#still under his spell but distracted enough that I can’t DO anything about it

[godsprettiestprincess]

I had a dream about bad turn worse recently that’s how down bad I still am. In goddamn purgatory I am.

[widowbitessting]

Sugar Mommies Season 2, Part 4

Welcome back to my little corner of the internet! Get blankets, something warm to drink and enjoy the next chapter of this universe <3

Lots of love,

Livvy xox

Trigger Warnings: There's a negative word for lesbians mentioned, as well as the brief appearance of this seasons antagonists. I will do a trigger warning for every time they make an appearance, I want to keep you all safe. If you want to read after seeing this trigger warning, please do not send me hate afterwards. I have warned you. If anything triggers you, please do not read.

“Natty? Hi!”

You can hear her smiling through the phone as you giddily jump up and down on the spot. 

You don’t care if people are looking at you. 

The fact that you’re actually speaking to Natasha, after what feels like the longest period of your life, is enough to fill your brain with serotonin to last you weeks.

“Hi, baby.” She chuckles. “Excited to hear from me, are you?”

God, you missed her voice. 

You miss everything about her.

So freaking much.

“Very excited, I missed you!” You can’t stop smiling. Grinning even. “Where’s Wanda? Is she okay?”

“Clearly you haven’t missed me that much if you’re already asking for Wanda, kitten.” 

Your smile falters.

“No! Wait!” 

But Natasha laughs and the worry of upsetting her all but evaporates.

Carol watches you, grinning.

Only stopping to cast a defensive glare at a teen who watches you with a disgusted look. 

Subtly turning you so you don’t register the teen. 

You’re telling a story about face planting a door to even notice Carol moving you. 

Your mood is far too innocent to deal with any obnoxious people. 

When Carol is happy you’re still fully consumed by your conversation with Natasha, as well as distracted by the sugary goodness on the counters display, Carol returns her attention to the teen and raises an eyebrow, glaring at him.

When he clocks her stare, the boy’s glare falls from his face but he doesn’t back down. 

“Is there a problem?” Carol asks in a low, warning tone.

The boy doesn’t reply. 

He takes his drink and pastry and walks past, muttering the word, “Dykes.” under his breath so Carol specifically hears it.

She’s just so happy Natasha has you under her spell.

And oh, how Carol wishes she responded. 

Cause a scene over this teen roach who wants to try and hurt you. 

Hurt what’s hers. 

Theirs. 

Their baby girl.

It seems that karma wants this kid almost as badly as Carol does because the second he opens the door; three seagulls go for him.

White blurs tackle him, snatching bits of his pastry, leaving it reduced to nothing but soggy crumbs in his hand within seconds. 

He lets out a startled scream.

In his haste to scramble away with what dignity he has, the boy ends up tipping his coffee all over his white shirt. 

As well as almost losing one of his trainers in the process. 

Carol watches, a smug smile firm on her face as the teenager bats away the seagulls with what remains of his pastry.

The rest of the coffee shop customers are watching too, enjoying the free show.

When the kid lets out a long stream of swear words, it catches your attention and you glance outside too; just in time to see the kid throwing his empty coffee cup to the ground in anger. 

You glance at Carol.

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing, baby girl.” She kisses your temple. “Keep on talking with Natty.”

You shrug and go back to looking at the delicious treats. 

Carol’s hand once again finds your own as the boy contemplates coming back into the store. 

But he catches Carol’s gaze - as well as most of the others in the store - and rethinks his options. 

Instead, he swaggers off, trying to keep what little of his pride he had left. 

Which in Carol’s eyes isn’t a lot. 

When she turns her attention back to you, your nose is all but pressed up against the glass counter. 

“Easy there, baby girl. You’re gonna go through the glass if you’re not careful.” 

Carol can’t help the small grimace as you pull back, a nose print staining the glass. 

Groaning about germs as you shoot her a sheepish look. 

“Tell Carol we say hi, baby?” Natasha asks you.

“I will, after I get to speak with Wanda.”

“Oh? Was that an order, little girl?” The red head replies.

“I - no.” 

“Pass the phone to Carol like a good little girl and we’ll forget this happened, understood?”

“Yes, daddy.”

You hand the phone quickly and get a brief head scratch from Carol in return.

“Stop scaring the small one, baby.” Carol says with a smirk into the phone. “Oh? Is that so?”

Carol’s playful demeanour changes so suddenly it has you nervously biting at your thumb.

“Leave it with me. You’re not staying there for another two weeks.” 

“Two weeks?” You can’t stop the pout from forming.

Carol yanks you to her side and cuddles you close.

“No, baby. They’ll be home in two days like we promised. No later.”

Natasha continues the conversation and Carol listens. 

Sensing your worry, she asks Natasha to pause before speaking to you.

“Go and order our drinks, kitten. Order the sweetest thing that you had your eye on and then find us a table, okay? Everything is fine.” 

“Do you want an americano or a latte?” You ask a little glumly.

Carol leans down to peck your lips.

“Americano, please, baby. With warm milk.” 

You nod, and reluctantly do as you’re told, letting go of Carol’s hand to walk to the till to make your orders. 

Only, as you’re about to open your mouth to greet the lady, Carol shouts your name.

“I’ll call Nat back on my cell. You got a message too, baby.” 

She chucks you your phone and you manage to catch it straight to your chest. 

You wince. 

You don’t even check who it is, instead opting to pocket it so you can order your drinks and treat instead. 

The need for sugar is too high.

They’re going to be gone for two more weeks? How is that even fair?

And what if Carol has to go back?

You’ll be alone once again; being an awkward third wheel to MJ and Peter…eating crappy take out while they are all cuddled up on the couch under the same blanket…

“...hon? That’ll be $13 total.”

“Oh! Sorry.” 

The cashier smiles.

“How will you be paying today?”

“Card, please.” 

Of course when you go to pay, Carol just appears with her own card, and taps it against the machine before you can blink.

“My treat, baby.” She kisses your cheek, smiling when you blush slightly. “I’ll bring the drinks over.”

“Okay,” You lean up so you can kiss her cheek. “I’m waiting for my cookie though. Don’t want you taking a sneaky bite.”

“You don’t want me to take a sneaky bite of your cookie?”

You can hear Natasha’s belly laugh from Carol’s cell and fight back the blush when the server comes back with your treat. 

You just know she heard Carol’s remark with the way she refuses to make eye contact with you. 

“One chocolate chip cookie. Your drinks will be a couple minutes.” 

You go to take your treat from her but somehow, despite being quick, Carol manages to get it before you.

She takes a large bite from your cookie before handing it over to you.  

“Yummy.” Carol says, crumbs falling from her lips. “Good choice, kitten.”

“My cookie…”

You’re pouting and you fully know it. 

“I’ll take another bite if you don’t stop pouting. Go and find us a table.” 

You glance at your cookie and sigh. 

“Fine.”

You turn and jump, a squeak escaping your lips when Carol smacks your ass. 

“Less attitude too, please.”

“Sorry, Carol.”

You set off to find a table and the thought hits you. 

You don’t have a middle ground nickname. For any of them. 

Sure you have their dom titles; but in this case, calling Carol ‘Captain’ just doesn’t work.

You make the mental note to ask Carol this when she joins you. 

You flop onto the sofa seat and sigh, nibbling on part of the cookie that Carol left you. 

“Stupid, big mouth, dom.” 

Your phone buzzes again. 

“If this is you MJ, wanting a hot chocolate, I swear to God.”

But it isn’t MJ. 

No. 

Your body freezes.

It’s your bimonthly texts from your parents.

Coming in with a slam dunk to ruin your mood.

You can’t even bring yourself to open the messages; knowing they’ll be waiting to check for the ‘Read’ icon. 

A request of hers. 

So you opt for blissful ignorance instead. 

Lying your phone screen down on the table, you nibble your cookie and watch Carol talk on the phone. 

You can tell she’s stressed. 

She wants Natasha and Wanda home just as much as you do.

When your phone buzzes again, you shove it roughly back into your pocket; mood officially sour.

The messages will be waiting when you get home.

They will still be waiting. 

You refuse to let them ruin this. 

Ruin the good in your life. 

No. 

You want to live in this bubble with your darling Trio a little while longer. 

Before they come into it and destroy everything. 

Is it too much to ask?

[fangirlmermaid]

Espresso

Summary-The reader has a small surprise for Chris at her concert

pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Fem!reader

Note: Thank you to everyone who voted for my poll! It was a tie so I posted both Fanfic!

Warning: Sexy outfit, mention of inappropriate shirt show was inspired by Sabrina Carpenter (I don't think that's a warning)

(as usual spelling and grammar errors)

(Kind of long)

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

The crowd cheered when you finished performing Brutal. Once the audience died down, the dancers walked off the stage, their movement was sluggish.

You released a fake yawn before walking back to the main stage; which was set up to look like a fancy New York apartment.

You sat down in the papasan chair.

Waiting for one of the stage crew to get into their position, you scanned the audience. Your eyes finally landed on your boyfriend Chris in the VIP tent, by the look of excitement and joy on his face you would think that this was his first time seeing the show.

You sent him a flirtatious wave and a wink, causing his cheeks to heat up. You could never tire of him looking at you like a love-sick puppy.

You guys went public a few weeks ago about your relationship of eight months. True fans were supportive and happy for you guys, but some insecure fake fans wished for the downfall of your relationships.

You were getting the most hate. People call you a slut and unloyal because of your on-stage persona. Saying that Chris could do better than you. All that bullshit.

Chris always came to your defense (his brothers came too). You would always assure him that these comments didn’t bother you, and he would say something about how he would never stop defending you because he loves you.

You stretched your arms, acting like you were tired and wanted to go to bed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Tori from the crew in position holding up the sign.

“What does your sign say?” You asked into your mic, squinting your eyes.

Tori shook the sign a bit pretending to be an excited fan “I slept with your mom? What?” You wondered, earning a laugh from the audience.

Being the comedic genius that you are, you always come up with funny sayings when pretending to misread the sign.

Tori held the sign still. “Oh! Please Please Please play espresso” You read, and the crowd cheered.

When you were writing Songs for the album, Chris was moping around your place which distracted you. When you would ask him what was wrong he would would just pout as if he was expecting you to understand why he was in that state. He looked like a puppy from those heartbreaking commercials they play during the holidays. It was stupid but effective. So you found a way to do that without announcing anything yet.

Espresso was the first song you ever wrote about Chris when you two started to get serious. Chris was wrapped around your finger; he always had to be around you, touching you, as if you were a shot of caffeine, and Chris was addicted. Besides using the word Espresso was much catchier than Pepsi.

“But it’s sleep time” You murmured as if someone put a sleepy spell on you.

You were waiting the whole night for this part. After getting another hate comment the other day you decided that enough is enough. That’s when you decided to order them.

Your eyes scanned around the stage floor as if you were looking for something.

“LA, has anyone seen my shirt?” you asked.

The audience was quiet having their phones record this part. This was your fan's favorite part, every night you wear some weird ass shirt. For some reason, everyone's favorite shirt is the one that asked Are you childish? With a yes or no check box, and the no box has a penis drawn in it.

Your backup dancer Rio came running out with a t-shirt under her armpit.

“Thanks, Rio! Everyone said Thank you to Rio” You said standing up Everyone yelled, “Thank you, Rio!”

You unfolded the shirt to were only you saw the design. You pretended to act shocked as you looked at Rio “Girl, I can’t wear this!” You admitted clutching the shirt into your chest. Rio nodded her head and said yes, you can! Rio waved her hands up to get the audience to encourage you.

Your eyes found Chris again, he was cheering for you. You sent him a quick wink before turning around so you could slip the shirt on.

The shirt fell above your knees, covering your garter. You took a deep breath, in your mind this was you proving two points. Point number one was that you didn’t care how many hate comments you got you would love Chris no matter what and point number two was rubbing it in the spineless cowards' noses that you were dating Chris and they weren’t.

You slowly faced the audience with a smirk on your face. The audience screamed and jumped when their eyes landed on your shirt. It was a black shirt with the design saying I ♥️ Chris.

Your eyes landed on Chris who turned into a blushing giddy idiot. A very cute idiot. His eyes filled with so much love that he might explode.

You know that he will be ripping this shirt and the Garter off to show how much he loves the surprise. It gives you an idea for an outro for your song Nonsense.

The crowd died down “Yes, the non-secret is out. I love my boyfriend!” You smiled and the crowd lost their shit again.

Feeling energized you looked around to see your band and backup dancers lying around pretending to be asleep.

You sighed and held up a finger signaling to the audience to give you a second. You clapped your hands in the band's directions trying to wake them up. You gently nudged the dancers on the floor. “Time to wake up bitches, Let’s go!” You cheered skipping towards the stairs.

~~~~ You sang and danced to Espresso which is always Chris’s favorite time. He loved that you added this song to your setlist (even though it was a part of the album for the tour you are on).

Now it was replaced at this moment. Seeing you in that shirt drove Chris crazy, announcing your love for him for a second time. Seeing how proud you were to be Chris’s girlfriend made his heart swell. He didn’t think it was possible to be more in love with you.

Chris saw a mischief glint in your eyes. You stared right at him as you lifted the shirt a little revealing the garter getting Chris aroused. The power you had over him and his dick. Chris was screaming along with the words, jumping around with glee.

Fans were taping Chris’s reaction the whole time, getting overwhelmed by the cute couple. This would explode on the internet, showing everyone how madly in love you and Chris were.

All is according to plan!

~~~ Is it that sweet? I guess so Your backup dancer Lindsey passed you a mug that says I ♥️ My boyfriend, just in case people didn’t get the message.

The crowd was screaming, no one was checking up on Chris who looked like he just had his brain fucked.

You took a sip pretending it was coffee when it’s just water.

That’s that me espresso

You raised the cup with the text facing the audience and smiled.

The crowd cheered and clapped.

Your eyes landed on Chris who was jumping and blowing kisses at you. Trying to control yourself but failing, you did the same towards him.

Before leaving the stage you saw Chris giggling and bragging to everyone at the VIP tent that he was your boyfriend.

[ana-chronista]

hiiii I saw you reblogging that kiss thingy, I'd like to suggest Jance + 10 💚

I'm so sorry this took forever, but I hope you enjoy it! (It just goes to show nothing is ever lost in my inbox, just... slow 😅) Thank you for the request! ❤️ 10. ... desperately

The lock has barely clicked shut behind him before Jan is in his arms, the force knocking him back into the front door. The kiss is all frenzy and no finesse, a bruising mess of teeth and tongues and heat as Jan pushes him back into the wood and he pulls Jan into him. And he’s not complaining. It’s been a long few weeks on tour, with barely a moment to snatch for just the two of them. A cramped tour bus is hardly the right environment to get close to one another without someone or other stumbling across them, only to rush off again with a shout of “I didn’t see anything!” (Or so he’s heard. Hypothetically.) “What’s this all about?” he asks teasingly as they break apart, as if he doesn’t know, as if it’s not exactly the same for him, as if there hasn’t been this tension building ever faster between them all day as they drew closer to home. Jan shoots him a quick glance that’s so deadpan it makes him laugh. “If you can’t guess, I really don’t know what to tell you.” Jan replies, before darting in to recapture Nace’s lips with his own. His fingers find the buttons of Nace’s shirt at the same time, so of course Nace can’t resist pulling him in by his belt loops, deepening the kiss. He feels as much as hears Jan’s moan in response right before the guitarist seems to give up on the buttons halfway down. “You’re distracting me.” Jan says accusingly, still close enough for their lips to brush as he speaks. Nace shrugs, securing his hands on the other man’s hips to make sure he stays as close as possible. “That seems like a you problem.” he says, pressing another quick kiss to his mouth. “Come on, we should go to the bedroom.” He tries to encourage Jan to step back, only to be met with resistance as Jan shakes his head. “I have no idea where that is.” he says, moving in for another kiss. Nace turns his head slightly so Jan can only catch the corner of his mouth. “Yes you do.” “Not since you moved.” “You’ve been here before.” Nace points out. Jan shrugs, toying with the next button down on Nace’s shirt. His breath hitches as the guitarist’s callused fingers brush his bare chest almost by accident – a long few weeks indeed. “Then I’ve clearly forgotten.” “It’s right over there.” Jan doesn’t even look to where Nace is pointing two doorways down. “That’s too far.” “You’re so lazy.” “I just have other priorities.” “Can’t think what those are.” “I mean, I could spell it out for you, or – ” Nace decides right then and there that that’s enough talking for now. As much as he loves their conversations, they’ve been able to do pretty much nothing but talk for so long that maybe Jan is onto something with these other priorities. He cuts him off with a kiss so sudden and bruising that he catches him off guard enough to push him back against the hallway wall, crowding him in somewhere between the coat rack and the dresser. There might not be any time for talking right now, but judging by the way Jan fists his hands in Nace’s hair, or by the sound he makes as Nace hooks his hands under his thighs to lift him up, he’s a hundred percent in agreement with his plan. - Later, Jan will suddenly recall exactly where Nace’s bedroom is in the new flat, but they won’t make it there for several hours.

[roetrolls]

(woagh! we did it again!! it's a collab between me and Chase @sasster! Look, there's a google doc!)

Appraisal

Emarra is still drunk on attention when he returns to his trailer, buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill of a crowd. He expects Sylvie will follow him here soon enough, his little sprite always so eager for his praise after a successful show. 

He’s already imagining what he’ll say to her, turning the words over in his mind as he busies himself removing his jacket and pushes past the beaded curtains into his home.

