Pride simmered inside of her, a pride that was rooted in the knowledge of her being the one that had forced Tommy Shelby to hold back, to accept her conditions this time around. 

Tommy’s hands found her behind to guide her movements, to bury his cock even deeper inside of her to make this moment memorable for them both. Their moans bled together, forming sounds so intimate neither had ever picked up on them before. He marvelled at her, watching (y/n) fuck herself on his twitching cock with an unfamiliar passion, making his body burn in excitement. 

“Tommy,” (y/n) whimpered his name as she slowly lost her grip on reality. Darkness had hugged her frame, wrapping itself around her to guide her towards the edge. “Touch me, please.” 

His piercing eyes didn’t stray from her pleasure-drunken expression, not even as his fingers found her bundle of nerves. He moved with enough pressure, making goosebumps rise on her body while her orgasm crept closer and closer.  Tommy would follow her down the edge, finally feeling what he had secretly been wanting to experience ever since crossing paths with her, the young woman who hadn’t ever feared him.

“Look at me, doll, let me watch you come undone on my cock.” Tommy’s raspy command left her moaning. Their eyes held contact as she came, fucked through her high with his jerking hips and his eager fingers. He pushed her off seconds later, groaning in surprise as her hand found his cock, giving him the needed pumps for him to paint her hand white. 

“35, I won’t go lower.” With a grin tugging on her lips, (y/n) mumbled the words – words Tommy could only chuckle about before pulling her in for one last kiss.

[communicationthroughlyrics]

She Had Other Plans

You were a successful leader of a criminal empire. Your girlfriend was a successful tease, especially when you are halfway around the globe.

PT. 2

AN: I hate my mind sometimes. I just stew and stew and can't get an idea outta my head. So here is one of them. And this is my first time using one of those text message thingies, so yeah. And before yall ask, yes. there will be a part 2. 😂

TW: smut, daddy kink, strap-on sex, teasing, mentions of murder, mob!boss reader, uhhh yeah. Think that's it.

Word Count: 3.6K

In your line of work, you were away from home constantly. You traveled the world, helping to fuel people's darkest and most deceitful habits, for profit. Exploitation, power, and retribution were your specialties. Your heart had grown cold, at least to those on the outside, which was a necessary trait for your survival. You maintained your polished, playgirl public image well, a successful young business magnate, and you dabbled in philanthropy and charity to keep your reputation to the public clean.

Meanwhile, in the underbelly of society, you were ruthless, ensuring your legacy was cemented even if you departed this godforsaken world. You had climbed the ladder of power with precision, leaving a trail of the broken and betrayed beneath you. It was a world where trust was as fleeting as the morning dew, and everyone had a price. Those who worked for you closely would say you were calculating and charismatic, while those on the wrong side of the line knew you as being one step ahead, making your power felt through silence, vengeance, and detachment.

You had single-handedly become the largest mob boss in the United States, and that quickly spread into other countries, building relationships across the globe. Some were built on trust and loyalty, others on fear and mutual benefit.

Business had called you away to Malta, where you had to bury an up-and-coming threat to your growing kingdom and quell any unrest in your distant ranks. It had been a stressful week, albeit a successful one. When the phone call came across that ushered you away to the Mediterranean, you had been in the middle of…other business. Personal business. Having been teasing your girlfriend all day long, you had finally pushed the sexual tension to a head. The brunette had been panting and begging for you, dressed in lingerie that cost more than most people's cars.

When the call came through, you had left her with explicit expectations as to how she would need to handle her sexual fever in your absence. No touching. No teasing. Most importantly, no whining. That was your number one rule. Begging? Yes. Whining. No.

She had tried her damndest to get you to finish what you had started, but you knew this had to be taken care of expeditiously. So, you left a lace-clad goddess in your shared room while you literally left to murder someone. The following night, she began to push your buttons. She knew your limits, and experience taught her just how far she could push you to get a reaction, one that would benefit you both.

Wanda was 'conveniently' caught outside of your NYC penthouse, leaving in a barely-there skirt with a leather jacket and the pair of black Louboutins you had just bought her. The stocking-clad legs that were strutting out of your building, you knew should be wrapped around your waist, while you had her favorite strap buried to the hilt in her drenched pussy, or wrapped around your head as you mercilessly took out your workday frustrations on her.

However, you were 4,000 miles away, watching photos roll across your social media of the 'mystery woman' who had been able to bag you. You knew she was doing this on purpose, trying to flaunt what you walked out on 12 hours ago, leaving her a babbling, flustered, drenched mess.

Your hand tightened around the phone, your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Your blood boiled with a mix of anger and desire. You had given her an order, but she had chosen to ignore it. The thought of her walking around like that, looking like that, for anyone else to see made you want to rip out the throat of every man on the street. You had been looking forward to coming home to her, to teaching her a lesson she'd never forget. But now, it looked like she had decided to bring the lesson to you.

She flew under the radar for the next two days, and you were thankful. You missed her greatly, and you wanted to show her just how much when you got home. You were willing to let the wardrobe choice from the other night slide, just to have a night of wanton passion in the penthouse, no punishment, no edging, no teasing.

She had other plans.

You were in the middle of a meeting when your phone started to buzz incessantly in your slacks. This was a meeting you had to focus on, but the constant vibration indication yet another text had been sent was slowly chipping away at your resolve to stay sharp for this meeting. You had told her not to contact you during work hours unless it was an emergency. Looking at some of the texts, you knew this was no emergency. No matter how desperate she made herself sound.

You growled at the phone, knowing she wouldn't respond to any more texts from you. She was playing a game of cat and mouse, and you had a boardroom full of sharks waiting for your undivided attention. You slammed the device down, your eyes narrowing as you turned back to the table. Shutting the phone off, you knew that when it turned back on, you would be greeted with a disaster.

The meeting couldn't end fast enough, you wanted to call her and put her in her place, but the meeting ran long, as you and your new alliance couldn't quite come to an agreement for goods and services rendered.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you had come to an agreement, so you quickly and curtly nodded in everyone's direction, gathering your suit jacket and flinging it over your shoulder as you swiftly made your way down the hall to your waiting car, turning your phone back on as you approached the outside doors.

You climbed into the back of the black Town Car, opening your messages to see some pictures from your girlfriend, taken at obscure angles- her clad in a new lingerie set. You knew it was new, they were a color she hadn't worn before, a navy blue number that stood out against her tanned skin. The photos had been sent with no accompanying text, which was unlike her. Usually, she'd write something teasing, begging for your attention. But these were just…there. They were like silent pleas for your dominance, your authority. You groaned at the images before you, each more provocative than the next.

What made your pulse spike was the Snapchat notification from her. She had just sent you a video. Then there was another. She continued to send you videos until she had reached a total of 11. Knowing these would not just be an ordinary snap, you slipped a headphone into your ear while you opened each video, in the order you received them. The first was her dancing on the pole you installed in the corner of your room, the familiar sound of 'Skin' playing in the background as she worked her hips and taunted you through the phone.

The last video was the final straw. Your most fundamental rule.

She sent you a video of her, sprawled out on the bed, her features were flush, and her chest was heaving. She was still clad in her racy new lingerie, and it was then you noticed it was crotchless. Your mouth went dry at the thought, as her hands made their way up and down her body. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped your phone, the scene before you becoming too much. She buried her fingers knuckle deep in her wet heat, pornographic moans coming through your earbud as you watched her pleasure herself.

You had told her explicitly, no touching herself. You had promised her that when you returned, you would take care of her needs. You had been looking forward to it, to watching her come apart in your arms. But here she was, in your own bed, disobeying you. The betrayal stung, but the sight of her was like a siren's call. You felt a storm of emotions, anger, desire, and something…more. It was a feeling that hadn't surfaced in a long time, something you weren't quite familiar with.

You boarded your jet and tried to calm the storm that was brewing deep within you for the 13-hour flight home. The images of her playing with herself, the thought of her ignoring your command, it was all you could think about. You felt a mix of anger, arousal, and a hint of something else that you hadn't felt in years. She was a challenge, and you hadn't had one a challenge in a very long time.

You tried to distract yourself, completing some work on your phone, trying to read articles about New York politics, but nothing could distract you from the inferno that was building up inside you. Each passing moment brought with it a new wave of desire, the images of her writhing in pleasure burned into your retina. You had to admit, she knew exactly how to push your buttons, and she had just pushed the biggest one of all. You slammed your phone down in frustration, crossing your arms as you peered out the window to the clouds below. After three hours of 'distraction', you finally fell into a restless, lustful slumber.

The flight seemed to drag on forever, but when you landed at JFK, you were more than ready to deal with her. You texted her, telling her to be home, naked, and waiting for you. You didn't care if she had plans or not, she'd learn to prioritize your commands. You had a feeling she was going to be a handful, but that was what you liked about her.

You stalked over towards the waiting convoy of blacked-out vehicles that were waiting to take you home. The sound of your dress shoes echoed through the private lobby to your elevator, as you impatiently waited for the cabled car to come down from the top floor, watching the numbers descend from floor 98 to you, on the third garage floor.

As you stepped into the elevator, you could feel the anticipation building. You were going to show her exactly who was in charge, and what happens when she breaks the cardinal rule. The doors closed with a satisfying 'ping', and you ascended to your penthouse, your mind racing with scenarios of what you would do when you saw her. The elevator doors parted, revealing the sleek, marble floors in your home, the baby grand piano tucked in the corner, and the twinkling New York skyline a backdrop to what carnal acts were about to take place. You turned on your heel, making your way to the furthest room in the house, your bedroom. As you made your way down the corridor to the bedroom, you noticed the doors shut, but a glow came from underneath them.

Your heart rate quickened, your hand hovered over the doorknob, and you took a deep breath before pushing the door open. She lay on the bed, huddled to one side, peacefully sleeping with a book in her hands. She looked innocent, but you knew better. You strode over to the bed, the floorboards giving a slight creak under your weight, but she didn't stir. Carefully, you plucked the book away from her, running your thumb over her nose to wake her up.

"Ragazza monella," you spoke softly, your pent-up frustration leeching into your normally collected voice.

Her eyes snapped open, revealing the deep pools of green that had captivated you from day one. She looked up at you with a lazy smile, not a hint of guilt in her gaze. "You're home," she purred, stretching her limbs like a cat in the sun.

"I see you couldn't wait for me," you said, your voice thick with unspoken accusation as you threw your phone to the side.

