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rewh0re · 11 months ago

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MORE THAN JUST A DREAM ; GETO SUGURU

—wc: 3.2k, fluff, no curses au, college au, alcohol consumption, new year's kiss, ocs (reader's friends are ocs), implied oc x gojo, use of the pronoun 'she' once (except that it's gn! reader), gojo is RICH

a/n: I had to repost don't even ask it wouldn't show up in tags😐 anyways happy new year baby boos take this geto fic as a gift. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!!

divider cred: @/benkeibear

Gojo Satoru's annual New Year's Eve parties were a lavish affair. Set in the luxurious penthouse that he owned which he would only use for parties he hosted. There was a myriad of alcohol—all from the finest and most renowned brands—to choose from. There was music, there was dancing, there was a fucking champagne fountain for Christ's sake.

For a party hosted by some college student, it sure was a grand event. From freshmen to seniors, everyone attended it, dressed in their finest cocktail attires and fancy shoes.

For a party with so many attractions to catch the eye, Gojo Satoru and his best friend Geto Suguru took the cake. The pair could never be separated, may it be in the various parties and events they attended or when they were strolling the college campus. While Gojo was the louder, more exuberant and outgoing out of the two, Geto's genuine smile—whenever he was around his best friend—was hard to miss.

It was Geto's smile that always made your heart flutter.

You remember the first time you had noticed Geto Suguru. A simple, ravishingly attractive man, who sat two seats in front of you. He probably was not the teacher's favourite with the way he often got into little discussions and debates with the professors regarding the day's topics if he disagreed with certain aspects of it. Always polite and respectful but with a conniving smile on his lips nonetheless if he proved his point of view to be correct. His voice was always calm in class and he never stepped back from expressing his opinions. You thought it was a phenomenal quality to have.

You would see him often during breaks, his usual spot being a few tables away from yours. His rambunctious best friend was always at his side along with a girl who would always have a cigarette between her lips. Shoko Ieiri—you later learnt—was her name. Your friends and you would often not care, but sometimes, Gojo's mirthful laughter echoed throughout the area and you were bound to see Geto shake his head with a little snicker of his own at his friend's nuances. That's how you came to know of Geto. A well sought after, smart, insanely attractive and—from what you've heard— a polite and kind individual. You had admired Geto from a distance for a whole of three years now. The conversations you had with him could be counted on one hand but he had always been sweet to you. You wondered if he even remembered you. You did have flings here and there but you had always had that little spot of affection in your heart for the man who was Geto Suguru.

In the three years that you have been in this college of yours, you have never attended Gojo Satoru's new year's eve parties. You had heard stories and every year you had promised yourself to attend it. However, every year your mother called you back home to celebrate the holidays with your family and you could never deny it. Your friends initially complained but they understood your position and promised to tell you all the things that happened. One year you heard the crazy new year's kiss one of your friends had with a boy she met there and how magical it all seemed. The other year they told you how Gojo and Geto both got shit faced drunk and danced to every song until they physically dropped on the floor, unable to move and Shoko had to come take them away with a sigh. You learnt how Gojo normally avoided alcohol, feasting on the many desserts instead and how Geto and Shoko were often seen smoking a cigarette on the balcony together. You too wanted to attend this annual event, that was like a myth to you.

This year allowed that. With your father planning an impromptu vacation for only your mother and himself, you had the perfect opportunity to finally attend the party you had wanted to go to since your freshman year.

It was 31st December and you were beyond excited. Your friends had been elated to know that you would finally visit Gojo's party with them and they took it upon themselves to get you dolled up and ready for it, paying no heed to your complaints of "I can do it myself."

That's how you found yourself in Gojo's penthouse. The place was bustling with noises—music, talking, whistles (which you assumed were directed to the people who were dancing). The place was huge, something way out of your imagination. There were lights and decorations that increased the beauty of the place ten folds. And there was that goddamned champagne fountain that everyone talked about. “Gojo Satoru is rich,” was the very first thought that crossed your mind after a moment of awe and speechlessness.

"He's crazy rich," your friend, Aoi, laughed.

Oh, so your thoughts might have slipped out from your mouth.

"I'm sure Geto is too. Didn't you see his motorcycle in the parking area? That has to belong to some super loaded dude," your other friend, Saeko commented.

"Didn't you have a thing for Geto, y/n?" Saeko wiggled her eyebrows at you as she crossed her arms, a smirk evident on her lips.

"Eh, kinda. I mean, he's okay to look at I guess," you shrugged, making your way to the bar. The college parties you went to never had a bar. The alcohol had to be derived from the kitchen and most of the time, it was some sort of jungle juice.

"Oh shut up, you like him," Aoi smacked your back as she settled herself beside you on the bar stool.

"I never denied that," you winked at her as you downed the tequila, the bartender served the three of you.

"Having fun so far?" An unknown voice made the three of you turn your heads. Gojo Satoru. Standing tall in front of you, a lazy grin on his face and for heaven knows what reason his stupid sunglasses covering his eyes even at 11 in the night.

"Gojo Satoru," Saeko crossed her legs, leaning back on the bar counter as she smiled at him.

"In the flesh ma'am," he winked at her. A charming wink that girls would often faint over.

"That didn't answer my question though. Having fun?" He asked again.

"What would you offer as compensation if we said we weren't," he laughed at Saeko's little bantering comment. He knew she didn't mean it. Everyone had the time of their lives at Gojo Satoru's party.

"Oh Saeko, you have been coming here for the past two years. No need to lie to me, sweetheart. However—if I have, by chance—failed you this year, do dance with me. That'll be compensation enough," he winked at her.

"And they say chivalry is dead," your friend shook her head.

"I noticed you brought a friend this year?" His eyes raked over to you as he offered you a welcoming smile.

You returned it with a wave of your own.

"That's y/n. She didn't wanna miss out on this year's party," Aoi introduced you as she sipped on her strawberry daiquiri.

"Great to meet you y/n. I hope my little party meets your expectations," before you could counter his comment of the party being "little" a velvet smooth voice laced with mild jest interrupted your conversation.

"Don't annoy the guests Satoru," and there he was beside his best friend, Geto Suguru. His long black hair tied in a semi bun, an earring dangling from his right ear and a cheshire grin on his lips. Geto Suguru was a beautiful man to look at.

"I could never do that Suguru," Gojo turned to look at his best friend as his grin widened.

"Saeko brought a friend with her. I was just acquainting myself. Meet y/n."

Geto's eyes slid over to your figure, his smile softening. You could feel yourself warming up under his soft and welcoming gaze.

"You are in my psychology class," he said as he offered you his hand for a shake.

"I am," you shook his hand, the feeling of his fingers against yours, erupting little butterflies in your stomach. The coolness of his many rings against your warm hand sent shivers down your spine.

"I think I need that dance Gojo," Saeko said over the blasting music and the male was quick to respond. Giving her his hand, Gojo led your friend away towards the dance floor. She turned around to wink at you and Aoi before the pair disappeared.

You could only laugh at her antics. Saeko was a known flirt and you had heard how every year she would have a little fun with Gojo. This was the first time you had seen it and you could not help but laugh. Good god that girl knew what she was doing.

"Every damn year this happens," Geto chuckled as he leaned on the counter behind you. "I don't know if I want those two to be together or not with how much they flirt on this one day every year."

Aoi excused herself with a smirk, leaving you alone with Geto. Based on how the night went, you would either thank her or strangle her, but that was a problem for later.

"Why have I never seen you here y/n?" Geto looked over at you, tilting his head in question. His smile never left his face.

"Got caught up with my family every year. Decided to be here for a change," you ordered a glass of sangria, diverting from the tequila you were having earlier.

"I hope you can hold your liquor,"

"Aren't you a gentleman Geto," you smiled up at him.

"Oh yeah I definitely am," he nodded his head, mocking your smile. "Call me Suguru."

"Okay Suguru," you pat his shoulder.

"Care for a dance?" He looked at the dancing bodies and then at you, motioning his head towards the dance floor.

"Uhh, I've got two left feet. I'm afraid I'll scare people away with my dancing," you cringed.

His jubilant laughter filled your ears as his head rolled back, eyes crinkling. Your eyes widened slightly at the beauty of the sight in front of you. You did not quite understand if the slight intoxicating feeling that you felt was due to the alcohol you consumed or the laugh that he offered.

"Don't worry about that. Half of us got two left feet, me included. Come on," before you could protest, Geto was already pulling you towards the dance floor.

The next few seconds were a whirlwind. One second you were sipping your sangria and the next you were in the middle of the dance floor, a hoard of sweaty bodies surrounding you and Geto's hands held your waist tightly. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck as he smiled reassuringly at you. Your initial nervousness faded as Geto started swaying to the beat. Before you could process anything, you were there with him, living in the moment. You both danced to the music as his arms wrapped around you, twirling you around and swaying you. Somewhere between your dancing, you spotted Gojo and Saeko. She twirled in his arms, laughing as she landed on his chest.

"Cute aren't they?" Geto screamed in your ear over the blasting music.

"She never told me about this," you shook your head at him.

"Oh this is their annual ritual. They'll flirt for one night and pretend that the other does not exist for the rest of the year," he twirled you again. "I've told Satoru to just date her and he always says 'nah she is not into me.' I swear to god he's so stupid at times,"

"I think they'd make a hot couple, don't you?" You smiled at your dance partner.

"Oh absolutely."

Geto could feel a sense of warmth in his chest as he saw you letting yourself free, enjoying and dancing to your heart's extent. The pounding in his chest increased and he blamed it on his dancing.

He had always known you as the quiet student in his psychology class who sometimes answered the professor's questions. The few times you had talked was in class whenever you had to add points to open discussions. He had always found you to be pretty. He didn't know you personally till now, but he had seen you with Saeko, sitting a few tables away from theirs. He was glad he finally got to talk to the person he had been gaining the courage to talk to properly for a while now.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asked you as he pulled you close.

"Where are you gonna take me?" You poked his nose.

Geto laced his fingers with yours and pulled you out of the crowded area as he took you upstairs. He led you to a balcony that looked down at the city below. You had never really been this high up somewhere so you were awestruck by the view. The cars zoomed past below and the city donned a look you had never seen before. Lights decorated the buildings, light dusts of snow covered the streets as they fell from the sky above.

"Like what you see huh?" Geto snickered.

"This is wonderful—what—I have been missing several things," you leaned over the balcony to get a better look.

"Easy now, don't want you falling over. Also, yeah. This is like my escape, you know. When I get a bit exhausted by the party I come here, especially for the new year's countdown. I like seeing the fireworks," you had completely forgotten that it was new year's in a few minutes now.

"Shit how long since it's the new year?" You gasped at him.

Geto took out his phone from his pocket, squinting his eyes at the screen before putting it away.

"Uh four more minutes," he leaned on the balcony railing as he looked at you.

You could hear the test firecrackers going off in the distance. One then two and they stopped for a moment.

"You look absolutely gorgeous by the way," he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"You don't look too bad yourself. I especially like what you've done with your hair," you gestured at your own to make him understand.

"You like my hair?"

"Oh absolutely. It's stunning. Do tell me your hair care routine."

"Maybe I can text it to you?" He dipped his head down towards you.

"Are you asking for my number Geto Suguru?" You gasped in mock surprise. "Scandalous."

He was opening his mouth to probably say something witty when you both heard it. The countdown to the new year. Loud voices from the floor below started counting. The last ten seconds of this year.

10...

You both looked at the door and then at each other as you shared a small laugh.

9...

He came ever so close to you.

8...

His gaze was set on your eyes as you fiddled with the locket that rested on your chest. The intensity of his gaze made your insides jump.

7...

His hand travelled down to your waist, holding it with a light grip.

6...

Your eyes travelled down from his dark obsidian eyes to his lips as he licked them with a swipe of his tongue. What you would give to just feel them on yours.

5...

"You know I always did think you were a beautiful person. From the moment I first saw you in psychology," he whispered, his breath hot on your face.

4...

"Yea I kinda thought you were okay looking too,"

3...

He laughed at your comment as he pulled you closer by your waist, “just okay?”

2...

You could feel his lips hovering over yours, his eyes fluttering shut just like yours.

“Just okay…” you whispered.

1...

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The echoes of the plethora of drunk college kids had become background noises the moment you crashed your lips on his.

You could hear the confetti pop and the firecrackers burst lighting the dark midnight sky with a million colours but all that mattered in the moment were his lips that moved in perfect sync with yours. Your hands gripped his hair as his own grip on your waist became tighter. He trapped you against the balcony railing and one of his hands came up to cup your face as he slightly tilted his head in a way to deepen the kiss. You could feel his lips perfectly fit with yours, a taste of mint on his tongue. His cologne invaded your senses, jumbling up your mind further. He smelled of nashi pear, cardamom and vetiver with a hint of woody musk. You felt yourself falling apart due to his entrancing aroma. Kissing Geto Suguru made your stomach do several somersaults and your heart was so erratic in its beating, it could jump out of your ribcage. This felt like a dream. Hell, was this even real?

You pulled away for breath as your eyes scanned his face. There was adoration in his own two dark eyes and something akin to lust.

"Happy new year Suguru," you raked your finger through his hair as his head dropped down on your shoulder.

"Happy new year y/n," he planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before pecking your neck.

A loud squeal in the very next second, broke the two of you apart.

"OH MY GOD SUGURU, YOU'RE GETTING BITCHES?" Gojo Satoru was smiling mischievously with Saeko by his side.

"Shut up Satoru," Suguru groaned at his best friend rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"I hate you so much, your timing is the worst," he flipped him off before pulling you to his side.

"In my defence I didn't know you would bring someone here this year. Every year you are alone—"

"SHUT UP SATORU," Geto yelled in embarrassment as a tint of red covered his cheeks.

"You don't bring girls here often?" You asked amused.

"Oh he never does. This is the first time!" Gojo stated proudly.

"You're annoying them Satoru," Saeko smacked Gojo's head as the latter whined about everyone being mean to him.

"Ok what is going on? I searched the whole penthouse and you all are here?" A panting Aoi burst through the door.

"Y/n got the guy," Saeko said casually and it was your turn to turn a shade of red.

"SAEKO!?"

"Y/n got the guy? You mean Geto?" She looked over at the two of you as Geto waved at her with a smile.

"Ok this is huge?! Y/n oh my god finally," she squealed in her hands.

"Ok the lot of you can leave you know? Just give us some time alone, geez," you ushered your friends away including Gojo who would not leave without giving Suguru a rough smack on his back.

"Did you like me? You know, before this?" He took your hand in his as he rubbed circles on the back of each of them.

"Kind of," you sighed. "I mean I guess I did have a small crush on you?"

"Okay so now we definitely need that number," he tilted your chin up as he pecked you lightly before bumping his forehead with your.

You could say you had a pretty eventful start to the new year.

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xenyasplacex · 6 months ago

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Baby Trapped — Chapter 1

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!OC

Summary: Chris is in a toxic relationship and the only thing keeping him there is his daughter.

warning- Toxic relationship, Miserable Chris, Shouting, Abuse, Physical Abuse, Talk of miscarriage

A/N : This is so bad it’s concerning but oh well, i’ll fix it later. Enjoy xx

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Prologue <—> Chapter 2

It all started on a quite joyful note. Nate was in town visiting the triplets and they had gone to a bar the night before he left back to Boston

“Alright,” Nate said over the loud music to Chris, looking around before spotting someone.

“I bet you $40 you can’t pick her up.” He said turning to Chris.

Matt who was next to the pair laughed while shaking his head. “Her? i’m surprised she even got in here. I’ll bet you $60”

The girl was tall, not taller than Chris but still fairly tall, She had almost perfect skin with curls falling on her shoulders beautifully. She was definitely Chris’ type however it was rare that you saw Chris hit on a girl and even more rare that he hit on a girl and succeeded.

Chris turned to face his brother astonished, “What? You don’t think i can do it?”

“Girl your age, not staring at you like you’re a dancing monkey, that pretty. Good luck buddy.” Nick interjected before taking a sip of his drink.

“You know what,” Chris started, quickly downing his drink and stand up, “I think i will got talk to her.”

That night a slightly Tipsy Chris went to talk to a very pretty girl, a girl that he didn’t know was actually as safe as poison. That night marked that everything changed. From that exchange of phone numbers led to a toxic relationship, an unplanned pregnancy and a whole load of problems that none of the triplets had even thought could happen.

To be completely honest it had all happened at an unusually fast pace. Within 2 months of talking they were together, the honeymoon period lasted for about a month before the relationship started to turn ugly. What used to be simple taps turned into being hit with hard object which turned into being left on the floor, bruised and bloody. After about 6 months Chris had tried to break up with her but he couldn’t. She threatened to stop eating, to cut herself, to kill herself, and even the possibility of her going through with these things because of chris was enough to make him stay. When he tried to leave again she made the same threats but Chris stood up for himself and that’s when she told him she was pregnant. That night was still foggy for Chris but after a few too many drinks, a couple of kisses, apologies and a plane ticket to vegas later, Chris woke up hung over and married, and 10 months later his daughter, Adriana was born.

Adriana was the one thing that kept him going all these years, the idea that he finally had a daughter to love and care for, a daughter that was all his, a daughter that loved him as he loved her. His daughter. He didn’t want to leave Aaliyah because he knew if he did she could be taken from him and that made him stay. It made him put up a fight. It made him strong.

It started when they came back from tour. Late.

“Daddy!” Adriana cried out as Chris fell to the floor, Aaliyah stood over him.

“You were supposed to be back at 3 o’clock Christopher, 3!” She screamed adding more punched to his face.

It was currently 6. In all honestly, Chris had just come back from tour and their flight home had simply been delayed. However, in Aaliyah’s eyes Chris staying out late just meant that he was cheating and she couldn’t stand for him cheating.

“Daddy!” Adriana cried again this time leaving her safe spot behind the door frame and coming to try and stop her mother. That had never happened before. Usually when Aaliyah went crazy on Chris she was like hide under her bed in her room and wait for Chris to come and and rock her to sleep saying everything was fine however this time things were different, Aaliyah was hitting harder and faster. Adriana has to protect her dad the way he protects her. It was only fair.

“Adrian get back!” Chris yelled as he watched his daughter toddle over to her mother. It was only when his wife’s elbow connected with his daughter’s nose that Chris fought back. He quickly grabbed Aaliyah by her arms and pushed her off him. Hard. Hard enough to knock her into a shelf that was near them and had some of the books fall on her.

In that moment Chris quickly got up, ignoring the immense pain he felt. He quickly picked his daughter up and ran downstairs to her room before locking them both in it. At that point Adriana was still crying saying her face hurt and Chris was trying to pack a bag of everything she needed. Her clothes, her night time dipears, her kindergarten uniform and her favourite stuffed animal, Jeff the

giraffe. As he started shoving everything in a bag he heard Aaliyah starting to move so he quickly put his shoes on, put adrian’s shoes in his bag, picked her up and ran for the door before quickly putting her in her car seat and driving away from the house.

Chris was speeding, running red lights, cutting people off and breaking almost every rule of driving to get them away from the house but at that point he didn’t even care about himself, he needed to get Adriana out if there. After a while Chris finally parked his car at a Mcdonald’s around 20 minutes from his brother’s house. If she went straight there she would find him. He finally turned to his daughter who was still breathing heavily from how she had been crying.

“Oh baby,” Chris said softly as he got out of the car and went over to the back of the car to pick her up and hug her tight. Adriana started crying into Chris’ shoulder again, gripping his hoodie tightly. Chris simply rocked her, humming soothing tunes and playing with her hair, the same things he used to do whenever Aaliyah would be destroying things around the house and so Adriana couldn’t sleep. Eventually, she stopped crying and was simply sniffling.

“I’m sorry Adi I’m really sorry. I love you so much i’m sorry you saw that. How’s your nose huh?”

“Better”

“I’m sure it is you brave brave girl.” Chris said ticking her side finally making her giggle. “There we go, you’re laughing now.” He said happily before kissing her cheek. “Let’s get something to eat okay?”

“Chris?” Matt spoke through the phone gently, “Where are you?”

“I’m at Mcdonald’s, the one near your house,” Chris replied rubbing the exhaustion of his eyes. They had been at that mcdonald’s for no around 5 hours now and the realisation from what had haken had started to kick in. Now Adriana was asleep in her car seat and Chris was trying to stop his hands from shaking.

“Chris!” Nick yelled faintly before grabbing the phone from Matt. “Chris Aaliyah was just here, she’s left now but she was screaming that you left and she was going to go to the cops.” No. This couldn’t be happening. He only touched her to protect his child. If she went to the cops would they even believe him?

“Chris? Chris come here okay. Look Matts phone is about to die and i can’t find mine just come here and we’ll sort everything out okay? come here and we ca-“ Was the last thing Chris heard before thephone went dead.

Chris considered his options. He could go back and beg Aaliyah not to call the cops or he could go to his brothers house and keep him and his daughter safe.

“Adi’s asleep, she went out like a light.” Matt laughed quietly before joining his brothers on the couch.

“Chris, i know you don’t want to but you have to tell us what happened.” Nick explained as Chris rolled his eyes and got up from the couch.

“Nothing happed Nick, she’s just mourning that’s all.”

“Oh my gosh Chris I am so tired of you using that tired excuse every time she messes up. I understand losing a child can be hard.” Nick yelled before Chris cut him up.

“Shut up Nick, just shut up!”

“But if she’s doing something to you that’s so bad that you had to take your living child and run then you have to do something about it. Chris what if you need a lawyer?”

“Shut up, i said shut up!” Chris screamed, grabbing Nick by his collar.

“Wow wow Chris chill out, he’s just trying to help you.” Matt shouted trying to get in between the two.

“Yeah well your help isn’t needed,” Chris said much quieter now letting go of Nicks collar, “my wife is mourning our child okay? And so am I.” Chris said sincerely before waking upstairs to find his daughter.

He didn’t mean to lash out at his brother, but it’s hard to do so when someone is in your head like that. Chris may not be sure if he truly did love Aaliyah but she was the mother of his only child and that was enough to make him protect her, even if it meant killing himself inside in the process.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep near his daughter, all he knew was the next morning he woke up to Aaliyah rubbing his back telling him to wake up so they could go home.

Caught. They were caught.

“Common babe, you go have breakfast with you brothers downstairs i’ll go get Adi ready okay?” She asked lovingly before pressing a soft kiss to his check and lips.

Yes, the same woman who had been beating on him yesterday was know kissing him like nothing had happened. She was mean and manipulated by she was a pretty damn good actor.

Chris riddled downstairs where he heard Matt and Nick gossiping.

“He was about to sucker punch me in the mouth!”

“Nick, you said his wife should get over their dead son. I would’ve done the same.”

“I didn’t say it like that.”

“I’m sorry okay?” Chris said in the door frame causing his other triplet brothers to turn their heads and look at him. “I was in a bad room. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

“I’m sorry for what I said, but Chris, if she is doing something to you, you have to tell us. We can help you but we can only do that if you let us in. Please?” Nick begged.

Does he tell them what’s going on? Does he try to explain to them that they can’t let him leave with her. He has to. He has to save his child from her. From what she could do to her. Not only that but he had to save himself. He had to save himself from the pain this whole relationship had caused, he had to save himself from all the suffe-

“You ready to go babe.” Aaliyah whispered as she turned the corner, a sleeping child resting on her chest and her baby bag in another hand.

“Yeah, yeah i am.” Chris stated quietly, watching as his brothers shoulders dropped and he looked down in defeat.

Chris quickly brought his brothers into a hug and whispered a quick ‘Thanks’ to them before the small family left the house. It was only when they got in the car the Aaliyah facade dropped and she turned to Chris with a serious face.

“Christopher, the next time you run of with my daughter after laying hand on me, i promise you i will go straight to the police, and take you to the cleaners. Are we clear?” She asked.

Chris didn’t say anything, to shocked at her change in tone.

“I said are we clear?” She asked again, this time with our agitation in her voice.

“Yes, we’re clear.” He replied quietly before staring the engine and pulling out the driveway.

That was his life, a woman who treated him horribly but who he still stayed with, because he had a child to protect, and if that meant protecting her mother as well then so be it.

Hehehe, Luv ya ~ Xenya

Chapter 2

#christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #spotify #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #dad!chris sturniolo #dad!matt

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jeankluv · 4 months ago

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Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 17

words: 4k

summary: While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths.

Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

ac: _3aem

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

warning for this chapter: mentions of s€xual harassment

notes: posting this before chapter 265, bc I’m scared 😭 also during this month I will be posting a sneak peek of an upcoming Gojo fic I will be posting, if you want to be tagged to see the sneak peek please let me know , comment something like “I want to see the sneek peak” and I will tag you 💗

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

jujutsu kaisen | ao3

Satoru Gojo POV

Satoru tied the buttons of the vest he was wearing. He had put on a navy blue three-piece suit, or rather he had been forced by the Utahime to do so. It seems that way he would go with you that night. Satoru looked at his reflection, he looked good, but no matter how much he dried his hands, they were still sweaty. Satoru was extremely nervous. There were a bunch of things that were in his head but they all danced around the charity gala that night.

He was nervous about the gala, about meeting his parents after the last time, meeting his grandparents, meeting the other families present, but what he was most nervous about was seeing you. Satoru didn't feel ashamed to take you to the gala if he could, Satoru would come in shouting from the rooftops to ask everyone to look at you and admire you. But Satoru knew that one wrong step could ruin everything and that could hurt you in a way he didn't want.

Putting his hand on his chest, he took a deep breath and grabbed his car keys to leave his apartment. There were still 20 minutes until the agreed time to see you, but Satoru preferred to wait for himself than make you wait so he drove, with his gaze fixed on the road.

The sun was still shining but the sky had already begun to take on that orange tone that indicated that night was about to arrive. It was evident that summer was just around the corner, the days had become longer and the temperatures had begun to rise. Satoru was looking forward to it, he had too many plans for the both of you in mind, he wanted to take you to the beach again, take you to festivals, to see the fireworks, etc., Satoru wanted to spend the first of many summers to come with you.

He parked the car, right in front of your house and stayed inside the car as he waited for the time to come. His leg moved up and down and his heart pumped heavily into his chest. He knew you were going to look beautiful and that he, was going to lose his head and fell to his knees.

With barely 5 minutes left, Satoru got out of his car and put on his suit so that it wouldn't look wrinkled after sitting in the car. He felt how the people passing by looked at him and began to whisper about him. Most of the time it was something he didn't care about, but now he just wanted a pair of eyes on his.

Satoru heard the door open and his heart began to race, he looked like a teenager in one of those American movies waiting for his partner to take her to the prom. With his hand on his chest, he watched you walk out onto the street and Satoru swore his heart could stop at that moment.

You were wearing a blue dress with gold details, with a v-neckline, which fit at your waist, highlighting your figure and then fell softly to the floor. Satoru approached you and took in the subtle makeup that highlighted your features. You were beautiful, no, the word beautiful was not enough to describe what Satoru's eyes saw. You were a queen, a goddess.

“Stop looking at me with those eyes.” You whispered hiding the heat of your face.

Satoru covered his mouth and then chuckled. “I’m sorry birdie.” His cheeks were red and hurting from the smile that was drawn on his face. “You look… oh god, I could die right here and now.”

You softly laughed and Satoru felt how he was falling in love with you all over again. “Please don’t, I don’t want to use this beautiful dress to be sitting in a hospital room.”

Satoru laughed and kissed your cheeks. “I think we have some stalkers.” He moved his eyebrows looking behind you.

You turned around and looked where Satoru was looking. “I told you to stay inside!” You cried looking at Kyoko and her parents.

“Sorry, sorry but you two look so cute.” Kyoko said with a smile.

You huffed and took Satoru's hand. “Let's go.”

“Have fun and be careful.” You heard Kyoko's mother and father scream. You said goodbye with a smile and got into Satoru's car.

Satoru waved goodbye to them too and entered the car, looking at you with a smile. “Ready?” You nodded, but Satoru noticed your nervous expression, so he intertwined his hands and raised it to his mouth. "Everything will be fine." He said planting a kiss on your hand.

“Thank you.” You whispered with a smile.

Satoru just nodded and resignedly let go of your hand, to hold the steering wheel and drive off to reach the venue where the charity gala would be held. Even though Satoru had tried to reassure you, he was also extremely nervous, either way he wanted to avoid meeting his parents in that place or someone who could potentially ruin your evening, so he would make sure to have all his instincts on alert to that nothing happened and you could enjoy.

His blue eyes focused on the road ahead, the sun was already setting, painting the sky with orange and pink colors. There wasn’t much traffic on your way there, probably because most people left for the weekend to spend their time on the beach.

As you both got closer to where the gala was going to take place, Satoru could feel his hands sweating even more. It was then when he felt your hand on his arm, squishing it gently trying to calm him down.

Satoru released one of his hands from the steering wheel and intertwined your hands, gently caressing it with his thumb, giving you security and strength for the evening that awaited both of you.

When he finally parked the car the parking lot that screamed money, he turned to look at you and held both of your hands with his.

“If you want to leave.” Satoru began. “Doesn’t matter when, just tell me and we leave.” He looked you in the eyes. “And don’t try to pretend to be someone you are not, be yourself. Because your true self is awesome and I hope everyone sees it.”