“Yumeno.”

He freezes. Now there’s a voice that will kill a mood.

Ever the performer. Emarra is quick to reel himself in, shocked expression melting into a smile tight enough to rival Faithful.

“General.”

An unscheduled visit from the Marauder rarely spells good news, but retiring for the morning to find the man waiting in your home? That’s a level of horror all its own. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks through gritted teeth.

Zerkev has already made himself comfortable–if such a word can even be used to describe such a straight-laced troll–in the seat by the window, gaze hard and stern. 

“Sit.”

It is always cumbersome dealing with fuchsias that feel they can just walk into his home and tell him what to do. Resentment leaves a sick taste in the back of his mouth as he takes a seat opposite to the general.

“There’s no chance that what you’re here to talk about could have been a text message, I’m guessing.”

Zerkev’s expression tightens, not one for jokes on a good day, let alone on one where he is already beyond the threshold of having patience for the man.

“Why have you not found Mallum yet?”

Well, of course that’s what this is about. What else would The Marauder be making home visits for? There are so many ways Emarra can answer that question too, and they all flash in his mind one after the other.

Chiefly, he has been busy with his circus, and also it isn’t his job to play Pravus line babysitter.

Neither of these answers, however, would be met with the most pleasant of responses, so he swallows them down with the taste of resentment that now coats his throat.

“He’s in the company of professionals. You know that.”

“I was under the impression that you were a professional, Yumeno.”

“Gracious and the Roatus kid can’t find him either,” by the grace of God, he manages to swallow the indignance that tries so hard to claw its way out. “It’s going to take me some more time.”

“More time?”

Something snaps behind the general’s eye, perhaps his last thread of patience, something that somehow does not influence the rest of his expression.

Instead, Zerkev sits there stone-faced.

“Just a little patience, I’ll find him.”

“Mm,” comes the muted response. The seadweller stares a moment longer, gaze boring into Emarra with a scrutiny so intense he has to suppress the urge to shift in his seat. “Would you say you’ve been distracted from this task?”

Emarra all but scoffs at the accusation. Was he expected to put his entire life on hold until the kid was found? That’s a ridiculous idea, even for someone as work-focused as the Marauder.

“No,” he answers shortly, stopping himself before anything more insulting can tumble from his mouth.

Zerkev raises an eyebrow. “That so? I’d say otherwise, personally.”

He reaches into the jacket of his uniform to withdraw a phone. It’s almost comical how out of place the thing seems in his hand, but Emarra is in no mood for humor.

After a few seconds, Zerkev brandishes the screen, playing a short, looping clip of a shadow unfurling along someone’s wall. 

The Ringleader feels a brief twinge of satisfaction as he makes note of the tiger-shaped nightlight by the bed, one corner of his mouth twitching as if to smile.

Then he squares his jaw, lifting a blank gaze back to his uninvited guest.

“What am I meant to be looking at here?”

The general cocks his head. “You tell me.”

“It’s a recording on your phone, why would I have that information?”

With a nod, Zerkev pockets the device once more and leans forward on his knees, fingers laced together. He pauses a moment, expression deceptively placid, before answering. 

“I know you’ve more sense than to lie to my face.”

The statement, simple as it is, is easy to identify as a thinly veiled threat. Emarra, having worked with the general long enough to detect that threat a mile away, leans back into his chair as if trying to put some more distance between himself and the fuchsia. It takes some effort to conceal the panic working hard to bubble up through his chest, but he manages even then to keep his gaze level.

”Then you should know that I am not lying, to your face or otherwise.”

Zerkev purses his lips, and though his expression does not shift to betray him, he does possess the uncanny ability of letting his disappointment and irritation poison the atmosphere of the room without such dramatic shifts. 

The Ringleader very briefly finds his thoughts drifting back to the other’s missing son. Yeah, I’d run away too if this guy raised and was looking for me, no question. Poor thing must’ve had an intolerable adolescence.

Locked in a terrible staring contest with his boss, Emarra then takes the opportunity to sift through a mental list of his choice in extracurricular activities up to this point. He risks being skinned alive if he admits how lax he has actually been about finding Mallum in the many perigees that have passed between now and his being given the assignment.

He risks a fate worse than that if he so much as breathes word about harassing that damn runaway of his own in the meantime.

Zerkev clears his throat, the time limit on his second chance at honesty clearly reaching its end.

“Are you telling me that you think every time something goes bump in the day that it will have something to do with me? Come on. Be real, Zerkev. I have a life, you know.”

A disappointed click of the tongue is his only response. Is he really tsk-ing him right now? Beneath his indignation, an invisible fist constricts around Emarra’s lungs, abated only slightly by the thin shred of hope that spawns in him as the seadweller rises to his feet.

Did that actually work?

Zerkev fiddles with his cufflink and hefts a weary sigh, staring ahead of himself as if lost in thought.

“Yumeno?”

For fuck’s sake, would he just go already? “Yes?”

Without warning, the Marauder’s hand shoots out to grasp Emarra by the hair, yanking him from his chair by the scalp. The motion wrenches a pitiful yelp from his lips, palms grasping at his assailant’s wrist in an effort to relieve the pain.

“I thought I told you not to lie to me, son.”

His voice, perfectly level, belies no hint of anger. He might as well be asking about the weather for all his tone suggests.

“Zerkev–” 

The grip on his hair, already ironclad, grows tighter. 

“General Pravus, sir,” Emarra corrects himself breathlessly, a nervous chuckle catching in his throat. It would be unwise to double down he thinks, but… Ah, screw it. He’s a carnie at heart. Honesty has never been his virtue. “I have a show to run. You really think I’m wasting my precious time on pointless games?”

Zerkev regards him carefully, lips pressed into a line. The silence hangs over them like lead, suffocating enough to prompt another anxious plea from the clown.

“You know how Maelia treats me! Why would I go looking for trouble under his nose?”

“Hm.” The general blinks slowly, fingers still wound tightly in the purpleblood’s hair. “I suppose you wouldn’t, would you?”

Emarra nods the best he can with his head practically glued to the man’s hand, eyes blown wide. “Exactly! I–”

“Yumeno.”

“Sir?” He swallows, choking down his pride with some hope of warding off the venom that lurks behind that stony expression.

“Did I tell you that was Drakon’s hive?”

Emarra’s stomach drops like a stone, the panic he’s been working so hard to suppress now lurching to the surface, plain as day on his face. Zerkev’s expression is unflinching, much like the tight and fearsome grip he maintains on the Ringleader’s hair. 

A reply is hard to come by under that icy glare, but eventually the clown manages to find his voice.

“Wh-Why else would you be so upset?” he stammers, choking on his own desperation. “Everyone knows how you get about your privacy.”

The way Zerkev’s lip twitches, it’s clear that was not the answer he wanted.

“My livin’ with Drakon is public knowledge now, is it?” His tone, low before, turns downright dangerous. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ripped Emarra’s hair right out of his scalp.

Past the edges of his own hubris, the purpleblood can see that he is being given one final chance to come clean. As much as he hates the man, he can’t deny that the Marauder’s patience is astounding. Any other fish would have flown off the handle ages ago.

He swallows, fingers still clasped around the general’s assaulting wrist, and selects his next words with care.

“I made a mistake,” he says slowly, heart lodged in his throat.

“A mistake?” Zerkev echoes incredulously, almost amused at his audacity.

“A poor choice.”

“I’ll say. Unless you wanna tell me spyin’ on my home was a necessary part of the process?”

“I… I was just messing with the kid,” Emarra finally admits, voice small.

“Instead of lookin’ for mine.”

“Both! I was doing both! You couldn’t have expected me to drop my entire life for you!”

Zerkev exhales slowly, something between a growl and a sigh. It’s all the warning Emarra gets before the general throws his arm to fling him face-first into the wall, the ache in his scalp quickly replaced by a new searing pain and the scent of blood in his nose. He loses his footing in the toss and crumples to the floor in a heap, hissing quietly.

Before he has the chance to catch his bearings, the Ringleader feels a cold-toed boot upon his neck.

“I’d say I’m a reasonable man, Yumeno, wouldn’t you?” He grinds his shoe into the base of Emarra’s skull before easing up, not waiting for an answer. “So here’s what I think sounds reasonable.”

Still somewhat dazed, he can only grimace in response as Zerkev grabs him by the collar and hoists him to his feet to slam his back against the wall.

“You’re gonna get one warning. Keep that greasy nose out of my business. Leave my mate and his family alone. And find my goddamned son. Are we understood?”

Emarra squares his jaw and nods.

“Are we understood?”

His teeth are as good as dust with how hard he grits them. “Yes, sir.”

Zerkev regards him carefully, eyes flitting across his face as he, perhaps, tries to gauge the man’s sincerity. Emarra can’t help but bristle. Can’t he let him go already? What more does he fucking want?

The general frowns, evidently displeased by whatever attitude he can still detect on his underling’s face. The clown prickles under his scrutiny, for once facing down a type of attention he would sooner escape. Then, all at once, that attention is drawn elsewhere, to the small voice that sounds beyond the room’s beaded entrance. 

“Emarra!”

Though Zerkev doesn’t release the purpleblood’s collar, his grip loosens considerably, just in time for Sylvie’s innocent, four-eyed face to push its way into the scene. Those eyes become saucers when they land on the Marauder, the woman’s delicate features overtaken by fear.

“General Pravus,” she squeaks, gaze darting between him and her ringmaster.

Zerkev nods in greeting, venom all but evaporated, and Emarra thanks the Messiahs for his sprite’s timely arrival.

“I-I, um…” She shoots him another anxious glance, hand unconsciously drifting toward her own nose as she spies the blood leaking from his. “I didn’t know you would have… company.”

“I was just leavin’,” the general answers, though he makes no move to do so.

Another silence descends on the trailer, with Zerkev’s pensive gaze now settled squarely on the mutant. Emarra can practically see the gears turning in his head, and he only wishes it could come as a surprise when the man opens his mouth again.

“I just got one more thing to square away ‘fore I go. Miss Selari, hon, would you mind steppin’ outside a minute? Won’t be long.”

Sylvie hesitates, again looking to the clown. With an agitated grimace, he sighs and gives her a nod. The sooner they can get this over with, the better.

His approval eases her enough to acquiesce, and soon enough she is padding back out on light and silent feet, the gentle rattle of beads all that announces her departure. The moment that faint click subsides, Zerkev’s attention is back on Emarra.

“She’s sweeter than you deserve.”

The Ringleader balks at him, the tameness of the insult somehow a bigger slap than his previous scathing reprimands. He doesn’t care what the bastard thinks of him, obviously, but it’s not the type of comment he expects during this kind of performance review.

“How long’s it been now? That you’ve had her?”

“This is what you’re hanging around to talk about?”

Evidently, the question was rhetorical, as Emarra’s non-answer glances ineffectually off the general’s chest. He finally releases him and steps away, at least, allowing the clown some room to breathe while he prepares to prattle on.

“Mallum’s always been a bright kid, you know. Wicked bright. Bit more self control and he’d be unstoppable.”

“Uh-huh,” the purpleblood responds, his irritation palpable.

“He had a hard time with schoolfeeding. Lacked discipline, always got distracted with other things. Ain’t his fault– We’re a species built on base impulse. Same reason we don’t rear our own young.”

What the fuck is he even talking about right now?

“Most trolls lack the ability to self-regulate. We found with Mallum… It sometimes helped to remove the distractions for him. He hated me for it, ‘course, but it did him good in the end.”

“I’ll remember that next time I decide to become a lusus,” Emarra deadpans, wiping the blood from his nose.

Zerkev locks eyes with him, placid expression once again turning grave.

“Yumeno. The next time you force me out here to remind you of your job, I’m taking Miss Selari back with me.”

[elder-dragon-reposes]

Kynadora- The Wheel Turns Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: Follow Julia and co as they continue their escape from Helgen's destruction.

Author's Note: I want to thank my beta readers again, and I hope everyone enjoys my take on Helgen Keep.

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The closing of the door doesn’t help quell the adrenaline running through her. There’s still too much to do. The keep may hold up better than the other buildings in Helgen, but if the legends were true, then there’s no telling what damage a dragon might cause if this attack went on any longer. They needed to keep moving. And fast. There had to be another exit. Julia didn’t know of any keep that didn’t have a hidden exit. Not necessarily designed for escaping dragons, but in the case of an attack. Helgen couldn’t be any different. 

Okay. First steps. Let go of Ralof. Why she’s still holding onto his shoulder, Kyne would only know. Put down Haming. See if anyone needs healing. Heal them. Then, keep moving. After that? Julia had no idea. But they had to survive Helgen. 

Her hand drops from Ralof’s shoulder and her attention turns entirely to Haming. His head was still tucked into her shoulder, and his fingers must be aching from the grip he had on her. His breathing had gotten better since she tried to put him down outside. She felt bad letting him down, but there was no way she could check him for injuries with him curled into her the way he was.

She jiggles her shoulder a bit to get his attention and her heart shatters at his face. The only places not covered in the soot of his burning hometown were where tears cut tracks downwards. He was too young for all this. But he was alive. “I need to let you down, little one.” His grip on her tightens. “I’m not going to leave you, I just need to make sure everyone’s alright. I’m a healer. And then you can hold my hand. Is that alright?”

A moment. He nods. She lets him down as gently as she can and watches for any major injuries he may have. She can’t see anything except for a small cut on his left hand. She heals it quickly and turns her attention to the adults in the room. Gunnar had been favoring one foot this entire time, and she hadn’t gotten a good look at either Ralof or Hadvar before ushering them both into the building. 

Gunnar first. Then to deal with the two soldiers before they jump at each other and scare Haming more. “Alright, Gunnar. Let me take a look at that leg before we go any further. Do you want to sit on one of the beds? Get the weight off it while I address the wound?” He acquiesces, sitting down on the bed and putting the injured leg on the footlocker in front of it. 

“It’s not too bad, miss, there are other things to worry about.” Julia watches Ralof and Hadvar from the corner of her eyes. While they’d first gone to opposite sides of the room, they were slowly making their way over to each other. Damn.

It’s a deep wound. Even with the use of a spell, it’ll scar harshly. The fact that Gunnar had been walking around as well as he had on it was a miracle, and Julia couldn’t imagine him getting far with Haming had they split up. “I’d really rather we all move forward the best we can if it’s all the same to you.” He laughs, and Julia finishes mending his skin together under skilled hands. 

On to the next problem then. Or well, maybe she could intervene before it became a problem.

She meets them in the middle of the room just as they come together. A hand on each of their shoulders, and she hopes that she’s calmed enough to keep them from trying to continue the Civil War in this room. “Are you both alright? Any injuries I can help with?” It’s enough of a distraction.

Ralof’s brows furl. “No. No, Julia, I’m okay.” Hadvar nods. His eyes haven’t left Ralof’s. 

Julia’s voice gets quieter, hopefully enough that Haming won’t hear her. “There is a boy here who has lost his home. His family. To a dragon, of all things! He’s scared and you two going at each other won’t help that. Let’s get him to safety before you two try to kill each other.” She breathes out softly. “If that’s alright with the both of you? We need to spread word of the dragon.”

Ralof nods first, but Hadvar’s returning one doesn’t come too much later. It’s a start. “Alright then. Let’s try and get a move on. Get to safety as fast as possible.” Julia turns, facing the door they’d all entered through. Her left-hand goes to the chain around her neck, and her heart drops. It’s not there. No. Someone must have removed them from her neck while she was unconscious. Or they fell off somewhere out there.

Her breathing quickens once more, but she’s pulled out of the wheres and whys by Hadvar. “Haming!” She whips her head to them, her heart stopping for a moment before breaking again. A sword. The boy’s going for a sword. It’s longer than his arm. She can mourn her lost connection later. 

She hurries to him and gets to his level, looking him in the eyes. He looks resolute in his features, but his eyes show just how scared he is. “Hey now, why do you need this?” 

“So I can help.” Julia nods. She knows what it’s like to want to help.

“You don’t need to help with this. Hadvar, Ralof, Gunnar, and I will keep us safe. Keep you safe.” He seems to want to speak up, but after a long moment, he finally relents. His hands don’t relax around the handle of the blade though. “I do need help with something though,” Julia says.” Do you think you can help me?”

“Yes! I can help!” Julia wipes away some of the soot from his face, her gloves are rough but she hopes it is comforting.

“I need someone to help me by looking for supplies for us. Like potions and food. Do you think you can do that?” Haming nods, and his grip relaxes. Julia slips the sword out of his hands and returns it to its place on the weapons rack. His hand loops into hers and she rubs the back of it, returning to her standing height. Onwards they go.

Ralof whispers in her ear as they go through the door that will lead them further into the keep. “That was rather impressive, I thought we would fight the boy on it more.” Julia nods and lets go of the breath she’d been holding. Hadvar nods at her as well. If she can keep them focused on the boy, she can keep them away from the war, for now. 

A short hallway and a door reveal another problem as well as more bodies. These aren’t from the dragon though. Unless he shrunk. Could dragons shrink? Julia couldn’t remember any of her father’s stories involving that. But no. These bodies were likely left due to the ongoing conflict that didn’t involve the massive beast flying through Helgen’s skies. 

She’d check them for life, but the blood surrounding all of them gave her pause. And the stillness of them. She tucks Haming’s hand into Gunnar’s and takes a deep breath. If they were alive she had to help them. One by one, she checks for breathing and a pulse, Gunnar and Haming were never too far from her as she did. But no luck. All dead. 