Her smile didn't waver. "I've missed you," she replied, her voice a low, seductive purr that sent a shiver down your spine. She sat up, letting the blanket pool around her waist, the hoodie she was wearing you instantly recognized as one of yours.

"I gave you an order, Wanda," you said, your voice low and menacing.

"And I chose to ignore it," she replied, her eyes never leaving yours.

Her audacity was like a drug, and you felt yourself growing more and more crazed at the sight of her. She knew the consequences of her actions, yet she reveled in them. "You know what happens when you don't follow orders," you growled, your hand sliding under the soft fabric of the hoodie to cup her cheek.

Her smile grew wider, and she leaned into your touch. "Do I?" she challenged, her voice a breathy whisper.

With a swift move, you had her pinned down on the bed, the fabric of the hoodie riding up to expose her lingerie-clad body. "You're going to regret this," you warned, your voice dark with desire.

"Am I?" she questioned, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Your hand trailed down her body, tracing the curve of her waist to the apex of her thighs. "You're already wet for me," you murmured, feeling the dampness between her muscular, toned thighs.

"I'm always wet for you, Papi," she emphasized your pet name, knowing how much you adored her calling you that.

Your eyes narrowed at her insolence, and you felt your ego swell with a mix of anger and desire. "You know the rules," you reminded her, your voice a mix of steel and seduction.

"And you know I love to break them," she whispered, her voice a seductive dance in the quiet room.

You grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head, your grip firm but not painful. "This is your last warning," you murmured, your eyes dark with lust and promise of punishment.

Her eyes searched yours, looking for any signs of relenting, but she found none. Instead, she felt a thrill run through her body. This was what she had been craving, what she had missed in your absence. The power play, the delicious tension between your dominance and her submission.

"What's it going to be?" she asked, her voice a challenge wrapped in velvet.

Without a word, you yanked the hoodie over her head, leaving her in just the new lingerie set. The room was filled with the sound of fabric tearing as you ripped away the crotchless part of her underwear, exposing her glistening folds to the cool air. She gasped at the sudden exposure, her body arching into yours.

"You're going to learn your place," you said, your voice a low rumble. You leaned down, your mouth capturing hers in a bruising kiss that claimed ownership over her. She moaned into your mouth, her body responding instinctively to your touch, her legs wrapping around your waist as she pulled you closer.

The kiss grew more intense, your tongue invading her mouth, demanding submission. She met your dominance with her own passion, her teeth grazing your bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood. The taste of it made you growl, and you deepened the kiss, your hand sliding down to squeeze her ass.

Finally, you pulled away, breathing heavily. "You're going to get what you asked for," you warned, your eyes dark with lust.

Without another word, you flipped her over onto her stomach, her ass in the air, begging for your attention. You smacked her once, watching as the skin turned pink. She moaned into the pillow, her hips moving back, silently asking for more. You didn't disappoint, your hand coming down again and again, leaving a pattern of red across her skin. Each slap echoed through the room, punctuating the sound of your heavy breaths and her whimpers of pleasure.

You felt your own need growing, and you were glad that you had opted to change into her favorite suit with a strap-on surprise. You knew she was close, her body shaking with each smack, and you couldn't wait to watch her greedy pussy swallow your new toy whole. You slid your hand between her legs, finding her wet and ready. You whispered, "You're going to come for me now," and thrust two fingers inside her, curling them in a way that made her scream into the pillow.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing around your hand. You didn't stop, though, continuing to fuck her with your fingers until she was begging for mercy. Only when she was trembling did you pull away, standing up to remove your clothes.

When you were naked, you climbed onto the bed, the new dildo standing at attention. "You've had your fun," you said, your voice a low growl. "Now it's my turn." Her eyes widened at the sheer girth of your chosen method of punishment.

"I…I don't think that will fit," she whined, her lust-blown eyes boring straight into yours.

"Oh, it will. You remember your safeword, correct?" you nibbled down her neck as you settled between her legs.

"Yes," she moaned, her back arching against you.

"What is it?"

"Cl…clementine," she stuttered, her body wiggling and writhing beneath you.

You nodded as you slammed into her without preamble, her body accepting you with ease. She screamed your name, her legs tightening around your waist as you began to move. Each thrust was punctuated with a smack to her ass, leaving her skin stinging and her pussy clenching around you. You knew she liked it rough, she was addicted to the pain, but you were going to give her more than she had bargained for tonight.

This was your domain, and she had forgotten her place. You were going to remind her, over and over again, until she was nothing but a quivering mess beneath you. Until she understood that no matter how much she tested you, she would always be yours to command, to punish, to pleasure.

You slammed into her, the sound of your hips slapping against her filling the room. The dildo stretched her to her limits, each inch driving deeper until she was crying out for you to stop. But you didn't. You knew she could take it, knew she craved the pain that came with your passion. The bulge from the tip of the toy poked out her abdomen with every thrust, you pressed down on her stomach where it was appearing, causing her to arch further into your touch.

Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as you picked up the pace. You watched the way her body moved underneath you, the way her breasts bounced with each thrust, and the way her ass cheeks clapped together. You felt yourself getting closer, your strokes becoming more erratic. You reached around, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at you. "Who do you belong to?" you demanded, your voice a low growl.

"You," she whispered, her eyes glazed over with pleasure.

"Say it louder," you ordered, giving her another smack on the ass.

"I belong to you!" she screamed, her voice hoarse from the moans that had escaped her mouth.

"Beg to cum, amore," you growled in her ear, nibbling down the shell.

"Fuck," she moaned out, her eyes briefly fluttering open before screwing shut again.

"Not until you beg," you reminded her, your voice like a whip crack in the quiet of the room. You could feel your orgasm building, the muscles in your thighs tightening with each powerful thrust. Her cries grew more desperate, her hips moving back to meet yours, pushing herself onto the dildo with a fervor that was almost painful to watch.

"Please," she finally begged, her voice breaking. "I need to come."

You smirked, feeling the power surge through you. "That's all you got, baby?" You taunted, increasing the speed and force of your thrusts. "After all that, the teasing, the videos, this is how you show me you miss me? This is how you show me that you need Papi to make you feel good?" She whined and squirmed beneath you, her body shaking with the effort of holding back her climax. "Beg harder," you whispered, leaning down to bite her earlobe.

Her voice grew more frantic. "Ple…please, Papi," she gasped. "I need to come, I need you to make me come."

"You can do better than that," you grabbed ahold of one of her legs, pulling it over your shoulder as you continued the relentless assault on her swollen, leaking pussy. You leaned down, resting your other hand on her throat, gently applying pressure as you picked up your pace. "I said to beg for it, so fucking beg for it," you whispered, your breath hot against her skin.

Her eyes snapped open, the green orbs locking onto yours, filled with a mix of anger and desperation. "Fuck me harder," she pleaded, her voice strained. "Make me cum, Papi."

The sound of her demanding sent you over the edge, and you slammed into her, the erratic thrusts as you came only spurring her pleasure further. You felt her pussy tighten around the dildo, her walls pulsing as she climaxed hard, her body shaking beneath you. You didn't stop until she was limp, her cries of pleasure turning into breathless gasps.

You continued to work the toy into her, slowly building her back up.

"I didn't give you permission, amore mio," you looked down at her, panting as her chest heaved.

"I know," she panted back, "but I had to make sure you knew how much I missed you."

You couldn't help but smirk at her audacity. She knew how much power she held over you, how much she could push you. "You're going to pay for that," you whispered, your voice a dark promise.

Her eyes lit up, and she bit her bottom lip, egging you on. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

[lenoraslament]

Masterlist

Hello! Welcome to the Masterlist!

My name doesn’t matter. Insatiable Slytherin gal. Pisces ENFJ. Morally ambiguous characters are ✨

I am now taking requests. I write for Slytherin boys mainly but I can also write for Bridgerton and Gilmore Girls.

One shots are at the bottom

First are posts related to my three part Tom Riddle Fanfiction. All three parts are on my Wattpad

* indicates smut

^ indicates romance

+ indicates dark themes/angst

Lenora was cold, smart and cunning. Until. Until that night. Two mudbloods stole something from her, a piece of her she couldn't get back. She finds solace and healing in the unlikely ally of her longtime acquaintance Tom Riddle.

Wattpad Link

Chapter 9 Excerpt: Insolence +

Chapter 12 excerpt: Moment in the Library ^

Chapter 16 excerpt: Apparating ^

Chapter 20: Pleasure *^

Chapter 23 Excerpt: Malfoy Ball ^

Chapter 28 Excerpt: Good Girl ^ (*in the Wattpad chapter)

Chapters 33&34: Revenge and Satisfaction *^+

Chapter 35: Aftermath ^*

Chapter 36: Make Me Forget *

Chapter 38: Punish Me *+

Book 2 Lenora’s Love:

Lenora was Tom Riddles everything. Until he had to Obliviate her memory. Now they are brought together for the summer, as he continues to build his dark legacy the death eaters. Their love is inevitable; even with Cygnus Black trying to intervene. Will the truth out?

This book whole chapters cross posted to Tumblr but if you want to read on Wattpad

Part 1 Summary / Say Yes to Heaven ^

Lenora arrives at the Malfoy Lakehouse and leaves Tom breathless

The Rose Garden ^

Tom watches Lenora from afar much to the chagrin of Abraxas

Why Not Tom Riddle

Lenora wonders about the change in Tom Riddle not realizing she was obliviated

Hard to Resist^

Cygnus grows closer to Lenora

Firestarter +

Lenora accidentally reminds everyone just how powerful she is

Worth It +

Tom and Cygnus duel, Abraxas confronts Lenora

Flawless ^

Tom continues to confuse Lenora, Delia appears for the first time since the Malfoy Christmas Ball

Strumpets *^

Lenora catches Tom doing something unsavory, she pushes to be a deatheater

Overprotective

Lenora tries her best to be respectful and discovers something useful

Lust Potion *^

Delia gets revenge on Lenora, Tom tries his best to resist Lenora

Despair +

After being humiliated by Delia, Lenora wants to prove herself as a deatheater no matter the cost

I Love You ^+

Tom nearly loses Lenora for good.

Pain is a Price +

The long term repercussions of Lenora’s potion are discovered

High and Mighty

Tom proves his leadership while being absolutely faded.

Flowers for a Lady ^

Lenora is made a deatheater but isn’t sure what to make of this new side of Tom.