You looked at him with a warm expression. “You are the amazing one.” You kissed his lips.

Satoru smiled and he got out of the car to turn and open your door, you wrapped his arm tightly and you both began to walk towards the entrance.

Your POV

Your heart was beating frenetically, you didn’t understand why you were that nervous, if it was because you could be meeting Satoru’s family that night, for the people who were attending or because you were scared that you could fucked up everything and make Satoru somehow embarrassed.

Although Satoru’s words were calming and his touch was warm and recomforting, which brought you a big security.

You both entered the elevator with your arm still around Satoru's. You looked at the dress Utahime had given you and smiled, it was beautiful, you felt beautiful that night.

The elevator opened it’s door on the floor that the gala was taking place and your stomach turned, feeling the anxiety taking over you. But once again Satoru’s comforting touch made you relax. You put the best of the smiles on your face and walked proudly beside Satoru.

As you started to enter the big places, you saw how the gazes of curious eyes turned to look at you and started gossiping about you.

“They are probably wondering who is the beautiful girl besides the heir of the Gojo clan, so relax.” Satoru whispered to your ear.

You nodded and tried not to pay too much attention to all the eyes that were in you, but it was difficult as their whispers seemed to become louder with each passing moment. Trying to distract yourself from them you took a look at the place, it was pure luxury, white and gold colors adorned the place and everyone looked fancy.

You didn’t want to feel small looking at those people and that place, but it was hard not to. And it was harder not to think about the difference between you and Satoru. It seemed as if with every minute that passed, it grew even wider and you held on with your nails to keep from falling.

“You okay?” Satoru stood before you, with a concerned look on his face.

“Yes, yes.” You nodded. “It’s just new, all this.”

Satoru leaned towards your face and placed a kiss on your cheek, causing your face to probably take on a reddish hue. “I know it might not be the best moment but I want you to meet someone.” He held your hand and you felt as your heart stopped.

Your legs started to shake as you moved across the place. Satoru greeted those present as he made his way through the people. And your heart only accelerated more with every step you took towards the unknown person or people that he wanted to introduce you to.

His hand tangled with yours gave you security and you knew Satoru would not put you in a thought situation. All your friends were just right about him, he was down on your knees for you. It had been difficult to see him but now every time you looked at him you could see in his eyes the admiration and affection he had for you. And that only made your heart race as fast as it could. Your old self from three months ago would hate to admit it out loud, but you were completely in love with him.

“Grandma, grandpa.” Your mind came back to reality and you found yourself in front of an old couple, Satoru’s grandparents.

“Oh Satoru!” The lady hugged Satoru, who was still holding your hand tightly. “You came and look at you, you look beautiful.”

“Grandma please.” You noticed Satoru’s red cheeks and couldn’t help but smile watching his shy face.

“It’s good to see you son.” His grandfather spoke.

“It’s good to be here.” He smiled. “And I would like to introduce you to someone.” His smile became bigger, he proudly said your name and you felt your heart melting.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Gojo and Mrs. Gojo.” You greeted them with a small bow.

Your heart started to rise when they both stayed in silence looking at you. “Oh darling, you are so beautiful.” His grandmother hugged you. “Satoru has told me about you.” You smiled and looked at Satoru.

“You two are dating?” His grandfather questioned him.

“Yes.” Satoru firmly said.

“Which family are you from?” You felt your heart sinking, you were not ashamed of your mother's surname but you knew why he was asking that question.

“Grandpa…” Satoru began.

But you cut him off and told him your family name. “It’s my mother’s family name.”

He looked at you with a sharp gaze, that could make anyone feel small but you wouldn’t let that happen. “No father?”

Satoru gripped his fits. “Grandpa enough please.”

“No sir, he abandoned my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant.” You said, coldly. You felt Satoru’s eyes on you and you could tell he was probably worried about you.

“Your mother is really brave.” His grandmother spoke. “Satoru told me about you and you seem like a very nice girl.” You bit your lip, your mother had barely raised you, it was only six years that you were together before chance took her away from you.

“Grandma…”

“Yeah.” You smiled. “She is amazing.”

You didn’t know his grandparents and you and Satoru hadn't been dating that long, so his family might get the wrong idea about you and think you were after their fortune. And you didn't want that, because it wasn't true and you trusted Satoru, but you didn't want false ideas put into his head.

“Your parents are looking for you Satoru.” His grandfather spoke once again.

You felt Satoru tense up next to you and in an attempt to calm him down, you ran your hand along his back, trying to make his nervousness disappear. Satoru just nodded and Satoru's grandparents excused themselves to go greet a couple a little further away. Satoru's grandmother gave you a warm smile that made you feel good and calm. When they both left, you both expelled the air you had in your lungs and laughed when you saw that you had made the same gesture.

“Sorry that they asked you about your parents.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay, I knew they could ask me.” He smiled. “Your grandfather told you that your parents are looking for you.”

He sighed. “Yeah but I really don’t feel like seeing them, besides I know they are going to be really harsh with you.”

“I can handle them.”

“Birdie…”

“Oh look how beautiful you look!” A female voice said behind the both of you.

“Utahime!” You smiled.

“You look amazing, everything looks amazing.” She said looking at you.

“You know, if I didn’t know you had a girlfriend I would be jealous thinking you might be flirting with my girlfriend.” Satoru whispered.

“Gojo shut up.” Utahime responded. “But really you look so beautiful.”

“It’s all thanks to you.” You smiled holding her hands.

“Only because the model it’s beautiful.”

You saw Satoru rolling his eyes. “Anyways, Utahime can you stay with birdie?”

“You are already leaving your girlfriend alone?”

“I’m leaving her with you, since the both of you seem to get along so well.”

“We do.” Utahime took your arm.

“Satoru, let me go…” But Satoru shook his head.

“I will see you in a bit.” And kissed your cheek.

You sighed seeing how he disappeared between the people. You wanted to go with him and supporting him if he was facing his parents.

“If he is going to see his parents it’s better like this.” Utahime turned you around and both of you started walking across the room. “They are… they are really complicate and won’t leave you alone.”

“I just want to be there for Satoru.” You looked down.

“And I’m sure Satoru knows that but believe me, I have known the Gojo family since I was literally a kid and his parents are something else.” She shook her head. “Probably as soon as they find out that you are not from any wealthy family, will try to cut your relationship with Satoru.”

You looked at her with concern. “Satoru is an adult, they can’t…”

“These families are not like the rest, most people here only care about their money, their status and their name. They don’t care whether their children are happy or not.”

“That’s why you are hiding it?” You asked her.

“In part, I’m afraid but I also know that my parents are not like most of these families.” She smiled. “I know I would have their support but still I’m afraid and I’m just sending hints to them.” She looked at you.

“I’m glad to hear that Utahime.” You smiled back at her.

“Now let’s go and grab some drinks shall we?” She giggled and started walking towards the bar.

Satoru Gojo POV

Satoru walked through the people that gathered around the room, laughing and chatting happily while drinking expensive wine, as if nothing else mattered. His blue eyes scanned the room searching for those familiar figures, which caused his stomach to close.

When he saw them talking animatedly with a couple, he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, before starting to walk towards them and putting on his best mask.

“Mother, father.” Satoru greeted both of them.

And like the perfect two face they were, they acted as two loving parents. “Oh our lovely son!” His mother said.

“Son this are Mr. And Mrs. Tanaka.” His father introduced them. “They are the owners of a major technology company.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Satoru said with a smile.

“Our son is currently studying a major in technology.” His mother said and Satoru got the urge to punch the air.

“I’m actually studying physics, astrophysics if we are more correct.” Satoru smiled.

“Oh how interesting.” Mr. Tanaka said.

“You are the same age as our daughter.” Mrs. Tanaka smiled.

“Oh really?” His mother said with surprise. “Sana was such a good girl, you two should meet and maybe…”

“Sorry.” Satoru knew where this conversation was going and he was not liking it. “I have a girlfriend and I’m not interested in meeting anyone.”

“Son, don't be stupid, you will probably break up with that girl.” His father said.

“Father, I’m not planning on breaking up with her, I love her. So I would like for both of you to respect that.” He looked at his parents, feeling how heart was starting to race with each sentence being said. “Now if you would excuse me.”

Satoru farewelled from them and started to walk quickly as if the steps he was taking weren’t enough to escape from them. He wanted to see you, to kiss you, to hug you and to take you away from that place.

Satoru walked through the great hall, greeting those who greeted him. He knew most of them and knew that their kindness was nothing more than interest, interest in getting closer to his clan and the company. So Satoru just gave them a smile and continued on his way, searching for you in the crowd.

But Satoru’s heart dropped when he saw the scene a few meters from him.

You were behind Utahime looking down and hiding your face, while Utahime was loudly shouting at the person she had in front of her. Satoru didn’t know what was happening but his pulse, his heart, everything was telling him that something happened and you were not okay.

With big steps he approached the surroundings and finally saw the person Utahime was screaming at, Naoya Zenin. Satoru knew he was not good news, he was the worst of news actually. He took a deep breath and walked to where you and Utahime were.

“Hey.” He ignored Naoya. “What happened?” He touched your face, which was still hidden from his gaze.

“Naoya happened.” Utahime muttered. “That asswhole.” She turned to look at you and whispered your name in a sweet way. “You okay?”

“Utahime tell me what happened.” Satoru begged.

Utahime hesitated, unsure if she should or not tell him what happened. “Well he…”

“No, Utahime… please.” You whispered.

You sounded defeated almost like you were about to pass out. Satoru swallowed, he wanted to know why you were like that but he also didn’t want to push you further.

He took a quick look at Naoya and then took your hand. “We're going to leave.”

“I'm leaving too, I don’t feel like being here anymore.” Utahime said and lovingly rubbed your back.

When you got to the car, unlike other times you didn't get into the passenger seat, but instead you went straight to the back, to sit with Utahime or rather to rest your head on his lap.

Satoru's discomfort did not stop increasing, it killed him to see you like this, it killed him that he could not do anything to help you to alleviate whatever he wanted you to be suffering at that moment.

It wasn't until you were in the car that Satoru saw your face. It was swollen and your eyes were red from crying. The mere thought that Naoya had made you cry made his blood boil. He knew you well enough to know that you were not easy to cry and that you hardly bowed your head, so Naoya had to really hurt you for you to be like this.

Satoru tried to focus on the road but his mind couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stop racing. When he parked the car in Utahime's building he watched as you both said your goodbyes.

“If you need, call me or Shoko.” You only hummed in response. “Bye Satoru.”

“Bye…” He only said.

And the car stayed quiet, Satoru tried to remain calm and to approach you as calmly as possible. He didn’t know why you were in the state you were but wanted to help you.

“Birdie…” He whispered, looking at you through the interior mirror.

“It was nothing.” You whispered.

Satoru narrowed his eyes and sighed. "Nothing? Birdie, look at the state you’re in, that’s not nothing.”

“Satoru, just… drive me home.” You simply said.

Satoru shook his head and got out of the car and went into the back, sitting next to you. “My love, look at me.”

In that instant, when the words left his mouth, Satoru was not aware of the nickname. For him it had been natural, something that had come from his heart and that he was not afraid to say. But when your red eyes, from crying so much, looked at him, he realized the new nickname he had used.

“You just…” You whispered.

Satoru chuckled and closed his eyes. “Yes birdie, I just did that.” But Satoru couldn't be distracted, he couldn't ignore that you looked completely defeated. “But birdie, please talk to me.”

Satoru felt how your breathing trembled and how you closed your eyes tightly. Without waiting a second, Satoru wrapped you in his arms and his heart broke a little when you began to sob against his vest. His grip tightened, wanting your pain to go away. But he also wanted to go back to that place and beat up Naoya, he didn't know why but he knew that he deserved it.

“He was my boss…” You whispered after a few minutes.

You separated yourself from his body and looked into Satoru's eyes, he could feel the vulnerability in your gaze, something he had rarely seen in you. He carefully caressed your cheek, trying to give you warmth and security.

“I used to work at his bar, after working at the store.” You continued. “It was bad…” You whispered.

Satoru watched and swallowed, thinking about the possibilities you had to face with that bastard. “Birdie…”

“I used to have panic attacks before going there.” A broken chuckle escaped your lips. “But I kept on going, because the salary was not bad and I needed the money.”

You felt silent, with your breath still unstable and your face buried on Satoru’s chest. You probably could feel his heart beating fastly on his chest, he wanted to calm himself not to distress you but he couldn’t, not when you were telling him that.

“Back at the club where we went, I met him.” You paused. “I was with Shoko and then Yuki came, so nothing happened.”

Then something on Satoru clicked. “It was him.” It wasn’t a question, it was an affirmation and you just hummed. “Birdie…” Satoru's voice shook, your nickname coming out in a thin voice from his throat. “Did he… did he ever put his hand on you?”

You stayed silent, just squeezed his shirt and breathed deeply. “He tried…” Satoru at that moment saw red and his only thought was to get out of that car and return to the gala to beat up the Zenin's posh kid. “But nothing happened, a client came in and… well he stopped, but his disgusting behavior and sexual harassment never stopped.”

“I'm so sorry…” Satoru whispered against your hair. You shook your head.

“It's not your fault, you are an angel, 'Toru.” Satoru kissed your hair and caressed your back.

“You want to tell me what happened tonight at the party?” Satoru pulled away from you and you finally looked at him, your eye makeup was smudged and your nose was slightly red as were your eyes.

“Can we go home first?” You asked, looking into his blue eyes.

“Sure…” He whispered, leaving a kiss on the corner of your lips.

— comment if you want to be tagged

🏷️: @lavender-hvze , @crybabytoru , @sanriosatoru , @norvacaine , @sadmonke , @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful , @kitzusune , @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @anniegojo , @milk3evee , @crunchypotatoooooooooo , @catobsessedlady , @zoeyflower , @starlostwish , @tinydonkeysforlife , @mimisq11341 , @n1vi , @olanii1019 , @vtrulvamp , @yjuisu

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fatalitysficbakery · 9 months ago

Text

𓆰♥︎𓆪 Bad For Me. —

Jordan Li x Black Fem!Y/n

genre: angst (questionable, not there)/fluff/SMUT.

warnings: enemies to lovers, car sex, slight humor, possessive dom!jordan, got your tea bitch sub!y/n.

synopsis: jordan hates your guts or wants to rearrange them. they haven’t decided yet. (yes they have).

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu 𓆪.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery multifandomed &&’ oc menu #2 𓆪.

❦ ⌫ ❦

She forces her way through the crowds, feeling herself bump into more than one frat boy being obnoxious on the dance floor, when she's finally pushed her way from everyone, her eyes darting around to the bar's seating area, not too many were there on account of the drinks keeping them busied.

She sighs until her attention is taken by a friend waving her over. Fixing the cowboy hat on her head, she makes her way over to them, a gentle smile on her face taking one of the seats next to Emma.

She doesn't notice them at first until she looks up and her smile immediately drops when they wink at her.

"Y/n? Earth to Y/n?" Marie snaps in front of her taking her attention away from the supe.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰��︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

"I'm here, ma. I was...distracted. Far too many frat boys in that crowd."

"You didn't see anything you liked out there?" Emma asked, draping her arm around Y/n and passing her a shot.

Y/n smirks, downing her shot, head leaned against Emma's when she speaks, her eyes close for a second, meeting Emma's the moment they open again, shaking her head, "Nah, sweetheart. Ain't nothing for me on that floor, you know me."

"I do. You're very picky."

"I like it that way."

As she talks, a pair of eyes track her every movement like a hawk's, eyes barely leaving her to scope out the scene, when they do look away, it's like something pulls them right back to her, which was the wildest thing to them in all honesty. They'd disliked the supe the moment they first met. There was something about her that just pissed them off.

"You been awfully quiet, Jor." Cate speaks up, leaning forward to observe their every move. "Shifty eyes too. What's up?"

"I just need a shot. That reason enough?"

"I'll take it. For now."

Jordan's eyes roll, and now they're really trying their hardest not to look over at the witch, she had psychic abilities, they were sure she'd had them pinned the moment they talked, and if she did, she didn't let it on, looking at them curiously for a fraction of a moment that felt like hours in Jordan's eyes, every time her eyes met them it felt like she could see through to their soul, rip them open and dissect every flaw.

"I could...go get us some?" She offers, moving from her spot leaned on Emma, legs crossed one over the other. Cate's eyes break from Jordan knowingly, but no one really says a word, what's understood, after all...

"You stare any harder your eyes will pop out of your skull, kid." Cate pats the poor thing on the shoulder, grin stretching cheek to cheek.

↳

Jordan despises you, they despise your very existence, the way your platinum blonde curls frame your face, making your dark brown skin pop out in a way that could distract God from his toughest battles, your lips full and always glossed, black lipliner a staple combo for you, they'd noticed. They'd noticed a lot about you and that's what they hated. You were insufferable in a way that left their mouth watering for more.

A puzzle they were determined to solve.

When you had come back with the shots, they weren't surprised that you caught somebody's eyes. That's another thing they hated about you, they hated that anybody else could look at you and notice the beauty they'd been trying their damndest not to notice.

When you were about to sit down again, some jock who Jordan noticed had been eyeing you for quite some time comes over, and Jordan wasn't exactly happy about it.

It happened so quick, everyone and no one was surprised when it did.

"I was wondering, if you, pretty thing would like to dance with little ole me?" He had the most infuriating southern accent possible and Jordan's jaw set immediately upon hearing it, stood up before you could utter an sentence in response, their form towering over you now as they look up at the douchebag, blonde with blue eyes and overwhelming steroids abuse.

"Move along, alright?" Jordan has a grin of all things on their face, like this was merely entertainment to them, their arms casually draping across your shoulder as if it was meant to be there.

"I was talking to the lady, Li."

"Yeah? You're talking to me now, Jeremy. You okay with that?"

Throughout this all, Y/n hadn't really uttered word, in complete shock that this was happening, I mean this was the same person that had just called you a nuisance a day prior.

"Man, I don't want a problem."

"So don't make one." Jordan's gaze burns into his soul, jaw clenched and eyes darker than they'd been before, they smile, eyes narrowing further.

Jeremy scoffs, turning to walk back off with his friends.

You just look up at Jordan in disbelief, mouth opened slightly.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

After that night Jordan was strangely quiet, you hadn't heard a peep out of them since then, no smartass remark, insult, it was complete silence. Though they lingered. Loomed.

It wasn't until you were pulled into an empty classroom, their scent taking up residence in your every sense, it's hard to pin what it reminds you of but you know what it feels like, and it's the most cliche thought you've ever had.

They just stared at you for a moment like they're trying to get a read on you, size you up, you feel exposed, naked as the day you were born despite the sweater she wore.

"You...You make me so unbelievably angry."

"I do? That's what this is? Anger?" You cock your head to the side, a smile threatening to appear on your lips, eyes so deep they drown in them. Jordan hisses, bringing you closer to them, their breath tickling your skin.

"Yeah that's what that is. Anger. We need to talk."

"I agree. Let's."

Jordan hoists you up onto the table, staring you down like it was their job to, before they speak, you beat them to the punch. "That was wild...What you did last weekend at the bar. For you especially. Wanna address it?"

"What? I didn't want him anywhere near you. So?"

"Since when did I become your problem?" You ask, your hands in your lap almost protectively like you were skeptical of how the situation would go, they could pratically smell the nerves on you, and it made them all the more...needy. Like you were the sundae to satiate their sweet tooth, before they knew it, their arm was snaking around your waist tugging you closer to them.

"You became my problem the second you got here, and I can't seem to get rid of you. I don't know what you're doing to me, darlin' but I..."

"You what?"

Their forehead presses against yours, holding you even tighter against them like you'd crumble if they were to let you go, something so fragile that only they could protect it. That's what you were to them. "I need you. Horribly. And it fucking sucks to have to admit it but there's...there's something about your freshie. Something that latches onto me and doesn't let go. Can't you feel it?"

"I always have." You respond coolly, your hand wrapping around their bicep, and it's absolutely far too late to turn back now nor do either of you want to. Neither of you want to ruin this.

"Then the jokes on me, huh Pretty girl?" They chuckle, pushing your legs apart to stand between them, they trap you between their arms their face unbelievably close to yours, "How could I not understand just how badly I needed you, sweetheart? You're something worse than a drug and I think we need to leave before I tear you apart right here right now." Their voice is deep in your ears, something that vibrates within you like a freight train.

There was nothing in their tone to suggest that they weren't completely serious in their quest to drag you off, you could see their self control dwindling before your very eyes and you knew that if it weren't soon, you'd be bent over a desk in some room a poor janitor would have to clean up later.

It's silent for a breath, but their hold on you only grows tighter, possessive like they were afraid of you vanishing.

Their breath kisses your skin, words a soft promise of their undoing.

"My place."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰��︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

It wasn't my fault, I don't know when the lines had become so muddied but having her by my side just felt insanely right to me, her perfume blanketing over me and imbedding every fucking detail of the witch into my psyche so deep I can never seem to get rid of it, and as she sat beside me singing her heart out to the radio, it furthers my obsession, she, my vice, and the neverending subject of my every thought.

She says something but I don't quite hear it, her scent drowns it all out, euphoria washes over me, and I can hear her rambling on about everything and nothing like she's already so comfortable in my presence.

My hand rests on her thigh, and I tune back in just enough to hear her ask me with a knowing smirk on her face like she could see right through me and then some, and I wouldn't be shocked if she could. That was the thing about her, she was always one step ahead and that's what pulled me to her.

"You weren't listening to a damn thing I said were you, Li?" She asked, leaning forward to look at me better, observing me so intensely I could feel myself growing an unbelievably deep shade of red that kinda irritated me. Maybe that's why I disliked her so much at first. She was the first person here to make me feel things I didn't wanna allow myself to ever feel, especially not with the path my life was headed.

It was her that made me wanna break all my rules, and I've always been a control freak. It was annoying to feel her pushing so hard at walls I thought I'd built so indestructibly. -- Now here she was looking at me with that damned smile of hers, staring through me and making me question everything I've ever known.

"I- Yeah, Um nah. I was a little distracted, I admit." I chuckle too nervously for my own liking, one hand on the wheel and the other squeezing the pretty thing's thigh; I always get a hit when she looks at me like I hold the world in the palm of my hands, and I can just feel my throat squeezing shut, my self control something so fragile when I'm near her.

"I see. What's on your mind?"

She asked me what was on my mind, I think that's when it snapped. I knew about this little hideaway, a spot away from the lights and the threat of being seen, and before I even realized it that's where we were, a shaded space away from everything with the woman I'd been fantasizing about for way too damned long for my liking, she was gonna be the fucking death of me if I didn't fix this.

"Cute. You know what's on my mind. Get your ass over here."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

She was in their lap within a breath or two, the car wasn't particularly spacious but it was enough for the two of them, a mess of desire ripping off each other's clothes with intent, it was almost like something necessary needed for them survive, something akin to oxygen itself.

Their hand reaches up to tug her head back, hands entangled in her curls, forcing her to look into their eyes directly.

"Ride me." The statement was so simple, so effortlessly whispered between them and it didn't...it didn't get to hang in the air too long either, unrequited was something this situation knew nothing of.

Her body was pressed so closely against them it was almost suffocating, her forehead against theirs when she was fully on top of them. Her chest heaves, their breathing and the sound of the music the only thing heard in the car, and it seemed they were determined to be the loudest things there.

They let out a sharp hiss when their cock is finally exposed to the air and it takes not even a moment for her cunt, dripping so shamelessly, to hover over their hardened length, leaving a heat so lethal to wash over them.

They grip their hand around her neck, tugging her even closer, eyes searching hers with an intensity so palpable it could be cut with a knife. Their hands roam over her like they'd been itching to explore her for a while now and god had they ever been. They'd been absolutely thirsting for it.

"Safeword. Let me hear it."

"I don't know, fucking lime?"

She and Jordan look at each other silently, the hand on the clock ticking ahead before both burst into laughter, Jordan's hands gripping her hips tightly within their palms, the way they look at each other intense, heated, and filled with mutual affection for the other party. "Lime? Fucking lime?"

"You asked for a safeword, I panicked!"

"Yeah?" Their finger trails down her neckline, eyes locking on hers, hands moving her hips in time with their thrusts, a low groan tumbling out of their lips, fingers digging into her asscheeks, pulling as close as they could get her. Closer, if possible.

The way her words die out on her lips, their free hand wrapping around her neck, taking in Y/n's scent, they get closer.

"God you're so fucking cute. Look at that, you're speechless for once in your life. No talking back right now, sweetheart?"

"You...I want you to kiss my ass." She responds, but her voice is weakened, an air of vulnerability washing over her. Jordan catches onto it without much effort on their part, one look at the poor thing and it was clear she was nothing more than putty in their hands. Melting right between their fingers.

"You and I both know you can do better than that. You have done better than that...Where's that spark now, doll?"

Their hand reaches down to pinch her clit between their fingers, breath ghosting over their lips, a shit-eating mischievous-looking smirk on their face, they can practically feel her ending begin.

"Speak up, baby. Be loud for me."

Their hips angle for her g-spot, and with a particularly hard push, they feel her clench around them, cock twitching sensitively when she grips them like a vice and she obliges their requests, singing a pretty little song, all for their utter euphoria.

The way her face twists up, eyebrows knitting, and eyes squeezed tight, lips parted to let a scream out, one so desperately needy it sends them over the edge immediately, their seed spilling into the witch and arms grabbing her tighter without any intent to let go.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

They had to spar the day after, the little witch could feel her limbs aching with every step she'd taken and unfortunately it was only going to get worse; She could see Jordan looking at her with a determination so familiar in their gaze that it made her shiver. She knew she wasn't safe despite what had happened last night.

"Seriously?" She glances at them, narrowing her eyes their way.

"You're not safe because you're sexy, get your ass up."

Y/n silently nods to herself, standing up to get herself prepared, sighing airily, that familiar confident grin shows up on her face. "Fine. Let me beat your ass and shut you the fuck up."

"That shouldn't be so... C'mon, let's go. You're going down, freshie."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

A/N: happy 21st birthday to me bitchhhh!!!!!!!!!!! here's my lil late lil birthday fic I guess <33.

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starcrossedxwriter · 8 months ago

Text

Wicked Fantasies Part 11.1 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: Ummm so welcome backkk! This is 11.1 because there's a second part to this chapter (I know... my self control keeps getting worse lolol) But I hope you enjoy!

TW: grief

“I’m never fucking drinking again,” Raven moaned to herself as she stumbled out of the comforts of bed. She felt like hell, if hell had a truck run over its head a few dozen times.

Raven generally considered herself an early riser but nothing could pull her out of bed that morning after what was, objectively, the dumbest night of her life. Part of her wished she had had one or two more drinks so she could have officially transitioned into the ‘blackout drunk’ phase. So that she would, at least, be spared the embarrassing memories. But no, every horrible moment of the night from dancing wildly at the bar to Michael saving her was etched into the crevices of her brain with shocking clarity.

Now, it was after noon and Raven still found herself wanting to be curled under her blanket asleep so she could escape her embarrassment.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her wallowing self pity. She did not make an attempt to move, expecting Tiffany to answer. However, when the voice of their landlord rang out and her knocking persisted, she quickly slid on her robe to open the door. She decided Mrs. Winters would have to get over the fact that she looked like death reincarnated.

“Rough night, dear?”

Raven grimaced for a moment, she did indeed look as terrible as she felt.

“Something like that,” Raven offered a tight smile, her body slumping against the door. “W-what can I do for you, Mrs. Winters?”

“Oh I’m just letting everyone know that we had a pipe burst on the floor above. We’ll have folks in and out and you might hear some noise and stuff. But if you see any leaking into your unit, give me a ring?”

“Of course. Will do. Thanks, have a good one,” Raven tried her best to politely shoo the woman away. However, she lingered.

“Oh I meant to tell you, that boyfriend of yours is just such a good egg. So kind and polite. Admittedly I haven’t met many famous people,” she laughed. “But you just don’t expect them to have such good manners, you know?”

Raven stopped. “My boyfriend?? Sorry… When was he here?”

“He stopped by this morning. Gave me a check for your rent for the rest of your lease. Oh and asked where your mailbox was, said he wanted to drop something in it.”

Raven was worried her jaw might come completely unhinged as the woman spoke.

He did what??

“Are you alright, dear??”

“Y-Yea, yea. Just… a bit of a surprise. Thank you.”

And with that, Raven immediately closed the door, not listening to the elderly woman’s reply.

“This nigga… I hate him,” she muttered to herself as she slumped against her door.

Every cell in her body knew that was not true. But she also knew that everything she had told him last night was still accurate. She was too tired to forgive him and not just him… anyone ever again. The world has used up all of her second chances and she did not have it in her heart to be disappointed by him again. The narrative in her brain was so set in stone, she did not think anything he could say or do would make her believe anything else. She could not even make herself go retrieve the note that was apparently waiting for her in her mailbox.

“Such a coward,” she grumbled as she flopped back into bed.

She stared at her phone for several minutes, her text thread with Michael open. She wondered what she could even say? Thank you?