The presence of the bodies did add another worry to her list of many. What would happen if they ran into other survivors? Would the scene they had just come across repeat? If they ran into Stormcloaks would they try to kill Hadvar? Would any Imperials demand her and Ralof’s deaths? Would Ralof and Hadvar be seen as traitors for simply being in the same group? Killed by their own brothers and sisters in arms? Haming could be hurt in any ensuing conflict. 

But other survivors would mean that others made it out of the dragon’s ire. And more survivors would always be the better option. Even if it leads to an awkward situation. Julia believes they could figure it out. Especially with a child there. She couldn’t imagine either side willingly wanting to harm a child who’d just lost everything. The Thalmor might be a little different, but she was pretty sure that she’d seen them leave before the execution ever began. In any way, they’d have to go through her first. 

Haming grips her hand tighter when she returns to his side. “I’m sorry. They’re all dead.” Both Hadvar and Ralof look like they want to say something, but no words come out. 

“Come on, then. We need to keep going.” 

And so onwards they go. A hallway blocked by debris pushes them into a storeroom that houses supplies and more bodies. The bodies barely seem to register to Haming before he’s off grabbing potions and food safe for travel off the shelves. Gunnar helps him put them all into a sack as Julia once more checks the bodies for signs of life. Ralof’s face falls even more as she shakes her head at the Stormcloaks that litter the floor while Hadvar’s expression remains unreadable. Mourning will have to come another day for them both. The collapsed ceiling proves they’re on borrowed time before everything comes down around them. 

Julia manages to convince them all to drink from one of the waterskins Haming found and then they’re on their way once more, deeper and deeper into the keep. “I’ll admit, I’m not sure where we’re going. I’ve never spent much time here.” Hadvar’s words show he agrees though. There has to be something. Some way out for their small group. It’s just a matter of finding it. 

More stairs. Down down down into the lower levels of the keep. Hopefully closer to their destination of out, of away. Haming’s hold has loosened on her, but she still rubs soothing circles into the back of his hand. 

They smell the torturer’s chambers before they turn down the last flight of stairs into the room.

She’d expected a prison. Expected cells. But for the torturer to have been first and not tucked away from any visitors? It felt wrong. And when they finally enter and see the bodies strewn about, Julia is no longer surprised. The smell, though. Even as a healer, she’d never smelt anything quite like it. She hopes that she never will again. 

She checks the bodies each but pushes Gunnar to take Haming from the room as fast as he can. They’ll meet them there soon. But she has to check. There’s no hope for the man locked in the cage. He’d been there too long and seemed to have died as a result of his interaction with the torturer here. Not a good way to go. Hadvar looks uncomfortable and remains close to the exit that Haming and Gunnar had gone through. But he doesn’t leave. 

It’s only after she’s checked the final body for signs of life that she sees it in the corner. Her pack. She rushes to it, checking the pockets. It’s in the last pocket that she finds it. A silver chain. Two rings. A pendant. An amulet. She hasn’t lost them. Both the chain and the worn leather go over her neck before she can even think to do it. She feels the stress roll off her in a way and blinks away tears. She wouldn’t have forgiven herself if she lost them, lost the connection. But it’s here. Safe.

“Julia? Are you alright?” Ralof’s voice brings her back. 

“Yes! Yes. Sorry, I found my pack. They must’ve brought it here when we arrived.” Ralof nods and she returns to standing. Her eyes trace around the room once more in case of any supplies. She doubted it, but there might be something here. Her eyes land on a table. A plain book with the insignia of the Empire embedded into the leather cover. It felt important in a way. She shoves it into her pack before slinging it over her shoulder and following Ralof out. A room she never wanted to return to behind them. Her sword returns to her belt. 

Haming returns to her side as soon as the three of them catch up to the boy and Gunnar. His hand slips into hers, but he’s curling into her once more. It makes walking a little more difficult going forward, but she’s not going to push him away. Not after everything. She just hopes the worst is behind them.

“Are you okay?” Haming’s small voice pulls Julia’s attention from the path in front of them and onto him fully once more.

“As okay as I can be. Are you okay? We can stop and rest if you want to. This has been a lot.” They really couldn’t, but if the boy needed rest, he would get rest. She could probably carry him again if need be. But her muscles still ached from earlier. She’d do it to keep him safe though. 

His face remains emotionless. “No. I’m, I’m okay. Okay as I can be.” Julia ruffles his hair.

“Alright then. You just let me know if that changes, okay?” She catches Ralof staring, a look she isn’t quite sure how to describe passes over his face before he shakes it off. 

Their little group continues, moving further into the keep. Eventually, the stone walls of the building give way to the rough stone of a cave. For a moment, Julia hopes to hear voices then curses her optimism as they see the large cavern.

Blood everywhere. She won't need to check any of these bodies for life. While the cold room meant that decay had yet to set into the corpses and the smell of rot had yet to seep into the walls, the scene was horrific enough. Bodies, mutilated beyond true recognition. They were strewn around the room, some headless with others carved completely open with their vital organs strung out on the floor like party streamers next to them. But it's the select few missing both heads and organs that are the worst. They no longer resemble anything mortal, anything that once was alive. And the blood. Its scent was everywhere, stinging Julia's nose and sending her stomach rolling. She is all at once revolted and heartbroken by the scene in front of her. 

Her empty hand goes to cover Haming’s eyes. His own covers her hand on his face and he’s shaking again. 

“By the Gods.” 

“This . . . this couldn’t have been either side.” No. No, it couldn’t have. Corpses dressed in the uniforms of both sides have been desecrated. Or killed mercilessly. Gunnar shakes his head at it all. Hadvar’s hand goes to his sword, and Ralof readies his axe.

Julia gags and lifts Haming once more, tucking his head into her shoulder. “Don’t look until I say it’s okay.” Haming nods. She won’t let him see more of this. She doesn’t want to see more of this, but carrying him will be safer for the both of them. 

They move through the room, and the two soldiers take point. Everyone’s eyes search corners for whoever, whatever, did this, but find nothing. It’s as they move through that Julia sees where the heads have been put. For most of them at least, the number still isn’t enough for the amount of bodies left behind. The ones left behind had been laid in a line near the exit of the large room.

They come to a drawbridge that had been pulled down, blood shining on the lever that controls the mechanism, and cross further into the cave. The blood trail is no more, and once they move down the steps into the cave, Julia feels comfortable enough to let Haming down. She wants to be able to at least throw a spell if they come across their fellow survivor. And she hopes that there are survivors beyond them. And that they’d kept moving instead of staying behind to prey on more stragglers. 

Haming’s face is pale, so she makes him drink more water as they walk. She knows why he looks paler, she probably looked the same. But she wants him healthy as possible. Color soon returns to his face as they walk. No one seems to be able to find something to say, though Gunnar opens his mouth at one point to try and that means more to her than anything. 

As they move through the cave, signs of more potential survivors show themselves. No more blood trails, for which she is thankful. Hadvar stops at a letter left behind with the Imperial seal. He reads it but does not share its contents. Understandable. And good. Others have seen the horrors, and others made it out. The more souls that make it out, the better. 

They can tell that whoever handled the spiders was the same person who’d made themselves known in the cave. Haming and her walk faster through that room. 

The dead bear is really what gives Julia hope that others made it out. Beyond the stranger at least. While it’s dead, it doesn’t seem to have been brought down maliciously. And its guts haven’t been ripped out. It’s a good sign. Which feels worse in a way. 

“Good thing we didn’t have to sneak past that. I don’t know if we’d have been able to stay quiet enough.” Ah. Ralof is the one to finally break the silence. Good. 

Hadvar scoffs. “We could’ve handled it.” 

“Yes, but would you have wanted to after all this?” 

“Good point.” Hadvar’s face seems lighter now. Ralof’s too. 

“And hey! It means that others got out. Just, in front of us,” Haming pipes up. 

“Also a good point. Well done, Haming.” She ruffles his hair again, and the boy relaxes. Good.

The exit to the cave comes quickly after that, the dead bear seeming to give everyone the push to keep going at a faster pace. The light is nearly blinding as they exit through, but the Skyrim air feels refreshing. And then the sound comes again. And the dragon flies over. 

Julia pulls Haming down and covers his body with her own, pushing them as close to the ground as she can. Ralof and Hadvar both ready their stances for a fight and Gunnar joins her shielding Haming. She throws up a ward, hoping that it’d be enough to protect them from any fire that may rain from above. 

“Wait!” Ralof’s voice pulls her attention back to the sky and she sees what he does. “There he goes.”

Hadvar breathes out a sigh of relief. “Looks like he’s gone for good this time.” Julia drops her ward and lets Haming up. He clutches at her, fear clear on his soot-stained face but they disappear as the dragon shrinks across the sky. She sends a silent prayer for those who resided wherever it went next. “But I don’t think we should stick around to see if he comes back.”

Julia nods, “Alright, where’s best to head from here?”

“Well, I know where the boy’s grandfather lives and can get him there safely,” Gunnar says, trying to catch his breath.

“We should probably split up here. Safer that way. And I know Froki. He lives in the opposite direction than I was planning on.” Hadvar wouldn’t look at her.

Ralof nods and meets Julia’s eyes. “My sister Gerdur runs the mill in Riverwood. She’d help us out. I’m assuming that Hadvar will want to head that way too. His uncle is the blacksmith.”

“That was my plan.”

Her eyes turn to Haming. He needs to be safe, and she needs to let more people know what happened to Helgen. He looks up at her, and she sees the realization in his eyes too. She doesn’t want to leave him, but she doesn’t know where to take him like Gunnar does. She doesn’t know Skyrim well enough. And what would happen when she found his grandfather? It’s not like he would let her stay, so they would need to say goodbye eventually. Here might be the best time. She’d do her best to help others with the dragons, and he’d be safe.

Julia brings herself down to look Haming in the eyes on his level. “I need to go with Hadvar and Ralof.” Haming nods. “And Gunnar is going to take you to your grandfather.” He nods again, but tears prick at his eyes. They threaten to fall from hers as well. “They’ll make sure you’re safe though, okay? And I will do my best to ensure this doesn’t happen again.” 

“Promise?”

“Yeah, Haming. I promise.”

He nods. And his voice gets quiet again. “Will you write to me?”

Julia’s heart shatters. “Yes! Yes. Once you get to your grandfather's, and if he’s okay with it, you can write me anytime and I’ll respond. Okay?” It was more than she’d ever gotten from the village she’d left when she was his age. “Just, use my middle name instead. That’ll be safer. Can you remember to do that? To write to Kynadora Lastblood?” 

“I can do that!”

“Alright. Then I will write back as soon as I receive your letter. You go be safe now, okay?”

“You too, Julia.” She nods. She can’t promise that though. At least not now. 

He smiles for the first time since she’s lifted him, and something in her stitches itself back together. They all walk together to the road and separate at the junction, Julia watches Haming and Gunnar walk away until they crest a hill, disappearing from her sight. 

As they turn towards their path, Julia’s eyes catch on a signpost, pointing them towards Riverwood. A hawk sits on it. Likely looking for little prey to catch and eat. She feels bad for disturbing the poor thing when they draw closer and it takes off somewhere else. 

Hadvar taps her shoulder, “It’ll be around two days before we arrive in Riverwood. Shouldn’t be too bad of a walk though.”

“Alright. Let’s get going then.” Julia’s voice is sure, far more than she feels. 

They travel silently down the road for a bit before Ralof points to the mountains across from them. “See that ruin up there? Bleak Falls Barrow.” He sighs, as if remembering a different time, before continuing, “I never understood how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place. I guess you get used to it.” 

“When I was a boy, that place always used to give me nightmares. Draugr creeping down the mountain to climb through my window at night, that kind of thing.” Hadvar’s face scrunches. “I admit, I still don’t much like the look of it.” 

Julia laughs, “Well, there’s something you two can agree on, then! That and our need to get to Riverwood.”

Ralof looks to Hadvar. “I suppose.” Hadvar nods. 

Right. That was awkward. Think. “There were a few Ayleid ruins near Skingrad. Once, my uncle took me to Kvatch and we had to pass by a massive one. I was afraid that necromancers or zombies would come and attack the carriage. Later, some researchers passed through on their way to study the ruin and I talked to one about it. Never understood it.”

“What happened to them?” 

“They were killed. Necromancers.”

Ralof tilts his head back and forth. “Well. Little you wasn’t too far off, then, were you?” 

“I suppose not. It was an unfortunate incident, though. Didn’t take too long for the ruins to be cleared out after that.”

“Soldiers?”

Julia shook her head. “No. A mercenary hired by one of the families. A few of the guards went with them though.” 

The other two leave that hanging in the air, and the trio continues down the path. The stone is solid beneath her feet, and the need to get to Riverwood pushes any tiredness away from completely taking over her limbs. 

It’s Hadvar who stops them next at the foot of a platform with three stone pillars on it. “These are the Guardian Stones,” he explains to Julia, “three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim’s landscape. Go ahead, see for yourself.” 

Julia walks up to the platform and looks at each of them. Thief. Mage. Warrior. Were the thirteen stones all the birth signs? If they were, she didn’t see hers here. So what might help the most going forward? While Baura had ensured that Julia could sneak around, it was never what she was best at. She could see how a blessing that might help with her sword work would help, but ultimately she walked up to the mage stone. She was a healer. Anything that could help her with her alchemy or restoration would be appreciated. She approached it and rested her hand gently on the front of the stone. She was entranced as the lights danced around and shot off into the sky. She didn’t feel any different, but blessings like this often appeared in the most unlikely of ways. 

“Mage, eh? Well, to each their own. It’s not for me to judge.” Julia turns back to Hadvar as the words leave his mouth.

“She’s a healer, Hadvar. Mage makes sense. Come on, Julia. We should keep going.” Julia laughs and follows after the two of them, shaking her head. 

Conversation flows easily between the three after that. Which is nice, she couldn’t imagine this journey with Helgen looming over them without a slight reprieve. They jump through topics ranging from more about Skingrad and Riverwood to healing to Helgen itself. 

When night falls, the three of them all shove themselves into Julia’s tent. None of them sleep much, but the few hours they manage help to push them through the next day and into the next night. The next day manages to remain much the same as the day before. They sleep again, and Hadvar tells her that they should reach Riverwood around nightfall. 

It isn’t until they get closer to Riverwood that anything major changes. Ralof sees a figure approaching them before either Julia or Hadvar does. Once she sees them though, it’s clear what they are. Bandit. Strange that it’s only one, but they are near a forest. Any number of them could pop out at them. They let him approach and he smiles once he gets close enough. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? A Stormcloak, an Imperial soldier, and a . . .” He looked directly at her and furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry, what are you?” He shakes himself out of his confusion and settles his features. “Doesn’t matter. You have money. Rob ‘em, boys!”

Julia sends a shock spell to his chest that down him before either Hadvar or Ralof have their weapons drawn and before the rest of the bandits descend from their right. She pulls her own sword, and between the three of them, the rest of the group is finished off quickly. 

She raises a hand to heal a blow to Ralof’s upper arm. “Is this a big problem around here?”

Hadvar tilts his head back and forth. “Sometimes? It’s gotten worse since the beginning of the war.” 

“Right now the Jarl’s men have more problems than bandits on the road.” Ralof rolls his shoulder when she’s done. “Jarl Balgruuf hasn’t publicly declared for either side.” 

“It’ll be worse in a bit, you know. With the dragon.” Dragons? Was it possible that more would follow the one in Helgen?

“Yeah. Let’s hope it doesn’t get too bad.”

They continue on again, and as Hadvar predicted, they arrive in Riverwood as night falls. When the gates come into view, Hadvar turns to her and Ralof. “It’s probably best that I leave you here. Too many questions otherwise.” He looks Julia in her eyes as he continues. “Listen, as far as I’m concerned you’ve already earned your pardon, but until we can get that confirmed by General Tullius, it may be best for you to stay out of sight. But, thank you. I don’t know if I’d have made it out without you.” Julia smiles and waves at him, and Hadvar walks to the gates. 

Julia turns to Ralof, “It might be best for me to start introducing myself as Kynadora moving forward. Avoid using the name currently associated with an execution and all.”

He laughs. “That’s fair. Just remember, this isn’t Stormcloak territory either. If we’re ahead of the news from Helgen, we should be fine as long as we don’t do anything stupid.” They walk forward to the gates. “If we run into any Imperials beside Hadvar, just let me do the talking, alright?” Julia nods. “And it looks like nobody here knows what happened yet. Come on. Gerdur’s probably working at her lumber mill.”

Ralof knows the path well as he leads them across a small bridge to the mill. She clocks who Gerdur is even before Ralof calls out to her. She holds back a bit, allowing the siblings to reunite. She waves when Gerdur meets her eyes. 

“Are you hurt? What’s happened? And who’s this? One of your comrades?”

Ralof laughs. “Not a comrade, but a friend.” Ralof rests his hand on her shoulder and guides her over to his sister. “I owe her my life.” Julia screws up her face at that but doesn’t argue. Arguing over the semantics of who saved who could come later when they were out of the public eye. “Is there somewhere we can talk? There’s no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Imperials.” 

“Helgen? Has something happened?” Gerdur’s demeanor changes immediately from that of a concerned sister to something akin to a commanding officer. “You’re right. Follow me.” Gerdur grabs both of them by the hand and leads them through the mill yard back towards the town. “Hod! Finish up and come home. I need your help with something.”