Dowries and Dark Marks +^

Tom tries to figure out how to get Cygnus Black out of his hair as they both chase after Lenora

Pillow Fight +^

Cygnus Black wishes Lenora goodbye, making her lash out at Tom Riddle

Tawdry ^

Lenora forgives Tom and then is forced to play the temptress

Make Me ^

Tension finally comes to a head between Tom and Lenora at the lake

Cozy^

They simply can’t stay away from eachother.

Crash Into Me^

Tom and Lenora continue to push and pull, Abraxas catches them

Tom Riddle the Romantic ^

Tom Riddle goes way out of comfort zone

A Proper Date ^

Tom and Lenora finally have a real date

Anchored*

Lenora wants more from Tom than his horcrux

How it Always Should Have Been*^

Tom and Lenora make love

Time Doesn’t Bow^

A snapshot into 6 months of bliss as Tom and Lenora stay together

Lying *

Cygnus Black returns, Lenora catches Tom in a lie

Disillusionment +

Lenora learns the truth of everything that happened before Tom obliviated her

I Lost You+

Tom’s proposal goes awry, Lenora gets revenge

I Hate You+

Lenora broke Tom’s heart but he gets the last word.

One shots

Tom Riddle

Hot Mess Part 1

Hot Mess Part 2 *

Infatuated

Careful What You Wish For *

Mattheo Riddle

Careful What You Wish For *

Theo Nott

Some Plumber ^*

Lorenzo Berkshire

Finally Requited pt 1

Slytherin Boys React

Perfume Preferences

How they would Overstimulate You*

Edging Orgasm Denial *

You took Lust Potion *

Romantic Moments ^

Free Use *

Dance with Me ^

[coppercrow]

So I no longer think that Alastor made a deal with Lilith, nor that he is working for her. I do still think their disappearances are connected though.

Picture this:

Alastor while he's still alive fears the prospect of death due to the lack of control it presents. He finds a way to make a deal with a power (my suspicion is that it's the character Root of All Evil (Roo) that Viv has hinted is the background threat of Hazbin Hotel, who I imagine is what Eve became when she committed the original sin). Alastor sells his soul to Roo in exchange for power both in life and death. He kills a bunch of people and at least some of them are in aid of his deal.

Alastor dies and and arrives in Hell charged up on Roo's power, and with a direction to amass even more. He spends the next several decades slaughtering Overlords, but not doing much with what he gathers. He isn't interested in running a business, or gathering territory, just growing his power and persuing his whims. For Alastor it seems like he won the lottery with this deal.

Meanwhile we have Lillith who all through time has been trying to empower Hell and bring it together. Heaven started the exterminations, but she continues to persist even as Lucifer loses his spark. If Roo is actually Eve, she has every reason to want to see Lilith destroyed and Hell suffer.

So during an extermination seven years ago Roo gives Alastor an outright command: kill Lilith. This is obviously not something Alastor would be keen to do, but he has no choice. He goes after Lilith and they fight. Powered by Roo and the power he's amassed, he manages to win the fight and Lilith is killed, only to respawn in Heaven (after all she's been a loving mother and cared for the people of Hell, and the only sin she was initially guilty of was rejecting Adam, and she looked decidedly non demon-ish and didn't have any horns in episode 8) or possibly flees there??

Alastor barely makes it out of the fight alive, and spends the next seven years recuperating and trying to figure out how to escape his deal with Roo. He's finally realised that his deal isn't as good as it seemed and he's starting to pay the price. If Lucifer ever finds out what he did, he'd be a smear on the pavement.

Then he finds a possible solution: Charlie. The daughter of a fallen angel and the first demon, young and idealistic and in need of support on her brand new project. While she might not use her powers, she has the potential to become scarily powerful over time.

Alastor hatches a plan - show up at the hotel, give a plausible reason for being there, and slowly ingratiate himself with her and shape her progression until he can position her into making a deal with him. Maybe one favour won't be enough, but it can be a slippery slope for Charlie. When the time comes he can manipulate her into freeing him from his deal, and leave him free to carry out his own plans (maybe setting himself up to rule Hell through Charlie as a puppet ruler?)

Over the next six months he positions himself to gain trust. He manipulate Lucifer by antagonizing him into supporting Charlie and setting up the seeds of a confrontation with Heaven. Then the time comes and he pounces and makes the deal, and he has one favour stored away to use at the most inopportune time for Charlie.

Then the battle comes and Alastor gets cocky. He volunteers himself to deal with Adam, and nearly dies for it. This freaks him the fuck out - he'd already gotten his favour but he risked himself to save them all more than he really needed to. I think that despite himself he'd started to think fondly of the hotel team and let it influence his judgement just a little.

In the aftermath of the battle he's shaken and his song is him reaffirming the plans he had when he first came to the hotel, and telling himself that he needs to escape his deal at any cost.

I think that in the coming seasons we could see the following:

- Alastor trying to double down on his whole 'I'm the untouchable radio demon' bit to try and distance himself from the hotel team, only to fail as they keep getting under his skin.

- Alastor slowly getting more desperate as the consequences of his deal close in, and increasing conflict as he wars with what this means.

- everything culminating in a moment where Alastor has to make a choice to betray the hotel team for freedom, and does it without hesitation and is all 'I'm the villain Charlie, did you really think I could be redeemed? How amusing.'

- Alastor then realising that despite having betrayed everyone he does actually care and his goals seeming hollow in the aftermath of this.

- the question of whether even someone like Alastor deserves a second chance/to be forgiven as he tries to convince Charlie to work with him to take down Roo, is the real threat to them all.

- Heaven and Hell fighting side by side to destroy Roo and the reformation of the afterlife entirely.

-

[celebtf]

HANS AND THE MAGIC SNOW

In the kingdom of Arendelle, the winter chill had finally given way to the gentle warmth of spring. Anna and Kristoff's love blossomed alongside the blooming flowers, much to the envy of one man: Hans, the disgraced prince who once sought the throne through deception. Consumed by jealousy, Hans devised a plan to rid himself of Kristoff once and for all. He had heard whispers of an ice witch who hid in the forbidding mountains, known for her dark magic and powerful spells. Determined to win Anna's heart and take Kristoff's place, Hans set out on a journey to find her.

After days of treacherous travel, Hans stood before the ice witch's lair, an fortress of ice and snow. The witch, intrigued by Hans' ambition, agreed to help him—for a price. She handed him a vial filled with shimmering, enchanted snow. "Apply this snow to the face of the one you wish to become, and to your own," she instructed. "You will transform into them, and they will transform into you. But beware, for magic always comes with a cost."

With the vial clutched tightly in his hand, Hans returned to Arendelle under the cover of night. He waited for the perfect moment to put his plan into action. One evening, as Kristoff slept soundly beside Anna, Hans quietly entered their room. He sprinkled the magic snow onto Kristoff's face, watching as the transformation began. The snow glowed brightly as it touched Kristoff's skin, spreading like frost over his features. His skin tingled and then burned as the magic took hold, bones cracking and shifting under the pressure of the spell. His rugged jawline softened and narrowed, his cheekbones raised, and his nose became more refined. Kristoff's golden hair darkened to a chestnut brown, growing shorter and neater. His blue eyes flickered and shifted to a deep green. Kristoff's body felt like it was being stretched and compressed at the same time. His sturdy, muscular frame shrank, his broad shoulders narrowed, and his calloused hands softened. Even his voice altered, taking on Hans' smoother, more polished tone. His simple, practical clothes morphed into the fine, tailored attire of a Southern Isles prince.

Hans, trembling with anticipation, then applied the remaining snow to his own face. He felt a rush of cold spreading through his skin, as if his very essence was being reshaped. The sensation was overwhelming, like ice flowing through his veins. His own sharp features began to morph and broaden into Kristoff's. His chin and jawline squared off, his nose widened, and his cheekbones lowered. His red hair lightened to a sandy blonde, growing longer and wilder, matching Kristoff's unkempt look. Hans' body underwent a significant transformation. His lean build expanded into the muscular form of the ice harvester. He could feel his shoulders broadening, his arms thickening with muscle, and his hands becoming rough and strong. His height increased, giving him Kristoff's towering presence. His princely clothes transformed into Kristoff's simple, practical outfit, complete with fur-lined boots and gloves, fitting snugly over his new, muscular frame.In an instant,

Hans' appearance was now that of Kristoff, and Kristoff awoke to find himself in Hans' body. Dazed and horrified, Kristoff looked at his unfamiliar hands and felt his altered face, the mirror revealing Hans' face staring back at him. "+Anna, help!" he cried, but his voice—Hans' voice—only added to the confusion. Hans was quicker. He dragged Kristoff to the palace dungeons, claiming that the treacherous Hans had returned to exact his revenge.

Anna, heartbroken but trusting her beloved Kristoff, agreed to exile "Hans" to a remote island, far from Arendelle. As the real Kristoff was taken away, Hans—now in Kristoff's form—comforted Anna, whispering sweet lies and promises of a happy future together. With the real Kristoff gone and no one the wiser, Hans began his new life. He reveled in his newfound status, enjoying the love and admiration he had always craved. Anna, unaware of the truth, found solace in her new life with the man she believed to be Kristoff.

Far away, on a desolate island, the real Kristoff—trapped in Hans' body—struggled to survive, his heart heavy with despair and betrayal. No one would believe his story, and there seemed to be no escape from his lonely exile.And so, Hans, disguised as Kristoff, lived a life of comfort and affection, while the real Kristoff languished in isolation, the victim of a cruel and cunning plot. The tale served as a grim reminder that even in a land of magic and wonder.

If you like stories like this and many more, don't forget to follow my Patreon for Exclusive content and Stories.

[priceyprice]

Part 1 , Part 2

"Ghost, 'you there?"

Price said as he opened the door of Ghost's room, not finding surprising that his lieutenant was there instead in his house.

Ghost, who was sitting in a chair with his back facing the door, didn't even move at his captain voice calling him.

The older man sighed when his eyes landed on the glass of whiskey that he was holding. He entered, closing the door quietly. The room was only illuminated with just a dim light, giving the quiet man a more intimidating aura. If Price didn't know him, it would cause him a little surprise(not intimidation since Price has seen worse things than a guy with a skull mask).

He sat on his bed with his hands on his knees in front of Ghost, who hadn't taken his eyes off something he was holding.

"How much longer are you going to stay here? Do you know you have a home waitin' for ya'?"