She knew any conversations demanding she pay him back or he rescind the money would be moot. Even if she had the mental fortitude to argue with him right now, she would still lose. But she could not just accept it without trying to push back.

She typed and erased and typed and erased before lamely landing on:

Raven: You can’t pay my entire rent. I can’t accept that.

Raven: I don’t want that.

Michael: Yea you can. Told you… gonna show up every day tryin’ to fix us. You just gotta let me.

Raven: Money isn’t gonna fix this, Michael.

Michael: I know. But it can fix the tangible things I fucked up for you

Michael: So let me fix that for you.

Raven paused, as a warm sensation filled her, a warmth she had not felt in over a month now. The warmth of being cared for. She had never had someone take care of her without wanting something in return, except Michael. Even when their relationship was built on transactions, he still took care of her without needing or asking for something from her. The book deal, her rent were just the tangible examples of how he had stepped up to right the wrongs he could and she could not deny that those actions meant something, softened something inside her.

He was doing exactly what he promised he would do the night before. He was fixing what could be, he was showing with his actions that she meant something to him. And yet, that blockade that stopped that belief from taking root was still there, still prohibiting her from believing these actions were anything more than a skilled manipulation.

He would draw her back in, he would not change, and when he got ready, he would hurt her again. That’s what everyone in her life did.

Raven: It doesn’t change anything

Michael: I know… didn’t expect it to.

She tossed her phone to the side and grabbed her pillow, screaming into it as her frustration got the better of her. The complex web of conflicting feelings with Michael B. Jordan trapped at its center only continued to grow. She wanted him to let her go, to stop caring and trying and going out of his way for her because that fit into the narrative nailed to the cross of her brain, it would confirm her beliefs and fears.

But instead he continued to do the things that made her fall in love with him the first time, things that only reignited the dimmed but still existent flame that was her love for him. And she knew she would never get over him if she kept letting that happen, kept letting him in.

So she did not even respond. Instead, she just closed the thread and tossed her phone to the side.

“Let him go, Rae,” she demanded to herself. “You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t love you.” She repeated that a few times before it felt real again, before all that had started to soften was once again as solid as a block of ice.

***

“You look like shit,” Alex moaned as she watched Michael’s makeup artist, Shanta, struggle to make him look less like a living zombie ahead of his Oprah interview.

They were tucked away in a suite in Oprah's sprawling LA estate. It was difficult to make Michael feel poor but Oprah was certainly one of the few people in the world who could do so.

“Thanks, appreciate that.”

“You know I don’t believe in lying to you. Make sure you get those bags under his eyes,” she instructed. “Alright, this is it. Final stretch. Movie’s out and every review is stellar so far. Do this interview, it’ll air this week, Oscars on Sunday and then you can sleep. Though I bet it’s not the schedule keeping you up? Talked to her since the premiere?”

Michael forced his body not to sag at the mention of Raven as to not disturb the hard work of the woman trying to make him look alive after days of no sleep.

“She texted me about the rent thing the next morning. But it’s been radio silence ever since.”

It had only been a few days since the fiasco after the premiere but Michael’s concern for Raven had not diminished one bit. He could not let her go as she requested but he tried his hardest to respect her desire for space. His heart was stuck in the quicksand that was Raven and he had no desire to pull himself out. He wanted to be right there. He knew eventually he would have to accept defeat, accept that she had moved on. But he could not do it while she still questioned her own deservedness. She could hate him for the rest of his life, it would be her right. But his soul could not allow her to live thinking so lowly of herself. So if he had to pay 30 years of rent or call in favors to make her life easier and make her see that she deserved care and someone to sacrifice for her, he would do it. It was high time someone in her life put her above themselves.

“Well, at least she talked to you. That’s something. You’re doing what she asked. Sis has lived a life, she needs time and space. Keep doing what you're doing. Except for the no sleep. For the love of God, by the Oscars, please get a good night’s rest. That’s your night.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Alex…”

She scoffed. “You’ve won the big four, Mike. It’s not just because I believe you deserve it… Statistically, Best Actor is yours. The Oscars is your night. Have a little faith in yourself.”

“I hear you. I just don’t wann-”

“Excuse me?” A young man poked his head in the door. “Apologies for interrupting. I’m a PA. Just wanted to let you know that we’re almost ready? I can take you out to the garden when you’re ready.”

“Be right out. Thank you,” Alex called.

Shanta did her last quick finishing touches before Alex gave him her customary once over.

“Shanta, my girl, you’re a miracle worker per usual.”

They both offered Shanta their thanks, Michael rolling his shoulders before heading out the door to walk out to the gardens.

He had met and interviewed with Oprah once before so he was not particularly nervous. But despite having done millions of interviews, there was always a kernel of nerves right beforehand that he could just never shake.

He was dressed in slacks and a light black sweater, thankful for a cooler day as he walked out into her expansive gardens where the Oprah Winfrey waited for him. The cameras were already rolling, capturing footage that may or may not make into the hour-long special.

“The man of the hour!” she called, her arms stretched wide to wrap Michael in a hug. “Actually I think man of the year is more appropriate. Welcome. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you here.”

“Thank you, thank you. It’s so good to be here.”

“Have a seat,” she gestured at the very comfy chair across from hers. “And we can jump right in.”

***

Raven’s head was propped against her fist as she stared at her computer. A sentence. That was the grand total of her hard work for that Wednesday afternoon. But it was something, she supposed. Weeks of hard work had amounted to maybe two or three pages of her book. She had been offering Angelina vague answers on her progress, ducking and dodging her to avoid admitting that there was no way in hell she could have a draft by March 15 like they talked about.

“Rae? You busy?”

She turned in her chair toward the door to find Tiffany’s head poking in.

“Nope… I’ll never be busy again at this rate,” she grumbled. “What’s up?”

“I just turned on the interview… if you want to watch?”

Raven scratched her head, unsure if she could even watch him? See him happy and thriving without her? Despite everything happening between them though, she could not pretend there was not a part of her that still wanted to celebrate this moment in his career. Interviewing with Oprah the week he was poised to win his first Oscar? How could she ever forgive herself if she did not watch this? Even if it hurts?

“I’ll… be there in a sec. Thanks, Tiff.”

Raven let out a deep sigh before she grabbed the blanket off her bed and dragged herself to the living room. The interview had already started and he looked gorgeous. Tired, she could tell, in the way he constantly had to readjust his posture, in the bags under his eyes that the makeup artist could not quite fully cover. But even at his worst, he looked captivatingly good.

Raven found herself studying him so intently that she did not even comprehend the words he and Oprah were sharing. She just watched him and his mannerisms, she focused on the glimmer in his eyes that sparked every so often. She missed looking into his eyes, missed how expressive they were.

This moment only amplified how much she missed him, missed hearing the deep baritone in his voice and the spark in his eyes when he spoke about his passions. She missed his bright and uninhibited laughter, how his hands were always on her in some way. She just missed him. But she had pushed him away, had told him to let her go. And even if he had not fully let go of her yet, she felt too scared to open that door again, even if her soul ached for her to. Particularly when he continued to try to show up for her in small ways.

And despite how angry she still wanted to be at him, she had never had anyone show up for her quite like this… try for her like he did. And everyday, her brain took up far more mental space than it should have, debating whether she should follow her foolish heart and forgive him or listen to her logical brain and cast him aside. Days passed and she still did not know the answer.

“So I’ll admit,” Raven’s ears finally started to pick up the conversation between Oprah and Michael, “I watched Waves more times than appropriate. But Gayle and I saw it at Sundance and we both thought it was just the most heartbreaking and poignant look at loss and grief that we had ever seen. While still being engaging and funny and so relatable. The journey your character goes through is just… I mean I think grief is one of the few universal experiences that we all will have at some point. And you really brought that to life through this character and his struggles with addiction. And the fact that you filmed this while engaged in completely different projects with complex characters like Killmonger in Black Panther and Adonis in Creed 3… I’m curious what you pulled from to give that performance?”

Michael shifted in his seat as he chuckled, Raven had missed how passionate he got about this project, even though he had been talking about it and doing press for it since they first started dating. She knew he had not truly expected the role to blow up in the ways it did but she could tell he was grateful for it, nonetheless.

“Well first, thank you. Yea aside from Oscar Grant, Andre was the hardest character I’ve ever played and he stretched me as an actor in ways, you know, I didn’t really expect? And I learned so much from him in his sort of journey through grief. You know, when I read the first script, the line ‘grief is the final stage in love’s evolution,’ really stuck out to me. When you lose someone, grief, this enduring pain you feel, is that love shifting and changing because it has nowhere to go, there’s no outlet for it anymore. And so, Andre really reframed my own thoughts on grief and loss and how I process that and allowed me to pull from personal experiences with loss to pour into that character.”

“Yea I will say, that line was one of my favorites. I sat with that long after the credits rolled.”

“Yea same. I remember sitting a-and thinking about that one for a while after reading it. And I loved that even in the more comedic moments of this movie, we still had those lines that made you wanna stop and really sit with what the characters were going through.”

“Definitely, I was dissecting this movie for weeks after. It’s just amazing. So I do want to shift gears to talk about this moment you're experiencing because of this movie. This really is the biggest moment of your career. You’re nominated for your first Oscar and a favorite to win, so far in 2023, you’ve won a SAG Award, Golden Globe, and BAFTA. And you, as of two days ago, just had your directorial debut in Creed 3. First question, how are you still awake?” Both of them shared a laugh. “But serious question, how has this moment felt? How does it feel to be having this moment at this stage of your career?”

“Oh wow, when you list it like that, I don’t know how I’m awake either,” he chuckled. “But seriously, you know… it’s been a ride. I know you’ve felt this too but you know, you don’t often take a moment to just pause and soak it in. You finish one interview or award show and your mind automatically just jumps to the next one. And I think what I’ve been trying to force myself to do in the later weeks of this insane time is just to slow down and enjoy it. Not rush through it and really enjoy the fruits of… really years of hard work and sacrifice. But that also means sitting with… you know, the challenges of this time too, which isn’t as rewarding,” he admitted with a sad smile. “But I’m growing and learning alot so it’s worth it.”

Oprah nodded. “You know I always appreciate when people don’t let the 24 hour news cycle and gossip sort of steal their thunder and moment from them. And I applaud you for sort of moving through the more gossipy side of the last few months with grace and maturity. But you haven’t really talked much publicly about those stories and the effect they have had on you. And you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want but I am curious on how you navigated that and really came out on the other side, from what I can see, stronger for it?”

Michael bowed his head and chuckled. “Um… you know a good friend of mine told me that she thought this was the most vulnerable and most genuine I had ever been publicly on this press tour and I think it’s because I’ve had to navigate some really personal stuff during this great but hectic public moment? And that’s new territory for me.”

“And I think that friend is right. I don’t think we have seen or learned this much about you ever.”

“Yea and I wish I could take some credit for it but… it was all one person: Raven Turner. And the way we met, now as the world knows, was extremely unconventional and I can admit that our relationship started as a complete lie. A lie I thought would help me be seen as this serious, mature man my team was worried I wasn’t. And I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I was cold and guarded and not at all the best version of myself. And while I regret how we started and trying to fool the world into thinking I’m something I’m not, there isn’t a bone in my body that regrets falling in love with her.”

He leaned forward a bit as he spoke. “Because all those walls and barriers we build around ourselves to survive in this world of Hollywood? To endure the criticisms and insanity we deal with? She's the first woman to see me. Not the actor and the money and the fame but just me. And in that, she saved me… without trying or intending to. She just loved me and loving her, choosing her is the single greatest decision I ever made. And I hate how this moment has fallen on her, how my terrible decisions led to these pretty disgusting misogynistic attacks on her. And I think my biggest regret is putting someone as pure as her in the line of fire like that and not doing enough to protect her. And you know, I have to live with that, which is tough.”

“You know I’ve interviewed thousands of people in my career and while I believe you have to change for yourself and on your own, I also have found that the ones who love us, really love us, are often the most powerful catalysts for change in our lives. I’ve certainly seen and experienced that in my own life and it’s important to spotlight those who were that catalyst.”

“Oh 100%. Especially when, I think this version of me was always there? I was just too hurt to trust anyone with it, so no one saw it. I buried me under this facade I thought was better? But I fell in love with a woman who taught me that you can’t be guarded, you can’t shut down just because you’re hurt. Life is about getting up every day, being authentically you, and reaching out and loving and risking your heart every time. And sometimes you’ll get swatted away and sometimes you’ll get an embrace. But you just deny yourself love when you don’t show up at all. So I’ve been trying to live by that more lately. Because she showed me what real strength and courage looks like. And I want to have that, I want to lead with that.”

“Wow… you know people are going to watch this and I think, applaud that vulnerability. It’s refreshing to me because I don’t think our world incentivizes or encourages people to admit when they aren’t being their best selves. So I think for you to do that, at a moment when you’re at the top of your game, is commendable.”

“She deserves to know the positive effect she’s had on my life. To be celebrated for how she supported me. And you know it’s not just me? When we first started dating, I remember her one stipulation was that we couldn’t go out on Wednesday evenings because she hosted a book club for kids at the library she worked at. And that was the most important thing to her, being there for them. The day of our first date, she spent an hour delivering books and SAT prep books to those same kids she worked just because. There’s just a selflessness to her that is truly admirable. And I think while people are attacking her and calling her these vile names because she made a certain choice during a hard time, they should know who she really is. A woman that would drop everything to help you even when you don’t really deserve it. A woman who I’ve seen give others all she had because they needed it more even when she did not have a backup plan for herself. I could honestly talk about her for the rest of this interview because she deserves celebration far more than I ever could. Genuinely good people don’t always get the shine they deserve, they don’t always get the love and care they deserve because we can often take them for granted. But no one deserves to be celebrated more than her, to be celebrated loudly more than she does.”

“I love that… she seems like quite the woman.”

“She is… and I hope she knows that.”

“So tell me about…”

The words faded away as his words tumbled through Raven’s head. They clashed jarringly against every belief she had internalized about herself, like metal against metal. But she found herself wanting to believe him. Believe the words a section of the world just heard. She wanted to believe that what he saw in her, even over the course of six months, was who she truly was. Not this broken, damaged scapegoat life had fashioned her into.

There has to be more than this, right?

Tiffany nudged her with a box of tissues in her hand. Raven had not even realized she was crying but she accepted them gratefully.

“Don’t know how I still have tears over this man left,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes.

“I don’t think those tears are because of him, sis.”

Raven sniffled and grabbed another tissue. “You m-might be onto something. I can’t watch anymore. Night, Tiffany.”

However, before she reached her bedroom, she heard Tiffany call her name.

“I know what he did… sucks. And hurts. But that’s a man who loves you, Rae. More than anything. After that? The only person in the world who still won’t believe it is you.”

She turned around to face her, the back of her hand wiping away a few more stray tears. “You know he said the same thing?”

“Well, I generally don’t think actors are that smart,” Tiffany admitted with a laugh. “But he’s right about that. You deserve to believe good things about yourself, we all do.”

“Nothing good has ever lasted… I always ruin it somehow. I tried to believe I deserved him and life proved that I didn’t,” she answered, her voice small. “D-Don’t have it in me to try again.”

“Raven… I know we aren’t best friends or anything. But how many times have I watched you forgiven your dad and sister? Let them back in, try to make things right with them? Try to build the family you want?”

“Too many…”

“Right… So why does Michael only get one shot when you found the strength to give them 100? When he’s the one actually showing up for you? He’s the one who actually is trying to earn another chance?”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.”

“I know that the only person denying you happiness right now… is you. You push away the good people and things in your life because you feel like you don’t deserve it but no one would be here if you didn’t. Michael, the kids in your book club… me. I don’t keep signing leases with you because you’re a terrible person who ruins everything, no one has a gun to our heads, Rae. We’re here because you do deserve it.”

“Tiff…”

“Nope, shut up. This pity party is getting old and tired. It doesn’t matter what I think of you… or what Michael thinks or anyone out there.” She gestured toward the window. “All that matters is the narrative you’ve created and until you decide to believe something else, all you’re going to do is push people away and fuck up and self sabotage because it’s all you think you deserve. You gotta wake up and do some fucking work, girl. Cause until you figure out how to erase this narrative from your brain, you’ll never be happy. And you’ll never fall in love with anyone except for someone who treats you like crap. You’ll never build your own family. You’ll never finish your book or have another fulfilling career. You’ll just be stuck in this broken version of yourself alone… forever. And I’ve seen a few different versions of you over the last two years but this is by far the most pitiful.”

Raven had never heard Tiffany be so blunt. The words were biting but she could not deny that some of them rang true in her ears. And that was always the hardest information to hear.

“Damn… tell me how you really feel.”

“The soft gentle love wasn’t resonating clearly so had to go with a different tactic…. Just think about it. And once you fix all this shit and move to a mansion in the hills, don’t forget about me.” She winked at her, causing Raven’s jaw to drop slightly.

“How do you even know that’s gonna happen?”

She shrugged and grabbed the remote to press play, Raven not even noticing that she paused it.

“Just got a good feeling about the two of you. Now go so I can lust after him in peace while he's still single. Kidding! Kinda..."

Raven let out a small laugh as she shook her head. "I know you're not kidding. Night, Tiff.”

She slid into her bed, her only refuge of late, and stared at the ceiling. She was surprised she was not tired of looking at it by now. Michael and Tiffany’s words wrestled with her own thoughts for hours

What was her problem, really? It was not that what Michael did was unforgivable because it wasn’t. Some distant part of her, too quiet to break through the noise of her anger, always wondered if there was more to the story, believed that he had to have had some reason. But she was too angry to allow him to explain. It just became vicious ammunition that no one could ever love her or care about her… that she was the problem.

Well, that’s true… no one’s ever loved you. And everyone who does leaves.

She supposed her mother must have loved her, but she would never know. She would never feel it. And her grandmother’s love was so distant, so long ago, that it no longer felt tangible, was no longer a tether to anchor her self worth to something positive.

Instead, the only thing that tethered her sense of self worth to anything was her family’s disdain. Disdain that made her question what Michael could’ve seen in her, how he could ever love someone like her? That disdain which made it far easier to believe that what he did was proof that he did not love her than that he possibly did do it to protect her in some weird way. No other thought could live long enough in her brain to take hold.

And she did not know if doing what Tiffany suggested would fix that. There was not enough time in the world for her muster the courage to interrogate and confront the source of these feelings. She had hoped she would never have to see her family again. Some days, never felt like too soon.

But she knew she could not avoid it. They were the root cause, the narrative in her head was fueled and sustained by them. And screaming at them across the Thanksgiving table and never speaking to them again was not the closure she needed. She thought she had dropped the weight that was her family when she cut them off. But she was still dragging all the luggage they gave her around and it was time to give it back.

She knew her family did not want to see her either, knew it would be difficult to get them to even speak to her after everything. But she knew she had to try… because she knew there had to be more to life than this. That she had not been born to only suffer through life instead of live it. So she needed to confront her demons for herself, even if her relationship with them did not change one bit.

She grabbed her computer and her wallet. It was time to go home.

***

Raven’s eyes remained trained on her dad’s house across the street as she sat in her rental car. She was almost shocked that none of her family’s nosy neighbors had not called the police yet as she sat there for nearly an hour, summoning the courage to actually go inside.

She had felt so sure this was what she needed when she bought her plane ticket. And that confidence did not waver when she stepped onto the plane or during the long journey from LAX to Charlotte, NC. However, once she was in her rental car, she found herself waffling, aimlessly driving around for hours. Her brain seemed unable to direct her to the place she knew she needed to go. Home.

She just could not make herself do it… not yet anyway. So she did not. Instead, she finally went to her hotel to try to get some rest and her night’s rest turned into the entire Friday holed up in her hotel. She had not booked a return ticket, prayerful and hopeful that there would be a reason to stick around for a few days. But that also meant she did not have the incentive of time to make her move faster.

But she could not even make herself do this. Because she did not know how to be brave like this. Her life had been nothing but running from pain and confrontation. This was so contrary to that. She did not know how to do any of this. She tossed and turned all night, unable to get any sleep particularly when there was only one person who she wanted to talk to, wanted to seek courage and strength from. Because when she felt scared, when she did not feel strong, he was the only person she wanted to reach for. But she was not sure he would even answer. She had pushed him away, told him she needed space.

But she had not felt like she could do this alone. So last night, she called him.

“Rae! Everything ok?” he asked immediately, his question met with silence.

Raven did not know what to say and regret filled her like ice water in her veins. But she knew it was too late to hang up, she had to see it through. She paid for that moment of weakness when she hit the call button as her throat closed at the sound of her voice. She found it impossible to speak, even if she knew what words to say.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, Rae. Got all night for you.”

And she knew he was not just talking about waiting for her to speak.

“Why?” she whispered, the simple word coming out in a strangled sound as she tried to push past the tightness in her throat.

“Why what?”

“Why even answer after everything I said to you? W-why do you keep trying?”

“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And you’re worth it. I’ll keep reaching out, baby girl. Even when you swat me away.”

“You might be the only person who thinks that,” she whispered back as a tear fell.

“I don’t think that’s true. But even if it was, knowing one person is in your corner is all you need sometimes.”

She laughed lightly. “That press tour got you only speaking in motivational boxing terms or something?”

His deep laughter filled her ears and filled her soul with such joy that she had forgotten. She had forgotten what these moments felt like, the two of them on the phone or curled up together in bed, just talking. She missed it… she missed him. But she could not say it, could not bring herself to pull her body out of the water to make that long trek back up the cliff to where he waited for her. Everything in her brain screamed at her that she couldn’t do it, that she did not have it in her. And she hated herself for it. Hated how she clung to the ice barriers around her heart, even though they were utterly fractured and ready to fall. She just was not ready yet.

She let out a shuddering breath as she hastily wiped away her falling tears. “I… don’t know why I called. I s-shouldn’t have called.”

“Call me anytime, Rae. I’ll always answer. I’ll always show up for you. I hope you know that… at least.”

“Y-Yea… I think I do… or at least, it’s getting harder to deny it,” she revealed. “Your interview with Oprah… it was really good,” she offered lamely.

“You watched??” she could hear the surprise in his voice.

“Yea… I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But I caught most of it. Did you mean it? Everything you said?”

“Every single word.” There was no arguing with the definitive tone in his voice. “I get that you don’t trust me anymore. I lied and kept secrets. But one thing I never lied about is how much I love you.”

Her eyes clenched shut for a moment. That was one thing he had always been consistent about, her ears had just been perpetually shut to it.

“I… um… I gotta go. Early day tomorrow,” she lied as she sniffled. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Bye, Michael.”

She was not sure what she had expected to get from that call and, at first, it felt as if she only got a firm kick in the heart for it. But for the first time since she landed, Raven had enough strength to finally drive to her family’s house. She had rolled her eyes at his boxing motivational quotes but hearing someone say they were in her corner, that had given her courage. To just feel like someone was behind her, even if she was alone, that meant something to her.

She took a deep breath and got out of her car, forcing her legs to carry her to the front door.

Her rounds of knocks went unanswered, Raven getting slightly frustrated but determined not to leave the porch. If she turned around and walked away, she’d never come back.

After an extremely brief internal debate, she decided to simply let herself in, deciding that since she contributed to the mortgage, she had a right to come in as she pleased. And her father still, foolishly, kept a spare key underneath the welcome mat.

Though she had not been to her family’s home in two years or so, it still looked the same. Her father’s favorite work boots were thrown haphazardly at the door, several pairs of her sister’s shoes lined up next to them. She was an utter mess but she was, at least, somewhat neat. And it still felt… cold. And it had nothing to do with the cold winter east coast weather. The house had always felt like that, void of warmth and love that made a home a home.

“Kiara?” she called out. “Dad?” However, she was met with utter silence.

Part of her supposed she was thankful they were not home and that they had not just ignored her or something. She stood in the living room, staring around the room at the pictures that lined the walls and shelves. So many of her mom, her dad, and Kiara but there were none of her. That was not a surprise, it had always been that way. But that did not make it sting any less. All they had ever wanted was to erase her from their lives and if a stranger walked into this house, it would be as if she never existed.

She started up the stairs, her eyes refusing to linger long on any of the photos there. They were all lies anyway, a picture perfect family that did not exist because she had been born. She decided to ascend to the attic once she made it upstairs. Because that was where all her grandmother’s and some of her own things now lived. She had never really gone through her grandmother’s things after she passed, no one aside from her dad to pack them up. But she knew there was so much of their lives, so many memories she had forgotten of the one person who loved her, forgotten in those boxes that she now desperately needed to remember.

She ignored how narrow the opening to the attic was, realizing that it had been easier to maneuver up here when she was a young teenager. Everything was still neatly packed away as if her grandmother would be back one day to pick it up.

She started to open each box, pulling out and examining her grandmother’s things, so many beautiful things forgotten in this attic no one went into. For the first time in nearly two decades, she felt close to the only maternal figure she had ever had, felt like her grandmother’s hand was on her shoulder as she reminisced on their short but well-lived time together.

She found the old costume jewelry her grandmother used to let her play with, laughing to herself as she thought back to dressing up in front of her vanity mirror pretending to be a model or whatever silly idea the pair had thought up. She almost cried as she found a very crumpled piece of paper with the last story she gave her grandmother to read before she died, a random short story that she had written for class. She had not realized, as she found a folder, just how many of her stories her grandmother had kept.

A gold glint caught her attention, Raven reaching into a giant box to find a shoe box. Raven had seen that box 100 times but her grandmother had never let her touch it, claiming that it held priceless family heirlooms that she did not want Raven or Kiara to mess up. Raven rolled her eyes that something her grandmother had valued so much had been discarded and forgotten haphazardly at the bottom of this box.

Finally giving into her childhood curiosity, she opened it. It was still filled with things, part of her thankful that Kiara had never found it. The jewelry and pieces in it were gorgeous and indeed priceless. She took her time as she examined each one, wondering if they had belonged to her mother or her grandmother or some other relative she never met. However, it was what existed underneath the jewelry that caught her eye: piles of tied up envelopes, one with her name on it and one with Kiara’s.

The handwriting was not her grandmother’s, which made Raven even more curious.

She pulled out the stack with her name on it and undid the thin ribbon that tied them together. There were ten letters there in total, each one with a different note scribbled on the envelope.

To Raven on your 18th birthday

To Raven on high school graduation

To Raven after your first love

To Raven after your first heartbreak

To Raven on college graduation

To Raven on your wedding day

She only had to flip through a few of them to realize who they were from. Her mom.

“You’re killing me,” she muttered to the sky, unsure if she was speaking to God, her grandmother, her mother or all three.

Her hands trembled slightly as she ripped open the one on top, addressed to her on her 18th birthday. These were some of the only words her mother would get to say to her, she did not care how long ago she should have read it. She would savor each one.

To my sweet darling girl,

If you are reading this, it means that I am not physically there with you on your birthday. It means that I’ve missed 18 birthdays and too many milestones to write a letter for and for that, I am sorry. You might be wondering why there is not a letter for all those milestones and birthdays that have taken place but this felt like the best place to start and the appropriate age for reading the musings of a dying woman. If there’s even such a thing.

We learned your gender today. Another sweet girl. If the doctor somehow got it wrong, these letters will be incredibly awkward. But I know they are right. Because you, my darling girl, are the manifestation of my wildest dreams. I dreamed of you almost a year ago, this beautiful girl with half my face but all of my spirit and personality. And every night since then, I prayed, begged God to make that dream a reality… no matter the cost. And he did.

I know my body is not strong enough to be your mother, to be around to be the mother someone as brilliant as you will deserve. But I hope you know that deciding to have you and keep you, regardless of the risks, is the single greatest decision I ever made. You were not an accident or a misfortune given to me. You are my dreams. And if my last moments on this earth are spent looking at you, it will have been worth it.

I waited until 18 to start these letters because I worried a child could never understand the choice I made. And you may still not. And if you resent me for leaving you before you could know me, I understand that too. But I hope that through these letters, you will get to know me. And you will feel some semblance of the immense love I have for you.

I don’t have much advice because you’ve likely heard it all at this point. But the two most important things I can tell you, that I wish someone had told 18 year old me, is to know that failure is part of the journey. Your grandmother used to always tell me to keep reaching out your hand even if it doesn’t work. I didn’t really understand it soon enough but I hope you do. Life is about risks and if you don’t reach out your hand out of fear, you’ll protect yourself from pain but you will also miss out on the gifts God is trying to hand you. As a daughter, I hated to admit it, but mama was right about that… and so many other things.

And finally, more importantly than anything else I could offer you in these letters, please remember every day that you are so, so loved.

Know that regardless of what happened to me, I loved you with every fiber of my being until my last breath. Know that you were a gift from God. And every day you venture out into this world, know that you are worthy of so much because you were so loved from the moment you were dreamed up. Do not let anyone or whatever will happen to you in what I pray is a long, rich, happy life diminish that light, diminish your worth. I know how special you are and I don’t even know your name yet. And while I hope that your father and grandmother will affirm you daily, you don’t need other people to tell you that you are special. You have to know it for yourself. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Know who you are and your worth and take up as much space in this world as you want. And as long as you never forget how special you are… how deserving you are, you’ll move through this world shining bright. And the world will be forced to know it too and move to give you what you deserve. It’s not much and a bit cliche perhaps but I’ve been torn down enough to know that sometimes we all need the reminder. But those are stories for another letter.