Julia hears Hod see them and agree to get home quickly but does not see him herself. She does see the very excited boy running up to his uncle. “Uncle Ralof! Can I see your axe? How many Imperials have you killed? Do you truly know Ulfric Stormcloak?” Julia smiles and waves at the boy when he finally registers her as part of the group that Gerdur is leading by hand. “Who’s this?”

“Hush, Frodnar. This is no time for your games. Go and watch the South Road while I get your uncle and his friend settled. Come find us if you see any Imperial soldiers coming.”

“Aw, Mama, I wanna stay and talk with Uncle Ralof!”

“Look at you, almost a grown man! Won’t be very long before you’ll be joining the fight yourself.” Julia hopes that the war is over long before any child can join in. But Ralof’s words are enough to get Frodnar running off to watch the road like his mother asked. Gerdur leads them into a pretty house at the edge of the town, closing the door behind them with a soft thud. She ushers the two of them into chairs by the fire, shoving two tankards of water at them.

“Now Ralof, what’s going on? You two look pretty done in.” An understatement, but yeah. 

Ralof sighs, settling into the chair and downing the tankard of water. “Where to start? Well, the news you heard about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed us outside Darkwater Crossing, which is where they must have gotten a bit lost and grabbed our friend here. It was like they knew exactly where we’d be,” he frowns, shaking his head. “That was a few days ago, now.” He takes in a large breath, tracing the rim of the tankard. “We stopped in Helgen a bit later, and I thought it was all over. Had us lined up to the headsman’s block and ready to start chopping.”

Julia sees real fear light in Gerdur’s eyes. She was close to losing her brother. Would Hadvar have been the one to deliver the news? Would anyone have delivered the news? “The cowards.”

“They wouldn’t dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim would’ve seen the truth then.” It certainly would’ve martyred the Jarl. “But then, out of nowhere, a dragon attacked!”

“You don’t mean a real, live–”

“I can hardly believe it myself, and I was there!” Ralof said. Julia still couldn’t believe it, and she’d been there. On her knees waiting for the axe to fall. “As strange as it sounds, we’d be dead if not for the dragon.” But so many more perished because of it. “In the confusion, we managed to slip away. Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?”

“Nobody else has come up the South Road today, as far as I know.” Ah, so Hadvar had managed to sneak in without anyone noticing. 

Ralof meets Julia’s eyes and nods. “Good. Maybe we can lay up for a while. I hate to put your family in danger, Gerdur, but–”

“Nonsense. You and your friend are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Let me worry about the Imperials.” Gerdur turns to face Julia. “Any friend of Ralof’s is a friend of mine. Stay as long as you need. If there’s anything else you need, just let me know. How about we get you into the bath while Ralof and I talk and I make some dinner for the both of you?”

That all sounded fantastic. “Yes! Thank you so much for all your help, Gerdur. I promise to be out of your hair quickly.”

“Don’t worry about it, can I ask your name though?”

Right. Ralof hadn’t introduced her. “Julia. But if any guards come asking around, maybe use Kynadora?”

“Of course. Now, let's get some of that soot off of you.”

Gerdur helps her fill up the bath and seems impressed by her use of a flames spell to heat the water faster. Julia scrubs at her skin as much as she can, but she doubts that the ashes of Helgen will ever truly feel gone. It is nice to wash through her hair when she pulls it down from her braided bun. The water is filthy when she rises and dries off. After she drains it, she throws on one of her nightgowns and a dressing gown on top of it. Her armor would need a good cleaning before she felt comfortable enough to pull it back on. 

She returns up the stairs to Ralof finishing off his meal, and her own sitting on the table next to him. “I can do what I did to heat the water faster?” she offers, thinking he’d want a bath now, too.

“That’d be much appreciated, friend.”

After she helps him, she returns to the table and sits with Gerdur as she devours the meal that was set down for her. Apple cabbage stew never tasted this wonderful before. “It’s really good. Thank you for all of your help today, Gerdur.”

“I should be thanking you. It’s a good thing my brother found you in all that chaos.”

“Well, I doubt that I would have gotten out without his help either. I had a pretty bad head wound when we arrived in Helgen, and I doubt that I would’ve been able to move out of the courtyard fast enough without his help.”

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. I have to ask if you’d be willing to do something for me though.”

“Of course! How can I help you?”

“It’s really for all of us here in Riverwood. The Jarl needs to know that there’s a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless,” Gerdur looks over to her sleeping son. “We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can. If you’ll do that for me, I’ll be in your debt.”

“Don’t even worry about a debt, Gerdur. I’d be happy to help! I made a promise to try and help with this crisis anyhow, I’ll just consider this to be my first step to fulfilling it.”

Ralof returns to the table as Julia uses the last of her bread to sop up the remnants of the stew, wearing what must be an extra pair of his brother-in-law's sleep clothes, exhaustion clear on his face. They all sit and talk a bit more, Hod asking questions about the dragon and Gerdur asking about Julia’s magic and life as a healer. During a stall in the conversation, a knock comes from the door. Gerdur looks at her and Ralof and motions for them to sit behind the counter in their home as she rises to answer the door. They hear a short back and forth that Julia can’t quite make the words out to before Gerdur allows the figure to enter. 

“You two can come out. This is Alvor, our blacksmith. He wanted to speak with Julia and has promised not to make any trouble.” Julia rises from the ground, facing the taller man. 

“Hi.”

“Hello. My nephew, Hadvar, mentioned you might be here. And that you might help me out with something?”

“I might be able to, yes. Can I ask what you need?”

“The Jarl needs to know–”

Gerdur interrupts him, “That there’s a dragon on the loose? Alvor, I’ve already asked this of her.”

“You did?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“No, no I should’ve known.” The blacksmith sighs, “I’m sorry to have bothered all of you.”

“It’s alright. Did Hadvar want to tag along? I wasn’t planning on leaving until the morning.”

Alvor’s expression drops from neutral, “I’m sorry, lass. He’s already back on the road to Solitude.”

“Oh,” Ralof beats her to a sound of disappointment. 

Alvor seems surprised for a moment, but then not at all. “Well. I’ll let you all back to your evening then. Thank you.” After he leaves, Hod pulls out two extra cots for them and places them near the fire. It’s far more comfortable than the cold floor, and so Julia falls into a restless sleep quicker than normal. 

When she wakes, Gerdur already has breakfast on the table. “Hod can do without me for one morning. Even if he has to drag Sven out from wherever he might have slept last night off.”

“I appreciate it. You didn’t need to do this.”

“Like I said, I’m happy to help. Especially since you’re paying this town back tenfold.”

Julia looks to the empty cot next to hers, and Gerdur’s face drops in her periphery. “He already left, didn’t he?”

“He did. I’m sorry, I told him to wait or to even go with you, but he was adamant on returning to Windhelm as fast as he could.”

Disappointing. Julia wouldn’t admit it aloud, but when Gerdur had made her request, she’d hoped that Ralof and Hadvar might join her. Maybe help her to figure out where the dragon had come from. But the war came first apparently. “It’s okay. Expected it a bit.” Or not at all. But it’s fine.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course!” Julia would be an open book for the kind woman–well, she would be as open as she could without mentioning anything that might bring more trouble to them later. 

“You’re from Cyrodiil, right?”

Julia furrows her brows. Not a question she expected. “I am. I spent most of my years in Skingrad.”

Gerdur averts her gaze for a moment, looking to the door. “Are you going to fight with them?”

“I am not.” Gerdur nods, and they continue as if the exchange didn’t happen. Julia understands. Helping the enemy, even if they saved your brother, would be upsetting. 

After breakfast, Gerdur points her towards the local general store to replenish her supplies but not before packing her enough food for the walk to Whiterun. She also supplies a letter to hand off to the Jarl if it became necessary. 

At the store, she agrees to head to Bleak Falls Barrow to reclaim the owner’s stolen claw in return for more direct instructions to Whiterun. She pays for a new map and journal while replenishing her potions supply and exits. As she does, Alvor meets her eyes from across the street. She nods, and he returns the gesture. The woman sweeping the front of the house doesn’t seem happy with the exchange, but the girl sitting on the stoop waves. Julia smiles at her. 

It isn’t until she crosses the bridge that the sadness sits in. It feels wrong to be embarking on this quest without Hadvar and Ralof, but they’d made their decision. And so onward she goes.

[avaford2009]

Wall-E (Rewrite) - Questioning AUTO and GO-4/Our Message To The People -

EXT. THE AXIOM - OUTSIDE ROYAL CASTLE - NOON

All of Axiom chatter as their AUTO and GO-4 approaches them on their stage. Mostly, they were talking about the light last night, certain that it was AUTO’s doing.

AUTO

Quiet, quiet, quiet! I know you are all wondering about that little light last night.

The crowd bursts into applause at the mention of the light.

AUTO

A light I did not command or condone!

The applause dies down as the citizens now realize that they have no clue what that light was.

AUTO

It was magic, though quite clumsy and amateurish. It was also completely forbidden. There is a traitor amongst us… who defied the law. They used magic to put you all at risk!

The crowd gasps in shock.

AUTO

But don’t worry, they are no match for me. And I assure you, when caught, they will be punished severely.

As AUTO talks, Eve looks up to the top of the castle.

EVE

(SOFTLY) Wall-E.

INT. AXIOM ROYAL CASTLE, THE STUDY - NOON

The dumbwaiter in the study.

STAR

(MUFFLED) You are awfully slow at this.

The bell outside the dumbwaiter rings.

WALL-E

(MUFFLED) Shhh. I think we’re here.

STAR

(MUFFLED) Finally!

The door nudges slightly open but it’s not enough, the lock on it keeping the trio from escaping.

WALL-E

(MUFFLED) Let’s go. Oh no.

Wall-E tries to open it a few more times, but nothing.

WALL-E

(MUFFLED) No, no, no, no, no. It’s locked.

Star stuck out his tiny arm from under the door.

WALL-E

What are you doing?

STAR

Seeing if I can’t get this lock open.

He fires a ball of stardust which hits a quill, bringing it to life and causing it to draw on some nearby paper. Star fires another ball, this time hitting the scissors which also brings it to life to chase the quill. This pattern continues several times before Wall-E has had enough.

WALL-E

Star, please don’t break anything. Stop! Look, you can turn into anything, right?

STAR

Pretty much, yeah.

WALL-E

Then turn into a piece of paper. I’ll slide you under the door and you can just open it normally.

STAR

Huh, not a bad plan.

Wall-E cracks open the door and a golden piece of paper falls out. The piece of paper turns into Star’s human self, glowing hair and all, who then opens the door to let Wall-E out.

WALL-E

Yes!

Wall-E, and Star see the King’s desk completely covered in flames right before it explodes.

EXT. THE AXIOM - OUTSIDE ROYAL CASTLE - NOON

Eve was the only one to notice the explosion in the King’s study. She looks back down to AUTO, who was still continuing his speech.

AUTO

The Axiom needs you. Any information would be most helpful. And I know you will never, ever let me down. Thank you.

The crowd applauds as AUTO and GO-4 turn to walk away. Eve does her best to distract them.

EVE

Your Majesty, wait! Please!

All eyes are now on Eve.

AUTO

Yes, go on.

Eve clears her throat as she tries to think of something.

EVE

Ahem. Okay. (CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY) Hi. Hi. Uh… Hi, I’m Eve. Look, BRL-A and L-T make your AUTO and GO-4 cookies.

Eve pulls out of AUTO and GO-4 cookies in her pocket, GO-4 look at her baffled, and AUTO just rolls his objectively sparkly eyes.

AUTO

(GROANS) Fantastic. What can I do for you, Eve?

EVE

(CHUCKLING) Oh. Thank you for asking. (CLEARS THROAT) You said any information would be helpful. Uh-huh. But pragmatically speaking, what qualifies? Evidentiary? How about circumstantial? (SIGHS) First hand? Ooh, second hand?

RANDOM CITIZEN #1

What about hunches?

EVE

Oh. Sure. How about hunches?

AUTO

Yes, any. Any information about who or what caused the light would be helpful. So, yes, hunch. Hunch away.

RANDOM CITIZEN #2

You said it was amateur magic, but how come you don't know how they did it?

AUTO

What?

EVE

Perhaps you could define “amateur”?

GO-4

AUTO is perfectly aware of what kind of spell it was. He just needs your help tracking down whoever is responsible.

AUTO

This is about what you know. (INHALES) This is about your safety, and most importantly, the safety of your wishes.

HAN-S

Um, do you mean our wishes aren’t safe?

EVE

Of course they’re safe!

Eve chuckles nervously, now beginning to regret what she had started.

INT. AXIOM ROYAL CASTLE, THE STUDY - NOON

Wall-E manages to put out the last of the fire using a vase full of water. He scoops up everything that was burnt and hides it in the dumbwaiter.

STAR

(LAUGHS) Good as new.

WALL-E

Whew. Hope he didn’t need those.

STAR

Sorry about that.

WALL-E

We’ll talk about this later. (GASPS) Right, the wishes.

Wall-E, and Star run up to the obsidian wall that hides the real study.

STAR

I can feel the wishes just through here.

WALL-E

That’s actually a door, and AUTO waved his hand and it just…

Star waves his hand and the obsidian doors open.

STAR

See?

WALL-E

I really need to learn how to do that someday. But first, Mary’s wish.

The two of them run into the room and look up to where all the wishes are floating. Star flies up to them and delicately touches them one-by-one, watching as they show the desires of the townspeople.

STAR

All these wishes. The hopes and dreams of so many people left here to gather dust. It’s-it’s maddening to see them treated like this!

WALL-E

Star, are you alright?

STAR

(CALMING DOWN) I’m fine. Let’s just hurry and get these wishes out of here.

WALL-E

You mean get Mary’s wish out of here. Remember, we’re only after one.

STAR

I still say we may as well bust them all  out of here. You’ve already committed to asking for forgiveness instead of permission.

WALL-E

Star, I’m glad you are having fun, but you have to focus. Please, find Mary’s wish as fast as you can!

STAR

Alright. Now that I know what he looks like, it shouldn’t be too—Oh, dangit.

Star turns around and realizes there are far, far more wishes to sift through than he anticipated.

EXT. THE AXIOM, OUTSIDE ROYAL CASTLE - NOON

What was supposed to be a simple decree meant to persuade the people into helping him find the star turned into an impromptu Q&A session that AUTO and GO-4 did not appreciate.

RANDOM CITIZEN #3

How do we know our wishes are safe? We never see them.

RANDOM CITIZEN #4

Why can’t we see them? Why is that a rule?

RANDOM CITIZEN #5

And why can’t we remember them?

EVE

One question at a time.

RANDOM CITIZEN #6

Since we’re asking, what if we want to change our wish?

RANDOM CITIZEN #7

Good point, wishes can change.

EVE

Let’s form a line, everyone will get a turn.

RANDOM CITIZEN #8

You know what would comfort us? Another wish ceremony.

That suggestion sends a tidal wave across the audience. Nearly every citizen in Axiom is now practically begging AUTO to grant another wish ceremony. AUTO looks like he’s about to explode, but GO-4 places a gentle hand on his shoulder and whispers into his ear.

GO-4

(WHISPER) At ease, AUTO. Then I'll let you handle this.

AUTO raises one arm, silencing the entire crowd.

AUTO

Whoever identifies the traitor, your wish will be granted!

L-T

What?

The rest of the audience cheers while Reject Bots look concerned and dumbstruck. AUTO has just assured that everybody in the city will be looking for Wall-E.

AUTO

But hear this! Anyone who helps the traitor, anyone who lets me down, your wish will never be granted!

AUTO and GO-4 turn away and walk back into the castle.

EVE

(O.S.) Wait! Your majesty!

AUTO doesn’t even bother to stop or look at her.

AUTO

Enough!

INT. THE AXIOM ROYAL CASTLE, THE GREAT HALL - NOON

AUTO and GO-4 shut the great doors behind them and make their way up the stairs to the study.

AUTO

How brazenly they question me!

GO-4

The utter gall.

AUTO

Of all the ungrateful–! I let them live here rent-free, I keep the skies perfect, I grant their wishes! And it’s never enough for them! I swear if I didn’t need their wishes I’d-I’d-!

GO-4

Easy, AUTO. You just need to focus on the bigger picture.

GO-4 turns AUTO to one of the many wall length mirrors that surround the stairs.

GO-4

Now, what do you see?

AUTO

A handsome king?

GO-4

The handsomest king who is now one step closer to never needing another wish again.

AUTO

And one step closer to granting your wish. The entire world…

GO-4

…in the palm of our hands. And I found something in the book that would be just perfect to commemorate this occasion.

AUTO

Oh?

GO-4

And that cleaning robot is getting far too curious for his own good, and now, lights in the sky for tonight?!

AUTO

Well, GO-4, Wall-E did get his wits from you. Forget that pathetic light! For now, we finally have enough wishes!

AUTO AND GO-4 dance with each other up the stairs.

GO-4

♪Now much to our delight♪

♪Tonight may be the night♪

♪We truly rule this kingdom♪

♪With every wish our dreams we'll ignite♪

AUTO

♪Those foolish people have no clue♪ 

♪Their wishes never will come true♪

♪Mine already has cause I have you my beautiful♪

AUTO dips GO-4 and tries to kiss him but he stops him, wanting him to stay focused.

GO-4

The book, AUTO!

AUTO

Of course, GO-4.