Ghost finally stopped looking at the thing he had in his hand to look at his captain, who was with his brows furrowed but not in an angry expression.

" 'don't have a home."

My home was taken away the moment she went MIA.

His breathing began to grow more paused. That awful and familiar heavy feeling rose up from his chest through all his body. His fingers slowly put more pressure on his glass. The mask was down, he served himself a glass of whiskey to try and swallow that bitter sensation he always have when he thinks about her, but that didn't worked and caused him to lose interest in drinking that night.

Price just looked at him, not that look he always gives as a soldier, but as a friend that's worried about him. "Look, Simon. I know you want her back. Believe me, everyone wants her back. The team hasn't been the same since she left, but you can't let your emotions win the best of you. She wouldn't like you to be here drinking and swallowing your sorrow while having a home waiting for ya'."

Simon's eyes dropped to the petal he was holding in his hand. So soft and delicate, just like her eyes, her body, and her soul. He found it when he was taking a little stroll on his backyard, noticing the little red petal beside the flower he always looked at every day.

That was her flower.

She loved that flower so much. The instant she went MIA, he took responsibility for it. He would talk to it every day, as if the red flower would give him answers and tell him where she is.

His heart dropped when he saw the petal on the floor as a signal of losing hope.

A signal that he will never find her.

A signal that she will never return to him.

Ghost sighed. A shaky sigh. His world threatening to fall at any moment. The pillars that supported the last bit of sanity in his mind have started to grow cracks at the bases.

"Earlier today..." Ghost paused, trying to formulate his words. "I went to one of the old warehouses of the guy that kidnapped her owns. As I was searching for something that could lead me to her, I killed a few guys who worked for him. I also tortured two, but neither of them fucking knows a woman from the military in hands of that motherfucker."

Price sucked a breath as he hears those words, his pulse raising at an abnormal speed. Ghost didn't notify him that he was going to do something so dangerous without permission of his superiors.

That could cost the Captain's and the Lieutenant's job right there and then.

Instead of yelling or telling him that he's suspended for a least a month because of his reckless actions, Price just closed his eyes for a few seconds before he took the bottle of whiskey that was on the lieutenant's nightstand and drank a big shot of it.

Fuck, that's going to be a lot of paperwork for his ass.

Ghost passed his thumb over the petal, so lightly, afraid of breaking the little thing. It was almost as if somehow that red petal has some connection with her, and she can feel it.

He sighed again.

He missed her so much.

Price cleared his throat. His grip on the bottle tightened. "What did you do with the bodies?"

"I burned them."

Price just dropped his head low, probably thinking of his life choices before he took another sip from the bottle with those words. This time, he didn't stop drinking, trying to vanish with alcohol all the consequences and thoughts that were passing through his mind.

Ghost wasn't worried about the consequences or anything that came with his actions. When they took her away from him, a part of Simon died that day, only to be replaced with a void that would not go away until she's back. So, he gave those guys their destiny.

They are all gonna burn in hell.

And he will make sure of it.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Masterlist here

I apologize for some grammatical errors. Any suggestions are welcomed. 🫶🏻

[toodleoorblx]

Wild horses

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2,235

۫   ּ  ֗  ִ  ִֶָ ׄ . ִ  ۫   ּ  ֗ ִֶָ   ִ  ⠀ ִ  ۫   ִֶָ ּ  ֗  ִ  ִֶָ ׄ . ִ ۫   ּ  ֗  ִ  ִֶָ ׄ . ִ  ۫   ּ  ֗

Summary: I would like to ask if you could make a story of Agatha and reader after WandaVision ep 9? A new resident arrives in Westview, Reader, and since her arrival Agatha manages to free herself from Wanda’s control but when she is totally free, Agatha realizes that has no magic although she feels a nearby magic source (reader). Agatha plans to use Reader as a charging battery but eventually she falls in love with reader

Warnings: cursing, gore, panic attack, hurt/comfort, angst, that’s all??

A/N: Hi anon, I wrote this pretty quickly tbh so here you are I hope you like it! <3

Agatha crumples to her knees, the impact sending a cascade of picture frames crashing to the ground, their glass shattering like her own fragile composure. The glass cuts and penetrates her hands as she falls on palms. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, her once-imperious demeanor now shattered along with the frames.

Fucking hell.

She's finally broken free. How long she's been trapped within the confines of her own mind is a torment she can scarcely fathom. Endless days spent watching Agnes, mundane and oblivious to the turmoil within. Agatha couldn't bear it any longer. But now, finally, she's liberated.

It took unraveling the intricate complexities of her own psyche, centuries of meticulously constructed mental barriers crashing down around her. The memories she'd buried, the traumas she'd sought to forget—all laid bare.

And Wanda, that infernal witch, had been the catalyst. She'd inflicted wounds deeper than any spell, leaving Agatha weakened and vulnerable. But it's not the defeat by a fledgling witch that preoccupies her now; it's her own fragility.

Her body rebels against the sudden release from Agnes's grasp, blood filling her mouth as if to remind her of the price of freedom. She coughs up blood. But it's her magic—or lack thereof—that truly unsettles her. The once-potent connection she'd wielded like a weapon is now a mere whisper, Wanda having stripped her bare, leaving only a threadbare semblance of power to sustain her.

Pushing herself up against the wall, Agatha winces as she feels the bite of glass embedded in her palms. Blood mingles with the shards. Agatha's lip bears the imprint of her teeth as she bites down hard, the taste of blood a bitter reminder of her own vulnerability. The tears she once shed freely centuries ago now elude her, a distant memory of emotions long suppressed.

Magic. She needs it like air, like sustenance for her waning existence. Summoning every ounce of her dwindling strength, she forces herself upright, her body protesting every movement.

With cautious steps, Agatha navigates the shards littering her path until she collapses onto the couch, her hand hovering above the wounds on her palms, unwilling to aggravate them further. And then, amidst the pain and despair, she feels it—a faint whisper of magic, a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

Her breath catches as the sensation washes over her, familiar yet elusive, like a long-lost friend returning home. With each heartbeat, the magic grows stronger, pulsating with untapped potential.

A plan begins to form in Agatha's mind, fueled by desperation and necessity. She senses the magic's proximity, its untamed energy waiting to be harnessed. It's close—perhaps even within her own neighborhood.

Agatha knows what she must do. With a newfound determination, she pushes herself off the couch, ignoring the protest of her weary muscles, and makes her way to the front door. Each step is a struggle, but she refuses to yield.

As she steps outside into the cool night air, Agatha is consumed by a singular purpose—to claim the magic she so desperately needs to survive, no matter the cost.

__

Agatha stands at the threshold of the quaint, blue house, the cold night air clinging to her bloodied skin, a stark contrast to the warmth emanating from within. With a shiver, she raps lightly on the door, but to her surprise, it swings open effortlessly—apparently, its inhabitants are heedless of the dangers lurking outside.

Stepping into the cozy interior, Agatha's eyes sweep over the chaos of unopened boxes and scattered furniture—a clear sign of recent relocation. Her instincts lead her to the kitchen, where the air thrums with a potent magical energy, but she's met with an unexpected sight.

A young woman lies crumpled on the floor, your ragged breaths punctuated by stifled sobs, tears streaming down your face in silent anguish. Agatha watches, transfixed, as pure white magic dances and swirls around the room, a stark contrast to the darkness that courses through her own veins.

The woman's eyes, when they finally open, are pools of untainted light, brimming with raw power and vulnerability. Agatha's heart twinges with an unfamiliar pang—a desire to help, to ease the woman's suffering. She doesn't like it, but she… feels the need to help the woman. Besides, she can't absorb erratic magic. It's dangerous.

Agatha kneels before the trembling woman, her expression softening as she addresses her gently. "Can you hear me, dear?" she asks in a soft tone, her head tilting slightly in concern.

The woman's response is barely perceptible at first, but eventually, she nods slowly, acknowledging Agatha's presence amidst the turmoil of her own emotions.

"Good. You're having a panic attack. I need you to tell me what's going on, I can... help." The word feels unfamiliar on Agatha's tongue, a relic of centuries spent prioritizing self-preservation over empathy.

"I-I can't b-breathe, it h-hurts," you manage to choke out, your voice trembling with fear.

"That's your magic, darling. It's okay. It's normal," Agatha reassures you, though inwardly she curses her own inability to offer physical aid.

You don't reply, but your condition worsens, sending a surge of concern through Agatha.

Damn it.

With shards of glass embedded in her palms, Agatha can't provide the touch you so desperately need. Instead, she settles beside you, her own body throbbing with exhaustion. Gently, she shifts closer until her arm brushes against yours.

"I need you to try and tell me what you can feel. Can you do that for me honey?" Agatha prompts, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her own mind.

You nod weakly. "I-I feel, the floor, the counter, and... you."

"Good girl. Now, tell me what you see," Agatha encourages, her presence a grounding force amidst the chaos of your panic.

Your eyes scan the room, your breathing beginning to steady. "I s-see my kitchen, the blue counters, the broom, and the mop," you respond, your voice gaining strength with each word.

"What do you smell?" Agatha continues, guiding you through the process of regaining control.

"The- the um, coffee I was b-brewing," you murmur, biting your lip as you struggle to maintain composure.

"Good. Now, what do you hear?" Agatha prompts, her attention focused solely on helping you find your way back to calmness.

"You. J-just you," you reply, taking a deep breath as the panic begins to recede. But as you glance around the room, you notice something unsettling—the air crackles with white magic, swirling faster and faster, causing plates and cutlery to levitate.

Your heart rate quickens once more, but this time, Agatha is by your side, her presence a beacon of strength in the face of uncertainty.

"N-no," you rasp out, your breaths coming in short gasps. "No, please, not a-again." Tears stream down your face as you clutch onto the nearest thing—a lifeline in your sea of panic. And that lifeline happens to be Agatha.

Agatha stiffens at the unexpected touch, her body tensing with discomfort as warm arms envelop her. Your hand cradles the back of her head protectively, while the other holds her lower back in a gesture of support.

She's not accustomed to such intimacy, such vulnerability. Uncertain of what to do with her own hands, she holds them slightly up, feeling the tears dampening her sweater and the soft sobs reverberating through her.

When you tighten your grip, she flinches, unaccustomed to the sensation of being held. "What's wrong with me?" you whisper, your voice tinged with anguish.