By the time I write my next letter, I promise I will have picked out a name for you. I read a book the other day where the main character was named Raven… I had not thought of it before but I like it.

Happy Birthday.

Love,

Mom

The river of tears streaming down Raven’s face splashed against the slanted handwriting on the page, Raven quickly whisking them away so the words would remain legible. Raven did not even know how long she sat there staring at the words on the page, her heart bursting with the knowledge that her mother’s hand had touched this very paper, that she had poured her heart and soul into every word etched into it.

It was like proof she had been real and not this entity Raven had conjured up in her head. Raven could not stop herself from ripping open all the ones that she should have gotten along the way. The one for her first love and the separate one on heartbreak were four pages each, and Raven did not pay attention to the clock as she absorbed each and every word.

Everything she had learned about her mother had been through her grandmother and she had always wondered if her grandmother told her things just to make her feel better. But she realized that her grandmother had been telling the truth, she and her mother were so much alike. She found herself nodding and laughing along to her mother’s stories and wisdom embedded in all those pages. She was a prolific storyteller too and an amazing writer, another trait Raven realized she must have inherited from her.

For the first time in 30 years, Raven did not feel weighed down by this unbearable guilt. She felt lighter than she had ever been in her entire life. Perhaps this was what God wanted her to find here, not a confrontation with her family, but these words. This tangible proof that her mother had chosen her, wanted her… loved her and that she had not ruined anything at all.

Her mother would not have wanted her to carry such guilt around for so long because there was nothing to be guilty about.

The letters were scattered across the attic floor when she heard the faint sound of their garage opening. She quickly folded up all of her letters and stuffed them back into the box, tucking it under her arm as she climbed out of the attic. She did not make much noise as she closed up the attic, just as she heard her father and sister close the garage door and enter the kitchen.

Their voices drifted up to her ears as she started to climb down the stairs, deciding that she might as well get the pure unpleasantness of this moment over with.

“Wait… you hear that? Is someone in the house??” she heard her sister ask, knowing that they both could hear her footsteps against the old floorboards.

“Don’t get your gun,” she called out as she started down the stairs. “It’s just me.”

She was greeted with less-than-welcoming expressions from her family, such disdain that it made her want to scurry away. But she did not. She had done enough of that in her life.

“Adding breaking and entering to your criminal activity, now?”

Raven scoffed as she placed the box on the kitchen counter that stood between her and her family.

“Don’t think you can break into a house you helped pay for?” she answered coolly. “And I’m not the one with a mug shot here if I remember correctly.”

“No you’re just the one who sold her cheap ass for a quick buck.”

Raven shook her head, opening and closing her mouth for a few moments as she tried to find the words.

“Yea I did… And I’m not proud of it,” Raven admitted. “But I won’t let you or anyone shame me for doing what I needed to do to survive. What helped the two of you survive too.” Raven scratched her head, realizing that trying to get closure from her family was unnecessary. Her mother’s words had given her all the closure she had ever needed. That’s what she had come home for.

“You know, I got a plane ready to rip you both a new one for 30 years of abuse and torture. To try to force you to admit that I’m not the villain you made me to be. But… I don’t need that anymore. Because the cross of guilt and shame you two forced onto my back for all these years isn’t one I should have to carry. But I did because I thought it was the only way to keep you two around. And even without you two in my life, I still drag that cross around because I thought I deserved it. But I realized today, way too late, that I don’t need a damn thing from either of you to put it down.”

“So you came here to what? To chastise us and steal?” her father asked, gesturing toward the box on the counter.

“You can’t steal things that belong to you. These are letters mom wrote to me,” she lifted the open letters out before sliding the unopened pile to her sister. “And to you.”

“Your mother wrote these?” he asked, his jaw tensing as he looked down at the stack.

“Yeah, she did. You’ll enjoy yours… she was a really good storyteller,” she glanced at Kiara. “These letters just told me something I should’ve realized long before Thanksgiving. That cross? That guilt? It isn’t mine. And I am done wasting my life trying to rectify the mistake of being born. Because it wasn’t a mistake. She chose me… prayed for a second daughter knowing the cost and she decided it was worth it. And hearing her say that? That’s all I need to know that I deserve so much more than this… so much more than you.” She took a deep breath. “Being a grieving husband isn’t an excuse to be a terrible father and I’ll just be grateful I found some way to survive you and this. And jealousy doesn’t give you the right to be a shitty sister.”

“What the fuck do I have to be jealous of??”

“I always wondered that. But reading those letters… I finally got it. Because even as a failed author and prostitute, I’m everything she was. Grandma used to always say I had her personality… her talent. I always thought she was lying to make me feel better. But you knew she wasn’t and you could never stand it. Couldn’t stand that I was more like her than you.” For the first time, her sister was speechless. A good look on her in Raven’s opinion. “Mom wanted so much better for me than this and I’m gonna go and find it. Because I’ve wasted too much energy trying to earn the love of people who don’t deserve it. So if you want to go to your graves hating me, making me the scapegoat for every problem in your miserable lives, have at it. But know that I don’t hate you even after all this. I won’t be weighed down anymore by any feelings toward either of you ever again. You aren’t worth it.”

Raven pulled herself to full height and rolled her shoulder back as she scooped up the box and folder she had taken from her grandmother’s stuff.

“Now I’m gonna go and have that long… rich and happy life mom wanted for me. And I hope you two do the same.”

She did not look behind her as she walked away, a soft smile on her face as she walked out of her family’s house for the last time.

She let out a long laugh as she sat in her car, so much of the weight she had been carrying around gone. It did not feel sad like when she cut off her family at Thanksgiving. She finally felt as if she had cut the anchor away and she could float away, she could move forward and heal all the broken pieces of herself that they had gleefully chipped away at.

When she got back to her hotel room, she just kept rereading her mom’s words. She would memorize each letter at this point. A part of her desperately wanted to open the other ones but she had not reached those milestones just yet so she left them where they were. For some reason, she worried her mother would disapprove of her breaking into them early.

One line of five letters she read and reread stuck to her bones above all else. And of course, as if her mother had known, it was embedded in the letter for her first love. Love… the thing that had cracked her wide open and brought her to this moment in the first place.

You’d be surprised to know that this was the hardest of the letters to write. Because everyone has some prolific idea of what love is and feels like. And I realized I don’t… because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the love I pray you are as you read this. That’s not to say I don’t love your father, I do. But I want something different than convenience for you. I hope that the love you feel is safe, allows you to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be human - strong and vulnerable, insecure and confident, boisterous and timid. I hope it feels like stepping out of the cold air and into a warm embrace. I hope it is loud and unapologetic because you deserve nothing less. And I hope it makes you feel so enraptured that everything else in the world goes quiet. And lastly, I hope, more than anything, that it feels like home. That when you’re in this person’s embrace, you feel as if your soul finally landed right where it is supposed to be.

Her eyes scanned that passage over and over again, realizing that she had found the exact love her mother described. She had come back here thinking she was coming home. But this wasn’t home at all. Home was where he was. And he was back in LA, about to prepare for the biggest night of his life in 24 hours. And regardless of whatever trust needed to be rebuilt and conversations needed to be had, she could not allow herself to miss it. She could not allow herself to not show up for him.

Raven scrambled to find her phone as it was hidden beneath sheets of paper. She scrolled through, praying she had not deleted a long forgotten group thread that housed one number she had once thought she would never need but now was the most important phone number in the world.

She almost shouted praises to God when she found it, clicking the call button on the unsaved number. She paced up and down beside her bed as every agonizing ring dragged on.

“Didn’t think I’d see your name pop up on my phone ever again.”

Raven let out a sigh of relief as her voice filled her ears. “I know… me either. But I need a favor.”

“Does it involve a certain award show tomorrow night?”

“Yes. Is it too late?”

“Yea it is.” she knew Alex could hear the tiny sigh of sadness she let out. “For anyone but me. I’ve earned enough favors around here to create a miracle or two.”

“Really?? Cause I need like more than one or two miracles… a dress, hair, makeup… hell a flight from Charlotte to make it back in time. Without him knowing?”

“Consider all of it done. Hope you don’t mind getting up at the ass crack of dawn though.” Alex asked, Raven hearing the smile in her tone.

“For him… I’ll get up anytime.”

“Good. Then I'll take care of everything... I'll have to tell his mom but she'll love this. And probably be happy as hell that she doesn't have to go anymore. I'll text you details in an hour."

"An hour?? That's all you need??"

"You're new here so I'm gonna choose to not be offended by that."

"Noted." She was about to hang up when she stopped herself. “Hey… Alex? Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just make sure your ass is on that plane and in LAX tomorrow when Allen picks you up, got it?”

Raven chuckled. “Yea I got it. See you tomorrow.”

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154

***

A/N: So now will y'all stop yelling at me LOLOL our good sis is going back to her man! We love to see it! How surprised do we think Michael's going to be? Part 11.2 will be the Oscars! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! And as always, thanks for reading!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

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callmelittlesunshinefics · 3 months ago

Text

Hello, Little Girl (Part One)

Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Reader

Summary: You have been living at Xavier's school for a few years now, feeling slightly out of place as a Nephilim from another universe but welcome nonetheless. When something pops up that has no business being in this universe you're sent gearing up for a mission that you would rather leave the X-Men out of, but an anxious endless and overprotective step-uncle-devil insist on this being worked as a team.

A/N: The title is an Into the Woods reference for no good reason other than that I couldn't help myself. We're also loosely using X2 Logan purely because of the kitchen scene, but in reality it's an AU.

Some quick background, the reader (Y/N in fic, described with she/her pronouns) is based off of an OC I tend to pull out pretty frequently. Half human, half angel, displaced from their home universe and dropped into this one, with characters from Lucifer (show/comics) and The Sandman (show/comics) making appearances despite not existing in the Marvel Universe. *shrug* TW: Alcohol use, swearing, mature/explicit themes down the line in subsequent chapters so MDNI

Feedback/questions/comments HUGELY appreciated as it took me a long ass time to say f it and post this <3

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Word Count: 3,437

It was late when you arrived, but that was part of your plan. You didn’t want too much of a fuss and had plenty of groceries to put away, everyone made a big fuss out of missing your cooking when you announced your departure, so you were sure to come back with all the essentials you knew you’d be asked to make in the coming days. It was late to start cooking, even by your standards, but the silence in the house was so deep that you were certain starting some baked goods wouldn’t be the cause of any commotion. You got to work with plenty of butter, flour, sugar, and eggs on hand. All of the basics you would need to make as many things as possible.

You got started on big batches of basics; chocolate chip cookies, brownies, dough for cinnamon rolls to serve tomorrow morning. You had several bowls in various stages of prep when you fell silent, realizing you were no longer alone.

“If I had known you were here I swear I wouldn’t have started,” you turned, explaining yourself to the only person it could be, “You’re the only one who could’ve heard any of this from three floors away.”

Logan shook his head in the negative and unlocked the fridge that stored alcohol for the adults of the mansion, grabbing two beers. He held one out to you that you accepted, and he took a large sip of his before explaining.

“I was up as soon as you landed in the kitchen,” he referenced your unique method of travel, shrugging, “You might be flying too fast to see, but I heard you.”

You smirked, “Yet you waited until the cookie dough was just about ready…”

He shrugged, “Figured you’d be so happy to see your favorite in the house you’d be more likely to sneak me some extra.”

“Were you even asleep?” You cut through the bullshit, and Logan chuckled, “And so confident you’re my favorite?” You teased, “What if it’s Scott?”

He actually growled and wasn’t ashamed of it, “Don’t say things just to wound me, darlin’.”

You chuckled to yourself but relented, sharing the cookie dough with the wolverine with an extra spoon you pulled from the drawer as soon as you realized who was snooping. You took a long sip of the beer and hummed, relenting without much of a fight.

“How many are still here?” He knew what you meant without clarification.

“Not many, but they’re all older so no one complains about these,” He gestured to the beers between the two of you, “But all of this will be gone by tomorrow.” He meant all of your baked goods and you shrugged.

“That’s what they’re for, Old Man.” He glared at you, shoveling more cookie dough out of the bowl.

“How long are we going to do this little dance?” He asked looking you dead in the eye. It took a lot to throw you off balance, but Logan was better at doing it than most.

“Is it your hip? Need a seat, grandpa?” They were coming out half-hearted even to you, and he leveled you with a look to tell you as much as he continued to wait, “Alright look, I’ll admit those weren’t my best, but if you don’t want to keep up the dance how about you just ask me whatever it is you want to know?”

Logan looked genuinely surprised and you snorted, getting back to work you started to roll out dough that had finished resting for the cinnamon rolls. Logan sat down to watch, sipping his beer and enjoying your company while he worked out how to ask you everything he was thinking without scaring you off.

He sighed, “When you left you said you couldn’t tell us much, and I understand needing to leave the past in the past better than most.”

You waited for him to continue as you spread the filling across the dough. There were long silences sometimes between the two of you, but they never felt awkward. Logan didn’t have the gift of gab, but you weren’t in any rush. You learned early on that it was best to give him his time, but you also realized equally early that sometimes Logan sitting down and trying to talk about his feelings was like trying to recite a poem he’s never heard in a language he doesn’t speak.

“If I’m being totally honest, and I will be since it seems like that’s what you’re getting at, I don’t really know if I fixed anything or if I just…” You trailed off and Logan nodded, scooping up more cookie dough. This was the point you realized Logan really wasn’t leaving without more answers from you, any other day and that cookie dough would be a fond memory by now.

“If they’re sending you for intel it must be pretty bad, huh?”

You finally got a genuine laugh out of him, “No one sent me, bub. The reason I waited for this to be ready first,” he gestured to his snack, “Is because I could smell the stress on you miles away. Whatever sent you runnin off hasn’t let you alone since, matter of time before you accept the fact you need help.”

You squinted, “Can you actually smell stress or is that an exaggeration?” It may have sounded like a joke but you were genuinely curious and he knew, deciding to humor you.

“More complicated than I made it sound, but bottom line is yes, bub. Is it my turn to ask a question?” He threw you a signature smirk as you both nursed your drinks, cinnamon rolls temporarily abandoned. You took a deep breath.

“You’re no stranger to the fact that there are other worlds out there, some like the ones I came from, some much closer than that within this universe.” Logan sobered up quickly, sitting up straighter. He thought it would take more prodding, he didn’t expect you to casually toss him into the deep end. “Does the name Morepheus mean anything to you?”

Logan shook his head in the negative and you nodded, but he interrupted before you could continue, “Do you want me to wake the professor?”

You smiled sadly, “I’m going to tell him everything too. But is it alright if I just tell you first, we’ll consider it a first draft. I really have no clue how I’m going to explain this to-”

“I’m gonna get us some proper drinks, don’t get too ahead of yourself kiddo.” You rolled your eyes and took the break as an opportunity to finish spreading the filling and roll up the cinnamon rolls to rest ahead of slicing and baking.

Opening up to Logan first thing upon your arrival wasn’t on your bingo card for how your return was going to go, but it wasn’t unwelcome either. Your friendship with Logan was an easy one, but you couldn’t pretend it didn’t get strained in your absence. He knew you weren’t a mutant and that some part of you felt you didn’t belong at the school, didn’t deserve it, but he would be the first to remind you that didn’t matter. Of course, you weren’t fully human either, so what that made you to the team was always a question mark in your own mind.

Logan returned and began covering your many bowls before you had a chance to tell him what went where, “I take it you’re forcing me into a break?”

“And some sleep if I’m lucky.” He meant it as a joke but regretted it as soon as he saw your face fall, “But for now moving us into the study with the whiskey.”

You got the kitchen mostly in a state of order before heading down the hallway to meet Logan by the fire, plate of brownies in hand. If you weren’t painfully aware of the bad news you were about to deliver, it might even feel romantic, huddled near the fire with chocolate and alcohol. You kicked your shoes off and collapsed onto the small couch beside Logan, enough space between the two of you to feel intimate without being crowded. You closed your eyes and leaned backwards into the plush cushions of the couch, taking a deep breath as you tried to pinpoint the start.

“Now hon the first thing you need to understand is that nothing sent me off running. It may have seemed abrupt to everyone here, except the professor that is, but I was gone the second my head hit the pillow that night. I shut my eyes here and opened them in another world.” You took a deep breath as Logan stared back at you looking like he wasn’t entirely certain if you had completely lost it or were telling him something of dire importance. Once the shock wore off and he remembered who he was speaking to, a nephilim from another universe, he decided if you told him you were pulled into another world, he had no reason to doubt it as fact.

“Do you know where you were?”

You nodded and pointed to your empty glasses, “It’s not like you to be stingey with the liquor, ever plan on helping a girl out?”

He rolled his eyes but eagerly poured you both what looked to be maker’s mark. Not your favorite but for the conversation ahead anything would do. You weren’t a lightweight, but you couldn’t be called a drinker either, so you surprised yourself and Logan when you downed the double shot he poured before refilling your own glass and topping off his. You expected a snarky joke or more disapproval of your behavior, but instead the Wolverine just continued to watch you as if he were studying for a test he wasn’t entirely prepared for.

You didn’t need his heightened senses to see that your behavior was putting him on edge, and you quietly admired this as one of his most underrated abilities. He might not know what you were about to tell him, but his instincts knew before you said the words that you were gearing up for a fight.

“Have you ever heard of the Endless?” You asked Logan and he slowly shook his head no, “I didn’t think so, at this point most people think of them as myths. Stories that got lost to time and all that. But my Uncle Lu had a few run ins with the family, not all of them good, but you know how he could be…” You wandered off for a bit and Logan felt a chill, as much as he would try to deny it. You mentioned him so casually, your “Uncle Lu”, Lucifer Morningstar, the devil himself.

“Dream of the Endless dropped in at Lux to see if Lucifer was behind a hex bag found in the dreaming.” You pulled a leather pouch from your pocket and Logan felt all the hair on his arms stand at edge, “It’s unusual here though, this type of magic. Even some of the most powerful magic users in this world haven’t seen anything like it, but to be fair it’s some creative work.” You pulled the drawstrings slightly to open it just enough for Logan to see inside.

“Bones? And..” He squinted at the bag and you nodded as he finished, “Sand.”

“It belongs to Dream. Also known as the Sandman, never seen without a raven,” you gestured to the bones in the palm of your hand, “and his sand. They contain fragments of his power, even in this state.” You stared at the item in your hand that weighed on you more heavily than the literal weight of its contents. You felt yourself veering towards tipsy but reached for your glass anyway.

“The irony of who I’m saying this to isn’t lost on me, but you seem pretty quiet, even for you.” You threw a playful elbow nudge in Logan’s direction and completely missed, he caught your shoulder before you could fall over him onto the couch. His hand stayed on your arm as he shook his head as if to clear his head.

“Have you seen anything like it?” Logan asked cautiously. If he was being completely honest the direction of this conversation was unsettling him for reasons he couldn’t place, it was a new feeling entirely.

“That’s the million dollar question,” You smiled sadly, “I’m gonna need a favor, Lo.” You stood up and began throwing all your strength into sliding the small couch you and Logan had just occupied out of the way, lifting the edge of the rug it had been resting on. You gestured to a particular floorboard, “Can you lift that one?”

You expected another question or any hesitation really, but Logan stood and did as you asked. You reached into the opening as soon as the board was cleared and pulled out a small bag that looked nearly identical to the one you had shown Logan.

“I have a feeling I’m not gonna like where this is goin’.” Logan huffed as you returned the floorboard and started to climb back into your seat.

“Everyone told me the kind of things in the world I came from didn’t exist here, but even when I was with Lucifer and then came here, I couldn’t just…let my guard down?” It sounded like you were asking him a question but you just kept going, “I had been on the run for years, Logan, and everyone was telling me I was safe here, but-”

“You were stuck in survival mode.” He said it as matter of fact, and you closed your eyes and nodded, “So you hid these here for…protection?” Logan was giving you a break, filling in the gaps he came to understand from what you were telling him and what he already knew about you.

“Some are for protection,” You nodded, “Some of them actually act as little safeguards too so that if someone or something comes waltzing in here that shouldn’t be, it can bind them to the spot.”

Logan chuckled, the way you delighted in your clever tricks not lost on him, “Can’t say we couldn’t have used a few of those before you got here,”

“To be honest, I wasn’t even sure if they would work here. Still not totally sure, can only tell you that this one,” you pointed to the one fallen open with sand and bones, “Managed to work in the dreaming without Morpheus detecting anything.”

You didn’t need to tell Logan you were scared, your heart rate was erratic enough for him to start to wonder if he should change the subject, shit on Scott for a while or something else guaranteed to get a chuckle out of you. This time a few years ago he might’ve done that, when you were both still new and he didn’t know how quickly you would become pivotal to his life, to everything he knew about who he was, not that he ever said as much. When it came to you Logan wasn’t prepared to take the easy outs, he needed you to tell him everything.

“How does it work?” It was a careful question asked quietly, vague enough to keep you talking, but not specific enough to spook you.

“It was basically hijacking some of Dream’s power. Whoever made this used it to create a little pocket dimension for themself deep in the dreaming, the only reason Morpheus found out at all was an increasing number of dreams and nightmares stumbling upon it only to be transported back to Morpheus’s castle with no memory of their hours before.” Your voice was just above a whisper, and you startled a bit when Logan snorted.

“This guy has a castle?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You know, some would call this a castle, Logan.” You getured to the mansion you were seated in, tucked away in the cozy study that screamed wealth, intentional or not, “But yes, Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares. No one has that many names and doesn’t have a castle.”

Logan caught the mocking tone and was grateful to hear it, “So are you telling me you ditched us to go hang out in a castle, Princess?”

He smirked at you and your heart stuttered for a different reason entirely. Logan being insanely, ridiculously attractive was by no means new to you, but huddled next to the fireplace and calling you ‘Princess’, even jokingly….well, you took a deep breath and tried to laugh off just how flustered his comment made you.

He knew, of course he knew. Any other night Logan may have finally taken the plunge, grabbed you by the chin to look him in the eye and ask if the two of you were ready to stop dancing around your feelings. But then again he had been telling himself that for months already, and the night of your return showing up being chased by ghosts from your past was probably not the best night to add more to your plate.

“Something like that. I actually haven’t gone to the dreaming yet, Lu didn’t think…well, he thought-”

Logan stiffened and his mind started racing a thousand miles a minute while screaming at himself that he’s a fucking idiot, that he should have caught on to what this all meant sooner.

“He thinks they’re coming for you?” It was growled through his teeth, but he needed to ask it.

“He thinks…” you chose your next words carefully, not wanting to put Logan any more on edge than he already was, “That we don’t know enough yet to rule it out, and me prancing right into the dreaming, even with him and Morpheus-”

“You need backup.” Logan finished for you as you nodded.

“As much as I don’t want to involve any of you in this, I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice. Logan, I,” you struggled with this next part, trying to figure out how to explain it.

“Just say it, kid, don’t worry about how it sounds on my account.”

“Logan, the best case scenario would actually be that they’re coming for me.” You whispered as Logan began to snarl, you continued talking faster, “The alternative is that someone with a lot of knowledge they shouldn’t have is trying to destabilize the dreaming. If that’s what’s happening, I’m not the only person in danger. Human and mutant alike, we’re all tied to the dreaming. If the dreaming dies…”

“Alright kid, look,” Logan sat up in his chair and took your hands, that you hadn’t realized you were wringing anxiously, in his, “I’ve lived a long time, alright? Until I met you I didn’t know about all of this celestial bullshit, hell I still don’t understand half of what you’ve told me tonight.” You chuckled, acknowledging it was quite a lot to handle in general let alone around 3 am, “But you know what, bub? I’ve been in more wars than I’d care to count, we’ve been in battles with imperial space birds, and I’ve had to time travel enough that Chuck sometimes has to fill me in on what’s changed when my consciousness returns to the present.”

You looked at him quizzically, not having been aware of that last one and he shrugged, “You can be nosey about it later, my point is everyone under this roof has stopped the end of the world a few times by now, don’t go losing sleep before we even know what we’re up against. Give us some credit.” He winked at you and squeezed your hands before returning them to your lap and finishing his drink.

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and smiled sweetly at him, a little too sweetly in fact, “That was quite the pep talk Lo, gotta be careful, some might say you’re starting to sound like Scott.”

You expected a glare, maybe even an actual growl as you compared Logan to the ever present thorn in his side but instead he shrugged, “You tell anyone I said this and I’ll deny it, but one thing Summers and I agree on is tackling the big bads as a team. From this universe or whoever the hell else is stupid enough to come knocking.”

There were a few beats of silence as what Logan said soaked in, and even though your instincts were still screaming at you to run, when Logan told you you would face it and beat it as a team, god help you, you believed him.

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #lucifer show #the sandman netflix #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #james howlett #say hi or something #i'm a mess lol

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noemilivv · 10 months ago

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Hi 👋

I saw your requests were open again! If you're up for it, would you do a fluff oneshot for Husk x reader?

Iike maybe they're hosting a ball and the Hazbin crew has to get all dressed up and the reader dances with Husk.

Kinda got inspo from the ballroom scene from Beauty and the beast.

If not, it's totally cool and I look forward to what you put out next! 😊

the timing is funny considering i’m doing the musical for beauty and the beast rn haha anyway this is so cute, and husk is my boo, so ofc i’ll do this for you!!

this gives off the vibes of one of my hazbin hotel oc’s so bad, so i’m sorry if the reader is a little more, detailed(?) than most of my previous works😭

i had so many inspo pics for each characters fits, so i put links to pics on the side for some of them, hope that it’s not too jarring haha

“I’m not too good at this…”

Husk x Reader

Warnings: Fem!Reader (i’m so sorry to my male or other identifying readers😭), Swearing, S1 Finale Spoilers, Chaggie (Charlie x Vaggie), Pentious x Cherri (idfk their ship name), platonic Rosie and Alastor

You checked your appearance in the mirror attached to your vanity one last time, you fluffed out your hair, which Charlie had been so generous to curl for you, and fixed up the edges of your lip gloss.

Ever since the hotel had been rebuilt, a lot more traction came along with it, and Charlie and Alastor insisted on hosting an ‘opening ball’ sort of thing for the reopening for the new hotel.

You dusted off your glittery, rose gold dress one last time (which for reference, looked like this), admiring the gems placed in your hair one last time, before hurrying out of your room, and down into the lobby, which was redecorated for this special occasion.

You see Charlie and immediately go to hug her, even though you got ready with her, as well as Vaggie, this is the first time you really got to soak in her appearance. Her hair was up in a French braid, it suited her oddly well, as for the dress? Her dress was very, well, her — it was princess-y, had some lace, but was a bright pink (which looked similar to this)

“Hey girl!” you said excitedly, as you pulled her to you, you could feel her smile softly in the crook of your neck, you pull back and grin at her, your hands rest on the sides of her arms briefly as she grins back at you, “You look awesome!” You said, she really did, she was very naturally pretty, there wasn’t an ounce of makeup on her face other than a few subtle coats of mascara, which you only noticed due to the lack of distance between you both. “Me? Pfff, stop. Look at you!” She says, giving a bashful giggle, more people begin to fill in, and music starts blaring, you both turn over to see Cherri over at the DJ booth — the guy Charlie had paid had gotten a bit too…high before the gig, so Cherri was a last minute decision.

“I should go, there’s a lot of, important people here I need to talk to, we need to catch up though!” Charlie said with a small chuckle, “Sure thing!” You reply before you begin walking around to find your next victim who’s going to listen to you talk their ear off until you get bored.

As you walk, you see a lot of folks that you wouldn’t expect to see, Rosie and Alastor are talking, Mimzy’s banging it out on the dance floor, and even Velvette decided to show up (the other two Vee’s weren’t invited for…clear reasons).

You see that Cherri took a break from DJing, as Alastor used some of his magic from his new and improved cane to have it do it on its own, after Adam snapped the last one in half.

Cherri’s chatting with Angel and Pentious, who which you never thought would come down for this after being redeemed, and excitedly you go up to them.

“Pen, Angel, Cherri!” You shout out as you approach them, “Hello, my friend, I haven’t ssseen you ssssince the battle! Quite the time, hehe!” Pentious said, giving you a side hug, which was a lot more awkward than you both would’ve liked.

“Heya, bitch!” Cherri said, nudging ya softly, as Angel gives you a small nod of acknowledgement.

“So, Pentious, how are things up in Heaven?” You asked curiously, a bit louder than you would’ve like, having to yell over the blaring music.

“Sssssplendid! I get back rubs every day!” He exclaimed. Odd. But that’s Sir Pentious for you.

Cherri and Pentious go off to have their own conversation, not wanting to third wheel, you more so turn your attention to Angel, who is looking quite bad ass. “Loving the look, Ange!”

He smirks, “You’re rocking your fit too, toots.” he says back, giving you a toothy grin. He had a baby pink blazer on, with a matching crop top underneath that pronounced his fluff, with matching pants and black heeled boots (like this.)