GO-4

♪With every page we turn♪

♪Dark spells and magic we'll learn to fulfil our evil fantasies♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We will seal their fates together♪

♪With this ancient forbidden power♪

♪Reign supreme♪ 

♪Our royal regime♪  

♪They'll never expect it from their evil kings♪

Wall-E, and Star still looking for Mary’s wish only to hear someone come into the study, they heard AUTO and GO-4 opening the door.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪This is our message to the people♪

Reflections of them appear on the obsidian wall and join in on the song.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We'll take them down♪

AUTO

♪I wanna see them bow in humility♪

AUTO waves his hand and the glass case containing the book opens. The book flies from where it was resting to GO-4’s hands.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We'll make them bow♪

GO-4 opens the book to show a picture of a staff topped with several green mirrors.

GO-4

♪Their dreams will never see the light of day♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪The time is now♪

AUTO opens the door to his secret study and he and GO-4 step inside. Wall-E, and Star hide behind one of the work tables, peaking their heads just enough to see what they are doing.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We'll watch them as they squirm and plead♪

♪This is our message to♪

AUTO pulls the cauldron towards them and begins plucking wishes from above their heads. Specifically, the wishes of the people who questioned him earlier. He then begins crushing the wishes and placing them in the cauldron as GO-4 gathers ingredients from around the room.

AUTO

♪Everyone who has given up their wish♪

♪Crushed♪

♪Destroyed♪

♪Sent into a dark abyss♪

Wall-E, and Star get on their hands and knees to try to sneak to the dumbwaiter while they aren’t looking. Wall-E had to almost drag Star with them to keep him from attacking the pair over their treatment of the wishes.

GO-4

♪Now it's fuelling our wicked ambitions♪

♪To send the city into submission♪

GO-4 drops the majority of the ingredients he has in HIS hands into the cauldron, turning the blue concoction inside sickly green. He then dips a long piece of wood into the cauldron, turning it into the eruption like a volcano from the book. He hands the rings to AUTO who takes it gleefully, his eyes turning green as he does so.

GO-4

♪With these rings we make a vow♪

♪We'll use the powers they endow♪

GO-4 and AUTO uses to put their rings in their ring finger, creating a green map of the globe that stretches across the floor of both studies.

AUTO

♪To build an army that follows our command♪

Wall-E, and Star, who have made it to the dumbwaiter at this point, sees the map under their feet and are distracted long enough to notice the AUTO’s and GO-4’s shadows appear back in the room. They duck down and hide under the desk.

GO-4

♪Then take our forces overseas♪  

♪And rule the world for eternity♪

The parts of the map that represent land become blacked out as AUTO and GO-4 walk back into the other study, representing the expansion of their conquest. AUTO and GO-4’s feet appear in front of the trio as the two of them put the book back where it was. Star tries to lunge at them but Wall-E holds him back.

AUTO

♪We'll step on anyone who gets in our way♪

GO-4

♪No one will dare defy♪

AUTO

♪Death to those who don't comply♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪They'll worship and adore us like Gods!♪

AUTO conjures glowing green projections of several of the townsfolk, enough that they fill the room, all with their backs turned towards them.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪This is our message to the people♪

♪We'll take them down♪

AUTO

♪I wanna see them bow in humility♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We'll make them bow♪

GO-4

♪Their dreams will never see the light of day♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪The time is now♪

♪We'll watch them as they squirm and plead♪

♪This is our message to♪

The both of them split up and walk around the room. The two of them take this chance to open the dumbwaiter and crawl inside, leaving the door just open enough for them to observe AUTO and GO-4.

GO-4

♪In time, we’ll bless our subjects and show them who we are♪

AUTO

♪They may try to escape, but well, they can't go very far♪

AUTO and GO-4 walk all the way around to the other side of the room. There, it’s shown that there’s a projection of Wall-E facing all of the other projections AUTO created.

GO-4

♪They think we're here to help them♪

♪Oh, how sad!♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪Next time try wishing on a star!♪

They both place a hand on the Wall-E projection’s shoulders. It raises its arms and casts green strands of energy that wraps around the other projections’ wrists and legs, forcing them to kneel before AUTO and GO-4.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪This is our message to the people♪

♪We'll take them down♪

AUTO

♪I wanna see them bow in humility♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We'll make them bow♪

GO-4

♪Their dreams will never see the light of day♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪The time is now♪

♪We'll watch them as they squirm and plead♪

♪This is our message to♪

The two of them then hug passionately. Wall-E is too horrified by the sight before him to close the door and Star is too enraged, leaving it slide it shut with stardust.

[alloutofgoddesses]

PJO TV Thoughts

S1,E6

(There will be book mentions/spoilers)

Can’t lie to y’all im on my second week of this semester and already just so eepy

Okay the first line does tell you exactly what’s happening in this dream but I was so confused by it being Percy’s headmaster from Yancy

Anyway omg I swear you can see Luke in the reflection like it’s gonna be so obvious it’s not Clarisse on rewatches

WE GOT “Little Hero”

Cracker Barrel! What o would give to eat at a Restaurant rn

A SECOND SEAWEED BRAIN HAS HIT THE PERCABETH TOWERS

(I am aware others have made that joke)

Omg hi Luke

Good not being sus Luke

ARREST HER?!?! Percy wtf

Luke I’m positive you would know what Ares is like

OOP if Luke picks up on it IMMEDIATELY…

The episode is titled “A Zebra Takes Us To Vegas” AND WE INLY GET A SECOND OF A ZEBRA ON SCREEN?!?!

Anybody else see the Geia fashion billboard or just me

Way to be obvious about it

“I had a premonition that we fell into a rhythm/where the music don’t stop for life” I think that Levitating was chosen WITH INTENTION for these lyrics only

ODYSSEY MENTION

Graphic novels do count

ODYSSEUS MENTION

Oh besties… the lotus eaters have upgraded darlings

WISE GIRL WISE GIRL WEE WOO WEE WOO IT’S HAPPENING EVERYONE STAY CALM

The fact that they haven’t shown Grover eating garbage yet… cowards. COWARDS.

I do think that them knowing takes tension out of it but they think that it’s okay unless they eat something

CASTELLAN LORE ALREADY

A Saytr?? I’m saying that TV screen image is a sun so APOLLO MENTION

A gay satyr?!!! The subtext

Oh? I’m compelled certainly what kind of magic does the Lotus have to convince satyrs Pan is there

DREAM TALK

Like you can see extras wearing dated clothes but it’s just not the same

Also I’m waiting for others to find the di Angelos, I know I’m not gonna be able to find anything

(If they cut it out I will lose it)

Are the employees also under the spell? I would have to assume so

Uh oh Grover is forgetting

HE’S HERE

The way his face fell… I’m afraid LMM is eating as Hermes

BTW I saw someone say LMM was a bad choice as Hermes because canonically Hermes has the most children and they don’t think LMM is sexy enough for that… girlie do you not remember what happened when Hamilton came out be SO FOR REAL

At first I thought I wouldn’t be able to seperate actor from character but he’s doing such a good job that’s Hermes I’m sorry (no I’m not)

ORPHEUS MENTION (I’ve helped others [get into the Underworld] before)

Are the fields Italy? Once again folks I’m not gonna be able to find it so I’m reaching out to

Someone looks back I’m guessing

Oh babey the lore the tension

HEY WHAT WAS THAT

My guess is something to do with Gabe or as one brilliant Twitter user said, Percy’s first time at boarding school

YEAH ANNABETH MOVE BABY YOU DON’T DESERVE THAT

(Also how the fuck can Hermes do that)

Sure buddy see you next season

“This was all just a waste of time. We don’t have time to waste.” Oh Annabeth I’m so sorry for what you’re about to learn

I love all the helmets and stuff really lets you know what’s going on

Oh noooooo oh boy oh buddy oh wow that hurt

Sorry he’s making Hermes feel so empathetic which is exactly how he is in the books. He’s good!

OOP

Were those the di Angelos? They were brunette and small (still reaching)

Oh so that’s why they mentioned days earlier I see

HIS KEYS?

Are George and Martha on there are they wondering what’s happening

CENTRAL AIR BABEY

Oh no Percy’s forgetting too

Just rip him out and leave besties

Oh geez they’re never leaving at this rate

Damn there’s that fatal flaw again Percy

RIP Grover playing a human hunter game I will never forget you

Annabeth it was good it really was but you’re right. He is the god of thieves.

Oh boy now we know why they let him drive though

Me when I first started learning how to drive standard

Just in case you forgot Percy is a New Yorker

Oh NO bestie got distracted looking at the princess (his words not mine though I agree) next to him

NO DON’T TURN OFF THE LIGHT I WON’T BE ABLE TO SEE ANYTHING

What did I just say. What is happening on screen

Oh boyyyyyy

He’s just three apples tall

Oh it’s so much worse underwater

SEAWEED HAIR

Wait… were AFTER the summer solstice? WHY

Exactly Percy you gotta finish it

YEEAHHHHHHH

Four?!?! What about ‘you will fail to save what matters most in the end?’ He better lose one I stg

Next ep trailer

Okay so who’s eye is in the credits what do we think

Crusty’s!

Desert and terrible forest?

Okay yeah he definitely loses one or uses one to trick someone or something he said said “you guys leave with my mom”

Oh wait what if he uses it on Crusty… Disney let Percy actually be violent

SWORD FIGHT NEXT EP? At least the beginning

HOLD FAST MOM OHHHHHHHHH OUCH

BONUS: Hermes in cat form

[watermelonlipstick]

Confinement

I can hardly write some subby Dean without matching with some dommy Sam. Thanks in advance for reading!

Title: Confinement

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2403

Summary: Trapped together after the reader is hit by a spell, Sam is distracted trying to get them out.

Warnings: smut, swearing, dommy Sam, mild consent issue (gets resolved but if that’s a big issue for you, totally understand!)

           “Fuck, Sam—” you said, almost a whisper and definitely in desperation. “I’m—please, you have to, please.”

           “Stop moving like that.” He strained to hold still against you to no avail, the rippling tension of his muscles against you making it way worse.

           “Please.” You writhed harder. It made the restraints tighter, digging into your wrists enough they’d be sure to draw blood soon if they hadn’t already, but no part of you could be bothered to care. Whatever whammy that witch had put on you was unlike anything you’d ever felt before; you wanted Sam so badly it felt like it was threatening to eat you from within, to shred you alive and let Sam make a quilt out of the leftover scraps. And yet, hands tied together, yours to Sam’s behind your back in some bastardized hug, in what felt like a small closet somewhere in this gigantic fucking house—complex, really—that the hunt had brought you to, you couldn’t do the one thing you wanted, needed.

           Sam was a bigger pro than you if he was fighting through this. Or maybe he’d moved at the last second somehow, gotten out of whatever spell-stream had soaked you in these sick pheromones. Still must’ve gotten knocked out though, to be tied up with you—your mind had zero interest in solving that puzzle at the moment.

           It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Sam, the solid wall of him and the give you knew your body would have against his if you could just—

           “Pl—you can’t keep—” Sam muttered hot into your ear. And yet, he didn’t pull back from your hips grinding into his, instead giving you some resistance to rock against. You could feel the expert tugging of his fingers against the restraints where his were linked to yours. How the fuck could he focus?

           He reached down behind your back further, yanking your wrists down a bit, pitching your weights a little differently and then he was way too close, too close to avoid; your tongue flicked out, dragging a long stripe along the perfect salt of his neck. The sound he let out was halfway between a groan and a whimper, too beautiful not to hear again, and you bit along his throat. “Fuck me, Sam, God, you have to, please,” you murmured into his skin.

           You felt the tendons tense under your teeth and lips. “This isn’t—real, you don’t actually—”

           “Jesus, yes I do, you have to.”

           “No you—don’t, it’s a spell—just gotta—” he strained, finally tugging the last string loose and freeing all four hands in the tiny room, just in time for you to snake your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, clutching at Sam like you needed him to breathe.

           “Sam, I need you, I fucking need you—”

           Two huge hands wrapped around each of your shoulders and Sam pushed you back, trying to create some space where there was none to be had. “You don’t need me, you need to pull it together. I don’t have anything for this lock, do you have anything in your pockets—”

           “Who cares about my fucking pockets, I want you inside me—”

           Sam’s jaw clenched and he rocked his forehead against yours, straining against some unseeable tethers. “Fight this, please, you’ve gotta fight this, okay? We’ve gotta pick the lock,” he choked out, tight and metered against his tightened teeth. When you couldn’t stop the path of suction you were trailing down his jaw, his lips tightened into a firm line before he wrapped his arms around you and shoved his hands into your back pockets, the touch thrilling you no less knowing that it was a determined search. He moved to your front pockets and grunted out a hard, “FUCK,”when he found nothing.

           He noticeably relaxed when Dean banged on the door behind your head. “Sam? SAMMY?”

           “Dean, in here!” Sam shouted through the wood.

           “Jesus fuck.” The muffled relief in Dean’s voice would’ve been obvious through a jet engine. “Back off the door, I’m going to shoot the lock out.”

           “NO! No, Dean, there’s no room, you’ve gotta pick it.” He grabbed both your wrists as they ran over his chest, pressing forward to hold you against a wall, try to limit your movements.

           “Kick it?”

           “THE LOCK. You have to get the lock, we’re up against the walls already here, man.” Sam closed his eyes and didn’t move from where he had you pinned when you slid up against him, feeling the length of him crystallize to iron. Your mouth started to water.

           “Right, okay. Hey, at least you can’t, I don’t know, rob anyone or whatever, right?” Dean joked from the outside of the door, jiggling the handle.

           Sam bit his lip against a moan when your lips found an earlobe. “What?” he squeaked, trying his best to sound normal.

           “Spell lowers your inhibitions. Hell, dunno why these psychos are writing spells for that, just grab a bottle of Jack.” He fiddled with the door for another moment. “Can you guys breathe in there? I gotta grab a screwdriver from the car.”

           He had to clear his throat but Sam was able to answer with a weak, “Yeah, we’re good,” before Dean said something about fifteen minutes that you couldn’t catch with Sam’s palm covering your mouth.

           “You want this? Just lowered inhibitions, not some kind of hypnosis?” he nearly growled, painfully serious with his eyes mere inches from yours. It felt like you might faint from redirected blood for a moment before you remembered to nod. Sam’s nostrils flared and you saw the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “And you’re sure?”

           You only had time to nod once more before Sam’s hand fell from your mouth and hitched under your thigh. His lips caught yours, meeting the tongue you’d been circling around his ear with his own and fitting together like a lock, the press of his body against yours even harder as his other hand protected your skull from the cement wall. Moaning into him, your hands scrambled up his chest, wanting anything, everything, all of him. Lifting up into the air with Sam’s hips and grip underneath you, you felt like you were burning alive. His hands moved to support you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, rubbed yourself into his cock, two layers of denim between you be damned. His strength gave you a chance to unbutton your jeans while Sam sucked down your jaw onto your neck.

           “Thank you, God, Sam,” you whimpered.

           For a brief moment only the pressure between you suspended you in the air as Sam flicked open his belt and jeans lightning-fast. “Ssh, he’s going to be back any minute.”

           “I need it, Sam, need you.”

           “Fuck, you’ve gotta stop saying that,” he grunted, yanking your jeans down hard until even the opened waistband cut into your thighs. The fat tip of his cock nudged against you and you poured over him, enough that Sam bit down on the juncture of your neck and collarbone hard enough to mark. You ground desperately together for maybe 3 seconds before realizing the angle wasn’t enough for the hunger, Sam lowering you roughly to the ground and spinning you in one fell motion, your chest and cheek pressed against the wall as he shucked the jeans down a few more inches and draped forward over your back. His cock slid between your legs and nudged at your clit before he pulled back and slipped his fingers where it had been. “You wanted to before this, right? I’m not going—I can’t do this halfway” he said, even as he kissed down your neck again, even as you felt the tip of his cock drip onto your ass, even as you knew this was far more than halfway.

           Didn’t matter to you, because you couldn’t keep yourself from pushing back into him, trying as much as you could to guide him with just your hips. “Yes, yes, always—always, please—” you were able to get out before your body cut you off, the words muddled and ground together into an irreplicable sound as Sam lined up and leaned inside you. The first smooth thrust all the way to the hilt made you gasp loudly, and his hand clamped over your mouth in an effort to keep you quiet.

           Nipping at the soft skin of your neck, Sam began murmuring, almost growling impossibly softly, his voice more simple heat than anything else. “Know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you—every—day—?” he asked, punctuating with deep pulses into you that made you see stars. “Spell is nothing, always have to fight how fucking bad I want you.”

           A quiet whine started seeping out around his fingers where he held your face, and Sam’s other hand slipped from your hip to your clit, the tightness of the closet holding you in place for him.  You started to feel disconnected from your body, fuzzy and electric and too hot in this tiny room, Sam permeating every particle of you and you still needed more. Your legs betrayed you, beginning to quiver as your nerves tightened to a hard coil. “I want to feel you cum on my cock,” he growled, right into your ear. “Now.”

           It was all you could do not to cry out, the sound stifled enough by Sam’s palm and your legs unable to buckle to let you fall.

           “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that.”

           The movement behind you began to slow down, Sam’s breathing beginning to come back to normal a fraction. “Don’t stop,” you breathed with lungs that felt like they’d been made of cotton candy. “Want you to cum inside me—”

           For the third time Sam clamped over your mouth. “Fuck—you can’t say that,” he groaned desperately as his pace picked up again, truly pounding you into the wall. He made a wholly masculine and intoxicating sound you would barely be able to handle in the best of circumstances and were completely unable to here with Sam drilling into you, enveloping you, breathing his delicious breath on your neck, and you came again about ten seconds before he did, trying as best as he could to keep up his rhythm to drive you through it before his teeth found your neck, bite-sucking as you felt his muscles tighten against yours.