Agatha's heart clenches at the vulnerability in your voice, the rawness of your emotions. She's not used to being the one to comfort another, the one sought for solace. But despite her uncertainty, she finds herself running her wrist soothingly over your head, offering what little comfort she can.

Gradually, your sobs subside into sniffles, your trembling gradually easing as Agatha continues to offer gentle reassurance. The magic around the room fades away, and finds its way back inside you. The plates and utensils fall. Eventually, you release your hold, your faces mere inches apart. And in that moment, Agatha is met with a pair of human eyes, the most beautiful she's ever seen.

You're about to launch into a profuse apology, but your words catch in your throat as your gaze falls upon Agatha's bloodied hands, barely supporting your waist. The shards of glass protruding from her palms. The sight elicits a gasp from you, your brow furrowing in concern as you meet Agatha's deep blue eyes once more.

"Did... did I do that?" you ask, your voice meek with worry.

Agatha hesitates, her gaze flickering away momentarily before meeting yours again. "N-no. No, you didn't. I... did. By accident," she admits reluctantly.

"Those need medical attention. I have a med kit in my bedroom," you assert firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

"It's fine—"

"No," you interject sternly, your resolve unwavering. "You need... help. You somehow helped me. And I'm able to give it. So I will."

Agatha sighs, resigning herself to your insistence. This isn't what she had intended, but she supposes it's the least she can do after receiving your unexpected aid.

"Fine," she acquiesces reluctantly.

You offer a smile, one that sends Agatha's heart into an erratic rhythm. Slowly, you rise to your feet, weariness evident in every movement. After wiping your eyes, you lean down and grasp Agatha's arms, pulling her upright. As she stands, she takes in your form—a few inches taller than her, dressed in worn jeans and an old band t-shirt.

"I'm Y/N Y/LN. And... Thank you. For helping me. I don't know what's happening to me," you admit with a huff of mirthless laughter.

Agatha shakes her head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It's... no problem, hun. Just... glad to help," she replies, though the words still feel foreign on her tongue. "I'm Agatha Harkness. Pleasure's all yours," she adds with a smirk, her usual bravado returning in the face of uncertainty.

You smile once more, a gesture that sends a flutter of something unfamiliar through Agatha's chest, and lead her into your bedroom, settling her on the full-sized bed before retrieving the med kit.

Standing in front of Agatha, you gently take her wrists, your touch eliciting goosebumps on her skin as you carefully begin plucking out the glass shards with tweezers. Agatha winces and curses softly at the pain, but your steady hands provide a measure of comfort amidst the discomfort.

After a few minutes of focused silence, you break the quietude with a question. "When I was having my... episode, you said something."

Agatha is pulled from her reverie of studying your features. "Hm? What?"

You chuckle softly, a sound that stirs butterflies in Agatha's chest—a sensation she begrudgingly acknowledges. "You... said something about magic. Is- is that what's happening to me? Magic?" Your gaze locks onto Agatha's, intense and unwavering, drawing her in despite her reservations.

Agatha sighs, meeting your gaze head-on. "Yes. Yes, it is."

You clench your jaw, your expression a mixture of determination and uncertainty as you continue tending to Agatha's hands. "This... isn't the first time this has happened, you know. The panic attacks. It's happened a few other times. The doctors said I was crazy, seeing things and that I should get therapy but... no one mentioned something like magic except for you."

Agatha's gaze softens at the vulnerability in your voice, the weight of your words sinking in. "Humans are naive, angel. They know nothing of our world."

"Our world?" you echo, curiosity lacing your tone.

Agatha considers for a moment before deciding to share a piece of her truth with you. "You and I... are what's called witches. Polar opposite witches, might I add," she adds with a snort, a hint of humor in her eyes despite the seriousness of the situation.

You tilt your head in confusion, the revelation of magic sparking a myriad of emotions within you. "A- a witch. A year ago I would have laughed. But now... wait. So you're like me?"

"No, sweetheart, you're like me," Agatha corrects gently, a small smile playing on her lips.

You chuckle, the sound a mix of disbelief and wonder. "So... I have magic? I thought magic was supposed to be some wondrous thing, why is mine so different?"

Agatha's smile fades, replaced by a solemn expression. "No, dear, magic is very dangerous. If you're untrained, it can kill as easily as a knife. You have what's called light magic, so it's... different from the normal kind."

"There are 'kinds'?" you inquire, your brows furrowing in confusion. "How come I've never heard of this before?"

"It's very, very secretive, the witch community. You're not alone, Y/N. There are many of us," Agatha explains, though she doesn't mention the darker aspects of her own history with witches.

You nod slowly, absorbing the information, but your gaze soon drifts to Agatha's lips, a momentary distraction from the weight of the conversation. Agatha's heart quickens at the intensity of your gaze, a flush creeping onto her cheeks as you reach for a tissue and gently cup her face, tilting it upwards.

Agatha holds her breath, praying that you can't see the blush staining her cheeks, as you delicately dab at her lip. The touch is tender, and Agatha barely registers any pain, too lost in the moment, too captivated by the sight of your face.

[watchnrant]

Agatha All Along Episode 9: Easter Eggs & References

Episode Title: “Maiden, Mother, Crone”

A Timeless Archetype Reflecting Agatha’s Dark Evolution

Triple Goddess Symbolism: This episode title isn’t just poetic—it’s a deep dive into the mythological Triple Goddess archetype, channeling the Maiden, Mother, and Crone phases. Lifted from “The Ballad of the Witch’s Road,” it acts as a mirror to Agatha’s own evolution, her passage through these stages marking the highs and lows of her power. The Maiden represents her early, untainted years; the Mother speaks to her nurturing (and at times manipulative) instincts, especially toward Nicholas; and the Crone embodies her spectral, almost ethereal presence, a culmination of wisdom and loss. Agatha’s journey here isn’t just about magical power; it’s a raw reflection of what it costs to survive, grow, and evolve in a world of supernatural forces.

Agatha’s Brooch: The brooch is Agatha’s constant, practically her emblem through this transformation. It’s more than just an accessory—this little piece of metal represents the phases she’s lived through. As she transitions into her Crone phase in the episode’s finale, the brooch ties her spectral form to her past selves, showing her continuity and evolution. It also hints at her new role with Billy, bridging her connection to both Nicholas and her potential mentorship with him. The brooch isn’t just jewelry; it’s Agatha’s personal timeline, a piece that signifies her journey across the borders of life, death, and whatever lies between.

Agatha’s life in 1750 (57 Years After WandaVision’s Salem Flashback)

An Origin of Power Born from Sacrifice and Survival

Opening in 1750: A Study in Survival The episode’s opening in 1750 sets a gritty, raw tone that peels back Agatha’s origin story in one intense moment. Her desperate confrontation with Rio, the embodiment of Lady Death, as she fights for her unborn child’s survival is more than just a plea—it’s the birth of her ruthless philosophy. Cloaked in that iconic purple, Agatha is utterly isolated, her resolve hardening as she stares down Rio, demanding her child’s life at any cost. This encounter shows her willing to embrace sacrifice as the price of survival, a mindset that will shape every decision to come. Here, Agatha’s brutal belief takes root: survival isn’t given, it’s “earned” through dominance. Nicholas’s future may be doomed, but his fate is born from her relentless determination to protect her legacy, however twisted that might become. This dark origin story transforms Agatha into someone who sees power as not only her right but her birthright, carved out of sacrifice and survival.

Nicholas Scratch – Origins and Magical Creation

A Son “Made from Scratch,” Rooted in Agatha’s Ambition

“Made from Scratch” This isn’t just a name; it’s Agatha’s own brand of bravado. Naming Nicholas “made from scratch” feels like Agatha planting her flag in the ground—a declaration of her strength and belief in self-made power. She’s built herself up from nothing, and in Nicholas, she tries to embody that same fierce resilience and independence. It’s a nod to Agatha’s refusal to bow to natural limitations, bringing her in line with iconic creators like Frankenstein, who pass down a dark legacy to their creations. By conjuring Nicholas from her own force of will, Agatha stakes her claim on a brand of strength that’s earned, not given, setting the tone for her uncompromising philosophy on survival and power.

A Cycle of Moral Compromise and Loss In creating Nicholas, Agatha doesn’t just birth a child—she begins a tragic lineage steeped in sacrifice and a brutal interpretation of love. Her fierce devotion to him, bringing him into existence “from scratch,” is both a triumph and a tether that binds them in a cycle of protection and betrayal. Agatha’s drive to shield Nicholas at any cost drags her into morally murky waters, where her love, however genuine, becomes deeply flawed and even toxic. Her relentless ambition and willingness to sacrifice for him are both her strength and her downfall, ultimately warping their relationship into something tangled and tragic. Nicholas becomes the vessel of Agatha’s power-driven love, and that inheritance, burdened with her ambitions, costs her everything she’s fought to preserve.

The Burden of Legacy Nicholas isn’t just a symbol of Agatha’s magical prowess; he’s a living testament to the high stakes of her philosophy. By choosing to rely entirely on magic to bring him to life, Agatha sets herself on a path where her ideals of resilience bleed into ruthlessness, and her belief in self-sufficiency isolates her. This “made from scratch” mindset reveals a core fear of vulnerability, pushing her deeper into survival mode, even as it chips away at the legacy she hoped to solidify through Nicholas. Agatha’s story becomes a paradox—a journey of power and resilience that ultimately consumes the very future she tried to build.

Coven and Boundary Stones

Agatha’s Intrusion and the Power of Ancient Wards

Ancient Protective Magic and Agatha’s Betrayal These boundary stones are no casual set piece—they’re an ancient magical defense, glowing with an intense protective energy that feels practically alive. When Agatha crosses these enchanted markers, they flash blue before shifting to a murky yellow, signaling her disruption of the coven’s defenses. This color shift isn’t just a cool visual effect; it’s a deliberate cue that Agatha’s power doesn’t harmonize with the coven’s—it corrupts and overpowers it. It’s a visual metaphor for her philosophy of survival, one that thrives on consuming and dominating, setting her up as an intruder within sacred spaces. In this moment, we see her belief that survival is achieved through force, a sentiment that foreshadows her inevitable betrayal of the coven.