“You seen Husk anywhere?” He asked, glancing around the darkly-lit lobby for the grumpy cat. “Actually, now that I think about it, no, I don’t think I have. Why?” You said, beginning to go back into your memory to remember if you saw him last.

“Jus’ cuz, I know how you look at eachother, it’d be like a little romantic moment. Swaying on the dance floor, holding eachother, eh?” Angel said with a soft, playful grin, nudging your arm.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You say, a soft grin playing on your lips, yes, you do know what he’s talking about, a little too well.

“Sureeee…” He says, a knowing smile on his face, his head turns slightly. “There ‘e is.” He points to the far end of the room.

Husk is there, his shooing Niffty off as Vaggie goes to take her, a bottle in his hands.

“Go get ‘em, tiger!” Angel says, pushing you over.

“Hey.” You smile, Husk looks at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, whatcha up to?”

“Not much, just trying to make a point to talk to everyone.” You say, chuckling softly.

His smile remains, before looking away, and then back at you, a…discombobulated look on his face. “Ey, I’m not too great this, ain’t done this shit since I was alive.” He starts, chuckling softly, “But, er…” He holds out his paw to you, a loving, affection smile on his face that tugs at your heartstrings, “Will you, have a dance with me?”

You grin widely, before taking his paw, “Yeah.. I will.”

As you both approach the dance floor, the music begins to slow down, as people take their partners in their arms and hold them close, cherishing a romantic moment.

Husk pulls you in by the waist with one paw, the other hand holding your own, as you both begin to sway.

You look around, too flustered to look at Husk, you smile at the sight of all the lovely pairs.

Cherri’s with Pentious, as he’s tripping over her as she chuckles softly in his embrace, Rosie and Al are sharing a lovely moment as friends, talking amongst themselves, and Vaggie and Charlie are holding eachother close, closing the gap to share an intimate kiss.

Your eyes skim over Husk, it was the first real time you’d seen him in, actual clothes…

He wore black trousers, with a fitted white buttoned shirt, with a red tie and suspenders.

Hesitation was written all over Husks face, you’d never seen him in such a state, he sighed before speaking, “Look, I’ve never been into all this,” he said, gesturing to the scenery before you both. “But quite frankly, my heart beats for you, and I’d really like to work something out for us.” He stated, a soft and… nervous(?) smile tugged at the ends of his lips.

“I’d… really like that.”

Before you both know it, the ball ends, and Husk takes you up to your room, you’re both slightly tipsy, giggling at simply the presence of eachother, Husk stops at your door.

He looks at you before pecking your forehead, smiling proudly to both himself, and you, “Sweet dreams, doll, I’ll see you in the morning.”

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aylacavebear · 5 months ago

Text

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 4

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 3955

Warnings: Angst, Past Trauma, Lots of tears.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers. Not sure when this one will be up and available to read yet. Just getting the chapter list started for it.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 4

Thinking back to where you had accidentally discovered that letter, you started there, the inside doorframe of the house. It was a hidden compartment that you’d accidentally popped open when you punched the door on that hot summer evening almost nine years ago.

You stood there, staring at the spot, then turned and looked in front of you, remembering the words of the letter.��

They knew I’d be older when I found it. If they were here, how would they walk with me through the house to show me this place?

You then glanced to your right, toward the kitchen. It had an open archway leading to a spacious open floor plan with a stationary island in the center. The table was to the right of that near beautiful bay windows that let the morning light in. To the back of the kitchen was the pantry and laundry room.

Mom would start in the kitchen.

Goosebumps danced their way down your body as you walked to the archway. You let your hands slowly slide from the floor, up along one side and down the other.

Nothing on the outside.

You then did the same on the inside but stopped halfway down on the side closer to the kitchen table. Your breath hitched when you felt the tiny button hidden in plain sight. Pressing it with utter anticipation and hope, a small pocket opened near the floor of the frame.

Another note…

Your hands were shaking slightly as you pulled the note from what had been its hiding place for far too many years, carefully unfolding it and seeing your mother’s handwriting.

Y/N,

Your first clue on this scavenger hunt. We’re so proud of you. You’re on the right path. My sister, your Aunt Ellen, knows the details of what you’ll eventually find. So does Bobby, Jodi, John, and Mary. We were all dear friends growing up.

Think of me and your dad as you walk through the house and the clues will come easy to you. The key in the little pocket where you found this note will be needed later on. Keep it safe. Where would I take you next?Love, Your Parents

For a moment or two, you looked at the letter quizically, then crouched down and retrieved the key. It looked like an ordinary key, although somewhat old as well. You slipped it into your pocket as you looked around the kitchen.

You checked around the window cill, finding nothing, so you went to the laundry room. Something about the doorframes was important, so you checked this one, too, but there was nothing out of the ordinary there, either.

Before you got frustrated, you quickly went to the pantry, opened the door, and slid your hand along the top of the inner doorframe, finding another button. It was barely noticeable, but your fingers felt the tiny dip where it was nestled. Once pushed, another pocket opened up at the base of the doorframe.

You were feeling both anticipation and apprehension as you pulled out the folded piece of paper, unfolded it, and began reading.

Y/N,

You’re doing great. There are things you need to know. When I was a teenager, before my sixteenth birthday, a man approached my father and wanted me to marry his son, who was eighteen. My father turned him down, and that’s the nice way of how it went down.

After I got my soulmate's name, which was your father, he and I were inseparable. The man, whose name is Mark Vaught, only got angry and was set on revenge. His son, Nick, joined him in his quest for revenge. They are a powerful family and very dangerous.

That is why you are in danger. Nick did have a son, a year ago. He’s intent on you, my daughter, being wed to his son. Due to the threatening letters, which we’ve hidden for you to find, we know that we will be dead not long after you are born. We also know that you won’t get the name of your soulmate like most sixteen-year-olds do because of that.

Keep looking, daughter. There is so much more for you to find.

Love, You Parents

Those goosebumps slowly crept down your body from your arms to your toes. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and it was again hard to breathe.

“I need a drink…” you mumbled, swallowing hard and grabbing a beer out of the fridge.

You put all three letters on the table in the order you found them. That was when you noticed a little number in the upper right-hand corner of each one. So far, you’d found 1, 2, and 3, and it had only taken you under an hour to do so.

Your mind felt like it was spinning out of control. Between what you had overheard back at the garage, the comment Benny had made the first day you met the Winchesters, and now the letters from your parents, you were in a complete state of shock.

The Vaught family wasn’t one anyone messed with. You’d seen them on TV and in the papers for one reason or another but had never paid much attention to the stories. You did know that Nick’s wife had died during childbirth, though, but she wasn’t Nick’s soulmate. About the only other thing you knew was that the family had moved to California around the time your parents had gotten married.

Time slipped by as you stared at those letters, sipping the beer until it was gone before you finally got back up and looked toward the living room.

What would Mom want to show me next?

You picked up the letters, wanting to keep them close as you ventured into the living room. There were no doorways here, not with it being as open as it was and the main room of the small house. Your eyes went from the wall near the door, to the far wall where the small fireplace sat, and to the other wall that joined the hallway to the bathroom.

Fireplace…

You’d never thought much of the fireplace before. It was simple and served its purpose when the weather was cold. The rocks that had been used in its construction looked like typical flagstone and were slightly blackened around the edges due to the fires you’d had over the winters. The shelf above it was of simple wood where you had placed small nicknacks and a picture of you with your Aunt Ellen and Jo. You knew there had to be something, somewhere along it, so you slowly moved your fingers along the underside of the wooden shelf, finding nothing.

You set the papers on the shelf as you used both hands, trying to find something that was out of place or slightly different. Even when you searched the sides and base, you didn’t find anything like what you’d found earlier with the doorframes.

It wouldn’t be in the fireplace, would it?

Mentally questioning that very thought and how that would even work with the heat of the fire, you grabbed your phone and turned on your flashlight. Sitting on the small bench portion in front of the fireplace, you looked around the inner walls. They were charred, but the outlines of the stones could still be seen.

You halfway leaned in to look up at the flue release. Nothing looked out of place or out of the ordinary. Grumbling quietly, you readjusted yourself, looking down at where you typically had a fire. You removed the metal rack where the logs went, setting it to the side.

Using the flashlight on your phone again, you looked along the inner edges of the fireplace. Near the back right corner, there was something tiny that didn’t look like it was flush with the rest of the stone. You gingerly reached over and messed with it till you heard a slight click.

Outside the fireplace, literally right next to you, one of the stones had popped out and up, only slightly. With a slow, deep breath, you maneuvered the stone until it slipped out of its spot, revealing another letter. Under it was another key. This one, though, looked old, like one of those skeleton keys you’d seen in movies.

With the key clasped against your palm with your pinky and ring finger, you unfolded and held the letter, slowly reading the words your parents had left for you. You did take note of the number 4 in the upper right-hand corner of the paper.

Y/N,

Your father was worried you wouldn’t find this one, but I’m so glad you did. He’s teasing me that you have my smarts and my looks now. I wish you could grow up with him. He’s such a gentle, loving man, and he would have made an amazing father to you.

Now, to the important things. Because Nick couldn’t have me, he believes my daughter, you, are owed to him. His father drew up legal papers with the help of his lawyers for grievances against me because I didn’t marry him. In those legal papers, they state that if my daughter’s soulmate’s name doesn’t appear on her by her twenty-fifth birthday, she’ll be taken to be married to Nick’s son.

The trauma that happens when someone loses both their parents at such an early age can break a soul, wound it, deeply. That will happen to you when we’re killed by Mark’s men. More than likely, he’ll send Azazel to do his dirty work and make it look like an accident. More than likely, it will be a car accident, given the threats we’ve received.

We’ve hidden all the evidence for everything, along with the legal papers to keep you from having to marry Nick’s son, Cole. You’ll have to talk to Jodi and show her. She’ll know what to do. You’re doing great, finding the clues we’ve left behind for you. We both love you dearly. Next, we’ll tell you what will happen to your soulmate and what was threatened. That evidence is with the rest, at the end of this little scavenger hunt. The key under this letter will open what it’s locked inside.

Love, Your Parents

Far too many emotions were flooding your system, and you needed another beer. You slipped the key into your pocket with the other one while holding onto the letters. Even with the beer, your nerves felt shot. You debated going for something stronger but still wanted to think clearly enough to find the rest of what was clearly hidden somewhere in the place you’d called home for almost seven years.

While sitting on the couch, with the letters on the coffee table and the beer in your hand, you weren’t paying attention to the clock hanging on the wall near the fireplace. You’d put the stone back, and it looked like it was just another stone now. It was well past seven at this point. The sun had set nearly an hour ago, and you hadn’t even noticed, even though you had turned the lights on.

Your parents had been murdered, and it had been made to look like an accident by one of the most powerful families in California. Then there was the fact that you did have a soulmate but had no clue what it was because your soul was wounded.

You fell back against the back cushions of the couch, staring off at nothing in particular. It was a lot to take in, and in only a few short hours, it felt like an eternity had passed. The conversation at the garage that you had overheard was beginning to make more sense. Although you still weren’t sure how Dean fit into everything, not yet, at least.

Once you finished your beer, you picked up the letters, looking around the house again.

Mom would show me my room next.

It wasn’t the room you had been sleeping in. It was the one that would have been yours when you were a child. You used the room as more of an office, storage, and miscellaneous room for things you weren’t into very much. Since you typically didn’t have guests, you never worried about setting it up as a guest room.

First, you checked the doorframe, but this time, there was nothing there, which puzzled you. Confused, you looked around the room, wondering where on earth they may have hidden it. You remembered back to how it looked when it wasn’t cluttered with things. The window seat…

You set the letters on the desk before moving a few boxes around so you could reach the window seat easier. Moving with more determination than you had previously, you checked the frame of the window, next to the window, along the top edge of the seat, and then along the base of the window. Your fingers found a tiny indent, so you pressed it.

Three different clicking sounds went off in succession: one near your leg as you half knelt on the window seat, another near the door, and the third in the closet. That made your heart pound, and you took a few shallow breaths before reaching down and pulling out the next letter, unfolding it, and beginning to read.

Y/N,

This was supposed to be your room where you’d grow up playing with your toys before becoming a teenager and thinking about boys. I know you’ll only be here for a short time, though. I’m sorry for the dried tears on the paper. It’s hard to write these to you, my dear daughter. I will miss you so much.

About your soulmate issue. Your soulmate will still get your name on him. We don’t know who it is, but we’re sure that Mark and Nick will do whatever they can to keep him away from you once he gets your name at sixteen.

All I know is that Nick told me, and I have the letter, that he could pay any woman to do whatever he needed them to do, even if that meant faking a soulmate mark to keep you from getting close to your soulmate and healing your wounded soul.

Your heart began pounding in your chest, goosebumps ran down your body, and again, it was hard to breathe. You briefly wondered if this had anything to do with Dean, but you weren’t going to hope for anything, not after the last time. So, you continued reading.

Whoever it is, he won’t feel a connection to her, even if her name is the same as yours and the mark looks real. He’ll know, deep down, that she isn’t his soulmate. Your father and I both have hopes that he’ll find you before you turn twenty-five.

Love, Your Parents

You barely managed to take a deep breath when your phone vibrated in your pocket, scaring the shit out of you. After pulling it out and seeing who it was from, you sighed. It was late, and you’d completely forgotten about Dean and celebrating at Harvelle’s.

“Hey, Dean. Sorry. I lost track of time,” you answered, putting the phone on speaker as you moved to pull out the note from the spot near the base of the doorframe.

“It happens. I know you didn’t really want to come. I mean, you did say that to me earlier. You okay, though? You sound kind of distracted or upset or something,” Dean replied.

You set your phone on the desk as you opened the letter, “Just reading a few things,” you mumbled, glancing at the letter.

Dean was silent on the other end of the phone for a moment, “How about I come over? The two of us could celebrate a job well done.”

“Sure,” you replied absentmindedly, not even paying attention to what he’d said as you focused on the letter in your hands.

“See you in about thirty then,” he replied and hung up the phone.

You hadn’t even heard him, completely lost in what you were reading.

Y/N,

We had such amazing dreams when we found out we were having you. Your dad found this amazing house and surprised me with it a month into my pregnancy. I try not to cry when I think about not being around to see you grow up, but the tears fall anyway.

I think about the first time you’ll ride a bike and how many times you’ll fall off. I have a feeling you got your father’s stubbornness, so I know you’ll get right back up on it, no matter how many bruises you get.

Then there’s your first day of school. I see you wearing jeans and not dresses. I have a feeling you’ll be more rough and tumble than a girl who wears dresses. I also see you climbing trees and giving Bobby a run for his money around the garage.

Your father is convinced you’ll have a love of old cars, and he wishes so badly that he could be there to build one with you, from the ground up. He also said you’d probably have a purple paint job, but I’m hoping for blue.

I’m going to miss not getting to put your hair up in braids, pigtails, or ponytails. I hope you let it grow long. Your father wanted to teach you to shoot. I’m sure you’ll learn, though, and he’ll leave his favorites for you for when you’re old enough. Okay, now that I’m in tears again, I’ll close this letter. It was just one I wanted to write to you. No looming dangers, just the little things we’ll miss as you grow up without us. We both love you so much, and we’re going to miss you.

Love, Your Parents

You were in tears by the time you reached the end of the letter, sobbing silently as you sunk to the floor, covering your mouth with your free hand, trying to stay quiet. As you pulled your knees against your chest, the letter slipped from your fingers. You may not have remembered your parents, but you felt like you had learned about them through the letters. Now, it felt like you had a hole in your heart—some deep void of emptiness that nothing could fill.

You didn’t hear the knock on your door twenty minutes later. Or the footsteps that made their way inside, slowly moving through the house before they stopped in the doorway. Then, there was someone by your side, and they pulled you against them. You turned and buried your face into the person’s chest and sobbed.

“Shh, Sweetheart. I’ve got you,” and you’d know that soft voice anywhere. Dean held you close, with one hand while running his other over your hair while you sobbed. He glanced down at the paper on the floor, reading it from where he had sat down. His eyes widened, and if you hadn’t been crying so hard, you would have heard the change in his heart rate.

“He… he took them… from me…” you managed between sobs.

“It’ll be okay,” he replied, still trying to calm you the best he could.

Calming you took a little while, but your tears finally stopped. You slowly pulled away, but only slightly, attempting to calm your breathing. Dean stayed quiet now that your tears had stopped, but he was looking at you with more concern than you’d seen even Ellen have.

You reached up, pulled the other letters off the desk, and handed them to Dean, “My parents left these for me. I need to find the rest. Maybe you can help me figure them out. You’re welcome to read them.”

“If you’re sure,” Dean replied hesitantly, but he did take the letters.

You stood up, grabbed your phone, and went to the closet while drying your eyes and cheeks. There was one more you had to retrieve in here. The last letter hurt so much, but you weren’t going to stop now. You needed to see this through to the end.

This time, the little pocket with the letter was above your head, on the top of the doorframe. You pulled out the letter and clicked the pocket closed again, hearing the other two click closed as well. Y/N,

Hi, my little munchkin. It’s your Dad here. I built something for you, but I hid it. It holds all the things that your mom’s letters have been talking about and so much more. It’s a place you can hide if you need to, and no one will ever find it.

I wish I could be there to protect you, Baby Girl. I know I won’t be, so I did what I could now. Go where I’d take you to teach you about the love of your life. At least, I’m hoping it’s your passion when you’re older. A Dad can dream, at least. Your mom mentioned it in the last letter. Remember, it’s hidden, so you’ll have to play detective. It’s hidden so good that only you can find it, even as an adult. Here’s a hint: I know you’ll always be a kid at heart, though, and love to play games, like hide and seek.

There will be another letter when you find the sanctuary I built for you.

Love, Your Father

A few tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, but you managed a deep breath, keeping yourself grounded. You set the letter on the floor next to Dean before you headed to the garage. Whatever you were looking for was in there, and you knew it.

Dean quickly grabbed all the letters and followed you, still reading, as he had only made it through three of them at this point. You clicked on the light and looked around. Everything in there had a place. You’d kept it neat as you usually worked on your car here or at Bobby’s garage. There were yard tools, holiday boxes, and the winter supplies you didn’t keep in the house. Your workstation was organized with tools hanging on the wall above it.

Where though? Think like a kid playing hide-and-seek.

You crouched down, looking around, now at the eye level a child would have. The problem was figuring out where you would have hidden to hide from your father during a game. The garage didn’t look quite the same as it did when they were alive, but you let the memory overlay what was in front of you.

Slowly standing, you made your way over to a shelf that was next to your workbench, which your father had installed before you were born. There would have been a dark corner there in the past, making it the perfect place to hide. Taking out your phone again, you clicked on the flashlight, shining it around just as Dean came up behind you.

You checked along the floor first, but there was nothing. Then, you slowly and carefully checked the walls of the area, but there was still nothing. With a sigh, your eyes went to where the pegboard met the wall, and your eyes narrowed, focusing on a small opening that looked like a keyhole. No one would have seen it with how it was set into the material between the pegboard and the wall itself.

Slowly reaching into your pocket, you pulled out both keys. You found the smaller of the two and tried it first, but it was far too small. Then you tried the larger one, the skeleton key, which fit perfectly. The goosebumps, shallow breathing, and thudding of your heartbeat came back when you heard the click after turning the key. Dean’s eyes went wide.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 5

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some-bunniii · 8 months ago

Text

— self indulgence time, say howdy to my hellaverse oc! [+ a fic]

Kokabiel, one of Hell’s original celebrities and fashion icons [art by mamma_hisa]

I have a 6k word fic that’s been sitting in my drafts for awhile, and i worked long enough on it so i think it deserves some sunlight

i wrote the first chapter to a lucifer x oc story in an AU where Lilith leaves when Charlie is a baby and Kokabiel accidentally becomes her maternal figure, and it was going to be long but then I never touched it again ☠️ she was made originally made for the fic but she’s so gorgeous and mommy i spent days fleshing her out as my main bbyg.

working on a few things so take this for now to get a taste of her and some morningstar love! no romance, just introductions.

“Charlie, please go to sleep” The pearlescent figure next to the small bed begged the toddler, who was trying to scramble out of his grip and away from the covers that were wrapped around her waist.

The man’s platinum-blonde hair was disheveled, dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep that was quite evident on his features as he tiredly pulled the girl back onto the bed, holding her still as she whined against his hands.

His mouth opened in a wide yawn, his shark-like teeth glinting in the soft light that emanated from the bedside lamp next to him. He blinked slowly, trying to rid himself of the exhaustion that was trying to overtake him, his eyelids beginning to droop even as he continued to wrestle his daughter.

Charlie shot her father a nasty glare, brows furrowed as she frowned deeply. The bright red spots that graced the chub of her cheeks lowered as her lips curled downward. They were one of the many features she shared with the pale man before her, including those soft, sun-kissed locks and snow-bathed skin.

She also shared the same tired eyes that met hers sternly, but her mind was too active to allow her body those much-needed hours of rest.

The rest her father, Lucifer Morningstar, also needed.

“I know you’re sleepy, sweetheart! Just lay still so daddy can get some shut-eye too, hm?”

“No!” Charlie whined, lips puckered in distraught as her strength began to wane. Why would she sleep when she could be playing with her stuffed goats instead?! It just wasn’t fair!

“Yes!” Lucifer commanded, before he growled softly and lifted a finger towards the small child, a glint of golden light lit on the tip of his claw as he pressed it softly against Charlie’s forehead.

For a moment it flickered against her pale skin, and Lucifer removed his finger as Charlie froze at the sudden tingling sensation.

Her mouth was in the shape of a small o as she tried to get a look at whatever her father had placed on her, but the only clue in her vision was the twinkle of aurum light. A warmth began to seep into her skin, emanating from the magic blooming across her face.

Like a firework launching into the night sky, the tiny orb shot from her forehead up towards the ceiling, before it burst into a flurry of sparks that glimmered in the darkness, casting the walls with their vibrant hues.

The golden light danced above Charlie’s head, her eyes wide and in awe as the golden sparks began to melt into rippling waves that spiraled across the ceiling.

Lucifer flicked off the bedside light, the room darkening slightly as the magic above basked the room in a subtle warm glow as it pulsed rhythmically.

He still sat beside the bed, hand resting limply against Charlie’s chest as the interest in her eyes soon turned to sleepiness, and her eyelids began to droop.

Lucifer watched with a small smile as a magical display began to lull Charlie into sleep, and it only took a few more minutes before her face relaxed into a peaceful expression and her breathing swallowed.

Roughling rubbing a hand down his face with a sigh, Lucifer stood from the floor. His fuzzy pink robe drooped from his shoulders just enough to expose his bare, finely chiseled chest.

Quietly, he tip-toed across the bedroom, stepping over dolls, stuffed animals, and other trinkets that littered the floor. As long as he was careful, he wouldn’t risk waking the child.

Lucifer’s fingers wrapped around the door handle, before he waved his hand in the air, and the golden light dispersed, showering the room in shadows once more.

Cracking open the door just a tad, he slipped into the hallway. Lucifer’s back hit the door’s solid, oak frame as he exhaled a sigh of relief. The fallen angel felt like he could slide down onto the plush red carpet and hibernate right there, but he was the King of Hell, he had too much self-respect for that.

Raking a hand through his disheveled hair, Lucifer began to drag his feet down the hall, fatigue gnawing at his mind as he passed by the large paintings that hung upon the dark red walls, a perfect backdrop to the fair-skinned figures that posed elegantly inside the gold-framed portraits.

A man, his apple-red cheeks practically brushing against the edges of his face as he smiled brightly. A woman stood tall beside him, a dark purple dress hugging her curved figure as she posed regally. Her fingers entwined with her counterpart, their intimacy evident.

Lucifer would take that down, eventually. It only ever reminded him of painful memories, of that violet, sultry gaze through which she would send him as they basked in the warmth of the large fireplace in the large lounge in their castle.

Wine glasses emptied again and again as the King listened to her gentle humming, her fingers laced with his as she pulled him closer. Her lips left wet, sloppy kisses against his chin. The faint trail of black lipstick as her mouth connected with his in a passionate embrace of body and soul, intertwined.

Lilith, the previous Queen of Hell. Lucifer’s ex-wife, Charlie’s mother.

How long had she been gone now? Lucifer knew the exact day, he practically memorized the minute and hour when she left. When Lilith had sent him one last look from the open front door, her gaze unreadable through the black shades on her face, her honey-colored hair flowing like water around her figure as the two lovers locked eyes for the final time.

“Goodbye, Lou,” Lilith had whispered, her voice like silk against his ears even in such an anguished moment. Strands of hair covered her features as she spoke, shielding her expression as she turned her head, her back facing the fallen angel as she stepped through the threshold.

Out of his home, out of his world.

And, Charlie’s too. It’s hard explaining to a child that their mommy went on a very, very long vacation. He’d have the courage to tell her… eventually. Except, that meant she might one day blame him, too.

What could Lilith have been feeling, happiness, sorrow, anger? Lucifer would never know, he had tried so desperately to even understand why she had left in the first place. Had there been signs? An argument of some kind he had forgotten? What had he done wrong, that his first love and the mother of his child, would leave him to care for Charlie and the realm, all alone?

It was Lilith who held most of the influence when it came to the lower-classed demons, her words and songs enlightening the residents of Hell, cultivating the realm like a garden as she watered the needy and uprooted those with dark intentions like invasive weeds.

To the people of Hell, Lucifer was the epitome of complete, ultimate power. The embodiment of pride, and the reminder of who would always have control.

He was rarely seen in public, especially in his own Ring, full of the very demons he despised the most. Sure, he had his covers on magazines and face plastered all over LuLu World, but that was where it ended.

Instead, the King kept his duties strictly to those most loyal and most powerful. The rest of the Deadly Sins, the Ars Goetia family, and once in a while joining on an overlord meeting.

As long as they understood who not to cross, the safety and security of his family would never be at risk, if one could even try and pose any threat to one of the first creations. The Morningstar that shone before Lilith, before Earth, before everything.

In all honesty, Lucifer didn’t really do… anything, when it came to his subjects.

It was Lilith whose appearance was imprinted into the minds of her subjects through her many concerts and powerful political influence. It was she who had given them the confidence to defy Heaven, to stand against their exterminations that plagued the Pride Ring once a year.

Now, Lucifer was left to hold up face, to keep the realm from divulging into chaos, as the stability of the hierarchy of Hell slipped slowly and slowly through his fingers. No matter how many demons he could smite with the snap of his fingers, the sinful on Earth would always be sent to him as punishment, for the both of them.

He needed to keep them all in line, as respectfully as possible.

Which meant Lucifer was alone to take care of Charlie, who was insanely active and needy for attention, like any demon her age. She couldn’t stay out of trouble, and Lucifer had to juggle her, his own volatile emotions that had been causing him to skip more and more meals, and the piling events that always filled his days this time of the year.

The annual gatherings with the Ars Goetia that he had to attend symbiotically to keep their unwavering loyalty, the meetings to make sure the rest of the Sins were keeping their rings afloat, and flaunting a little bit of his power to the Overlords in Pentagram City that liked to stir trouble in his own ring.

Hell needed a future so that his daughter would have something to rule over when she came of age and wisdom. No matter how he tried to push the thoughts of his little girl growing up and leaving him, sooner or later, the fledgling would have to leave the nest.

Lucifer could see it, clear as day, his spirit and creative spark deep in her gaze when she listened to his many ideas and visions of what could have been and what surely will be. The way she giggled quietly as he presented her toys of his creation, her soft gaze looking at each little trinket with adoration and inspiration.

If she was anything like the man Lucifer used to be, that meant she would no doubt rebel against his views of Hell and his subjects, and that scared the King.

Lucifer continued to pass more portraits, dimly lit by the warm glow of the wall lamps dotting the hallway. Pictures of his daughter, the other Sins, and the grand opening of LuLu World. The final portrait next to his bedroom door was a small painting, an almost-perfect recreation of the only Heavenly creation he still held close to his heart.

The Morning Star.

The large ball of bright, white light illuminated against the oily-black backdrop that was also speckled with smaller, glittering stars. Some shone in vibrant, multi-colored hues that lit the painted night sky with a soft celestial light.

Except, none of those stars shone as bright as his star, the star specifically created for him by a face whose familiarity had been long lost in time. A face that still gnawed at the edge of his mind every time he stared at that painting, those long-buried memories slowly crawling from the depths of his soul.

Maybe, one day, he’d have the strength to remember.

When the door to his room was pushed open softly, Lucifer’s eyes hit the digital clock on his nightstand. It was one in the afternoon, and Charlie would only nap for a few hours before she awakened with renewed energy.

The toddler has grown restless lately, anxious to see a new face, to take a peek outside of the confines of their large home. No matter how many magical displays Lucifer presented the child, she always grew bored, and that frown was becoming more permanent on her lips as the days passed.

It must be tiring waking up and practically seeing your reflection almost every minute of your day.

There was no one Lucifer could trust in the presence of his daughter, though. No one he could see fit enough to care for her, not even himself. He struggled, being a father, for his little apple pie.

Parenting was not easy, especially when you had no idea what you were doing. It was especially hard when you were too afraid to upset your daughter with stern words and an authoritative voice, which meant the toddler ran the house.