           He rested his forehead on your shoulder, panting breaths of the two of you together mixing in the tight air as they slowed. Leaning back to re-buckle his belt, you turned as smoothly as you could against him, catching his lips for a kiss before you reached down to shimmy your jeans back up, knowing he would seep through them and not caring at all. Sam’s warm hand wrapped around your wrist before you could button them. Outside, you heard footsteps and Dean’s rendition of the guitar solo of “Whole Lotta Love” getting louder as he approached the door.

           “Gimme a minute, this is beyond rusted,” he said through the wood. The metal in the lock started scraping together, the humming only faintly audible.

           Sam’s eyes seemed lit from within as they locked on yours. “One more,” he whispered, so quiet there was no way it would make it outside the closet. His hand slid down your abdomen, dipping under the panties you’d gotten almost up for long, expert fingers to crawl inside you. Only time for an intake of breath as Sam dragged them out, running over your clit before bringing his hand to your lips. Your squeak bought a dimpled smirk from Sam and you ran your tongue over his fingers before taking them deep into your mouth and sucking them clean. He nodded, small enough that it might’ve been subconscious, before taking his hand back and returning it to its rightful spot, covering your mouth with the other and leaning forward, crowding you into the wall. You could feel the ripple of the muscles in his forearm against your stomach, the flat of his palm on your clit while those perfect fingers curved up, Sam showing his grip strength was useful for more than hunter utilitarianism. Wrapping your hands around fistfuls of his shirt to keep from collapsing on jello-weak legs as he coaxed another orgasm out of you, the anxiety inducing potential of the lock cracking open and the all-consuming presence of Sam crowding out the rest of your senses as you melted into him.

           He smiled against your forehead. “Knew you could,” he murmured, buttoning your jeans for you about three seconds before his brother finally cracked open the door.  

           “Hot in there, huh?” Dean half-asked, suspiciously taking in the glisten of sweat on your chest, the way Sam’s hair was dripping at the nape of his neck.

           Sam swallowed. “Fucking sauna. You get all of them?”

           Dean’s eyes narrowed before he seemed to either lose interest or file away his questions for later, putting the lockpicks in his pocket and brushing his hands off brusquely on his jeans. “Pretty sure, but I think we might want to torch the house just to be safe.”

           “Fine by me. Let’s go then,” he added, not-so-discreetly trying to get out from Dean’s gaze. You cleared your throat before following him out of the closet, pointedly avoiding Dean’s scrutiny as you passed by him by looking straight ahead. Biting a lip to keep a giddy endorphin-fueled smile off your face as Dean walked behind you didn’t help, tasting the remnants of Sam on your skin. In front of you, his shoulders were broad and swaggering, almost loose even with the awkwardness of his brother nearly catching the two of you. Sweat soaked through his shirt, the fabric sticking to him obscenely enough that you were glad for the cover of the adrenaline of being trapped as an excuse to be so keyed up and trembling.

           The three of you walked like that, three ducks in a row, until the Impala. Dean continuing around to the trunk to get the brothers’ homemade arson kit, Sam stopped beside you and tilted his head just far enough down for the heat of his breath to send chills down your spine.

           “Wait until you see what I can do with some room.”

-

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[earlgreydream]

another minute.

| James potter x reader | fluff | smut |

subby james, because I can’t get enough

Your book rested against one bent knee, propped up so you could view the white pages. The story sucked you in, consuming hours of your time, making you forget you were lounged on James’ bed, instead of lost in a mythical world. Worlds of ethereal angels sucked you into a far-away reality, creating visions in your mind that distracted you from the looming anxiety of O.W.L.S. and James’ stress.

You were broken out of your trance when the door opened, the exhausted boy returning from quidditch practice. You frowned when you noticed how defeated his expression was, exhaustion making him weary. Your boyfriend rarely looked sullen, and the sight made you sad.

“James, how was it, love?” you dared to ask.

“It was a total shitshow.”

His voice had a distinct whine to it, alerting you of his disappointment and neediness. You sighed, reaching out your hand, squeezing his, deciding to let his profanity slide instead of scolding him. 

“Go shower, James, and I’ll help make it up to you,” you instructed softly, knowing what James wanted from you.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered softly, disappearing into the bathroom.

You listened to the water run, setting your novel aside. You stripped down while you waited for him, residing yourself to lie naked on the bed. 

.

James was beyond frustrated with how the practice had gone. Tournaments were coming up, and Gryffindor was nowhere near prepared to beat Slytherin in the championship. He’d spent the entire semester coaching the team, but they weren’t as good as the cunning house, and the frustration was wearing on James.

He was tired of being in control, being responsible and ordering around the other students. It exhausted him, and all he wanted was to melt into a submissive headspace around you, and let you take care of him. You loved to do it, you adored your sweet, mostly well-behaved, subby boyfriend. 

James let the hot water and soap wash away the dirt, rain, and sweat, leaving him clean for you. He spent a little too long in the shower, enjoying the water until it ran cold. He appreciated your patience, thankful he wasn’t being rushed. 

When he walked out of the bathroom, he immediately started to harden at the sight of your nude form stretched out on crimson sheets. You looked divine, and he stood and stared at you for a moment, taking in the sight.

.

You smiled, running your fingers up his warm torso as he walked over to you. The towel fell from his waist, and he knelt over you on the bed.

“What do you need, my love?” You brushed black hair from his face, and he leaned into your touch. You gently tilted his face up, thick, dark lashes parting to reveal emerald green eyes.

“Need you,” he whined, sinking down to lay between your legs.

“You can have whatever you want,” you promised, willing to give the gorgeous boy anything.

A muscular arm hooked under your waist, and his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sending a shudder through you. You allowed yourself to relax, dripping onto the sheets as his tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, sucking on it while his fingers toyed with the other.

James encouraged a sigh from you, gazing up with gentle green eyes. Your fingers combed through his hair, feeling the soft locks under your touch.

He rutted onto the bed innocently, and you wondered why he didn’t fuck you, only focusing on your chest. You were beginning to ache with need, and if he wasn’t going to fill you, you wanted to be eaten out.

“Jamesie, love, why don’t you touch my pussy?” You asked, your voice coming out in a slightly higher pitch.

“Wanna play with your tits,” James whined, smearing his lips over your skin as he spoke.

“I know, baby, but I need to be touched properly. Please, can you be sweet for me?” You pleaded, starting to regret your promise to let him do whatever he wanted.

Above all, James wanted to please you, and be your sweet boy. A small sigh escaped his lips, and he pried himself from your chest.

“Okay,” he relented, pecking your lips before sitting back on his heels.

He let himself admire you for a moment, your skin flushed from teasing, and the puffy red area between your legs glistening. He bit back a smile, amused by how aroused you got from having your tits played with, even though you complained.

“Will you ride me?”

You almost missed the question. James’ voice was so low and soft, it barely registered. You didn’t understand how he could possibly be shy, asking, but he still somehow surprised you.

You sat up and James grinned, falling onto his back on the red sheets, his waves fanning around his head in a dark halo. He was ethereal, with his warm, tanned skin, and bright eyes.

You moved to straddle his lap, kneeling over your boyfriend. James’ hands came to your hips, helping to guide your movements and take some of the pressure.

Your hand reached below you, gently wrapping around him. You jerked him off a couple times, preparing to ride him. James watched you silently as you sank down, his cock disappearing inside of you. Your eyes squeezed shut and one hand reached out to grab the headboard for balance.

“James, fuck!” You moaned as your hips met his, entirely filled with him.

Your head dropped forward, both hands gripping the oak headboard. James leaned up slightly, pulling your nipple into his mouth while you were bent over him. A cry left your lips from the stimulation, and you rolled your hips, beginning to build a rhythm of fucking yourself on James.

He was heavy and thick, enough to make you feel as though you were being split open every time your hips came down on his. The burn was delicious, spreading heat through your abdomen and slowly building pressure.

James loved the way you felt around him. You were so tight and warm, enveloping him and shocking him by how deep you could take it. He loved the way your tiny veins strained as you gripped the headboard, your face scrunched up in pleasure.

He snapped his hips up into yours, forcing himself against your cervix. A scream tumbled from your lips, your clit grinding against his pubic bone. The stimulation sent you over the edge, orgasming violently.

Your hands came down to his chest as you struggled to hold yourself up, hot fire burning through your veins as you pulsed around him. James pulled you down fully, spilling into you as he came. You squealed at the sensation, gripping his shoulders as the thick, white liquid leaked out of you.

“Oh my god, James,” you breathed, throwing your head back as he throbbed inside of you, continuing to paint your cunt with white ribbons.

He was loud. Moans fell from James’ gorgeous, full lips as he fucked up into you, drawing out both of your orgasms until you were so weak you nearly collapsed on him.

He caught you, arms snaking around your waist to hold you against his chest. James rested his chin on top of your head, letting you bury your face in his neck. Fingertips skimmed up and down your back, tracing delicate shapes on your skin.

You relaxed, not caring about the mess, settling down with him still sheathed inside of you. He hummed softly, soothing you with a familiar melody.

You pressed tiny kisses to his throat, making the boy smile.

“You trying to rile me, honey?” James teased, nudging your head.

“No, just loving on you.”

His heart softened, and he kissed the top of your head, tightening his arm around you.

“We gotta clean up soon.”

“I know, but let me have another minute.”

James obliged your wishes, never objecting to being warmed by you. When you began to squirm, he decided it was time to clean up, his hands going under your legs.

An apology was whispered as he eased out of you, earning a pathetic whimper. You felt raw and sleepy, and you detested the feeling of James pulling out and leaving you empty. He tilted your chin up, delivering a kiss to your lips, trying to distract you.

He waved his wand, cleaning you both— and the sheets. Your arms draped over his back as you were carried to a shower, hot water pouring over the two of you.

James carefully set you down, making sure you were steady on your feet. You gently pushed his shoulder, smiling as James knelt in front of you.

His forehead rested against your thigh as you massaged shampoo through his hair. He didn’t mind showering a second time, cherishing the intimacy with you. All the tension he held dissipated, relaxing as you showered together.

He washed your body gently, minding the tender areas. You giggled as he murmured a spell, making the bubbles change colors.

.

“Thank you,” James said, snuggled beside you in bed.

“For what?” You looked up, meeting a gentle emerald gaze.

“For helping me cheer up,” he answered, brushing his fingers over your cheek. Your face broke into a smile, leaning back into his chest.

You pulled your knees up, curling tighter into a ball against him.

“I’m happy to. I’m sorry that your day was hard, though.”

“You more than made up for it. I’m so lucky to be yours,” he kissed your cheek, earning a grin. You reached up, tangling your fingers into his hair.

“I’m the lucky one.”

He laughed and pulled you onto his lap, squeezing you and littering kisses all over your face.

[devildomdisaster]

I’d like to request a body switching scenario with [Satan, Asmo, Beelz, Solomon, Simeon] and an Gender Neutral MC with undisclosed chronic health issues. Like brittle bones that break if you step a little goofy, stress ulcers, sensitivity to light, joint pain, poor stamina, etc. I just want to see the boys go “You live like this?!”

Satan:

Satan has a habit of collecting rare magical objects. Somehow quite a few of these cause body-switching incidents.

The cursed object causes the two of you to lose consciousness for a few minutes. When he wakes up he is in immediate pain.

His first thought is that the spell must have caused this and you must be in pain too! If he, a demon, is in this much pain it must be excruciating for a human.

He rushes to you or tries to. But falls to his knees in shock as a shooting pain runs through him.

He blinks watering eyes and sees his body stirring on the floor and realizes you’ve switched bodies.

You sit up feeling better than you’ve felt in years. Wondering if this is ‘normal’ or if that cursed object gave you super healing.

It’s only when you hear your own voice calling your name that you realize you and Satan have switched bodies.

You can see the tears in his(your body's) eyes and know exactly what's happening. You’ve had chronic pain for years. And Satan is sitting in just the right way to send shooting pain up your spine.

“Lay down on your back,” you order him. He has just enough control to follow your order and lower your body down slowly.

You can see Satan’s relief on your face as the pain eases slightly. It takes a moment for the worst of the pain to subside and his breath to even out.

He’s staring at the ceiling when he speaks, voice still a little shaky, “You live like this?”

You hum out a yes.

“All- all the time?” he asks, horrified.

“Sometimes it's worse than others. If I move or sit in certain ways it gets real bad. But if I avoid those movements it’s bearable.”

Satan turns to you “This is what you call bearable?!”

You shrug, “That position is usually pretty safe. So yeah probably.”

He is careful to move your body a little as possible as he shifts to point at a spellbook. “That book-”

“Are you going to change us back?” you ask.

“I-” he hesitates. Clearly not wanting you to be in pain again.

“Look, Satan it’s not that I don’t enjoy being pain-free. But I’ve dealt with it for years now. I’ve learned how to function around it. I had to. You on the other hand are going to be laying on the floor for most of the day if you stay in my body.”

“I’m going to find a way to fix you.” He says firmly as you place the book in his hands.

“Promises, promise,” you sing, preparing yourself to experience the pain in your body again.

“I mean it. As soon as I can move again I am going to find a way to help you. Devildom magic has to be better than human medicine.”

Asmo:

Asmo bought you matching bracelets. “Look Mc, I bought us these bracelets! They are supposed to bring us closer together!”

Well, they did bring you closer together. Just not in the way Asmo intended.

When he clasped the bracelets on, you felt a shiver go down your spine and when you opened your eyes you felt...different. Better. There was no aching pain. For once the dazzling lights of Asmo’s room didn’t cause you to wince. That's when you realize you’ve switched bodies.

Asmo on the other hand immediately cringed and squeezed his eyes closed, clutching his(your) head.

Asmo groaned pitifully, teary eyes squinting at you “Mc, how do you do anything like this??”

He curls up beneath his covers, and you make your way around his room turning off all the lights and closing his curtains. Once the light is gone, Asmo peers out from beneath the covers, “Do you live like this all the time?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“No wonder your room is so dark. I thought you were just being dramatic.”

You shrug at him, “The Devildom is better than the human realm. There’s no bright sunlight here.”

Once the spell wears off, Asmo keeps the bracelet on both as a reminder of how you live with this chronic illness and as the intended purpose of showing how close the two of you are.

He buys you super dark glasses to try and filter out some of the bright light that bothers you.

and asks Solomon to help him find any magical treatments that might help you.

Beel:

Beel and you switch bodies after eating some of Solomon’s cooking.

Neither of you wants to eat Solomon’s cooking, but you had the misfortune to be the only two people who couldn’t find an excuse to get out of it.

Beel doesn’t know how it happened, Solomon doesn’t know how it happened, you sure as hell don’t know how this happened. But here you are with a strange magic ‘cake’ in hand, looking at your body from Beel’s eyes.

Your first thought is how strong you feel in Beel’s body. Like you could do anything. The exhaustion and joint pain you normally deal with is gone.

Is this how normal people live? Although you suppose a demon doesn’t count as a normal human, so it’s not such a good comparison.

You watch as Beel catches himself on the counter as he adjusts to the symptoms of your illness.

He lowers your body to the ground. Sitting gingerly as the movement causes the joint pain to flare.

“Mc, is this how you feel every day?” He is so so concerned about you! How do you function if you feel like this all the time? “Why haven’t you told anyone about this?”

“It’s ok, Beel. I’ve figured out how to deal with it.”

“It is not ok. Mc, we could have helped you!”

It’s strange to be lectured by your own voice and body. But Beel does a good job of it. He insists that you have to tell him when your symptoms act up and convinces you to let him speak with Lucifer about trying some magical treatments.

The potion doesn’t wear off for several hours. You feel a tad bit guilty about enjoying this when Beel is so obviously suffering, but you can’t remember the last time you felt so good. So capable.

Once the spell wears off Beel insists on carrying you around so you aren't as fatigued and to avoid aggravating your joint pain.

Be prepared for trying a string of different potions and spells to treat your illness, under the watchful eyes of Beel and Lucifer.

Solomon:

After hearing about Lucifer and Satan’s body-switching incident Solomon went looking for another cursed book.

He’d heard some rumor about Satan’s book having a twin and was determined to find it.

And find it he did.

You accidentally touched the book at the same time as him and switched bodies.

Solomon is more intrigued than anything else. “Do you live like this all the time? If so, you do a remarkable job of hiding it.”

He is going to test the limits of your body’s capabilities. He wants to know what situations cause pain or discomfort so that you can’t pretend to be ok when you aren’t.

You’ll have to warn him if he is doing anything that might permanently harm your body.

Unlike some of the others, Solomon doesn’t immediately look for a way to switch back.

When the spell wears off Solomon has a near-complete understanding of your condition. He knows what causes pain, what doesn’t, and what situations you should absolutely avoid.

“Mc, you need to stop pretending you are ok when you’re not. I’ll be here to help you when you need it. And if that help happens to be stopping you from doing foolish things to save face then so be it.”

Solomon keeps a close eye on you from now on. He respects you enough to not tell anyone about your condition if you don’t want him to, but he will also come up with the strangest excuses to remove you from activities he knows will aggravate your condition.

If there is magic that can be used to help you Solomon will find it. Just be prepared to feel a little bit like a lab rat while he figures out the perfect spell or potion to help you.