Isolation and Power The boundary stones mark a powerful line in the sand between community and the path of isolation Agatha is destined to walk. Her decision to cross these stones symbolizes her sacrifice of connection and morality, isolating her from the rest of the magical world to secure her own survival. This action speaks to the core theme of power as a double-edged sword—one that, while securing her position, severs her ties to anyone who could have stood beside her. Agatha’s power creates barriers as much as it fortifies, trapping her within her own world of dominance and distrust, as she crosses the threshold from community member to the solitary figure whose survival depends on sacrificing others.

1756 – The Stolen Bell

A Bell Rings, Marking the Start of Agatha’s Ruthless Legacy

The Birth of Agatha’s Legacy of Deception Fast-forward six years after Nicholas’s birth, and we see the seeds of Agatha’s dark legacy sprout in a deceptively simple act—a stolen bell. Nicholas, still young and likely unaware of the depth of his actions, swipes this bell from a witch, luring her right into Agatha’s trap. Agatha, as ruthless as ever, uses this opportunity to drain both the witch and her coven of their power, solidifying the bell’s significance in her legend. The bell makes its way into “The Ballad of the Witches’ Road,” a symbol not just of Agatha’s manipulation, but of the role Nicholas unknowingly plays in his mother’s quest for dominance. This is the start of a brutal legacy, one where Nicholas becomes a pawn in Agatha’s relentless pursuit of power.

Corruption of Innocence Nicholas’s involvement in luring witches highlights Agatha’s impact on him—she’s passing down more than just power, but a skewed morality that slowly corrupts his innocence. He becomes a tool for her, mirroring Agatha’s own moral compromises and hinting at the inevitable cycle of manipulation she’s set in motion. This twisted dynamic between mother and son foreshadows her later relationship with Billy, as Agatha nudges him toward a morally ambiguous path, echoing her hold over Nicholas. It’s a chilling legacy—Agatha’s influence doesn’t just consume power; it pulls those closest to her into a shadowed, morally complex world.

The Ballad of the Witches’ Road – Origins

A Melody Born from Innocence and Bonding

A Dark Inversion of Maternal Love “The Witches’ Road” begins as a haunting, almost lullaby-like tune shared between Agatha and Nicholas—a mother-son moment rooted in something innocent, maybe even tender. But Agatha’s twisted sense of morality seeps into the melody, reshaping it into something insidious. Lyrics like “all that’s wrong is right, and all that’s bad is good” become a chilling reflection of Agatha’s own warped philosophy, transforming this once-simple song into a weapon. Much like a siren’s song, the ballad lures unsuspecting witches straight into Agatha’s trap, using the lure of music to seal their fates. This transformation of their shared melody into a dark tool of deception highlights how Agatha’s influence corrodes even the purest connections, inverting love into something deadly.

Nicholas’s Disillusionment and Departure As Nicholas matures, he starts to see through Agatha’s philosophy, questioning her cold, power-driven worldview. Agatha’s obsession with survival through dominance alienates him, driving a wedge between them that eventually pushes him to leave with Rio. Her relentless drive, intended to protect him, ironically leads Nicholas toward the very fate she feared. The ballad’s evolution from an innocent, intimate creation to a manipulative tool underscores the tragic unraveling of their bond—Agatha’s love is genuine yet twisted, and in trying to shield Nicholas, she ultimately loses him.

Connection to Nicholas’s Room This origin story of “The Witches’ Road” also explains a key detail in Agatha All Along Episode 1: the singing award in Nicholas’s room. Within the fabricated reality crafted by Wanda’s spell, Agatha includes a singing award, a subtle nod to their shared creation. This detail isn’t just set dressing—it’s a poignant reminder of her complex attachment to Nicholas and the remnants of their past. Even in a constructed world, Agatha clings to fragments of their history, suggesting a longing that’s equal parts nostalgic and haunting. It’s a small but powerful addition that speaks volumes about her character and the bittersweet weight of her legacy.

“Use Your Purple”

A Moment of Magic That Defines Agatha’s Identity and Resilience

Empowerment and Survival When Nicholas asks his mother if she can “use her purple” while they’re surviving out in the forest, he’s pointing straight to the heart of Agatha’s identity. Her signature purple magic isn’t just a parlor trick—it’s the core of her power and, more importantly, her lifeline. This phrase underscores Agatha’s reliance on her abilities not only as a symbol of strength but as a necessity for survival. Flashing back to Agatha All Along’s premiere, we see a young Harkness bargaining with Rio, begging to “get her purple back.” This line reveals how deeply Agatha’s connection to her magic runs; it’s more than just power, it’s her resilience, her armor. Her purple magic is both her weapon and her protection, symbolizing her fierce determination to reclaim her full potential even in the face of threats. This attachment to her powers isn’t just about dominance—it’s survival, empowerment, and identity all wrapped into one.

Dandelion Seed and Locket

A Fragile Keepsake, Capturing Love’s Fleeting Connection

Symbol of Fleeting Connection The dandelion seed Agatha keeps tucked away in her locket isn’t just a token—it’s a piece of memory, a connection to a time when she and Nicholas shared a rare, simple joy together along the Witches’ Road. Agatha All Along Episode 9 dives into this memory, showing us the origin of that seed, captured from a moment where they blew on dandelions together, back when Nicholas was still alive and Agatha hadn’t yet crossed the line into her darker path. The fragility of the dandelion reflects the delicate, transient nature of life and love, making this locket more than just a keepsake; it’s a bittersweet reminder of what she once cherished, even as that part of her life slipped away.

Cycles of Life and Loss This tiny seed becomes even more powerful in Agatha All Along Episode 8, where Agatha uses it in the final trial on the Witches’ Road. The dandelion serves as a symbol of life’s unending cycle—birth, decay, and rebirth, echoed in the cyclical, haunting reality of Agatha’s life. It embodies the innocence she’s lost and the brutal choices she’s made. The seed is a fragment of her past, a physical connection to Nicholas that speaks to both their bond and the inevitable erosion of everything she held dear. This delicate keepsake captures the beauty and tragedy of their connection, a symbol of how life itself can be fleeting, just like a dandelion drifting on the wind.

Agatha as the Architect of the Witches’ Road Myth

Building a Legacy of Entrapment Through Deception

A Legacy of Entrapment and Power When Rio—Lady Death herself—claims Nicholas, Agatha is granted a fleeting six extra years with him. But when that time runs out, her world shatters. Grief and rage ignite a relentless killing spree, with Agatha transforming the myth of the Witches’ Road into her personal lure, a haunting siren song she crafted through “The Ballad.” What started as a melody she once shared with Nicholas morphs into a deadly weapon, a means to draw covens close under the guise of unity, only for her to drain their powers and fuel her own. We see Agatha singing the Ballad with covens across centuries, expanding the legend of the Witches’ Road, a place shrouded in both danger and allure. This myth becomes her calculated weapon, channeling her heartbreak into something chillingly powerful.

False Coven and Manipulation Agatha positions herself as a “guide” on the Witches’ Road, drawing witches in with promises of mentorship and unity, only to betray them and siphon their magic. Her manipulation builds an infamous reputation as both a predator and a master witch, painting her as a Faustian figure who gains power at a brutal cost. Agatha’s path reflects an endless cycle of betrayal born from grief, as her need for survival and strength overtakes her moral compass. She’s not simply a villain; she’s a complex character, a tragic figure who, devastated by loss, becomes ensnared in her own web of deception and power.

Building the Myth Through Deception With each coven she encounters, Agatha deepens the legend of the Witches’ Road, crafting it as a place of legendary power, veiled in both glory and danger. But beneath that lore, it’s all just a tool—a way for her to gather strength, to reinforce her philosophy that survival and power are there for the taking, if you’re willing to pay the price. This deception, which turns her into both a cautionary tale and an unstoppable force, captures her essence: a character whose manipulative edge isn’t just for show, but a survival strategy born from love and grief. In trying to shield herself from the pain of loss, Agatha becomes the very force of betrayal and dominance that once stole her son away.

Agatha’s Ghostly Return

A Spirit Bound by Guilt and Unfinished Business

Bound by Unresolved Guilt After sacrificing herself to save Billy (Wiccan) in Agatha All Along Episode 8, Agatha reappears in Episode 9 as a ghost, bound to the mortal plane by unfinished business and unshakable guilt. Her spectral form, unable to fully interact with Billy, symbolizes her limited influence—she’s present but powerless, still tethered by her attachment to Nicholas and the unresolved issues that won’t let her move on. This classic ghostly trope hits hard, casting Agatha as a spirit stuck between worlds, haunted by choices that were never truly selfless. Her sacrifice wasn’t just for Billy’s sake; it was also a calculated move for her own ends, adding another layer to her complicated, morally ambiguous motives.

Conflicted Mentor In this ghostly state, Agatha is visibly older, with fully white hair and a costume that channels her original comic appearance, drawing a direct line to her spectral guide role in the Scarlet Witch (2015) comics. There, she returned to aid Wanda, dispensing guidance steeped in her own regrets and hard-won wisdom. Episode 9 embraces this legacy, recreating Agatha’s earliest look with a twist. Ironically, while fans might have expected her to show up with a mere white streak in her hair (a nod to the modern, Hahn-inspired design), here we see a fully aged Agatha, embracing her transformation into the Crone archetype. This aged appearance and ghostly presence hint at a deeper, more complex role, setting her up as a mentor for Billy. Yet, as with everything Agatha, her motives remain murky, with a mixture of genuine care and lingering ambition. Her ghostly form captures this tension—she’s a guide caught between love and influence, weighed down by the choices of her past, making her an enigmatic mentor who’s anything but straightforward.

An Unlikely Partnership and the Formation of a “Coven of Two”

Agatha and Billy’s Alliance Blurs Lines Between Mentor and Manipulator

An Alliance Rooted in Darkness Ghost Agatha’s proposal to team up with Billy (Wiccan) brings a new layer of intrigue, forming what she calls a “coven of two”—a partnership steeped in shadows and layered motives. This alliance feels like a nod to the Scarlet Witch (2016) series by James Robinson and Vanesa Del Rey, where Agatha’s ghost walks alongside Wanda on the Witches’ Road, serving as both ally and spiritual guide. Here, Agatha fills a similar role for Billy, who, through his chaos magic, has inadvertently created his own version of the Witches’ Road. Agatha’s mentorship is anything but straightforward, laced with moral ambiguity and tinged by her own dark history. This pairing mirrors the balance of guidance and danger seen in Wanda’s journey, positioning Agatha as both mentor and potential corrupter on Billy’s path.