The most powerful being in Hell would have to put his foot down to his little girl… eventually. After this quick nap, maybe.

The large bed, much too big for only one person, beckoned Lucifer with an irresistible invitation. His legs moved with renewed strength before he fell face flat into the soft, cool duvet that welcomed him kindly. His muscles relaxed instantly, his feet dangling limply from the end of the bed as he finally opened his mind to the idea of sleep.

Slowly, Lucifer’s consciousness began to ebb, and his snores echoed around the room as his mind stilled into blackness.

What he wasn’t aware of, as the fallen angel sunk deeper into the plush, red blankets, was that the small bed on the opposite side of the hall was empty. Its previous inhabitant was currently tottling towards the door to his workshop that had been slightly ajar just across from her bedroom.

With wide eyes, Charlie scanned the room as she poked her head through the crack in the doorway, her little button nose twitching as she drank in all the little knick-knacks and prototypes of fantastical ideas that would never see the light of day.

It was dimly lit, save for the faint red glow pouring in from the large circular window above the desk across the room. There was nothing of interest on its smooth, wooden surface to the tiny awe-struck eyes. Instead, it was the soft, chromatic light that caught her gaze on a low shelf right next door.

Floating elegantly above a short, circular pedestal were seven glowing rings, stacked above each other a few inches apart with zero gravity. Each held a unique hue, from green to pink, as they lured Charlie with their ethereal glow. If she could lift her little body just slightly onto the chair against the desk, she could reach them.

What could they be, so pretty just floating like that? They looked just like glow-stick necklaces! Would Daddy think she was pretty if she put them on and showed him?

With a large smile and slightly unsteady steps, Charlie crossed the room, her tiny feet pitter-pattering against the soft carpet as she beelined for the colorful display. When she reached the wooden chair, her chin barely grazed against the cushioned seating as she placed her palms gingerly against its plush surface.

With a mighty heave and a sharp inhale of breath, the toddler began kicking her legs wildly as she tried gaining momentum to hoist herself onto the chair.

Charlie sputtered for breath as her grip loosened due to her sweaty palms, but then her leg hooked onto the seat railing, which gave her momentarily support to pull herself farther up until her knee grazed the top of the cushion.

Placing one arm underneath her for support, the toddler reached the other out towards the ring. Her fingers splayed out, the whites of her eyes glowing red as they reflected the ring’s vibrant hue.

Charlie held her breath, beginning to tip over just as her index finger grazed the very edge of the ring’s surface. Red energy shot down her spine, sending her hair to stick out with static

The girl barely got a squeak in before she vanished in a burst of lightning that barely resonated a sound as it zapped her away.

The red ring flickered once, faltering above the rest for only a moment, before it stilled into place.

And the room was empty once more.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀🤍🤍🤍

On the outskirts of the Pride Ring was a small, white villa nestled against a rocky cliff face, surrounded by tall, black fencing that ended in sharp, spiked ends. Purple magic sizzled off of the tips, a clear warning to anyone who wanted to enter: They would not be welcome.

Inside the powerful barrier, was a large garden filled with a surreal combination of beauty and decay. Vibrant flowers bloomed amidst twisted, blackened trees that seemed to reach out with gnarled branches like skeletal fingers.

The floral scent that wafted from the blossoms permeated the air, mixed with the slight tinge of sulfur of Hell’s odor.

Nestled among the dark purple bushes and other hellish flora, were tall snow-white sculptures of men and women, their stone eyes staring lifelessly across the garden’s expanse.

A diverse cast of figures, short and brawny, too tall and lanky. Each unique from the rest.

Except, for their facial expressions, in which they each held a similar look of terror. As if they had been frozen in place during a time of anguish, of a terrifying encounter that left them to rot inside their pretty stone casks.

They were positioned across the lawn in a perfect, meticulous manner. As if someone spent day in and day out holed up inside the black fencing, with nothing to do but continuously cultivate their blooming garden.

One particular statue, which held the image of a goat-like man, staring up at the sky as if in one final prayer, was currently being inspected by a gracefully poised woman standing before it. Painted on his frozen cheek, was a small black lipstick-stained kiss.

From a distance, you’d think she was human. The silky, black dress that hugged her curves was reminiscent of ancient Greek fashion. Her shoulders were fully exposed, garment held up by a high neckline that tickled at her throat as she leisured, a glass of alcohol in her hand.

Her rich, deep brown skin stood out among the pearlescent, marble statues. Practically shimmering against the red hues that basked her home with the midday light.

An ethereal radiance seemed to seep from her skin, giving her silhouette a faint, golden glow that made her skin shimmer like light on morning dew.

Her hairstyle was similar to a ponytail, a partial updo that sat at the top of her head like a bun, before the long, white locs cascaded down her back.Along with two large strands that framed the sides of her angled face.

The big differential between her and a woman strolling down the street? The horns that graced the top of her head. They curved to end just above her forehead, a black crown that cemented her place as another resident of Hell.

Travel a bit farther down her figure, and you’d find those large, white tendrils of hair that swished as she turned slightly had a funny texture to them that most would mistake for thick braids.

Except, braids aren’t made of scales, are they?

At her ankles, a multitude of snakeheads stuck out their tongues, tasting the air as their beady red eyes scanned across the grassy scape.

They twisted around each other, curling into themselves to keep a tighter form as they wriggled against the woman’s back, interest peaked at their surroundings as their tongues flicked in and out.

Once in a while, a head would spot some small, hellish critter skittering across the yard looking for food. And, before one could blink, its jaws would open wide as it shot forward, pulling slightly at the woman’s scalp as it clamped its maw around the tiny creature.

It would slink back near her ankles, trying to gulp down the tasty delicacy as the other snakes around it poked and prodded for a taste. They hissed and snapped at one another, fighting for a morsel.

The woman turned her head, shooting the reptilian mass a glare as they wrapped around her legs. Milky white pools met multiple red, glowing eyes as they slunk back slightly at her scolding, giving time for the one snake to finish gobbling up his snack without fuss.

The two smaller serpents that framed her face weren’t as long as the rest of their siblings, instead reaching to her breasts as they lazily rested on the fabric of her dress.

Tenderly, the woman lifted an arm, and her shorter serpent curled delicately around her hand, until its head rested gingerly on her palm.

Gently, she brushed a thumb along its snout, and it hissed softly with pleasure, its eyes closing shut as it nestled farther into her warm skin.

“Jameson, another margarita, please.”

“Yes, Lady Kokabiel,” a small imp butler bowed, his cropped, curly white hair bouncing slightly as he lowered his head.

Turning, the imp trotted towards a shaded area underneath a weeping willow tree, its low-hanging branches that grazed against his shoulders were dark red, shielding the large mixture of alcohol from the heat of the day as he poured another glass of the blue liquid.

When Jameson returned, Kokabiel handed him the empty glass before plucking the margarita from his grasp. She sent him an appreciative smile, her white freckles sparkling like starlight as they curved with her lips.

She swirled the alcohol in the glass, watching the small vortex for a few moments, before lifting it to her lips and taking a sip.

That’s how Kokabiel spent most of her days in Hell, nowadays. Getting a buzz off of fruity liquor and fawning over her snakes, as she lounged in her garden with no one to bother her.

It had been a long time since she left the spotlight, previously a fashion and sex icon, Kokabiel had flaunted her good looks and curves to promote all kinds of products and events, dominating the biggest runways. She even starred in a couple of A-list movies, growing her until she reached the peak of stardom.

Kokabiel had earned her place at the top of the pyramid, right next to many older, successful celebrities in the industry. Lilith was a big name, even bigger than Koko’s with how beautiful of a singer she was, pulling in fans like a siren with her honeyed voice.

Even with such cutthroat competition, Kokabiel never felt that she was fading out of the audience’s vision with how fast her mailbox would fill with writings from her fans

Fanart, declarations of love written in sparkly pink ink, and invitations to large parties and prestigious events. Even now, she still received fan mail here or there, although they were usually left unanswered.

She had never wanted to retire in the first place, her plans for the future only confining to grow bigger by the day. Until one night, during a party hosted by the overlords of the city, was Kokabiel confronted with an ultimatum.

“I know your secret,” he had smiled devilishly. That flat-faced, know-it-all smirk the man sent her one evening, as he confronted her in the darkness of a hallway.

“What secret?” Kokabiel laughed dryly, shooting him a question glare.

“Oh, you know,” his pixelated eyes lifted to the darkened sky through the ceiling-high windows nearby, Heaven’s white glow cascading through the panes, “The one about where you really came from, not the Lust Ring lie you like to spin to the audience.”

The alcoholic buzz in Kokabiel’s system faded in an instant, and her snakes coiled against her back, hissing loudly as she shot him a deathly glare. It had seemed he had chosen to give the news from a safe distance, too far for her snakes to reach. A smart man.

How did he find out, and what did he plan to do with that information?

That smile of his had only widened further, giddy at the fact he had her in his grasp. He could pull the strings, keep her away from his industry. This secret, that he had only stumbled upon accidently, was going to make sure she stayed gone.

Kokabiel had never caused trouble, never flaunted her power to rise up Hell’s hierarchy, never made any public displays of how easily she could rip demon’s souls out of their bodies if they got too close.

Nor did any demon claim to be owned by her, as they were too busy being decorative pieces to tell their tale.

Kokabiel’s presence was a mystery to her powerful counterparts. Her aura was too clean, too ethereal to be a sinner or an average hellborn. But, she had never actually said the words ‘Yes, I’m from Heaven.’

She didn’t need to, anymore. After that little conversation, the talking TV had made a deal. Keep that pretty face away from the cameras, and his lips were sealed for eternity.

Kokabiel had announced her retirement a day later, not answering a single question about why or where she was going. Those cameras and microphones that had gotten shoved in her face received no words as received hurried into her limo.

How could Kokabiel, someone whose face was once plastered onto entire sides of buildings, fall so hard because of some up-and-coming overlord with the intent to control the masses? She’d had bigger spats with the paparazzi on the side of the street than this!

Now, she didn’t have to worry about those annoying flies anymore, with their constant flashes that always anguished her snakes and the peppering of questions.

Finally away from any prying eyes and those awful, bright flashes that plagued every step Kokabiel took out in public. Here, she could do and say anything, without someone waiting to jump at the opportunity to sell a shitty, non-contextual picture to the highest tabloid bidder.

Solitude gets boring, though. Even with her snakes to crawl over and her garden to tend, one could only vent to the marble figures for so long before they felt their sanity slipping.

That was until an imp had squeezed his way through the thick pickets of her fence, those short white curls singed at the tips from the magic that stung him.

Whatever was chasing the small man was more dangerous as he continued to beeline toward the bushes that could shelter him.

The imp had turned his head, catching the sight of his pursuers as they reached the fence. Three burly, tall shark demons roared as his tiny frame sped off.

That only led him to meet horns first into the stomach of the owner of the fence, and the land he was currently trespassing on. With an oomph he landed on hit, gaze darting at the being standing above him.

Kokabiel had quirked a brow, unamused as she wiped the dirt from the front of her dress. It wasn’t until one shark demon rammed into the fence, did she lifted her head and a dark frown played on her lips.

He had seen it, the power behind her gaze, when the loan sharks blew up one of her favorite rose bushes as they broke through the gates.

“How dare you,” she had hissed, her white gaze boring into the thugs, glowing with a much fiercer intensity as she bared her teeth, “Get out!”

The imp had flinched, but Kokabiel’s anger was not directed at him as she stepped right above his quivering body, and he could feel the soft grazing of scales against his raised arms before he turned to watch the woman continue to meet the loan sharks halfway.

“Not without our little friend there,” one sneered, his teeth glinting as he gave the woman a silent warning of his strength.

“Unfortunate that you aren’t the one making the demands,” she retorted, putting herself between the sharks and their prey.

With a loud, collective hiss, the bodies of her snakes lifted, encircling her head, and they opened their maws with extended fangs, displaying their own grim warning with bright red eyes.

The aggressor didn’t like that so much, as he opened he pulled out a large, glowing steel-laced ax and charged right for the duo. The imp squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the killing blow.

The Kokabiel’s pupils shifted from that starlit glint into black pools of emptiness, and the air sizzled with a powerful energy right as the shark-faced man swung his weapon to connect with her shoulder. At the last moment, the fallen angel ducked and backpedaled, right as one of her snakes lashed forward, jaw wide to reveal twin, deadly fangs and struck the demon right in the eye.

The scales of her snakes pulsed with a golden shimmer, and the demon’s mouth opened in a painful scream as his feet took on an ivory color, hardening to stone.

The other sharks near him tensed, the rage on their faces instantly draining as their comrade's feet cemented to the ground, that stone plague creeping farther up his waist as he writhed in place, clutching his eye as black blood seeped from the large gash.

They took a step back, then another, and another as the only blubber left on the struggling man was his large head. His teeth gnashed in mixture of anger and pain, but his good eye only showed fear, right as it was glazed over by white stone.

After that, the rest of the loan sharks had fled, huffing and puffing as they tumbled through the broken fence.

Then, the snake that had bit the demon began to convulse, writhing with an open maw like it had something stuck in its throat as black blood from its victim landed on the grass below.

Like some hellish form of mitosis, the scales of the serpent began to stretch and split, revealing a mirrored version of the reptile that began to take form and separate from its twin.

With wide eyes, the imp watched the two snakes finally , this new, fresh face shaking its head in confusion, before the rest of the scaly follicles began to surround and inspect their new friend with flicking tongues.

Kokabiel only watched the demons scurry off, before she sighed and adjusted her dress. Pivoting, she turned to face the imp, her arms crossed as she regarded him curiously.

The scrawny demon gulped as he stared wide-eyed. Was he next?

“What’s your name?”

“W-what?” The imp replied hoarsely.

“Your name. You have one, don’t you?”

“it’s… Jameson, madam,”

“Thank you, and I assume they’ll kill you if you try and go back into the city?”

Jameson nodded slowly, rising tentatively from the ground to look up at the woman.

“Well, it seems you are out of options, Jameson,” Kokabeil had quirked a brow, a small smile on her lips, “but, it appears I’m in need of a butler. What do you say to free room and board in exchange for your services? I’ll let you keep your soul, I promise.”

He had looked at her, suspicion in his gaze as his eyes darted to the snakes that coiled around her, shooting him hungry glares. How could someone with power like that be so… nice? If it were any overlord back in the city, they’d have taken his soul and his free will.

But, the offer didn’t sound too bad, and she didn’t look crazy. Just… lonely. Maybe, staying here would be so bad.

That’s how Jameson had begun working for the retired celebrity he now called master. Weirdly, he didn’t do many things a butler would do.

Sure, he cleaned and was at her beck and call most of the time, but Kokabiel did most of the things on her own. She cooked, tended to her garden which was slowly growing by the day, and kept up on the juicy rumors that circled the city.

Usually, Jameson spent the day as entertainment for her. As an ex-clown in the circus, Jameson had a few tricks up his sleeve he’d showcase for the fallen angel, and she seemed to eat it up with amusement.

Kokabiel’s thoughts towards him? He wasn’t exactly sure. Obviously, she was much kinder to him than anyone else he’d worked for, but her zipped lips on anything related to her past or what kind of demon she was made him unsure.

There were times she got… sad. That was the best way to put it. Jameson never saw her cry or have a tantrum, but sometimes she’d get so sullen even her snakes seemed rather depressed.

And, once a year there was a day that Kokabiel would lock herself away in her room, and would not call for him at all the entire day. Not even for food to feed her snakes. What could make her so depressed for that one day? A lost loved one? Her death day, perhaps?

She rarely mentioned her influential era as one of the largest fashion icons and models Hell had seen, although she didn’t need to with her collection of the seductive, sultry gazes she on the many ripped out pages of magazine covers she had framed on her walls.

The few times he did go into the city, heavily disguised to run errands for Kokabiel, he’d pick up the newest tabloids or fill her ears with the latest gossip circling the entertainment industry.

“That’s what that old fart is up to now?” She had chuckled about an old acquaintance as she moisturized her snakes with a scale-safe lotion, “He used to be an A-list actor, and now he’s selling retinol cream? Ha!”

The snakes had hissed with a chuckle-like sound, mirroring their mother as she coddled them. They still made Jameson nervous, even after all these years, they had a mind of their own, each individual one it appeared. But, they all seemed to have the same thoughts when it came to him: hungry.

Watching the snake finish its snack made Jameson a little uneasy as Kokabiel turned away from the statue and she took another sip of her drink.

“I’m getting tired, Jameson. I think I'm going to go inside, maybe take a nice, warm bath to relax.”

“Would you like me to get the water heated?”

“No, thanks. I can do it myself.” She said, beginning to walk towards the patio doors.

Jameson’s eyes flicked past her shoulder, at the very moment the statue began to sizzle with a powerful energy that even made his curls stand on end.

Red sparks erupted from the front of the statue, right on the pedestal it was standing on which raised a few feet in the air. Jameson could only stare in disbelief as the sparks began to swirl like a vortex, until they burst and sprayed like confetti and a figure materialized an inch off the marble surface.

The tiny stranger landed with a quiet oomf, before she stood on her feet with a slight wobble, her little hands held out in front of her for balance.

Jameson’s eyes flew open at the sight. It was a child! Her platinum-blonde hair disheveled, and her large eyes were darting around the area with confusion and fear.

When her eyes landed on him, she took a tiny step back, her eyes growing wide as she stared nervously at the new face.

“M-m-madam!” Jameson finally croaked, his finger pointed towards the girl with a slight quiver as he tried to get the words out.

“What..?” Kokabiel quirked an eyebrow at his stammering figure. Jameson’s eyes never left the strange girl, and she slowly followed his gaze to the statue.

The toddler and the fallen angel locked eyes, before Kokabiel’s mouth fell open and she stood there silently for a few moments. Charlie’s eyes widened, and she pulled her arms to herself in comfort at the shocked faces.

“What…. is this?” Kokabiel finally spoke slowly, eyes trained on the little being standing awkwardly on the statue. Her snakes lifted their heads slightly, tongues flicking the air as they tried to get a scent of the girl.

“It’s a child, madam,” Jameson whispered.

“I know that! But, how did it get here? What’s the point of having a magical fence if everybody can just walk right through it?!”

“She didn’t get through the fence, madam!” Jameson squeaked, shaking his head furiously as he explained, “She just… appeared here, like out of thin air! I saw it all!”

How could that be possible? There’s no way a child could harness such strong magic. It must be some kind of illusion, trickery by a powerful demon trying to use her empathy to get the best of her!

“You!” Kokabiel pointed an accusatory finger at Charlie, taking a small step forward “How did you get in my garden?”

“Um…” Charlie started, but her words—of what little she had—died in her throat. She only took a step backward, trying to escape from the attention

“You’re trespassing on private property!” Kokabiel continued to stalk forward, she was only a few feet away now, her snakes becoming antsy as they curled around her, hissing softly.

“Oh…”

“Who are you?”

Charlie took another step back, her hair grazing the leg of the marble figure. Where was she?

“…Char—eep!”

Charlie’s heel hit the foot of the statue, and she tripped, her back hitting its leg as she slid awkwardly sideways. Her tiny fingers grasped desperately at the smooth, white stone, but to no avail, as she tumbled right off the edge of the pedestal.

Jameson squeaked in terror, before throwing his hands over his eyes to protect him from any grisly sight. He heard Kokabiel gasp, but no sickening thump or terrible crack of bones meeting the firm ground.

Slowly, he splayed his fingers and lowered his hands, his eyes widening. He stood there gobsmacked at the scene, mouth agape in silence.

Yes, Charlie had been unable to save herself, falling helplessly in the air…. right into the arms of a shocked Kokabiel.

Kokabiel stared wide-eyed at her own reaction to the split second of instinct that propelled her to catch the child. Charlie was tightly secured in her hands, being held at arm's-length as far as possible.

Charlie blinked, before her eyes met those glowing white pupils with a slowly growing smile. She had one hand wrapped around the wrist of the taller woman, as she lifted up her free hand and sent a small, shy wave.

“Hi!”

[art i commissioned for the chapter by ruspettaa]

woahhh nice little(ha!) introduction to my oc, with some cute art of charlie! If I were to ever continue writing this fic, the relationship would be more focused on charlies than lucifers, at least at first. Slow-burn/co-parenting kinda thing bc Koko can def exist without being a relationship with our handsome king. she’s sipping margaritas free as a bird rn.

kokabiel is a loosely based version of the biblical figure with the same name who created the stars and constellations. One of the reasons she fell was for teaching humanity astronomy. A few others fell with her too, but she instead melded into demon society instead of her heavenly counterparts.

the only people that know of her true identity are Hell’s royalty, and Stolas probably has a signed autograph of hers somewhere around his office seeing as his duties are closely bound with her creations.

she’s a business woman too, though i am trying to figure out whether she sells snake-skinned accessories as a fashion line or diluted venom that’s a psychedelic drug which makes you feel all euphoric and stuff. l

I also have no idea who her voice claim is 😭 i imagine it being smooth and buttery like Beyoncé, but i’m sure there’s other voices similar to hers that I haven’t found yet.

i’ve got a comm [by wkyarts51243] in the works that will be styled closer to the show, so here’s a sneak peak i guess ☠️ I’d say her height is slightly shorter than charlie (not counting her horns lol), but I haven’t settled yet.

i have more art (one of her and luci hehe), which i might share either. but you can have the full version of the first art pic, with an extra piece from the same artist 🤭

also making this post so i can cement her backstory and stop changing it up ☠️ it’s its writing officially now yall

anyway, enough rambling, back to writing!! have a great weekend 🤍

#kokabiel 🤍#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #helluva boss oc #look at her so yummy #a literal goddess #hazbin hotel au #hellaverse #lucifer morningstar x oc #that one fic forgot #yes her snakes are souls #they have the same personality as before but cuter

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slytherin-pen · 5 months ago

Text

Season of Shadows

A/N: My first fanfic and specifically my first time writing on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to comment suggestions or recommendations! I wrote this with an OC, but I love x reader fics too so I might give it a try in the future.

Ivy joined the Inner Circle six months ago, just before they went to war with Hybern. Now, a few weeks later, after wounds are healed, the Night Court is ready to celebrate their victory. All but one, one who thought everyone was blind to her fake smiles. She clearly underestimated the ever-observant Spymaster.

warnings: mentions of past death

pairing: azriel x oc

word count: 2.4k

all acotar related credits go to SJM

banner credit to @cafekitsune

The music at Rita’s reverberated in Ivy's ears as she observed her friends on the dance floor. Feyra, Rhys, Cassian, and Nesta moved sensually with their partners, while Mor attracted numerous admirers of both genders.

Ivy remained at their table alone nursing her third glass of wine. She wasn’t much of a drinker but taking a sip seemed to be her nervous tic at this point. Amren was spending the night with Varian, and Elain had stayed home as usual. Azriel had walked off to the bar shortly after the group's arrival. The Inner Circle had endured a lot. After the war with Hybern, several members suffered from significant injuries. Although wings and bones could be mended, the invisible scars often proved more challenging. This was Ivy’s current predicament. No amount of wine could erase the memory of witnessing her childhood best friend perish on the battlefield.

Hybern had infiltrated their village in the Spring Court, demanding the villagers either join them or die. Ivy had already left the village, following her now High Lady during her final escape from Spring. Ivy’s father, a guard for Tamlin, had been left to die for a High Lord who cared little for his people. When Ivy spotted Lucien and Feyra fleeing through the woods, she pleaded to join them, offering her powers in aid. She realized that to help her people, she needed to escape the Spring Court and align with those taking action.

Ivy’s ability to manipulate plants proved invaluable when, minutes after finding Lucien and Feyra, two Hybern soldiers emerged from the trees. Although she was not a fighter, she used the vines on nearby trees to restrain the soldiers, allowing Feyra to finish them off.

Now, as she sat in Rita’s, she reflected on every letter exchanged with Wells during Hybern’s reign over Spring, questioning when exactly she had failed him and her village. Upon joining the Inner Circle, Ivy had hoped to return and help her people, but she had not arrived in time. Wells had joined Hybern, believing it was the only way to save his family, but Hybern did not honor their agreement. Wells became a traitor in many eyes, dying in vain, and now his family and he were both gone.

Ivy could not share her grief openly. Not only was she the only one who knew Wells, but he was also deemed a traitor. Sympathy was scarce for those who had sided with the enemy. Her attempts to speak on his behalf were swiftly dismissed. Most believed that he should have died with honor alongside his family. It wasn’t that simple; he was just a kid, not a soldier. Her efforts felt futile, leaving her to mourn alone, bearing a heavy heart.

She slid out of the booth after finishing her wine. The two couples and Mor continued dancing as she made her way to the back door. She needed a moment to breathe. Being surrounded by joy while she crumbled inside was overwhelming. Stepping into the night, she took a sharp inhale, the chilled air biting her nose and cheeks, flushing her pale skin. A few paces from the bar, she sat on a bench facing a pathway through the town.

Ivy often distracted herself by imagining the lives of strangers based on their appearance. One couple that passed had clearly argued; the female stomped ahead while the male trailed behind, head down like a chastised child. Another woman seemed to have just finished work at a bakery, given her tired demeanor and the white powder on her shirt.

Just as Ivy began to analyze a passing man, she sensed a presence beside her. Azriel sat down, his shadows lingering near his shoulders, with a few tendrils curling around her feet. He remained silent, staring straight ahead. Ivy accepted his company and resumed her people-watching.

A few minutes passed before Azriel spoke. “He’s a farmer.”

Ivy turned towards him. “What?”

Azriel nodded towards an older man with mud-stained knees and a tan stopping at his short sleeves. “That man, I bet he’s a farmer.”

“Oh,” Ivy murmured. “How did you-”

“I’m the Spymaster,” Azriel replied, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you.”

“Right,” Ivy said, wringing her hands together. Unlike Azriel's leathers, she wore a dress that ended at her knees and a thick wool cardigan. She still wasn’t accustomed to the Night Court’s weather. While it experienced all four seasons, unlike the Seasonal Courts, she thought she’d always miss eternal spring.

“Why are you out here instead of inside with the others?” he asked. His wings were tucked in, and Ivy swore she could see the moonlight streaming through the membrane. This, she thought, is a creature meant for the night.

“I just—” she took a deep breath, “needed a minute. It’s hard to hear your thoughts in there sometimes.”

“I understand,” he said. His hazel eyes searched her face. “Do you want to talk about it? I promise I’m the least likely in the Circle to interrupt you.”

Ivy chuckled at the jab at his more boisterous family members. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear it. No one else does.”

A shadow gently pushed strands of her blonde hair behind her pointed ear, giving Azriel a clearer view of her face. “Try me.”

She looked at him through her lashes and sighed. “My friend Wells. I miss him, or who he used to be, I suppose.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as if sifting through his memories. “The friend who joined Hybern?”

“Yes,” she said, a tear sliding down her face. “That friend. And honestly, Azriel, if you’re just going to tell me to forget about him or curse his grave, I really—”

Azriel took her hands, forcing her nails to release the skin they had been piercing in her tight grip. She could still feel the warmth through his leather gloves. “That’s not what I was going to say. Your friend faced a terrible choice. A choice that none of us have faced nor can we predict how we would’ve reacted. He was your friend, and you’re allowed to mourn him as such,” he said softly.

More tears clouded her blue eyes. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she rasped. “I visited our village a few days ago to see how the repairs were coming along.” Her gaze dropped to her hands still held in his, and he gave a comforting squeeze. “They wrote ‘traitors’ on the door in red paint, meant to look like blood, I’m sure. And the looks I got just for being there... I didn’t even dare try to clean any of it up.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “You went to Spring? With who?”

Ivy did not look up from their hands and bit her bottom lip instead.

One of Azriel's shadows crept under her chin, tilting her face towards him. His pupils flicked between her eyes before he asked incredulously, “You went alone, didn’t you?”

Ivy nodded, removing one of her hands from his grasp to wipe her tears with her knuckles. “I had no choice. Do you think if I asked, someone would’ve taken me? Your whole family hates the Spring Court.” Azriel clenched his jaw, swallowing the urge to correct her. They are her family too now, but her not viewing them as such was just a small piece of the puzzle he planned to solve.

“I would have.” He grabbed her hand again and scooted closer until their thighs touched, the leather of his pants grazing her bare skin. “I would have gone with you. Crossing borders alone is dangerous, no matter who you are. Besides, I would have supported you. You didn’t need to do that alone, emotionally either.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” she sniffled.

“Would you like to go home? To the House of Wind, I mean. Everyone else will stay at the River House tonight. Depending on how you want to spend the rest of your night, we could raid Rhys’ wine cellar or ask the House for tea.”

Ivy smiled slightly at the offer. “I’d like to go home. And have tea. I’m putting on a brave face right now, but I rarely drink, and I am feeling it.”

Azriel chuckled as he stood, gently pulling her up with him. “Would you like to fly or winnow?”

Ivy looked up at the sky and then back to Azriel. “I’ve never flown with you before.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” he smirked. He guided her arm around his neck before lifting her, one hand looping under her thighs and the other around her torso. “Hold on tight.”