Simeon:

Simeon wants to know what it feels like to be human. He thinks it would give him a greater understanding of humanity.

He mentions this to Solomon, who being the chaos loving wizard he is, makes a potion to allow Simeon to switch bodies with you.

The problem occurs when Solomon 'forgets’ to tell you both that he’s already put the potion in your tea.

Simeon is shocked. He finds himself in your body. Looking at himself through your eyes. And by god does your body hurt!

“Mc, I’m dreadfully sorry, but I think Solomon’s little joke may have gone wrong. I-everything hurts.”

You blink at Simeon...er Simeon in your body. Mind taking a moment to catch up with the sudden body switch. You feel great. Part of that might be due to being in an angel's body, but mostly it's due to the lack of pain.

“Oh, everything's fine on my end. So it must be my chronic pain. It’s worse today than others.”

“Wh-what do you do when it’s bad?”

“Usually I try to distract myself. Or try to take a nap and hope I wake up feeling better. But we’d made plans and I didn’t want to cancel so…”

“So you decided to deal with extra pain for my sake? Oh, Mc. You should have told me you live like this. I can help”

“There’s no point, Simeon. Not a single doctor I’ve been to has found anything wrong with me. I didn’t want anyone here to pity me.”

“I am an angel, Mc. I’m quite sure I can do a bit more than your human doctors.”

You help Simeon to his room where you spend the afternoon watching human world movies to help distract him.

Simeon sleeps fitfully next to you and as you drift off you wonder if that is how you always look when you let your guard down enough to show your pain.

When the potion wears off you are both asleep, curled up next to each other.

When you wake up you are back in your own body. Simeon is sitting next to you slipping a charmed bracelet onto your wrist. “This is from the Celestial realm. It should help keep your pain at a more manageable level until I can find a more permanent solution.”

[bloodycassian]

Reader x Cassian - Hellish Prompt: Reader is an assassin/spy that was caught and azriel has spent months torturing her for information and can’t get anything out of her and cassian eventually goes to see who this assassin/spy is and the mating bond snaps and cassian beats the $hitt out of az bc of the mating bond instincts and rhys has to intervene and break up the fight (i was thinking this could switch between azriel’s POV at the start and then switch to cassian's POV)

AN- this was SO fun to make. Please more requests like this!! I love the idea of unexpected mates!

TW -blood/ blades.  

Drip, drip, drip. Copper smell filled the small room. Blood leaked down the drain in the floor. You wheezed a laugh bitterly and spat on the ground at his feet. Azriel's rage simmered calmly under his dark shadows. They coiled, ready to strike. Wanting to strike. The sound of your feeble laughs was practically the only sound Azriel had gotten from you for the first week of torture.  The second week was worse, even for him. Truth teller revealed nothing when he gouged into your skin from the bottom up. Truthfully, he was impressed beyond measure. But that didnt mean that he could stop the job at hand. He had to know, and wished he didnt have to do this kind of thing to get the information from you. "Listen..." He sighed, cleaning his blade. He was always nervous whenever he had a back turned to an enemy, no matter how well they were restrained. But he trusted his shadows enough to tell him if something was wrong.  "If you just.. Cooperate and tell me where the Queens are, we can let you go. No trouble, just releasing you back to Rask." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was nearing an exhaustion point. Torture every day for two weeks had its toll not only on the victim, but the dealer as well. His shadows seemed to be growing restless too, waiting for a chance to strike.  He watched your reaction from the corner of his eye. Noted the way your head hanging loosely seemed to gain a bit more strength before you spoke. "Losing your touch, Spymaster?" You revealed a row of bloody teeth to him, and grunted when the chains at your wrists stung the magic that weakly attempted to help you.  Azriel could have sighed. He could have laughed and bled you dry. Have a healer come and patch you up enough to keep you alive. The idea was tempting, but he didn't like having anyone besides his brothers see him in this mode of darkness. He could have brought Rhys down to attempt to break into your mind again. After the first attempt and Rhys' reaction to being blocked, he wasn't eager for that again. So he sighed, and brought out the potions laced with Faebane.  + He was convinced you weren't a normal Fae. After months of his best torture methods he was a wreck. "She just-" He tried to hide his frustration, but his brothers knew him best. Cassian smirked by the fire, warming his wings. Rhys seemed a bit more concerned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Azriel had never been one to spend a long time on torture. Rhys saw the frustration flowing from him after every session with the stubborn Fae in the dungeon cell.  "I dont know what to do anymore. She's the only one to have never broken." He ran a hand though his hair. His shadows seemed weak, exhausted like him.  Rhys considered for a moment, looking between his two brothers. Cassian seemed to be enjoying Azriel's frustration. Maybe a bit too much. Rhys sipped his wine then, with a look of innocence, "Maybe we will have Cassian end it. Perhaps seeing the Lord of Death in front of her will knock something loose."  Cassian's stare whipped to him, a silent plea on his face. "We should leave it to our expert Rhys-" Azriel laughed, cold and bitter. "The expert hasn't got a damn thing out of her. We either kill her or send her back to Rask with all the information she's collected about us. With nothing in return." Shame lined his features. The sense of failure to his high lord was a heavy weight to bear. "Cas...I expect you down there tomorrow afternoon. It will be her last chance." Rhys' no nonsense tone shut down Cassian's retort. His jaw locked with distaste. He hated the cramped cells below the house of wind. Hated the way going underground made his wings feel like they needed to stretch. The worst was when that stale air was laced with the rotting smell of dead mice or old blood. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it.  "Come on Cas, dont you want to see the only one that's outlasted me?" Az asked with a mock grin. He couldn't give the same smile back. Turmoil spilled inside him at the thought of going so far below the mountain.  + Cassian took a long time to go to bed that night. His restlessness about the next day made him wake up over and over, never having more than an hour of peace before being waken up.  Azriel held up a mug of tea to him the next morning. "You look like shit." He handed his brother the mug with a small smile. Cassian glared at him, but took it anyway. He went to the balcony, his heavy wings needing to feel the fresh air. It was like taking a bath after being covered in grime. He sighed in relief, letting the late morning sun graze his body. The cold wind from Illyria was beginning to come in for the winter, and the familiar smell ignited something in him. He felt a draw, but shoved it to the back of his mind. He knew what he had to be this day. "Why the hell do we have to keep them so far down again?" Cassian complained. Around and around and around. Down deeper and deeper into the pit of the mountain that the house above was carved out of. Cassian felt like his lungs were collapsing the further they went. He tried not to let his nerves show, but he knew Az's shadows would pick up on it anyway.  "Remember when you broke your arm chasing down that Attor?" Azriel could have laughed at that memory, but the story surrounding it made the experience soured. More shame on top of the guilt already there.  Cassian hummed in approval, welcoming the distraction the memory brought. He tried not to focus on how each turn of the staircase got darker and darker. How the air seemed to compress around him. He locked his eyes on the scar on one of Az's wings. "And we spent a week fixing the top story of that apothecary?" He asked, keeping his voice steady.  "Yes. Dont you remember how the Attor got out?" Cassian shook his head, and Azriel huffed a laugh. "I left the door open for just a second to get a new knife and..." He shook his head, part in anger and regret, part in shame. "It had escaped before I turned around. I dont know how it happened, to this day."  Cassian stared at the back of the shadowmaster's head. The dark ripples around him seemed to spike. "It happens Az, you can't be perfect."  "It's not perfection, its basic thought. After that we moved all enemies to the lower dungeons. No matter the threat. Rhys even put wards on the arches." He ran a hand over the walls, his fingers catching a few of the grooves that linked each spelled archway to the other.  Cassian left the conversation at that. At least his brother wasn't brooding as much as before. The dim lights began to come into view, and his heart began hammering. Adrenaline singing through his veins. His polished siphons glowed, reflecting red off the dark stone ceiling. He had polished all his black armor the night before, when he couldn't sleep. Something poked, prodded at him all night. Keeping him awake. He figured he may as well make use out of it.  "She's not going to talk to you unless you show..weakness first." Azriel said in a low voice. Cassian nodded, reaching the end of the stairwell with him.  Cassian couldn't see the dark figure in the cell, but he felt the presence nonetheless. The dark draw that you demanded. He wondered how Azriel had dealt with that pull this whole time. The tantalizing draw to you. He shook his head, pushed the hair out of his face and nodded to Azriel.  He opened the door, then began his ritual. At the start of every session he would toss a bucket of water over your body, then a bucket of salt. It made the wounds that handn't healed fully scream in pain. You jolted at the suddenness of it this time. "Good morning, shadowsinger." You ground out, voice rough with strain. Cassian watched in awe at his brother.  Cassian was never one for torture. There was a reason Azriel was appointed to this position. Watching the calm cruelness of him was jarring, but Cassian kept his face straight. He stood behind you, watching the flimsy attempts to pull at the shackles holding your arms up. Lacerations dotted each arm, some light pink scars. Some were still scabbing over. A chill ran down his spine.  "You have a guest today, would you like to see him?" Azriel's voice was cool, calm. Like he was speaking orders to a group of soldiers. He began slicing new lines into your arms, moving up to your neck. He had left your ears in tact, as a last resort if you refused to speak to Cassian. The pull Cassian felt was overwhelming. He walked a bit too quickly around you, plastered on a wicked smile for show, then crouched down. The smile faded when he finally saw your face. Your dripping hair was a horror on its own. Plastered to the skeletal cheekbones, and pale eyes. Those eyes were brighter than anything he'd ever seen. A field of flowers down the slope of Illyrian mountains. His world shifted, drawing the breath from him. "Mine." His mind seemed to roar with that alone, but in a thousand different variations. "Lover, friend, partner, mine mine mine. Mate. My mate." His lips quivered with the realization. With the way his heart soared, and the way he moved without realizing it. He choked a gasp, and fell forward on his knees before you. He saw the same astonishment in your reaction. Azriel dropped his sword, confusion and concern alert on his features. "Cas wh-" Before he could finish, before his shadows could detect that Cassian had even moved, his brother was on top of him. Cassian's knuckles stung with every punch. A new kind of rage flared inside him. It made his muscles yearn for violence. Made his teeth crave the flesh of those that so much as looked at you wrong. There was no mercy for Azriel, it was as if he was an enemy on the battlefield. Cassian held nothing back. You hung limply from the chains that bound you. Crunch after crunch sounded from Azriel. He eventually managed to push Cassian off of him. Then they locked together in battle again. Clashes of armor against armor were deafening. The snarls they ripped at each other were loud enough to make you cringe. Your heart squeezed at the sounds of Cassian's breath. At the scent of blood spilling. You pulled feebly at the chains, your mind roaring to protect him.  Your mate. You tried to watch the battle, but the weakness in your body refused to let you turn more than a few inches. They were panting, Cassian fighting with a ferocity Azriel had never seen. His eyes flared with rage, like he was possessed. "Cas-" Azriel grunted, shoving his brother backwards. His back hit yours, pushing you down and digging those stone cuffs into your wrists. You hissed in pain. Cassian roared and lunged at his brother again, and again.  The darkness that boomed outside the cell was jarring. The stone ceiling shuddered, small rocks and dirt falling from it. Cassian did not stop. He didn't hesitate, coming at Azriel with punch after punch. His fist crushed the wall behind where Az's head had been. 

"Enough." The high lord's cool command was enough to make you still your weak attempts at looking at the two. Cassian's chest heaved as he tried lifting his arm to punch Az again. Pure fury in his heart was enough to make him disobey Rhysand's order.

  Then Rhys' talons gripped him. Freezing his mind, stilling him. Rhys' face shifted to surprise at what he glimpsed at there. "Oh.." He breathed. Azriel panted, backing away from his brother, out of the cell. He locked the cell and wiped the blood from himself, his wings hanging limply behind him. "What- the hell." He panted, nursing his arm. Cassian's eyes locked to your small frame. How your muscles quivered, how your arms shook with the effort of holding yourself up. He felt Rhys' claws recede slowly from his mind, releasing each part of him one by one. He rushed to you.  He picked up Azriel's sword and with a clean, masterful swipe, broke the enchanted stone that bound you. The weak sigh that came from you was heartbreaking. His eyes pricked with tears, and he caught you before you could fall to the floor into the puddle of dried blood. He didnt notice, or care that it was there. He sat there with you, cradled you and shook with you. 

"Cassian... She's.. Cassian's mate." Rhys said slowly, astonished. He didn't take his eyes from his brother in the cell. Azriel froze in place. For a moment, the dungeon was completely still. Totally silent, as if the world waited for what was to come next.

Azriel turned on a heel and left, trudging up the stairs. Rhys dared not touch his mind. "Cassian...." He spoke, trying to get his brother's attention. He did not glance at Rhys, just curled around your body more. Protecting, nesting almost. Rhys knew the feeling too well from the weeks after he and Feyre's bond snapped into place.  "We will check in tomorrow. Be safe, brother." Rhys spoke to Cassian's mind. It was nothing but an ocean of rushing thoughts. Cassian could have bared his teeth, could have tried to fight his brother through the bars of the cell. Hell, he could have probably broken through those bars with the primal strength flowing through him with the rush from the bond. 

But he didn't. He stayed, his warm body pressed against yours. Those siphons glowing against your skin like a fire. He stroked your hair soothingly, his tears like rainfall on your body, through your bloodstained clothes. He didn't remember falling asleep there, but it was the most restful, peaceful night he'd ever had in his existence. 

[hopelesshawks]

Can I request a Compress x Reader? Babytrapping + Breeding?

Ohhh interesting, of course you can! I rarely write for the villains so this will be fun. You didn’t specify but because baby trapping I did fem!reader. I also just realized you might’ve meant reader baby trapping Compress but I wrote Compress baby trapping reader so I hope that’s what you wanted 😅

The following request contains dark content. Check the warnings before reading

Warnings for vomiting, pregnancy, manipulation, non-violent sexual assault (baby trapping), breeding kink, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), minor dumbification? (reader is very no thoughts, head empty during the smut), minor size kink, minor pain kink

Three years.

Three years together and yet you never would’ve guessed that your boyfriend is the notorious Mr. Compress of League of Villains infamy.

You first met Atsuhiro while working at a hole in the wall theater company. He came up to you after performing one night and had been so effortlessly charming that you’d instantly been put under his spell. He was more intelligent than all of your exes combined and could make you laugh like no one else could. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall totally and completely for the charming man you met that night.

But all of that came crashing down around you when he came home from a “business trip” with a prosthetic arm and no amount of half-assed excuses about an accident on stage could assuage your suspicions. He managed to dodge a confrontation with you for almost a week before you’d finally put the final pieces together and went to him to demand an explanation.

“You’re a terrorist Atsu!”

“That’s just what the heroes want you to think my love, don’t fall for their propaganda.”

“It’s not propaganda it’s just a fact! People have died because of your actions!”

“And how many more have suffered or died because of heroes and the society they created.”

“You’re deflecting. I have always indulged your rants about hero society but this is too far! The man I fell in love with would never stoop to this level!”

Atsuhiro crosses the room to you in two quick strides, cradling your face gently with his hand while you feel the cool metal of his other find your hip, fingers slipping under your shirt.

“I’m still the man you fell in love with (y/n), I can assure you of that,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How could that possibly be?”

“Let me show you.”

He pulls you into a gentle kiss, reassuring in its care. As his lips move against yours, gently coaxing them to open so he can deepen the kiss and slip his tongue inside, you struggle to maintain your earlier anger. It’s a distraction and you know it is but it’s hard to resist as he starts to move you both back towards your bedroom. He makes quick work of your clothes and by the time your back hits the plush of your mattress you’re both already naked. His mouth finally releases yours to travel down your body, leaving bruises in his wake as he marks you as his.

“Atsu, wait we should, ah-” you start but he quickly shushes you before licking a long stripe up your waiting sex.

“Just relax Angel, let me take care of you. Let your thoughts drift away,” he all but purrs.

You try to focus on the conversation you know the two of you need to have but it slips from your fingers like grains of sand as he brings one hand to your swollen clit and starts rubbing slow circles. Your hands tighten in the sheets as he draws a low, keening whine out of you. His hazel eyes dance with smug satisfaction as he watches you try and fail to form a coherent thought. He doesn’t let up the pressure on your clit for even a moment as he drops his mouth to your waiting cunt and plunges his tongue inside. Your hand flies down to his curly hair on impulse, tangling in the brown locks and gripping tight. Your nails scratch along his scalp and your tight grip tugs at the roots of his hair but he loves the pain of it, knows it’s a sign he’s doing well as he brings up his free hand to add two fingers inside you as well. After so long together he knows your body just as well as you do and it takes no time at all for him to find that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Your climax builds and builds until you finally crash through the peaks of your pleasure, walls fluttering around your lover’s tongue and fingers as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

You’ve barely had time to recover from your orgasm before you can feel his erection pressing at your entrance. “W-wait, Atsu, condom,” you pant, shifting in the bed to reach for the bedside drawer but Atsuhiro stops you. “We don’t need it baby, wanna feel closer to you,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your face as he eases you back down to laying flat on the bed. “But what if-” “You’re on birth control right?” he cuts you off. “I mean yea but-” “Then it’ll be fine, you worry too much.”