Legacy and Redemption Agatha’s offer to partner with Billy hints at a redemption arc that’s just as layered as it is uncertain. This partnership could pull Agatha closer to a semblance of redemption, but it’s equally possible she’ll lead Billy into her morally gray world. Their dynamic holds a compelling mix of power and complexity, bringing to mind anti-hero duos like Loki and Sylvie, where mutual interests clash with deeper emotional ties. As the episode closes with Billy’s line, “Spirit as my guide… let’s go find Tommy,” we’re left with a question mark hanging over their alliance—will Agatha steer him toward growth, or drag him further into the mystical murk of the Witches’ Road? The potential of this “coven of two” is as enticing as it is treacherous, leaving us to wonder which path Agatha’s influence will ultimately carve out for Billy.

Billy Maximoff’s Role as “Love Persevering”

A Legacy of Grief and Power That Reflects Wanda’s Enduring Love

Emotional Legacy Billy stands as a living testament to Wanda’s undying love and the grief that fuels it—a continuation of WandaVision’s unforgettable line, “What is grief, if not love persevering?” Agatha’s reveal that it was Billy’s own chaos magic that manifested the Witches’ Road redefines his journey as something he unintentionally built himself, an echo of Wanda’s raw, powerful abilities. His powers, like Wanda’s, are both a product of love and a force capable of immense destruction, casting him as a character locked in an emotional tug-of-war between creation and devastation.

Moral Dilemma and Growth Agatha’s manipulative guidance along the Witches’ Road nudges Billy into morally gray territory, subtly framing the deaths on this path as justifiable casualties. This not-so-subtle influence is eerily reminiscent of her dynamic with Nicholas, pushing Billy to grapple with the weight of his own powers. His sense of guilt, coupled with Agatha’s skewed mentorship, fuels a tension that drives him toward a journey where right and wrong aren’t as clear-cut. Billy’s path becomes one of navigating his emotional legacy while confronting the responsibility—and consequences—of wielding such unpredictable magic.

[entomolog-t]

Bite Me

My first OCs June and Aedes are finally getting their story told!! I'm so excited to finally be posting this. This chapter acts as a sort of prologue to their OG lil comic. I'm very happy to announce I've got 10 or so chapters already written so for the next little while I'll be uploading this story weekly!

- - - -

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

Word count: 759

CW: Vampire adjacent mild gore (mentions of blood, drinking blood)

Darkness had always been a comforting embrace to Aedes. There was an innate safety amongst the shadows, and a beautiful stillness under the light of the moon. Still- but not quiet. The night, in all its ethereal splendor, held a delicate symphony; Wood frogs and crickets sang with fervor, the leaves in the canopy above whispered subtle secrets, and the thrum of a heartbeat rang out in the distance- a sirens song to someone like him. 

Aedes listened intently, following the slow rhythmic beating with well practiced ease- a predator stalking its prey. His mouth watered. It had been so long since he last fed. This rural town afforded him a certain safety, but the cost of less frequent feeding was a hard price to bear. He was starved. Hunger gnawed at his insides, relentless and unforgiving in its demand to be sated, the alluring call of a potential meal pulling him forward as if it were reeling him in. 

He felt almost as if he were in a trance, his fixation on the thrumming causing the world around him to fade away. The nightly sounds seemed to dissolve more and more into the ether with each percussive beat. He followed the beat, his steps marching in time as if dancing to a stranger's most intimate song. Like a doting partner, he let the song lead him, each beat bringing him closer and closer to the unwitting musician. 

There he stood, a quaint two story home before him, its sage green siding looking at home within the menagerie of plant life growing wild around it. As he scanned the building, his eyes fell on an open window. He smiled. It seemed the people of rural towns found a certain safety here as well. 

With the utmost care, he heaved himself up, sliting the screen along its edge as he climbed through the window. He paused, taking in a deep breath as he perched on the window sill. Closing his eyes, he drank in the smell. A scent, smooth and sweet filled his lungs, so tempting it made his breath hitch. His hands shook, and his heart pounded with anticipation- His more desperate instincts calling on him to rush towards that effervescent scent and abandon all rationality. Patience. He steadied his breath, letting his urges feed his excited anticipation. 

A woman lay right there beneath him, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with her heart. Bathed in the pale light of the full moon, he marveled at her ambrosian beauty. Under the glistening light, her soft and subtle skin looked as though she was made of milk and honey, her nectarous lips full and blushing, the sight of their colour teasing hints of that… vigor that flowed so closely beneath her skin. 

And her neck-

He found himself baring his teeth involuntarily, his body begging for him to drink. 

She lay with her head to one side, such an innocent position filling him with such a potent hunger, as if she left herself open and vulnerable just for him. Adrenaline and hunger mingled together, dizzying in their intensity. His own heart thrummed alongside hers, beating much more wildly- a symbiotic dance between predator and prey, the thrill of the hunt intertwining with that ever-present dread of being caught. 

He couldn't wait any longer. 

Silent as the dead, he descended on her- his movements fluid despite their uncanny speed. The call of her heart beckoning him, compelling him to indulge.

Indulge he did.

His teeth sliced into the flesh of her neck, her soft skin offering no hint of resistance to his bite. He suppressed the urge to groan.

The taste - he shivered. 

She tasted like life.

On his tongue, she was a reprise. Her warmth filling him- her blood rejuvenating and invigorating. His mind felt dizzied, dancing on a drunken high he never quite understood. He felt a stupor come over him and welcomed it, riding out the bliss as he drank. 

An oasis is she,

So sweet on my tongue,

If I could drink my fill I would drown- 

He gulped with a primal desperation, his gluttony feeling boundless.

Such an insatiable creature am I,

You, the ambrosia my lips pursue 

Dear, my hunger consumes me,

please, let me consume - 

Her breath hitched. 

Suddenly, the night was no longer still.

In the blink of an eye, his world shifted- or more accurately, flipped- as gravity suddenly ripped him away from his indulgence. His mind reeled, desperate to understand what was happening.

To his horror, he found himself falling. 

[cursedonyx]

Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist

To be updated as I go 🙃

Asks are open - please feel free to send me a request!

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Hogwarts Legacy: The Price of Power (Complete) 🔞

Sebastian, Ominis and Dracaena embark on a new adventure in their seventh year, navigating a growing love angle and discovering a dastardly plot against Dracaena. In trying to find out more, they discover something far larger than any of them had anticipated, and the fate of the world rests in their hands.

(Warnings - eventual smut, love angle, eventual throuple, lots of angst, some comfort and mature themes)

Ao3 🔞

Wattpad 🔞

Audio Version 🔞

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Hogwarts Legacy: The Cost of Love 🔞

Almost seven years have passed since Sebastian and Ominis left Hogwarts, and the woman they loved most, behind. Over the years, both men have handled their grief differently; Sebastian threw himself into his research, determined to find a way to recover Dracaena’s memories and magic, while Ominis has tried, unsuccessfully, to accept what happened and heal.

A chance meeting one day sets all three of them off on another adventure, and a desperate attempt to recover Dracaena’s memories and magic is coupled with a discovery of a new, nefarious plot to harm the Emerald Trio. As tensions rise and loyalties are tested, Dracaena, Sebastian and Ominis must find their way between redemption and revenge, as the leader of a new gang of Dark wizards reveals themselves to be someone they thought long gone.

New chapters every Friday and some Mondays💚

Ao3 🔞

Wattpad 🔞

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✨Professor Fig Adopts the Emerald Trio✨

An alternate timeline in which Professor Fig adopts Sebastian, Ominis and Dracaena at the end of fifth year, offering them sage advice, fatherly love and affection, and helping to get them out of (and occasionally into) trouble.

Hijinks ensue. Fluffy and sweet, some angst but mostly cute.

Part 1

Part 2

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Sebastian Sallow

A Promise of a Theory

Professor Fig almost trips over a studious young Slytherin desperately searching for a way to cure his sister outside his classroom. The kindly professor offers Sebastian some advice and comfort.

The Bars Between Us 🔞 Part 2

Sebastian is rescued from Azkaban after six long years, but he's not the man his friends once knew, and he needs some TLC.

Sebastian Makes a New Friend

Sebastian is adopted by a stray cat.

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Ominis Gaunt

The Sleeping Snake🔞

Things get a bit too much for a very randy Ominis when his snoozing partner is just that smidge too lovely. (Unedited oneshot)

Taming the Serpent 🔞

In their final year of school, Ominis Gaunt is the only person in all of Hogwarts that seems to be immune to the captivating beauty of one Silvermaria Rivers. Little does he know that the one person who can't see her splendour may be the only one who can love her for who she really is. Ominis has his own demons to banish before he can even think of anything as tiresome as romance, but as time goes by, Silver opens his eyes, so to speak, to a brand new, intoxicating world.

Ominis leaves a voicemail 🔞

A lonely Ominis leaves you a needy and very explicit voicemail

A Loving Hand

Ominis has never experienced loving touch, and his new girlfriend decides to give him his first proper cuddle.

Don't Drug Your Friends 🔞

After Garreth slips Ominis a lust potion, there's only one woman that can help him.

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Professor Sharp x Professor Garlick

Brewing Desires (Part 1) 🔞

Aesop has long had a crush on Mirabel, and at the Hogwarts Professor's annual Christmas drinks at the Three Broomsticks, he finally decides to make a move.

Brewing Desires (Part 2) 🔞

Following their encounter, Aesop is confused by Mirabel's ordinary behaviour. Following his jealousy at seeing her talk to another man, things come to a head in his office.

Brewing Desires (Part 3)

Though they try to keep it a secret, a certain arsehole Professor learns of their relationship, and an unfortunate dose of Babbling Brew leads Aesop to say more than he should.

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Poppy Sweeting x Garreth Weasley

Of Creatures and Cauldrons (Part 1)

Poppy has a major crush on Gareth. There's only one problem; he's in love with someone else.

Of Creatures and Cauldrons (Part 2)

Natsai tries to help Poppy go on a date with her secret crush, Garreth, but things don't go to plan when Garreth's crush turns up.

Of Creatures and Cauldrons (Part 3)

Poppy is distraught over her lack of returned feelings, and Prof. Garlick steps in with an encouraging word.