An hour later, Ivy and Azriel finished their second cup of chamomile tea, courtesy of the House. Azriel had changed into a black tunic and sleep pants, while Ivy had replaced her dress with a nightgown under her cardigan.

The fire in the hearth provided some warmth, but Ivy's fingers and toes remained slightly numb from the cold. Lucky Illyrian, she thought. They were built for this climate. Ivy felt like a snake trying to survive in an igloo. She had settled in front of the hearth with a blanket in her lap, while Azriel sat in the armchair to her left. Some of his shadows slithered across the floor, into her lap, and curled around her hands. As she lifted her hands to observe them, she realized they had formed into glove-like shapes over her fingers.

“Are you still cold?” Azriel asked. Ivy had half a mind to tell him he already knew the answer. He didn’t need to be the Spymaster or use his shadows to notice the shivers she was trying to conceal.

Ivy smiled sheepishly. “A little, but it’s alright. I’ve lived here for six months, and hypothermia hasn’t claimed me yet.”

Azriel smiled as he stood before sitting on the floor next to her. “Well, I’d like to keep it that way.” He stretched his legs out alongside hers, pulling some of the blanket over himself before curling his wings around them. “Better?”

The view of the rest of the room was blocked by his wings, trapping the heat from the fire and directing it back toward him and Ivy. She could barely suppress the shudder of pleasure at the newfound warmth. She hadn’t realized how much of it had been wasted filling the rest of the room. “Yes, thank you,” she replied with a small smile.

Azriel put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer. “It’s alright to miss your home, you know? Our family might not like Spring, and its High Lord even less, but we understand.”

Ivy sighed and played with a loose thread on the blanket. “I’d just rather not bring it up. Of course, I sympathize with what Feyre went through, not just the day I found her but before too. I just can’t stand to hear how they talk about it. The Spring I grew up in was nothing like she described, and now it’s all destroyed. It’s not like I could take everyone there now and show them how beautiful it was.”

Azriel was silent for a moment, pondering her words. She was right. The Inner Circle would never understand the beauty she claimed for the Spring Court, and with Tamlin as High Lord, they might never see it until someone else took over, which could take a millennium. “Cassian and I get into fights over Illyria sometimes.”

Ivy frowned as she faced the Shadowsinger. “About what?”

He shifted slightly and stared into the fire. “It’s no secret that Cass and I had our…misfortunes in the camps we called home. The difference now is Cassian still sees Illyria as his home. He still has hope it could be a better place someday.”

“And you don’t?”

Shaking his head, “No, I don’t.” Ivy reached over and grabbed his scarred hand, giving it a squeeze as he had for her. “Here is my home now. Rhys and Cass know that if I weren’t the Spymaster with duties requiring me to visit the camps, I’d never set foot in Illyria again. Aside from all the bad memories, the males don’t respect us, and they never will. It’s very difficult to change a place that sees you as dirt under their boots.”

Ivy fiddled with his scarred fingers in her lap. “So you and Cassian fought about what to do with the camps?”

“Not exactly,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “My point is that having disagreements about our homes is nothing new for us. Cassian and I see Illyria differently. Even Mor battles with herself about the Court of Nightmares. She hates her father and Hewn City, but it was still her home. No amount of hatred, even on her end, will change that. The same way none of our opinions about your home will change the fact that you grew up there. It will always have a piece of you.”

Her lips quivered before she turned her head away. “I wish I— I couldn’t help them in time. I left them alone thinking I was going to be some hero, we both did, and we both failed.” The tears rolling down her face reflected the flames in the hearth. “How am I any better than him? We both thought we were doing the right thing.” Instead of a shadow again, it was Azriel’s thumb that wiped her cheeks gently.

“And you weren’t wrong,” he whispered. “Just because things didn’t go as planned doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth trying. I have failed hundreds of missions in my lifetime. I don’t regret all of them. Some just didn’t go my way.”

“I regret this one,” she sobbed. “He’s dead. It’s all my fault!”

Azriel quickly brought her into his lap and tightened his wings around them. He cupped her face with his free hand as he spoke. “Ivy. Ivy, look at me.”

She continued to sob and gasp but looked at him nonetheless.

“It’s not your fault.” He rested his forehead on hers. “It’s not your fault. And I will take you to the Spring Court if that’s what you need. To help with repairs, say goodbye, pack— anything.”

“Thank you,” she rasped. “I appreciate that.” She attempted a small smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

Azriel smiled softly and kissed her head. “Why don’t we get you to bed? You’ll have a busy day tomorrow. You’re planning our itinerary.”

Ivy managed a laugh and nodded. Azriel easily stood with her in his arms and walked toward the stairs. “Thank you, Az. It means a lot.”

“Anytime,” he whispered as her head rested against his chest and her eyes closed.

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natsukishinomiyaswife · 12 days ago

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‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ A Dream Come True ☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ A mini event featuring my OC x Canon, Sweet Dreams

*Note that this takes place in the future, years after the character's have graduated and left Night Raven College*

｡°✩ Event Summary:

You open your mailbox one morning to find a letter, wrapped in twine and wild flowers. Your name was written neatly on the front, with small drawings in crayon surrounding it (done by a child). Inside the letter was an invitation, inviting you to a joyous occasion.

｡°✩ About Sweet Dreams:

At the time of their marriage, Lydia and Silver live in Briar Valley with their two kids, Ryuumi and Momo. Their house is the same one Lilia raised Silver in, with the bat fae basically living with them due to how often he would visit and stay over.

Ryuumi (at the time of their marriage) is six years old and a komodo dragon fae, having been adopted by Lydia and Silver when he was a baby. He enjoys running around and playing games that involve physical activity, like tag, hide and seek, etc. He also enjoys roleplaying games, specifically ones involving swords (like pretending to be pirates).

He is easy to upset, especially if someone mistakenly thinks he's not Lydia and Silver's son (and especially if they mistake Sebek for his dad...) He will get angry, pout, and stick his tongue out at the person (or make a disgusted face). But he is easy to calm down, so long as Lydia or Silver is there to comfort him.

Momo (at the time of their marriage) is four years old, and one of the two biological children Lydia and Silver will have (their youngest, Lily, will not be born until many years later). He looks exactly like his father, with silver hair to his shoulders (usually hanging in his face and in a loose low ponytail) and eyes that resemble mirrors (blank and reflecting those who meet his gaze, almost as if he's staring through you. Color wise they are white with a green tint).

He does not talk, and always has a pacifier in his mouth (as it's his comfort item), communicating with others through touch and humming. He doesn't feel comfortable when his hands are empty, using his left hand to cling to any adults around him (whether by holding their hand, their pants leg, their hair or shirt if they're holding him) while holding either a wooden sword or a book in his right.

When holding a book, he will bring it to any adult in the hopes they will read it to him (immediately sitting on the ground if they agree). This is the only time he's alright not holding anything, and his attention will be entirely focused on them/the story. If he is holding the sword, he will lightly tap them with it, hoping they will play along/react. If they do, it will make him happy, causing him to smile with his eyes.

He doesn't feel comfortable interacting with other kids (unless they will read to him) and doesn't get along with Ryuumi (when they are left unsupervised, they usually fight, leading to Ryuumi pulling his hair (when Momo doesn't like to have his hair touched).

｡°✩ About The Wedding:

The wedding and reception will be held outdoors, in the woods near their home (essentially their backyard lol ♡). The wedding will have chairs on each side of the aisle for guests to sit, decorated in soft pinks, blues, and gold (alongside the natural plant life). The reception will have tables and chairs, along with a dance floor and buffet (that will be catered).

Lydia will wear this wedding dress, with her hair braided and pulled up in a high bun, while Silver will wear his armor.

｡°✩ Guest List:

♡ Astrid, Jamil, Bella - @cheerleaderman

♡ Oz, Jamil - @viperbunnies

♡ Dranav, Jamil, Zyran - @justm3di0cr3

♡ Shuu, Azul, Azuma, Shishi, Azusa, Shou - @oya-oya-okay

♡ Yuusha - @crystallizsch

♡ Daisy, Ruggie (technically Maggie too lol ♡) - @midnightmah07

♡ Kiyuu, Jack, Ryoko - @skriblee-ksk

♡ Fayrouz, Jamil - @fell-e

｡°✩ Event Masterlist:

♡ Coming soon!

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ Thank you! ☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

#♡.sheep writes #♡.twst oc #♡.lydia #♡.sweet dreams #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twst silver #oc x canon #twst oc x canon #masterlist

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redfoxwritesstuff · 6 months ago

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For Eternity, Chapter 4

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult - this fic contains content inappropriate for minors. Chapter Warnings: Discussions around consent in relation to the porn industry

@impulsivethoughtsat2am Was darling enough to beta <3 Many thanks, Dearheart.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord. And my friend runs a Hazbin Fic Community

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

~~~~~<3

Trusting Vox had been a mistake.

Isabel sat, head in her hands as she cried softly. Her throat was raw from the sobs that had ripped through her the day before. The price of Vox’s help was far more than she could pay and yet, what choice did she have?

“Isabel!” Vox’s booming voice filled the small apartment he had presented her with. “Doll, why such the long face? I’ve brought you some guests! You wouldn’t want to be rude to our guests?”

Our guests.

Vox had this whole fantasy constructed in his head where she sold her soul to him in exchange for knowing the fate of her dear Husband. He was confident that she wouldn’t regret selling her soul for the information. He was even more confident that she would grow to love him in her husband’s place, just as soon as she realized her darling husband didn’t want her.

She knew he knew. He teased it all the time. He hinted at a man who’s love for his wife in life had long since died, hinted at a monster that would rather remove her from existence than see her again. Much to his dismay, regardless of what he would say to her, she would not yeld.

“This, my dear, is my partner!” Vox held his hand out to the tall purple man dressed in a strange cape and looking what could only be described as tacky. “Valentino.”

The man held the same look on his face when he looked at her, eyes roaming over curves and features, as Adam did. Just another body to put under him, not seeing the person for who they were and the heart they had.

“Angel,” The man thing folded, taking her hand from where it rested in her lap and kissing it softly before licking a pink trail up her forearm, “An absolute delight.”

“My name is Isabel,” she tried to sound braver than she felt.

“You see,” Vox pulled her up from the couch by her elbow as she tried to wipe off the pink saliva, “Isn’t she just perfect?”

As Vox spun her, she tripped over her feet. The ends of her wings brushed what random assortment of items Vox had decorated the coffee table with off, clattering to the floor in a mess as they flared out in an attempt to right her balance.

“She could make us a lot of money,” Valentino sang the last word as his eyes ran up and down her body again. “And she is unspoiled?”

Vox shrugged, “I haven’t touched her yet.”

They were talking about her as if she was an object. There was nothing more she wanted to do than yank herself from Vox’s too large hands and run for the window. Leaping, she would fly through the sky and be free again, cuts from the broken glass a small price to pay.

But it wasn’t any use.

The windows did not open and she had spent much of the night trying to break them without causing so much as a scratch to the surface. The only way she was going to get out of the tower was if they let her walk out.

“She was married in life?” Valentino looked like he was appraising meat as he looked at her. “So she’s not totally untouched. She could have taken lovers in Heaven too, no?”

“That’s the kicker, she’s utterly devoted to her husband! She’s been waiting for him like a good little wife but he never joined her.” Vox laughed, enjoying every moment of her torture as his fingers danced over the plush feathers of her wings. He pulled her back to his chest, holding her to him with a arm around her shoulders, slotting his torso between her wings.

“Did you take lovers while you waited, Little Bird?” Valentino’s eyes seemed to glow from behind the ugly heart shaped glasses he wore.

“No,” Struggling against Vox’s grip got her nothing but a tighter press against him,

“So devoted, she came all the way to hell to find her husband.” Again, Vox laughed as if he was in on some secret joke.

“And who is her husband?”

“Alastor!”

“Alastor had a wife?” Valentino blinked in shock, leaning back from her for a moment as if she would sting him if he got too close.

“One that made it into Heaven!”

“Surely it’s not the same-”

“How many Alastors do you know?” Vox was having the time of his afterlife, grabbing her hand and forcing her to dance with him, back pressed tight to his chest.

Closing her eyes, Isabel tried to focus on what she’d learned. They knew an Alastor and only one. It wasn’t a common name, in all her years both alive and dead, she had never encountered another. That wasn’t to say it was impossible but she had to cling to the hope that they were right, that it was her Alastor.

If they had reason to have such negative feelings toward her husband, surely they would brag about what they had acquired. Arrogance and bragging seemed to be their style.

Perhaps Alastor would find out. Maybe he would come for her. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe they were lying.

If she was going to get through this, she needed to cling to that hope. It would all be worth it if it meant that she could be with her Alastor again, even for just a moment. It had to be worth it.

~~~~~<3

“Charlie?” Vaggie called from the couch she sat on, “Come take a look at this?”

“What’s up?” Charlie plopped down next to her girlfriend who angled the phone for her to see the screen better.

They had been busy since the Extermination battle. Every waking moment was spent rebuilding and healing. Only now, after a week did they have a chance to slip back into normalcy and do something as mundane as looking at the news they had missed.

“That’s an angel.” Vaggie whispered as Charlie took in the picture of a woman, large white wings and long dress being lead into Vee Tower by Vox himself. “Why does Vox have an angel?”

“That’s not good.” Charlie recognized her in an instant, “Ohhh that’s not good.”

“I feel like that’s a bit more of a ‘not good’ than appropriate, what do you know?”

“I could be wrong,” Charlie didn’t think she was but she certainly wanted to be, “But that looks like the woman we met in Heaven.”

“Alastor’s-”

“My what?” The man materialized in front of them, grin spreading at how they jumped, sending the phone in the air only to clatter to the ground, face down. He spared it a glance, eyebrow raised before directing his attention to the two woman he had caught speaking of him in hushed voices.

“Your… jambalaya! Would be really good to have for dinner!” Charlie answered with a wide grin of her own.

Not telling Alastor wasn’t an option but they needed to be sure. They needed to know for sure. They couldn’t see her face in the picture. There was no need to start a war if it wasn’t even her.

But really, would Alastor care? He had swept aside the idea of being reunited with her as a reward for redemption as if it was unimportant.

~~~~~<3

The door to her prison apartment opened, startling Isabel out of her daze. She’d been alone for the last two days and was torn between wanting Vox to return in order to have some sort of interaction or never seeing him or the man he had brought with him again.

Scrambling to her feet, she peered across the living space, unsure of what to expect. Vox had what seemed to be volatile moods that set the tone for his visits. It wasn’t Vox who walked through the door however.

Valentino had returned, the last person she had wanted to see. Along with him was a tall pink man with four arms and covered in fluff. He wore a pink blazer that almost matched his fur color and the smallest pair of black shorts she had ever seen. The short shorts contrasted with the tall black boots he wore, making him look somehow both covered up and exposed at the same time. .

The kindness in his eyes contrasted with the sharp hunger in Valentino’s.

“I brought you a friend, little bird. I figured you’d be getting lonely, Vox being so busy,” Valentino presented the pink man- was it a man?- as if they were a prize.

“Heya, Toots,” he said and you were sure then that he was a he, at least in the conventional sense.

“This is Angel Dust, It’s best that you get to know eachother. You’ll be working closely together soon, after all!” Valentino laughed, “Very closely indeed.”

She didn’t expect to be left alone with the strange new man. Fear surged through her as her eyes bounced between him and the closing door as it latched shut behind Valentino. Holding her breath, she waited for the new man to make some sort of move, to say something to set the tone of their interaction.

“You can relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” Angel said, walking around the space like he owned the place. “Got any drugs? Drinks?”

“No?” She hesitated as he made himself comfortable on the couch.

“You’re like a damn deer in the headlights! Do you even know what’s going down? Damn.” “No, they haven’t told me anything.”

“Well, fuck me.” Angel Dust ran a hand down his pink face, “You’re going to want to sit down.”

She did, perched on the edge of the couch to allow her wings room to breath behind her. While he gathered whatever thoughts he needed to gather, she waited, watching his face morph with the thoughts in his head. He seemed nice enough at least but Vox had seemed nice at first too. Trusting her first judgements was what got her into this situation.

“I’m a porn star,” Angel Dust started and her eyebrows shot up toward her hair at the interesting choice in leading statement. “A pretty famous one, if I do say so myself. And I do.”

“Oh, okay…” Isabel wasn’t sure what the appropriate response to that declaration was.

“Valentino is king of the porn district,” Angel Dust really wanted her to figure it out herself. He didn’t want to have to tell her this but she just blinked those amber eyes at him.

“His outfit makes so much more sense now.”

“That’s what you’re taking from this?” Angel Dust ran a hand through his fluffy pink hair. “Look, I’m going to just say it. Vox is giving Val permission to use you in his productions. I don’t know why, he usually keeps his toys separate.”

“Use me in one of his productions? What does that mean, exactly?” She didn’t think it would mean holding the mic or adjusting lights but it surely couldn’t mean...

“You’re going to star in a production, at least one, maybe more.” Angel Dust hated how dirty this was all making him feel, “With me.”

“With you?” She shot up off the couch, “A pornographic film?”

“Hey, I’m in demand, I’ll have you know!” Angel Dust tried to joke but it fell flat. “Look, you can either agree to do it and do it willingly or Val will force us. I don’t- That’s not my thing. I don’t want to be a part of that. Hell, I’m not even into women or being the top for that matter-” He was starting to ramble.

“I can’t,” She ran her fingers through her hair.

“You are not going to have a choice,” Angel Dust stood, wanting to offer comfort but not sure how. “I will do everything I can to not hurt you but unless you know how to change Vox’s mind, we’re going to do it.”

“I can’t,” She repeated, pacing the space. “I’m married, I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”

“You’re married?” Angel Dust was taken aback, “Why’s everyone married all of a sudden? That’s some antique shit. Come on, sit down and let’s talk this shit out. I’ve been here awhile. What’s your name?”

~~~~~<3

Angel Dust felt like the dirtiest sinner in all of Hell as he dragged his ass through the hotel doors and he hadn’t even done anything yet. He had gotten to spend an hour with the angel Isabel and made no progress toward obtaining anything remotely close to her consent, let alone agreement for willing participation in the planned production.

That was part of what Val wanted though. That sick fucker didn’t care if she was willing. Hell, if she wasn’t the film would sell for even more. He wasn’t sure there were enough drugs in all of Hell for him to bury the guilt if he was forced to-

“Angel!” Charlie had been waiting for his return.

Her eagerness caught him by surprise. She wasn’t one to wait up for him though it wasn’t uncommon for her to be in the lobby. Maybe it was his own guilty mind but he had hoped to slip to the bar, get a drink and hide away.

“Heya,” He side stepped to try and make it to the bar but Charlie was hot on his heels.

“I just have a feeew questions for you,” Charlie reached out, grabbing one of his hands to pull him to a halt.

Knowing this wasn’t something he was going to get out of, he sighed and said, “What’s up?”

“A far as you recaall,” This was off to a great start, “If any of the Vee’s have any new, shall we say, winged-”

“Yeah, Vox has a pet angel. Can I please drink now? Today was kind of shit.”

“Oh, Good!” Charlie clapped her hands before reconsidering her reaction, “Not that that’s good good, just that that’s what I wanted to hear. Not that I WANTED to hear that-”

“Find the point and get to it,” He was far too sober to be dealing with this shit right now.

“What do you know about her?” Vaggie stepped in, saving them both from the rambling.

“Big amber doll eyes and totally devoted to her husband. It’s gonna make shit hard for her, she’s not playing ball for Vox or Valentino.”

“What’s her name?” Charlie asked.

“Isabel, she said. Isabel Dupont. Why?”

“I beg your pardon?” Static violently tore through the room as lights flickered and shadows deepened, growing and spreading like spilled ink.

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @preciousbabypeter, @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty

#Alastor x oc #hazbin alastor x oc #hazbin hotel alastor x oc #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #dark fic #dark!fic

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loversatthegreatdivide · 6 months ago

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Heavy Lies the Heart - Chapter 6

Masterlist // Continue Reading

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC Word Count: 2.6k Tropes: mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, royalty Warnings: death Summary: When two second-borns looking for direction meet by chance, can they find purpose in each other? Or will circumstance keep them apart? A/N: First of all, writing as Whistledown is rough. Second, I'm glad that it seems like everyone is liking this story so far! I had a lot of fun with this chapter, so hopefully you'll enjoy it too!

Dearest Gentle Reader,

This author hardly knows where to begin, with last nights ball so abound with secrets and scandals.

The young ladies of the ton never shine brighter than in the darkness of the evening. Yet last nights events have shown that, while some gleam as brightly as the stars, there are others whose light shines far dimmer then the rest.

Penelope Featherington, out now for her third season in the marriage mart, is one such dim light. Miss Featherington, who was so certain that she would be unable to find a husband on her own, enlisted the help of Mister Colin Bridgerton. And while we all knew Miss Featherington's hopes of finding a husband were slim at best, this recent scandal will certainly make any further hopes disappear. Whatever faint glow Miss Featherington may have once possessed has surely now gone out.

But Penelope Featherington was not the only scandal we witnessed unfold.

Her Royal Highness, Princess Beatrice shown brilliantly on her second appearance of the season. The young princess garnered much attention from the members of the ton, but none moreso than Mister Benedict Bridgerton.

Having shared her first dance of the season with Mister Bridgerton, it was clear to this author that sparks were flying. Their shared looks were hardly subtle, and one has to wonder how two relative strangers found themselves, by all appearances, so well acquainted.

The princess danced five times in total, sharing a scandalous three with Mister Bridgerton. Their lack of proprietary and the princesses clear favoritism shocked many of the ton, but this author cannot help but applaud their boldness.

A royal falling for a commoner is hardly a new story. However, with the crowns stiff traditions and the rumored strict parenting of the Prince Regent, will this tale end in tragedy? Is there to be a royal wedding in our future, or will circumstance keep these two lovebirds apart?

This author, as ever, eagerly awaits to see what unfolds.

---

Benedict once again found himself slumped deeply onto the settee in the Bridgerton drawing room. His arms lay crossed over his chest as he looked anywhere but at Anthony, whose scowl had made an unwelcome return after its brief, but welcome, absence.

"What in God's name were you thinking?" he asked roughly, brandishing the latest copy of Lady Whistledown in his hand. The rest of the family, excluding the two youngest members, sat around the room, with expressions ranging from sympathetic and worried, to extremely uncomfortable. "Of all our siblings, I thought you the least likely to cause trouble this season. I thought you had more sense than this Benedict."

Eloise scowled at the veiled accusation. She looked to Francesca, whose only reaction was to stare blankly at the floor until the hostility inevitably subsided.

"It was quite a surprise--did you not tell me yourself last night that it was your first time even seeing the princess?" Colin asked.

Anthony turned his scowl on his younger brother, "You are not off the hook yet either--while our reputation may not have been effected by your actions, poor Miss Featherington's is all but ruined thanks to you."

Colin looked away from his brother, a look of guilt clear on his face. Unnoticed, Eloise's expression mirrored his.

"However, that will have to wait," Anthony turned his attention back to Benedict, "At present, our biggest concern is what in the world possessed our dear brother to act so foolhardy, and what is to be done about it."

"Now, perhaps we can all calm down for a moment," Violet suggested, smiling as she attempted to defuse the situation.

"Yes Anthony, your mother's right," Kate agreed, "We have not even heard what Benedict has to say about it--this could all just be a misunderstanding."

Everyone turned their attention to Benedict, eagerly awaiting his response.

He had another choice in front of him. Either he could downplay the situation to the best of his ability, hoping to keep his family in the dark about the full extent of his relationship with Beatrice. This seemed at least somewhat doable; it was unlikely any of them suspected he was taking late night promenades with an unchaperoned princess.

The other option was simply to tell them everything. His family did seem to have a knack for discovering secrets that its members would rather keep hidden. He knew it was only a matter of time before they learned everything; and all the more likely, given his desire to be with Beatrice. It would be rather obvious he had lied if he continued to pursue her publicly.

Benedict sighed, sitting up as he clasped his hands in front of him. He looked at Anthony, who stared back exactingly.

"Alright fine, you've caught me. I suppose there is no point in lying about it now: Beatrice and I have been seeing each other in secret, and we have become quite...attached," he admitted.

There was a silence throughout the room as his family stared back at him in shock and horror. In an instant, the silence was filled with the roar of multiple voices shouting out at once--including two that had, until this moment, been eavesdropping quietly in the next room.

"You've been doing what?"

"Have you gone mad?"

"Did you just use the princesses first name? Just how close are the two of you, Benedict?"

"What does attached me? Brother, you didn't..."

"Heaven help us, how will her majesty react to all this?"

"If the two of you marry, will that make Benedict a prince?"

"What? Does that mean we would have to call him your highness? Because I absolutely refuse."

The jumbled voices mixed together until Benedict could hardly make out what was being said. Finally he stood, throwing his hands out.

"Alright enough!" he shouted, quelling the storm of questions and concerns, "I know it was...unwise to meet a young lady unchaperoned, but I can assure you the time was spent on conversation--nothing more," he emphasized, "I was...unaware of her station when these meetings began. She had kept it a secret, and I only learned of her title when she was presented at the ball last night--though I will admit to knowing she was likely of higher rank."

He ran a hand through his think, brown hair as he looked to the floor.

"I have no idea what is to be done now, if anything can be done but," he sighed, "That being said, it is my intention to pursue her...as far as we are permitted to go," he looked back up at them, "I...I love her."

The room was silent once more, no one quite sure how to respond to his bold declaration. Benedict swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, uncomfortable in the uncharacteristically quiet room.

"Oh, Benedict my dear," his mother finally spoke. Her voice was a mixture of happiness and sympathy, clearly unsure what to make of the situation or how best to advice him.

Benedict looked down, "If you'll excuse me." Without waiting for a response, he quickly made his way out of the drawing room; the wide eyes of his family following him as he went.

---

Beatrice sat, stiff and silent, as the queen sipped her tea in the chair opposite her. Dread filled her as she waited for her grandmother to speak: To reprimand, to yell, to show some sign at all as to what she was thinking. Be she waited in vain, the queen seeming content in leaving the words unspoken as Beatrice's heart threatened to give out with every passing second.

Queen Charlotte had of course received the latest copy of Whistledown that morning, reading it with haste as she always did. Not that she had needed Whistledown to tell her what she had seen with her own eyes. After her first dance, the queen's eyes hardly wavered from Beatrice. Charlotte had watched her granddaughter like a bird of pray stalking a field mouse, observing her every move, her every expression and gesture.

Their carriage ride home had been eerily quiet. Charlotte was hardly known for keeping her opinions to herself, yet she had said nothing to Beatrice the entire trip back to Buckingham House. Now, having not spoken since their arrival at the ball the night before, Beatrice grew more and more anxious of what would be said when that silence was finally broken.

Her grandmother set her teacup down with a clank, and Beatrice sat up as straight as a board.

"Beatrice," Charlotte spoke at last.

"Y-yes, grandmama?"

"You know I am no fool." It was a statement, not a question.

"Ah...yes, grandmama."

"I am unaware how it is you've managed to spend time with that man without notice, and I suspect I would not be happy to know. However what I do know, is that whatever has been transpiring between the two of you stops now."

Beatrice looked down shamefully, "Yes, grandmama."

"Your father will no doubt have heard the news, and is assuredly on his way here to scold you severely. I suspect he will likely insist on you leaving Buckingham House immediately."

"But--" Beatrice began to argue, only to be silenced by a piercing stare from the queen.

There was a long moment of quiet as Charlotte ran her hands over the small, fluffy dog in her lap. She seemed to think something over.

"Tell me, what are your intentions with this Benedict Bridgerton? A passing fancy is well enough for the common crowd, but royalty hardly has such a luxury. Our every move is scrutinized--you moreso than others as the daughter of the future king."

"It is not a--" Beatrice was clearly upset, but willed herself to stop and take a breath, "I know father would never approve, but it is my deepest desire to be with him. I love him, grandmama, and I...well I don't care what father thinks, or anyone else for that matter." She held her head up as she attempted to look resolute.

The queen quickly took another sip from her teacup, hiding the slight smirk that had formed at the corner of her lips.

"I see," was her only reply.

Silence fell between them once more as they awaited the inevitable arrival of the Prince Regent. The queen's face was a mask that hid her true feelings, while Beatrice's face betrayed her renewed feelings of dread. Her grandmother may not have been harsh--a miracle if there ever was one--but her father would most certainly not have the same composure.

---

"The absolute indignity of it all--the indecency!"

George IV, Prince Regent of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the future king, and Beatrice's father, paced the floor of the lavish drawing room as he ranted on and on. His displeasure with the situation had been expressed in at least one hundred different ways already, yet he seems to always have more to say.

"Papa, if you would only listen--" His daughter pleaded, but to no avail.

"Listen? As I listened when you requested to stay at Buckingham house for the season? As I listened when you promised me nothing of consequence would occur? As I listened when you assured me that you would behave as a princess should?"

"It was only dancing papa, nothing more!"

"Then why is there word across London that you've been having secret trysts with this man--this Bridgerton--since you arrived!"