Any further protests you might’ve had are immediately silenced as a snap of your boyfriend’s hips has the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. You gasp as your body attempts to adjust to his girth. “You’re taking me so well baby, isn’t this so much better? Feel how close we are. Nothing between us, just as it should be,” he coos and it does feel good, good enough that despite the voice in your head telling you you should be cautious, you only nod and beg for more. The grin Atsuhiro gives you is almost blinding right before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you greedily as he slowly withdraws his hard cock before pushing back inside you again. You whimper and whine into his mouth as he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust more brutal than the last. Eventually he leans back and away from you, shifting your hips so he can plunge himself in deeper, but with his lips no longer occupied with yours he’s free to let his thoughts spill out and into the room:

“Gonna fill you up so well, fuck, my beautiful Angel.”

“You and me forever baby, gonna look so good round with my kids.”

“Taking my cock so well, can’t wait until you’re full of my seed.”

The words wash over you but barely register. There’s no room in your brain left for anything else as Atsuhiro takes over every corner of it. Language becomes a foreign concept to you, barely able to articulate your own pleasure in more than the sinful sounds dripping from your lips, let alone trying to process your boyfriend’s ramblings. His thrusts start getting sloppier as he brings one hand between you both to stroke your clit and push you over the edge with him. “I’m so close angel, I’m so close. Cum with me. Want you to finish with me while I stuff you full of my cum,” he pants and all you can do is nod as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. As you clench harder around him he goes toppling over the edge first, crying out your name as he spills his load inside you. You never would’ve anticipated enjoying it so much but it’s that feeling that sends you over the edge, falling apart around his cock as he finishes filling you with his cum.

He helps you come down from your high with sweet kisses and whispered words of encouragement, but as the haze of lust fades, you start to remember the fight you both were having before. As much as you would like for this to be the kind of thing you can just kiss and make up over, it’s not and you know it’s a conversation that needs to be finished. Looking at your boyfriend as he settles more comfortably on top of you though, you can’t bring yourself to ruin the moment. Sleep is weighing heavy on your eyelids anyway so you resolve yourself to bring it up the next day.

Except the next day ends the same way.

And the day after that.

And the day after that…

Every time you try to bring back up Atsuhiro’s secret double life as Mr. Compress he manages to distract you just long enough to get you back into bed. At first you tell yourself it’s not a big deal that the conversation’s been delayed a couple days, but then it turns into a week. A week of very hot sex, mind you, but if the existence of Atsuhiro’s double life was a red flag then certainly his insistence on avoiding discussing it is an even larger one. After two weeks you finally resolve yourself to talking to him the next morning over breakfast, no distractions and no avoiding the issue with sex. Cooking helps with your nerves, giving you something to do with your hands and a task to focus on to help you ignore your roiling stomach. You end up making almost an entire breakfast buffet by the time Atsuhiro emerges from your shared bedroom to join you in the kitchen.

He barely has time to tell you good morning before you’re rushing him to the table and setting plates full of food down. You know you have to tread carefully so you use the time you both spend eating to organize your thoughts. This time for sure you’ll talk to him. You finally open your mouth to confront Atsuhiro once and for all but as you feel bile start to crawl up your throat what comes out instead is “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

No sooner have you said the words are you shoving away from the table and rushing into the nearest bathroom. You get to the toilet just in time, fingers clutching the rim of the bowl as you violently eject the contents of your stomach into the water below. It burns your throat coming up and your eyes sting, but a warm, comforting presence is by your side in an instant, one hand coming up to rub your back gently as the other pulls your hair away from your face. Only once your stomach is thoroughly emptied does the heaving finally stop and you’re able to sit back and catch your breath. “Are you ok my love? What’s wrong?” Atsuhiro asks with gentle care as he pulls you close. You shake your head, unsure yourself of what had turned your stomach. Sure, you were nervous to talk to Atsuhiro but not that nervous. It can’t have been something you ate since all you’d had was the breakfast you made and you know everything was cooked properly. You rack your brain for an answer only to go rigid when you start to settle on one.

“Atsu what’s the date?”

“The 22nd baby, why?”

Your blood runs cold.

You’d been so preoccupied with figuring out things with Atsuhiro that you hadn’t even noticed how much time was slipping past but there’s no doubt about it. Your period is two weeks late.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” you whisper. No way in hell you’ll leave this up to a drugstore test. There must be another explanation for your sudden nausea. Sure, you and Atsuhiro had pretty much abandoned condoms. Every time you started to reach for one, he’d remind you how good it felt not to use one the first time and convince you to forgo it again. But you’re on birth control! This isn’t supposed to be possible.

God bless him, Atsuhiro doesn’t press you any further on why exactly you want to go to the doctor instead of trying to find something at home to settle your stomach. He simply helps you off the floor and then grabs the keys to your car so he can drive you to the doctor himself. You’re incredibly grateful that he doesn’t seem to share your nerves. He’s a calming presence next to you as your anxiety kicks into overdrive.

You’d asked Atsuhiro to take a seat without you while you checked into the urgent care. You didn’t want him to hear you describe your symptoms to the nurse waiting there. The kind woman immediately suspects the same thing you do and leads you to the bathroom so you can pee in a cup. She’s sympathetic and reassuring as she tells you to return to the waiting room while the doctor runs the pregnancy test but it does little to soothe your frayed nerves. The air in the waiting room feels oppressive and when your name is finally called to go back and see the doctor, Atsuhiro’s hand in yours is probably the only thing that keeps you grounded. You take a seat on the examination table and instead of moving to sit down in one of the chairs in the room, Atsu stays by your side, whispering reassurances into your ear. “Whatever’s going on I’m here for you my love.”

The doctor strides into the room shortly afterwards, greeting you warmly even if somewhat absentmindedly as she moves to the computer to check for your details. She confirms your date of birth and then after scrolling for a bit her eyes finally land on the results of your test. She smiles and your heart sinks. “Well it looks like congratulations are in order, you’re pregnant!” she exclaims, beaming at you. A lump forms in your throat as tears threaten to fall, anxiety making your hands shake as the weight of the situation starts to crash down on you. The doctor misinterprets your reaction and as she leaves the room to get you pamphlets on what to expect and how best to take care of yourself during your pregnancy, her reassuring words that promise you’ll make a great mother are anything but.

As soon as the doctor leaves the room you break, tears cascading down your cheeks as your chest heaves. Atsuhiro pulls you into his embrace, letting you fall apart in his arms as you come to terms with the news. “I’m not ready to be a mom, I can’t do it on my own,” you cry, hands clenching onto his shirt. “I know my love, I know, but you’ll never be alone as long as you have me. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you,” he assures you, pulling you in even closer.

As you continue to cry into his chest, murmuring hiccuping thank you’s between heaving sobs, Atsuhiro can’t help but smile to himself.

He’ll have to remember to thank Dr. Garaki for the fake birth control pills later.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @larkspyrr @oliviasslut @black-rose-29

[mypoisonedvine]

peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18​'s 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.  

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in.  It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand.  “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry.  Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order.  “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly.  With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space.  If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you.  “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down.  Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book.  “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly.  “My presence tends to have that effect on people.  Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book.  “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly.  “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted.  “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again.  “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that.  She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language.  He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.  

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler.  It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window.  He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have’ obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice.  You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.  

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any.  It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.  

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him.  "Why don't you just give me a chance?  Don't you wanna be popular?" 

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid.  "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little.  "Are we still on that, really?  I told you, you should take it as a compliment.  You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are.  You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever.  "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer.  “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you.  “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go.  Okay?  That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further.  “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed.  “Then you can leave.  Hey, you might actually like it.  You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it!  When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level.  Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening.  “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper.  “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this.  A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged.  For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger.  For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss.  You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.  

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him.  But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality.  With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.  “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously.  “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too?  We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream.  “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley.  Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled.  “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act.  I know you want me.  So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay?  You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose.  But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter.  "You and this perfect body of yours.  This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred.  “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right?  You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly.  “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps.  The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally.  He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them.  “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind.  You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin.  Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly.  “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh?  You need it that bad?  You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch.  Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again.  He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too.  “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly.  You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore.  But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him.  It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off.  Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.  For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.  

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster.  “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now.  Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses.  “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect.  I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised.  He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly.  “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."

[pumpkinpot]

Howls Moving Castle Drabble

Here I am on another hyper fixation lol. I still have so many Black Butler fics in my Drafts, but now that number is closely rivaled by Howl and Sophie content. Enjoy my mental spiral. 

Howl x (realistic) witch!Reader

A/N: I am a practicing witch so I thought this concept would be fun if the initial meeting had been reimagined in a magical sense. My more familiar divination is tea and I am not a tarot fan, so I wanted to play with a bit of candle scrying for this drabble. This is not the only way to practice candle magic! 

.

Howl watched from just far enough above not to distract, but close enough to have a clear view of what you were doing. You press three divots into the surface of a potted candle with the brunt end of a match. One by one you fill the holes with an oil/herb mixture, lighting the wick. “May I?” you say holding out a hand. 

The woman sitting across from you passes over a tuft of blonde hair, matching her own. Howl what you’d intended to do. The portal he’d created was meant to lead to a world with seemingly no magic, but your aura had caught his attention.

You burned the tuft of hair over the wick of the candle, allowing the ashes to crumble in the melting wax. The woman shifts equally curious and cautious glance between you and the flame. You finish scattering the ashes, leaning away to take a sip of your tea. “allow that to melt down,” you clarify. 

Howl straightens his spine over the bend of the rooftop he creeps on, trying to see the candles crackle reflect in your eyes. What magic were you doing? He’d never seen it before.

You swish the fully melted wax around its tin, mixing the oils, herbs and ashes before presenting a bowl of water to the center of the table. 

you pinch the candle's wick, snuffling it before tipping its wax into the bowl. It spirals in thick tendrils, clumping into masses at the basin. 

“hm,” you say, blocking the view of the bowl from howls sight. He clatters down, hiding behind a corner. “Sweet one,” you address her, “see this here-” 

She leans over the bowl, looking so a bit your pointing to that Howl can’t see. 

“this is where you are now, follow it along these two paths and you’ll see the outcomes of your verge in this folk. The right one at first glance is a mess, like a bundle of yarn, but the tail comes out nice and easy here-” you point to the end. “-but this one is a smooth line with only a few curves. To me, that says easy, complacent.” 

Your words were bold, Howl could respect that. 

“the one that seems jumbled is harder, but, the circling tail at the end tells me happiness, tranquility.” 

“what are these clumps,” she asks. 

“Likely people,” you confirm, “people meant for each path.” 

You finish off telling the woman some advice for decision making and something to do with stirring clockwise. The woman stuffs a monetary bill into a coffee can at the far end of your table before gathering her things and ducking away.

.

“Calcifer, markl!” Howl shouts as he returns into the house. Under the hearths glow Calscifer’s glowing eyes peak over the rim of the fire pit. “what is is now,” he says, as Markl shuffles down the stairs. 

“I want to try something.” He throws a whole candle stick into a pot with some dried herbs before setting it on the hearth. “melt that down,” he says, grabbing a bowl of water. 

Calcifer huffs, pooling the pot into a flame embrace. Markl hangs over the back of a overstuffed chair watching Howl bustle around with fascination, wondering what type of spell Howl’s brought home. 

Howl waits impatiently for the wax to fully melt before dumping it into the water. it clumps into thick islands bobbing down to the bottom before rising to the top. Howl tries to find the tails you were talking about or anything resembling a path but- 

“what does it do?” Markl asks poking the wax. 

“It- It’s obviously a path.” 

“whose?” 

Howls eyes brighten as he turns to Markl, “I need your hair!” 

Markle grabs his head protectively, “no way!”

Howls huffs looking down at the water again. What had you done different? He looks into the bowl, defeated. He sets the bowl away, stumbling up the stairs. “Never mind.”

.

The next morning he retraces his steps to where he first saw you. He’s scowlers block by block with no luck. Nearly exhausting his morning he stops off the side of the road to breathe. He tries to remember anything that might- 

Tea! 

He bounds over to the café, just as you are sitting down at the same spot you were yesterday. He stops a corner short waiting to make sure you had no appointment waiting for you. Once he was sure you weren’t occupied he straightened his jacket and sauntered over. 

“There you are sweetheart,” He says, and you look up then around. 

“Padron?” you say pointing to yourself. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you-”  

It wasn’t unusual for people to seek you out, but to have someone speak so casual was such. “Uh-” you begin, “can I help you?” 

He looks around you like he was looking for something specific. “you had a bowl and candle last time I saw you-” 

His words hung in the air while you waited for him to realize how jaunting they sounded. He didn’t. but his obliviousness told you he wasn’t an immediate threat either. 

“yes, I do wax readings when they are requested, I’m sorry, who are you?” 

He looks at you like he was sure you’d know, but retracted the look with a shy smile. “I’m- you can call me Howl or Jenkins- whichever you prefer.” 

Your eyes gulp the man down like water. He wasn’t conventionally attractive, but he was- ethereal. Brown hair, caplet hanging off his shoulders, sparkling eyes. 

“Alright Howl, what can I do for you?” 

He takes this as an invitation to sit across from you, nearly knocking your drink into your lap. “Can you tell me what a wax reading is?”

You felt small under his full attention, but in the same way a human does when a golden retriever is staring. His heed never wavered from your words, you almost expected him to start taking notes. 

“where did you learn all this?” he asks, “I thought magics were only taught in- other places.”

“Community mostly, but I suppose I always had an ademption for it.” 

Howl was enthralled with you. You kept your explanations tight and vague, but he wanted to know more. “I have a proposition for you.” 

You sipped on your tea, swiveling the leaves in the hull, looking rather intently into the cup. “go on.” 

“I want you to come with me to my home. I’d like for us to learn from each other. I am a magic user myself, but of a different kind. I’ll provide boarding, if you so please.” 

You reach into your pocket, pulling out a blue stone along with a metal key. “toss these on the table for me.” you say, handing the items to him. 

He holds them over the table dropping them in the center. You look them over before gulping the rest of your drink. “alright. Let’s go.”

.

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[jabbagabba]

Something Wicked *preview*

WARNING! MAJOR SPOILERS FOR MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS, DO NOT READ UNDER CUT IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE! (GIF USED FROM TRAILER)

fic warnings and summary under the cut, seriously watch the movie first!

Writing Playlist

Summary: Wanda keeps having nightmares, and you’re the only one who can help her.

Series Warnings: Dark!Wanda (she’s a little unhinged), fem!reader, witch!reader, witchcraft, multiverse!Wanda (poor girl, deserves better) angst, grief, manipulation, violence, gore, nightmares, mild language (a few swear words here and there), anything I missed please tell me.

A/N: This is very much a preview, and is not the final product so please take any mistakes (spelling, ect) with a grain of salt. Not sure how long this will be nor how many parts but it should be a rather short series. The first part will be out by the 10th of May.

———

You loved the rain.

Loved the way it sounded as water pelted on your windows, loved the way the crackle of thunder would make your heart jump. But now, for the first time, it sent fear through you.

A warning from the gods, perhaps? You weren’t sure.

Now instead of letting the sound lull you to sleep, you pulled your sweater closer to your chest as a chill went up your spine.

The kettle whistled loudly atop the stove and you tried not to burn yourself when you reached up to take the mugs off their hooks. You weren’t the best at making tea - or really anything if you were being honest - but it was a needed distraction.

You felt her eyes on you, felt them follow your hand as you stirred the sugar in. You tried to ignore her. Even when you handed her one the mugs, steam lifting up from it as she sighed softly and took a greedy sip.

“I need to know.” She said finally, voice soft and tired. “I need to know that you believe me.” You couldn’t bare to see her like this, her face pale and eyes sunken. Couldn’t bare seeing her so… tired, so scared.

“I believe you.” You still try to keep busy, muttering around the kitchen as she sips slowly, your own tea abandoned on the countertop.“I just don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your hand quickly swiping away any stray ones that fell onto your cheeks. You wouldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it.

Wanda said your name, her own eyes tearing up when you refused to look at her. “I need you to look at me. Please.”

“I can’t!” The lights above you flickered, your eyes turning a bright blue as you desperately tried to keep calm. “What you’re asking of me is too much.”

Memories flooded your mind. The war, the death of your friends, the sacrifices. It was too much. After Thanos, you refused to become that person again. Your power was overwhelming and at times uncontrollable. And now, one of the only people you had left, sat before you, asking you to be that person again.

“I can’t kill you.” She makes quick steps toward you and wraps shaking arms around you. You pull back to look at her. “I can’t.”

“You won’t.” She says, it amazed you how much faith she had in you.

“How do you even know these aren’t just nightmares? I mean, there’s no way for it to be possible.”

“I saw her.” She tightens her grip on your arms. “She was using the Darkhold. She’s been looking for them.” Wanda turns to face the couch, the boys sleeping soundly beside each other making her sigh. Your face fell - your own hands beginning to shake. 

“You saw what it did to Strange.” She continues, voice firm. “ You saw what he was capable of.”

“Have you told them yet?” Your eyes met her hers, looking to see if she’d lie to you. She shook her head. “But you’re going to.”

“It’s not about me!” She snapped, voice loud enough to make Tommy stir in his sleep, turning his head to face the back of the couch. “It’s about my children. It’s about making sure they’re safe.” Her voice a harsh whisper again. “What choice do I have?”

You take a deep breath. As much as you wanted to argue with her, you knew she was right. You had seen firsthand what that book does to a person, what it steals from them. Flashes of the eyes of someone you trusted, someone you adored fading into something unrecognisable fill your head. Those eyes haunted you, made your stomach fill with toxicity.

So, despite everything telling you not to, you nodded.

“Okay.” You say. “Okay.”

———

Messages are open, feel free to let me know what you think or if you have any questions.