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Headcanons

Garreth Weasley ABCs

Ominis Gaunt ABCs

Sebastian Sallow ABCs

Ominis Gaunt NSFW ABCs 🔞

Sebastian Sallow NSFW ABCs 🔞

Sebastian and Ominis HCs

Garreth Weasley NSFW ABCs 🔞

Sebastian Sallow is a Fox 🦊

The Emerald Trio's Wands 🪄

In a Muggle Nursing Home 🧓🏻👴🏻

Drunk at a Party 🍻

Batchelor/ette Party 🕊️

Ominis vs Duncan 🥊

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Reactions

MC has a baby sibling

A cat terrorises everyone but MC

Going through a Haunted House

Cuddling them when they're sad

Trying to Cure Your Hiccups

Accidentally farting in front of them

Passing in Their Arms

Enjoy my work? Consider buying me a coffee 💚

[robin-evry]

What about a Max Caulfield! Yuu from life is strange!

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐌𝐀𝐗 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃!𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 📸🖼️

Maxine Caulfield, better known as Max (born September 21, 1995) is the main protagonist of Life is Strange. She is an 18-year-old aspiring photographer and senior at Blackwell Academy. She left her mom and dad in Seattle for the seaside town of Arcadia Bay, Oregon, where she grew up. After saving her childhood friend Chloe Price from being killed by Nathan Prescott in one of Blackwell Academy's bathrooms, she discovers she has the ability to rewind time and even stop it in its tracks. On the search for clues to solve the mysterious disappearance of Rachel Amber, Max must also discover how to use her powers to help Chloe find her missing friend.

Max!Yuu is rarely seen without their trusty vintage camera. They’ve started a photo journal of their time in Twisted Wonderland, capturing both the beauty and chaos of the magical world. The students find it fascinating, though some (like Leona and Vil) might be more critical of being photographed without permission.

Their time-rewinding ability is subtle but game-changing. They might use it to fix awkward social interactions, avoid minor disasters (like food exploding in the cafeteria), or redo pop quizzes. However, constant rewinding gives them a deep sense of déjà vu, leaving them emotionally drained at times.

While Max!Yuu and Grim bicker occasionally, they're quiet nature has a grounding effect on him. They often capture candid photos of Grim in his most mischievous moments, which he secretly loves. Over time, Grim becomes their most photographed “subject,” jokingly calling himself their “muse.”

Malleus has also become one of their subjects to photography, max!yuu admits that malleus is perfect for posing as well describing him to be quite beautiful and as well they get some money on the side from sebek buying their malleus photo to hang on the wall. Malleus also keeps some photos.

Malleus feels at ease around them, appreciating their calm demeanor and artistic view of the world. They often share deep conversations under the stars, with them documenting the ethereal beauty of the night sky over Diasomnia. Malleus finds it comforting to be seen through their compassionate lens.

NRC photographer, Crowley started to ask them to photograph places, people or anything, so he doesn't need to spend an extra cost to hire a photographer, who needs one when you have max!yuu.

They also get a job as a magical creature photographer where they take photos of the magical creatures of twst and then study it and admire it, and after analysing it into perfection they sell at a low or high price depending on the animals.

The emotional toll of rewinding time becomes apparent in their quieter moments. They sometimes isolate themselves to recharge, sitting alone in Ramshackle with only Grim for company. Their friends grow to notice this and subtly support them, offering small gestures like snacks or quiet companionship.

In the past, max yuu has also used their abilities to prevent some of the deaths of the character, ruggie originally died in the original timeline back in savanaclaw arc, but max!yuu created a new timeline where ruggie gets to live.

Vil and Max!Yuu form an unexpected bond over art. Vil critiques their photography with a sharp but constructive eye, pushing Yuu to improve. Over time, Vil secretly admires how Yuu’s work reveals sides of him he didn’t think others could see, such as vulnerability and quiet strength.

As well as rook, since max! Yuu usually have permission to photograph people with consent like Leona and malleus, rook would come up to them and both of them discuss the pictures as well as art stuff

If Max!Yuu ever has the chance to leave Twisted Wonderland, they’d take one final group photo with all their friends, placing it at the heart of their memory wall. It would be the picture they cherish most, representing the strange, magical world that became their second home.

[familyfromgaza01]

Hello, I'm abdalrahman .I help my family to rebuild their lives and continue their education

Help them complete their future

My sister Asmaa, in her final year at university, dreamed of becoming an engineer, but the war prevented her from completing her education. Help her continue her dream and complete her future to become an engineer and start building the world and be a part of this world.

My sister Khadija is in her third year at university. Help her complete her education and become a great lawyer. She is the first among her colleagues who helped her become what she once dreamed of.

I'm Abdul Rahman is an engineer who worked hard to become a great engineer. He worked in different companies and the last place he worked was the municipality to help this city grow, but the war has come now and he is unemployed and I am the breadwinner for my family. My family now has nothing after I lost my job.

Help my mother to get out and get the health care she needs and complete her treatment, because in Gaza now they have no place for treatment, no hospitals, and no medicine because of the war.

My brother Moatasem is a deaf man who needs treatment abroad. This war reflects badly on him and his lifestyle. He cannot understand the sounds of missiles and bombs, which makes him uncomfortable, and he cannot deal with these sounds around him.

We left our home and we living in an unsafe tent. Food prices are very high now and we cannot buy basic things in addition to the dirty water we drink and what caused many diseases such as hepatitis A. Me , my brother Moatasem and my sister Asmaa suffer from hepatitis A and did not receive treatment and lost a Big weight, now summer has come and life in the tent in this hot weather is killing us, I am doing my best to help rebuild what left from our life I need your help to save our future from this long bloody war.

Please, donate now and help us finish what we started and become what we dreamed of one day, help us live a life like everyone else, help us before it is too late and we lose our lives, please help donate any penny will help us dream again And start a new life, please help share this link with your friends, family and anyone you know and remember anything that will help us

Lately,We lost our tent and we have no shelter from winter help us get a new tent it cost btw. 700 to 1000 $

Remember to participate now before it is too late.

Thank you.

[candywife333]

Price of Life (part 1)

Summary: She wandered up the magnificent hill, into the temple quarters where he resided. She did not want to climb up the hill in the middle of the night to meet with an erratic, cold, and cruel sorcerer. But there was no choice. Her village, inflicted with a devastating curse, had become close to a ghost town--- crops did not grow, people died of famine, and even babies just out of the womb perished along with their mothers. She hoped to ask for his aid in getting rid of the curse that afflicted her village. Yet, she could not have ever predicted what that help would cost her in return.

planned to have only 2 parts. trying out JJK fanfic, hopefully it turns out alright.

powerful sorcerer Sukuna x chubby, poor brown OC (Yaara)

Triggers: dub-con/non-con, rough sex, humiliation (mostly in part 2)

The humongous hill loomed in front of her as she trudged up, the sweat dripping off her forehead cooling her form as a riotous breeze loitered through the otherwise quiet night. She farmed day in and day out due to her sick mother and dead father. Nobody else supported her family except herself. And she would've continued, if not for the rumors of the famine getting worse and more people dying off. If the number of deaths continued the way they did in her tiny village, nobody would be left to even bury those who had died.

Everyone knew that Sukuna never helped. If anything, he made things worse. An extremely powerful sorcerer, capable of ousting even deities, he was infamous for being cold, arrogant, and inhumane. He lived up the hill, having private chambers in the temple only for himself. The price he made people pay for taking his help, made most refuse to even think of taking it. It was never anything simple like food, crops, clothes, money, or even jewelry.

The cost of his aid would often be insurmountable. He demanded payment in lives , in sacrifice, and many other deranged practices that people in her village mumbled about in hushed voices--as they drank tea. They did not even dare to offend him when their village was placed a far distance away from his residence, for fear that word of their blatant disregard at his practices would reach his ears.

She finally got to the top of the hill, staring resolutely at the splendidly white , gold tinted marble doors adorning the entrance of the temple. It was silent, except for the twinkling of a few wind chimes placed around the entrance. Normally a calming place for most people who visited, Yaara did not feel the same this night. She stressed about what he would ask her to pay in return for helping her town.

She had nothing of value to offer. The most she could do was to help him with any chores he had for a few years in the temple , or to pay him in crops she had harvested. Pondering all these thoughts, she opened the heavy doors and walked into the temple, the doors immediately shutting behind her.

Yaara continued to walk further into the white, cold and rather desolate temple. It was rather dim inside except for the light from torches lined along the long hall ,side by side--illuminating the long stretch of passageway til the altar. All the priestesses must be asleep since it is the middle of the night.

A cold gust of wind made Yaara shiver, as she foraged along the uncertain path to his chambers. Yaara neared the massive jade altar of Buddha, 50 times her height. An equally impressive waterfall continued to pour water upon Buddha's head. This temple was known for being built centuries ago by a king who insisted on constructing it with a waterfall at the center with cherry blossoms littered all around the waterfall.

As Yaara walked reticently around the perimeter, looking for any entryways that may indicate a separate set of chambers, she saw a man-- if that was what you could call him, meditating near the waterfall, on a ledge tucked away near the statue's head. The man did not look normal in the least. He had what looked like multiple arms and an intimidating aura. Before she could call out to ask him where she might be able to find Sukuna, the man opened his eyes. Red eyes. Eyes that foretold misery and cruelty. His gaze sharpened upon her form as he bellowed out, "What are you doing here, mortal girl? In the middle of the night in my abode"?

Shivering like a leaf, frightened by his foreboding voice, she squeaked out, "I-I have come to see Sukuna, Sir. I need to talk to him right now". The prior irritated expression on the man's face vanished as a mirthless laughter spilled out of his mouth, the angle of his mouth curling upwards into a smirk. He snarled, "You have come to see me? The greatest sorcerer of my generation. And you don't even know who you are talking to? What an ignorant, pathetic mortal"!

He jumped down with a stunning speed from his ledge, landing right in front of me. Startled at his sudden appearance, I fell on the hard rock beneath me, my bum just barely cushioning the fall, mortified at seeing his form. His tall frame towered over me as he grunted out, "Well. You might as well speak mortal. I don't have all day or night for your pesky human problems".

I crawled onto my knees, sitting on the ground, hands up in supplication as my mouth quivered, whispering in a feverish tone, "My town is in trouble Sir. They are plagued with famine and death. A curse has been placed upon it. C-c-could you please help me remove the curse? We are burying people everyday. Soon there will be no place to even bury anyone".

The sorcerer's eyes glinted as a menacing smile contorted his aristocratic features, "You can have help if you can pay the price mortal". His gaze trailed my body in a hungry manner as he purred out ,"That is if you can withstand what it entails".