Beatrice stood, her fist balled at her sides, "That is a lie! Whistledown has made everyone believe something untoward has taken place between us, but that is untrue!"

Queen Charlotte, who sat watching silently from the sidelines, eyed her granddaughter. Whether or not she believed her, she said nothing.

"So you would have me believe there is nothing between the two of you then? That you and he have no attachment?" George asked skeptically.

"I," Beatrice hesitated, "I would not say that is entirely the case."

Her father's face went red with rage as a tense air filled the room.

"You are to return to Warwick House immediately," the prince ordered through gritted teeth.

Beatrice shifted in place, before looking her father in the eyes with as much courage as she could muster, "I...I will not."

"I beg your pardon?" George stared at his daughter in disbelief.

"I, I wish to stay, and," she swallowed, "And I wish for Benedict Bridgerton and I to be allow to court."

Charlotte's eyebrow raised in interest, her gaze returning to her son as she waited to hear his reply. George was nearly dumbstruck at the request. It was a rare occasion that his youngest daughter ever spoke back or questioned his authority--for her to do both in one sentience was practically unheard of.

"You, I--How dare you ask--"

"You allowed Charlotte to choose her husband, why should I be allowed any less?" Beatrice questioned, feeling emboldened with every word.

"The situation with your sister was quite different, as you are well aware. And at the very least she had the good sense to choose a prince!" her father reminded her loudly.

Beatrice scowled, "That does not change the fact that she refused the marriage you arranged for her in favor of one she chose for herself! And did you yourself not try to take a commoner for a bride? How can you scorn me my love when you out of everyone should understand my feelings?"

"Love?" George repeated, clearly on the verge of another hours-long lecture.

"Alright, I believe I have heard quite enough," Queen Charlotte cut in, standing as she looked to her son.

"Mother--"

"Enough, Georgie," she commanded, and, despite his position as regent, he obeyed, "You have already agreed to allow Beatrice to stay at Buckingham House--so she shall stay."

"But I--"

Charlotte raised her hand, "I am not done. In addition, I would have you consider the request your daughter has made from you."

"What? I would never--"

"It is your decision of course, you are the Prince Regent and thus have the final say on all royal marriages. However, I implore you to consider the misconduct and scandals you and your family have already brought to this, the noblest of houses."

"That is hardly--"

"Frankly dear, the people dislike you. Allowing Princess Charlotte to marry the man she chose was perhaps the one thing you've done so far that has won you any manner of good will from the people. Perhaps allowing Princess Beatrice, a current darling of the ton, to do the same will have a similar effect on the rather poor image the people have of you."

George stood silent, stunned at his mother's stance on the issue. Beatrice looked between the two of them, just as surprised. She hadn't a clue as to why her grandmother seemed to be championing her relationship with Benedict, but she would hardly complain. Her grandmother was perhaps the only hope Beatrice had of convincing her father to agree to her wishes.

"I," George paused, "I will take it under consideration, mother."

"That is all I ask. It is, as I said, your choice to make," Queen Charlotte smiled, "Though you should consider quickly--we will be expected to make a statement of some sort soon enough, lest the rumors grow wild and out of control."

"Yes, mother," he replied, his anger all but deflated in his mother's overbearing presence.

"Wonderful," Charlotte turned to Beatrice, "Now, shall we then, my dear? I believe I would enjoy hearing some music after all this noise."

Beatrice responded quickly, hoping to leave the negative atmosphere permeating the room as soon as possible, "Ah! Yes of course, grandmama!"

Queen Charlotte moved elegantly out of the drawing room, with Beatrice following close behind. This left George alone, standing awkwardly in a stiff, unpleasant silence. He huffed, shaking his head and grumbling to himself as he exited the room soon after.

----------

Tags: @empressnatsume @sarahskywalker-amidala @may-and-lay @asterizee @g4ns3y @bubblegumcat229 @mhmoony

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x oc #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #heavy lies the heart #my writing #loversatthegreatdivide

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 1 year ago

Text

The Art of Healing: Chapter 6

Photo Cred: Me

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem! OC

summary: wanda discovers her dominant side

content warnings: smut, restraints, overstimulation, fingering, dildo, subspace

word count: 5k+

Series Masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

A New Discovery

“Alright hon, remember what we practiced.”

Wanda smiled slightly, used to Agatha’s nagging. She would be annoyed if she didn’t know that the older woman was simply looking out for her. One might even say that she was worried, but Wanda knew better than to bring that up.

“Of course,” Wanda turned towards the woman beside her, noting the way her blue eyes scanned the room they were in. “I’ll let you know if it becomes too much, I promise.”

At those words, Agatha finally turned her gaze towards Wanda. It was their third time out of her cabin, and an important night as well. The first time had been to a small market in a nearby town, and as Agatha suspected, Wanda had telepathy powers in addition to her chaos magic.

That first time was overwhelming, to say the least. Agatha had never performed so many memory replacement spells as that day. But what can you do? It’s not like she could let those poor townspeople remember Wanda falling to her knees and covering her ears while scarlet waves of magic pulsated from her as she processed everyone’s thoughts for the first time.

The second time was much easier, since Wanda had known what to expect. They’d gone into the city, simply walking down the street rather than the overwhelming environment of an enclosed space. It was easier that way, Wanda didn’t get stuck in anyone’s thoughts, as they walked past too quickly.

A man bumped into Agatha, jostling her from her thoughts. She sent a glare his way, before Wanda’s gentle hand on her arm redirected her focus. Glancing down, she took a breath, her eyes locked on the pendant swinging from the redhead’s neck.

“You know how to power that on, right? I spent a lot of time on it.” Agatha knew her attempts at nonchalance were lacking, but Wanda chose not to comment, instead sending a soft smile her way and bringing her fingers to the pendant. Rubbing it between her forefinger and thumb gently, she nodded, taking a solidifying breath of her own.

Agatha eyed Wanda’s pendant briefly, scanning the runes she’d etched onto the surface. As soon as Wanda’s magic made contact with the runes, it would send a protective shield over her mind, preventing her from reading anyones thoughts. It was their failsafe, just in case the amount of horny thoughts flying around the nightclub became overwhelming,

“Yes,” Wanda dropped her hand, her eyes finding the bar through the smoky haze of the nightclub. “I’ll be alright, but first I want a drink.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, knowing that Wanda would order a shirley temple like she always did. Making their way to the bar, blue eyes scanned the many faces, searching for a target.

“Let me find someone,” Wanda’s voice was low, her breath already smelling like cherries as she murmured the words into Agatha’s ear. “Trust me.”

Sighing, Agatha nodded, feeling slightly out of her element as she gave up what felt like the last of her control for the evening. They’d decided to find a submissive to play with for the night, as part of Wanda’s education. Essentially, Agatha wanted her to finetune her control over her own emotions, and what better way to do that than to exert control over an eager submissive?

Wanda leaned against the counter, sipping her drink as she lazily scanned the crowd around her. Bodies swarmed on the dance floor, laughter and singing rising as the crowd moved slightly out of sync. Music thrummed through the floor, the vibrations of it practically tangible as it wrapped around her body, urging her to move.

Random thoughts filtered through her mind, and Wanda breathed through it, focusing on Agatha’s past lessons. Just keep breathing, and it will pass. It would apparently get easier over time, and eventually her magic would filter everyones thoughts on autopilot. Wanda couldn’t wait, and distracted herself by trying to hear only a single person's thoughts at once.

‘Damn, I like the way he’s moving against me. I wonder what his di-’

Wanda visibly shook her head, moving onto the next person quickly. She found it easier this time, her few weeks of practice paying off as the background hum of multiple thoughts layering atop each other faded.

‘I hope she collars me soon, I just want to be her good boy forever. Oh look, here she comes!’

Her curiosity piqued, Wanda found the man who’s thoughts she’d just left. He was near the edge of the dance floor, a wide smile on his face as a tall woman walked up to him. She leaned down, saying something in his ear as he bowed his head, her hands roaming his body.

Agatha sidled up next to her, hands tight around her waist as she started dancing. “You look suspicious, hon. Dance with me, I know you can multitask.”

Wanda smirked, grinding her hips backwards and feeling pleased at the gasp that escaped Agatha’s plump lips. The hands around her waist tightened, and Wanda felt herself grow wet when she felt the bulge of the brunette’s strap against her. She let herself get lost in the feeling, gently grinding against Agatha as she focused on the woman across the floor.

‘I can’t wait to make him mine, I hope he likes the design I chose. I want this to be perfect.’

The image of an intrinsically designed collar flashed briefly through Wanda’s mind, and she smiled, pleased that the man was getting his wish. A wave of possessiveness shot through her, and she quickly pulled her mind from the tall woman’s, not wanting to get her emotions confused with hers.

“Good job, Wanda.” Agatha’s voice was raspy, one of her hands snaking around to gently rest against her throat. Wanda swallowed, her breath shortening slightly as arousal pooled in her gut. She shook her head, refocusing on her mission.

Find a submissive. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?

“We could always postpone this and head back to the cabin,” Agatha’s voice was raspy, her hips moving suggestively against Wanda’s ass. The redhead faltered, almost folding before she locked eyes with a girl at the bar. The girl was sipping a drink slowly, her eyes wide as she watched them dance against each other.

Wanda smirked, bringing a hand up to Agatha’s head and enjoying the feeling of her lips against her neck. Then, she gently yanked her head up. “Stop, you’re distracting me. Besides, I just found someone. So keep it in your pants, witchy.”

Delighting in the frustrated groan she heard, Wanda ground her hips backwards one final time before making her way towards the girl. Agatha followed behind, her attention successfully redirected, for the time being.

‘Holy shit, they’re coming my way. Act cool, don’t be fucking weird.’

Agatha snorted, and Wanda realized that she was also reading the girl’s mind. Nudging her slightly, she sent a mental reminder to release her control over the situation, wanting to take the girl’s submission for herself. Afterall, it was Wanda’s control that was on the line.

‘Good job hon, you’re getting better at communicating telepathically.’

Wanda shuddered as Agatha’s words filtered through her brain, the girl’s thoughts still swimming about as she tried to act natural. It was cute really, mentally she was panicking, but she maintained a straight face as the pair approached her.

Her only tell was the slight tremble of her fingers and her wide eyes as Wanda sat down next to her, Agatha claiming the seat on the other side of the young girl. At first, Wanda didn’t say anything, choosing instead to let her eyes roam the girl’s face as she took her in.

She had pretty eyes, her eyeliner subtle as mascara coated her long lashes. A few specks of the dark pigment had landed on her cheeks, and Wanda longed to reach up and wipe it away, but refrained. She didn’t want to scare her away too soon.

“I’m Wanda,” She made sure to keep her voice low, suppressing a smirk as she watched the girl physically react to her words. A light blush appeared on her cheeks, her lips parting as she stumbled over her words briefly.

“Hi, I’m um- my name is Sarah.” Her words were breathy, her lips clamping shut the moment her introduction was finished. Agatha chuckled, reaching up a hand to play with a strand of Sarah’s short hair.

“I like this one, let’s play with her.” Blue eyes flashed as Sarah whipped around, her fingers trembling against the glass. Wanda took a peek inside her mind, pleased to see the girl’s thoughts swirling with thoughts of both of them on top of her.

“Behave yourself for once, please.” Green eyes met blue, and flashed in warning. Agatha conceded, releasing her hold on the young girl’s hair. She moved her hands to a much safer location, resting lightly on her glass while Wanda reached a hand towards Sarah’s rapidly reddening face.

Cool fingers met her jaw, and the girl turned towards Wanda with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted as her gaze roamed the redhead’s face. Smiling softly, Wanda let her fingers lightly trace the girl’s lips, her eyes locked on them as she felt Sarah’s breath hitch.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Wanda made sure to let her lips press briefly against Sarah’s ear, enjoying the way the girl shuddered beneath her. Agatha watched with a small smirk, nodding her approval when the young girl nodded eagerly.

Making their way towards the back, Wanda made sure to keep her hands on the young girl. They lingered around her waist, her hips, drifting downwards as Sarah stumbled slightly. Agatha followed half a step behind, reading the girl’s mind as she ensured that Wanda wasn’t getting too overwhelmed.

Wanda was feeling fantastic. Everytime she moved her fingers, even slightly, Sarah’s breath changed and she would trip over her own feet. Wanda found it adorable, and made sure to keep as much of her body touching Sarah’s as she could.

Eventually, they made their way to one of the playrooms provided at the back of the club, Agatha murmuring something to the security just outside the area as Wanda ushered the girl inside. Making her way after them, Agatha shut the door firmly as Wanda pushed Sarah against the wall, trapping her with her hips.

Sarah didn’t seem to mind, her hands shaking slightly as she hesitantly put them on Wanda’s waist, her eyes locked on the redhead’s lips. She arched her back slightly, pressing herself against Wanda's as much as she could, enjoying the way green eyes darkened at the action.

Feeling the hands around her waist tighten, Wanda maneuvered herself slightly until her thigh slipped between Sarah’s legs. Pressing her firmer against the wall, she smirked when the girl gasped, her hips rutting against her thigh slightly.

Sensing movement behind her, Wanda glanced over her shoulder, watching as Agatha slowly made her way over to a chair and sitting down. She crossed her legs, getting comfortable as she gave Wanda a single nod.

‘Go ahead, hon. Let’s see you in action.’

Wanda took a breath, calming herself slightly as Sarah’s hands squeezed her waist once more. The girl grew bolder, her hips moving faster as her hands drifted lower. Wanda turned back towards her, noticing the way her pupils were blown and her breath was coming out in short, desperate pants.

Moving quickly, Wanda gripped Sarah’s wrists and pinned them to the wall. Pressing her full body against hers, she captured her lips between her own, letting her teeth graze them in warning. Using one hand to hold the girl’s wrists above her head, the other drifted towards her chest, fingers quickly finding her nipple and rolling it.

The girl moaned, leaning into her touch, and Wanda throbbed.

“Please.”

Smirking, Wanda pulled back. Sarah’s eyes were slightly glazed, unfocused as she tried to move her hips. It was exhilarating, knowing that she’d made the poor girl this desperate. All from a few simple touches and a single kiss. Wanda wondered what would happen if she did more.

“Please what? Use your words, darling.” Wanda rolled her fingers again, trapping the girl’s nipple between them. Sarah arched against her, a small whine escaping her as she struggled briefly against the redhead’s hold on her wrists. Pulling slightly, a surge of arousal shot through her when the girl let out a moan, the noise strained as she attempted to surge forwards.

“I- please… fuck.” She couldn’t get any words out, and Agatha chuckled slowly from her chair. Wanda felt something shift inside her at the girl’s desperation. Something calmed, her mind sharpening past her own arousal as she focused solely on Sarah.

Humming, Wanda moved closer. She let her lips slightly graze the trembling ones before her. Sarah’s hips moved again, and Wanda sighed. “You can do better than that, sweetheart. Try again for me.”

A frustrated groan sounded out, muffled by Wanda’s lips. Biting down slightly, she slowly backed up, pulling Sarah with her. Catching a glimpse of the bed, Wanda pushes the trembling girl towards it, reveling in the gasp Sarah releases when the backs of her knees hit the mattress.

Breaking the kiss, Wanda pushes her firmly down until she’s seated on the end of the bed. Nudging Sarah’s knees open, she moves to stand between them, her hands tangling with her hair. Moving slowly, the girl moves her hands up Wanda’s thighs before wrapping them around her waist.

The movement seems hesitant, and Wanda knows what it means. Sarah’s nervous, yet filled with anticipation at the same time. It’s exactly what Wanda had felt like for her first time with Agatha, and for a moment, she feels like she’s weirdly looking through a mirror.

“I just…” Sarah struggles with her words for a moment, and Wanda just strokes her cheeks gently, calming her down slightly. Taking a peek inside her head, she’s surprised to find that it's working, and Wanda feels a rush of something at the knowledge that she is directly influencing the emotions and arousal of another person.

“I want you to touch me, and-” Sarah pauses, biting her lip. Wand nods reassuringly, making sure to keep her eyes soft. “I want you to make me feel good, and I’m already feeling fuzzy.”

Moving closer, Wanda places her lips next to the girl’s ear. Making sure that her voice is low, Wanda tangles her hand in Sarah’s hair before yanking her head back gently, a strangled moan escaping her.

“Elaborate.”

Sarah whimpers, closing her eyes briefly as she gathers her thoughts. When she opens them again, Wanda sees that her pupils are blown, black taking over her irises. “Everytime you say something, or tell me what to do, or touch me and move me around where you want me to go, I just sink into this sort of fog?”

Wanda glances over at Agatha, knowing what Sarah means. It’s slightly intimidating, to know that she’s guiding Sarah into subspace. It’s a lot of trust from the young girl, but at Agatha’s reassuring smile, Wanda calms slightly. Breathing deeply, she calms her racing heartbeat, pausing for a moment before returning her focus to the girl seated before her.

“That’s a good thing, darling. I promise.” Wanda lets her thumb rest on the girl’s jaw. Sarah closes her eyes, parting her lips as Wanda’s fingers inch closer to them. “Just relax, and let me make you feel good.”

Agatha leaned back in her seat, clenching her thighs together slightly as she watched Wanda gently guide the younger girl into a deeper state of submission. She was quite proud, having worked hard to teach Wanda everything she knew about the kinkier aspects of sex.

Sure, sex was physical. Agatha, however, liked the mental component involved with the kinkier side of intimacy. She liked the power dynamic, and the shifting of power with a single touch or look. Most importantly, she liked being in control.

However, in the past few weeks, Wanda had been testing that control that Agatha so desperately craved. She could sense a budding dominatrix in the young redhead, and taught her as best she could without letting go of the reins. Tonight however, was the first step for Wanda in learning to be in control of her own emotions and powers and also exert that same control over a submissive.

But alas, Agatha was reminiscing. She refocused, her ears picking up on the faint sound of lips dancing against each other as the younger girl moaned openly into Wanda’s mouth. Taking in the scene, Agatha was proud to see that Wanda had pushed Sarah fully onto the bed, hovering over her with her thighs on either side of the girl’s hips. Her hands held down her wrists, and the younger girl was desperately arching her back, seeking any source of friction she could find.

Diving into Wanda’s surface thoughts, Agatha smiled at the organized mind she found. Wanda was completely aware of her own powers and emotions, keeping everything in check as she focused on her control with Sarah. As predicted, exerting control over someone else helped Wanda immensely with control over herself. Surprisingly, more than submission did.

Agatha made a mental note to bring this up later to the redhead, before settling fully back in her seat and enjoying the show. After all, who said she couldn’t have fun? Besides, Wanda’s ass looked great from this angle.

“Pick a safe word.” Wanda pulled back slightly, repeating her words when Sarah tried to chase her lips. Her blonde hair was strewn around her head, her eyes rapidly blinking as she processed.

“Um,” She tried to get some words out, but couldn’t think of anything. Wanda was still in her mind, and upon realizing how spaced out Sarah was, used her free hand to gently stroke the girl’s face. It seemed as though her touch helped ground the girl, as her thoughts became more coherent, a word popping into existence.

“Vanilla.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, and Agatha chuckled behind her. A blush spread rapidly on the young girl's face, her eyes glancing between the Wanda on to pof her and the brunette in the chair.

“Behave.” The words were sharp, and Sarah’s heart stopped momentarily before she realized that it wasn’t directed at her. Agatha’s eyebrows rose, and she narrowed her eyes as her and Wanda stayed locked in a staring contest, the moment passing quickly.

Turning back to the girl currently trapped beneath her, Wanda smiled slowly. “That’s a good word, remember it.”

Nodding quickly, Sarah glanced back down towards the redhead’s lips. They parted, a warm breath that tasted faintly of cherries hitting her cheeks, and she moaned as they met hers. It was impossible to describe just how soft the redhead’s lips were, and before she could start to think of any adjectives, her mind went blank as Wanda’s tongue brushed her lower lip.

Gently exploring the younger girl’s mouth, Wanda slowly maneuvered her body as she swallowed all the moans Sarah so freely offered up. Her leg moved between the girl’s parted thighs, and using a firm amount of pressure, Wanda connected her knee to Sarah’s core.

Gasping, the young girl briefly disconnected her lips from Wanda’s. She arched into the touch, and Wanda took the opportunity to attach her lips to her neck, sucking softly as moans and gasps flooded her ears.

“Fuck.” That’s the only word Sarah can seem to get out, her eyes rolling back as Wanda bites down. The sting of her teeth digging into the soft skin of the girl’s neck causes pleasure to race towards her already over heating core. Moving slightly more frantically, Sarah rolls her hips against the knee pressing so deliciously against her.

Wanda smirked.

Giving the young girl absolutely no time to think or process what was happening, Wanda pulled away. Pulling the cuffs that were pre-attached to the headboard towards her, she swiftly attached them to Sarah’s wrists.

Struggling uselessly against the restraints, Sarah wanted to whine in protest when the redhead dismounted her. The knee against her leaking pussy disappeared, and she let out a shaky breath at the loss. Looking over towards the brunette, Sarah closed her legs at the feeling of those all-knowing blue eyes roaming her skin.

“Don’t do that.”

At the sound of Wanda’s commanding voice, Sarah whipped her head around, her eyes landing on the vibrating dildo the woman held. She whimpered, confused as Wanda began walking towards her, setting the toy on the bed before gripping the girl’s ankles tightly. Sarah’s eyes widened in understanding, and she moaned as Wanda forced her legs apart.

“Do not hide yourself from us. Good submissives let their dominants see every inch of them, and you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” Green eyes bore into hers as Wanda spoke, her head tilting slightly. Something about the gesture made Sarah’s blood run cold, and arousal rush towards her already drenched pussy.

“Yes ma’am.” She squeaked, her breaths speeding up slightly as Wanda raised a single eyebrow.

This time, it was Agatha who spoke up. “Yes, what? Elaborate for us, sweet cheeks.”

Blood rushed towards Sarah’s already pink face, and she suddenly had to urge to hide. However, there was nowhere to go, Wanda had made sure of that. She took a steadying breath, then managed, “Yes, I’m a good girl.”

The wide smile of Wanda’s face made the embarrassment worth it, and Sarah sighed in relief when she released her tight hold on her ankles, an unspoken command to keep her legs spread as she reached for the dildo.

The short skirt that Sarah was wearing was ripped off, both Wanda and Agatha making pleased sounds at the lack of underwear on her.

“I’m going to make you feel very good, is that alright with you?” Wanda’s gaze was hot, her fingers slowly collecting the wetness from Sarah’s pussy and spreading it onto the dildo. The girl was drenched, juices flowing freely as she attempted to buck against her hand.

Nodding quickly, Sarah bit her lip. This was what she’d been hoping for, to be fucked by a dominant woman, and now her wish was coming true. It was better than anything she could have imagined.

“Just remember, if it gets to be too much, use your safe word.” Agatha reminded the girl, her own hand slipping beneath her waistband. She had her legs spread, fingers gently stroking her own protruding clit as a damp spot formed in her underwear.

Wanda glanced back, taking in the sight before smirking briefly and wiggling her backside slightly as if to say, ‘enjoy the show.’ Then, she turned on the toy to a medium setting. Making sure the dildo was fully lubricated, Wanda teased the entrance of Sarah’s pussy. She wanted to hear her beg, and looked at her expectantly.

“I- please. I really want you to…” Sarah trailed off, Wanda nudging her clit with the toy and sending bolts of electricity through her. She refocused, eyes widening when the redhead tilted her head again. “Please fuck me, ma’am. I really want you to. Really, really badly.”

Taking in the girl’s pleading expression and sweet words, Wanda uttered a quick ‘good girl’ before thrusting the toy all the way inside Sarah in one, quick movement. Agatha moaned at the same time that Sarah did, although the girl writhing on the bed was much louder.

Setting a relentless pace, Wanda watched in fascination as the young girl beneath her quickly started coming undone. It was like all shame and embarrassment had left her, the only thing on her mind was how good she felt and how badly she wanted to cum. Pulling her own consciousness from Sarah’s, Wanda focused all her attention on bringing the girl’s orgasm to the surface.

Agatha slipped two fingers inside of herself, surprised by the wetness she found. She hadn’t expected to be this turned on, but something about Wanda’s dominant nature was just so… arousing. Watching closely, she fucked herself at the same pace that Wanda fucked the young girl. Her own orgasm rising, she held it off as Sarah’s moans became slightly louder, her wrists pulling desperately at the restraints.

“Ask for permission.” Wanda commanded, and the words came tumbling out of Sarah’s mouth. She begged like she had been starving for days, and her appetite could only be sated by food fed to her from Wanda’s nimble fingers. Her words flowed freely, syllables overlapping as her voice became breathy from the effort it took to hold back her orgasm.

Eventually, the words ran out, still flowing inside her head but unable to be spoken as Wanda worked her closer to the edge. Thrusting steadily, the redhead enjoyed the unspoken pleas as the girl’s hips twitched as her muscles contracted in anticipation.

With a few final strokes, Wanda brought the young girl to the edge, and allowed her to fall over it. Overwhelming pleasure coursed through her, and Sarah forced deep breaths of air into her lungs as she shook. Wanda’s fingers danced over her clit, prolonging the pleasure as victorious moans sounded out.

Distracted by a quiet gasping sound, Wanda turned her head slightly with the intention of asking Agatha how she liked the show. Her surprise must have shown on her face, because Agatha simply smiled widely at her as she trembled from the aftershocks of her own orgasm. Pulling her soaked fingers out from her pants, Agatha let Wanda enjoy the glistening juices that dripped down her knuckles for a brief moment, before sucking her own fingers into her mouth and moaning quietly.

Working her jaw slightly at the sight, Wanda refocused her attention on the girl now squirming beneath her. Setting the vibration slightly higher, she let a slow smile spread across her face as the realization set in on Sarah’s face.

Overstimulating the girl, Wanda forced orgasm after orgasm out of her aching pussy. By the end, Sarah was practically limp as the last bits of pleasure were drained from her overused body. Her clit sent painful jolts through her nervous system every time Wanda so much as grazed it, and she was positive that she would be sore for days.

With a kind smile, Wanda cleaned her up using a warm washcloth and soothing words. Agatha helped strip the bed as Sarah felt those same hands that had brought her insurmountable pleasure running over her back, now clothed in a thin robe. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the touch, feeling herself return to reality.

Sarah had never felt better.

—-

“So…”

Wanda sighed, sinking further into her chair. She stared into her glass, swirling her wine around as she tried to collect her thoughts. Agatha had taken over once she’d realized that Wanda had gotten stuck in her own head. Ensuring that Sarah had a ride home and paying their tab at the bar, she’d whisked the overwhelmed redhead home before popping open a bottle of their favorite red wine.

It smelled faintly of cherries. Wanda sighed and took a sip.

“I suppose I’m just confused.” That was all she could manage for the moment, and even Agatha couldn’t make any sense of the thoughts swirling around in the redhead’s mind. She nodded slowly, taking a sip of her own wine as she threw her thoughts back on the events of the evening.

“I mean,” Wanda paused, her eyebrows scrunching together slightly. Agatha wanted to run her thumb over the wrinkles. She blinked, where had that thought come from?

Running her fingers around the rim of her glass, Wanda continued. “I really enjoy being your submissive, but I was able to control my powers and emotions better when I’m the one in control.”

Agatha could practically feel the young woman’s mind trying not to split itself in two, waging a war between its dominant and submissive mindset. Moving forwards and setting her wine glass down, Agatha moved to kneel between Wanda’s thighs. She reached up, her hand gently resting on the redhead’s jaw as she waited for green eyes to meet her own.

“You can be both. People aren’t just one thing, hon.”

Realization dawned, Wanda’s skin smoothing over as her eyes widened fractionally. “Oh.” She felt a bit foolish, but Agatha must have still been in her head, because she chuckled and shook her head.

“It’s alright if you like being dominant more, sweet cheeks. Whatever makes you the most comfortable will make your partner the most comfortable.” Agatha returned to her seat, sipping her wine as she studied Wanda’s face.

She was nodding, her red hair falling slightly over her shoulder as she did so. Her fingers still absentmindedly played with the rim of her glass, her eyes focused on the carpet in front of her. Taking a quick peek into her mind, Agatha was pleased to see that Wanda was sorting through her thoughts, placing different emotions into boxes.

Confusion, in a box. Relief, in a box. Curiosity, in a box. Clarity, in a box. Understanding, in a box.

The storms in those green eyes cleared, and Wanda looked up with a small smile on her face. “Well,” she drawled, taking a sip of her drink as she met dark blue eyes. “In that case, I quite enjoyed that experience.”

She finished her wine, her mind already swirling with ideas. She could feel Agatha’s smug look from across the room, the woman looking far too pleased with herself. Flexing her fingers, Wanda recalled the way she’d left bruises on the young girl’s hip as she gasped into her ear.

Looking up, she mirrored the smirk Agatha wore. “I’d quite like to do it again.”

A wild cackle sounded throughout the room, sounding every last bit like a gleeful witch as wine flowed as freely as Wanda’s newfound love of dominance. That night, a new string of fate was formed, connecting a powerful redhead on the verge of revelation, and a young girl, still trembling from the feel of a gun in her hands.

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