#wicked is still rotting my brain

[ultravioletbrit]

“hold” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 488 words

this, but make it jegulus (i tried to get it as close to the original as possible)

Remus is sitting in an armchair doubled over with laughter. Sirius has fallen out of him chair and is cackling on the floor with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. Regulus is sitting on the couch trying his best to stay composed. And James in standing in the middle of the room with more passion and fire in his eyes than Regulus has ever seen.

“Hold on! Hold on! Hold on!” James is shouting.

“James—” Regulus tries to calmly interrupt.

“HOLD ON!” James looks pointedly at Regulus and his eyes look like they’re going to literally pop out of his head. “Her sister was a witch, right?” Regulus is trying so hard to hold back his laughter. “And what was her sister? A princess! The Wicked Witch of the East, Reg.” James is yelling, not unkindly just very passionately, looking directly at Regulus and nodding his head aggressively to emphasize every point.

James starts pacing in genuine distress. Sirius is rolling on the floor holding his stomach and laughing so hard his entire body is shaking. Remus has his hands over his mouth, which is doing absolutely nothing to contain his laughter.

Regulus stands up to meet James in the middle of the room. “I’m gonna stab him.” He mumbles under his breath, which makes Sirius laugh even harder—if that’s even possible.

James whips around to face Regulus. “You’re gonna looks at me and you’re gonna tell me that I’m wrong? Am I wrong?” James asks emphatically.

And the thing is—James is, in fact, very wrong. “It’s my favorite—” Regulus tries to interject but can’t even get a word in.

“She wore a crown, and she came down in a bubble, Reg!” And that proves absolutely nothing.

Regulus knows he’ll never get James to listen to him. “I’m not fighting with you.” He shakes his head, chuckling fondly.

James makes his way out of the living room. “Grow up!” He says over his shoulder.

“I’m not fighting with you.” Regulus says again.

“Grow up.” James seems to be losing steam as he leaves the room.

“Get educated!” Regulus yells then flops down on the couch and finally lets his laughter out.

Eventually Regulus, Sirius and Remus’ laugher fades into soft chuckles as they calm down and take several deep breaths to compose themselves.  

It’s a few minutes later when James appears in the doorway with a sheepish look on his face—that Regulus thinks is adorable. He slowly makes his way over to the couch and sits down beside Regulus. He’s quiet for a few moments then turns slightly to look at Regulus.   

“I’m not really mad.” James says in a small voice. “And you know I love you, right?”

Regulus chuckles fondly and takes James’ face in his hands. “Yes, I know you love me, Jamie.” He leans in to kiss James softly then pulls back the tiniest bit. “But you’re still wrong.” Regulus whispers against James lips.    

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

braineph Wicked AU is consuming me

[bloodandthestars]

・✧ — 𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

tags: NO SPOILERS!, antihero! reader? i guess?, mention of blood, takes place before across the spider-verse, will be edited, one mention of something sexual but nonetheless mdni anything else I’ll let you read to find out <3

author’s note: helllooooo everyone! this is the longest thing i’ve written for my blog yet. he’s been rotting my brain heavily and i needed it to spill out somewhere. do let me know if you enjoy what’s implied and if you’d like more. a lil vague incase there is a future series. I love this but at the same time��…anyways- translations and taglist are at the bottom of the post. enjoy!

wc: 4.5k :: masterlist next

BZZT. BZZT.

“Miguel,” You purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“It’s Important.”

It always was. “…And what kind of call is this?”

“Work-related.”

You hum. “Pity.”

“You still have ways into Oscorp?”

“Always do.”

“Good, I got a job for you. Meet at the usual spot at 9.”

A chill runs down your spine from the light wind passing through the night. You awaited your contract atop the Alchemax building, looking down at the neon lit city below. It was bright with cybernetic blues and greens, every now and then you could hear a hover car or two whirl by, only to miss it blend into the rest of the blurs flying by. The sight could never bore you, not in how it could change every day. That was the nuance of Nueva York, after all. Nothing ever rests, not even the wicked.

Nor the man that lands behind you with a thud of his feet and a slight grunt. He walks to your side in silence, taking in the city as you do. The sharp points of his eyes narrow. “You’re sure you’ll be able to get in this time?”

You turn to send him a look. Your hand raises as a drive twirls around your finger. “If you thought I couldn’t, you wouldn’t have hired me.”

He lets out a dry huff you take as amusement. His head turns to look at you. “Alright, you got me there.”

You barely catch the way his hand flies out to grab the device from your hand. His reflexes were always quick, but in this rare moment, you were just a bit quicker. Your hand is mere centimeters away from his in the air, catching you both in surprise. Your shocked expression slowly turns to one of accomplishment. His mask shifts, but knowing him, he was deadpanning under it. You chuckle, placing the drive in a pouch among many holstered onto your thigh. His eyes drag up from it’s placement to your eyes. You place a hand to your hip. “You ready?”

He places a foot to the edge of the roof. “Will you be able to keep up?”

Now it was your turn to huff, placing a prepared foot out as well. “Always.”

He gives you a final look, a lingering one you can’t quite place your finger on. He takes off and you’re quick to follow. The route felt routine to you both at this point, jumping over small spaces between buildings that eventually begin to stretch in distance. Your feet rush in a dash, swiftly jumping over over air conditioners. Miguel takes to running on the side of the buildings before webbing back to the rooftops alongside you. The two of you move when a roof entrance divides you, the heroine using his webs to ease his momentum after jumping over another conditioner back to your side. You slide under piping, coming up to jump in unison to the final rooftop. He lands on his feet, while you need to roll to slow yourself down. Both of you rise at the same time, looking up to the greenly lit skyscraper with geometric lettering spelling ‘OSCORP’ on its side.

“Which floor?”

He responds with a nod to the higher top of the building. “84th.”

You tilt your head to think. “We’ll have to climb the back side of the building. There are enforced windows starting at level 80.”

You feel a hand on your waist, causing your head to whip in his direction. You had to crane your neck slightly to meet his eyes. “Thought you said this was work-related?”

“Hush, descarada. You know what I’m doing.”

You roll your eyes, discontent with him ruining your fun. You hook your leg at his waist and he moves his hand to lower back to keep you stable. With one arm he’s able to secure you at his hip. You hook your arms around his neck and you both look up at each other. Curse how close he is and the way his voice gets low to affirm to you. “You good?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

His free hand shoots out a web, not wasting time with flying through the air. No matter how many times you’ve swung with him during an operation, your grip still tightens around him in a sudden jolt once you’re flying through gravity. The rush used to take your bones in a wave of nausea, but now it’s all adrenaline that flows through your body. You hoped that was why your heart quickened just then.

Miguel goes by your instructions, swing to the back of the building. From there, he gets you both to the windows of the 80th floor. You let out a breath of relief at the emptiness of the lab. Pulling your gadget from your other thigh holster. It had a metal hook at its end and with one push of a button, it closes in its claws for something thinner with a green light atop it. Your thumb rolls back the dial on its side, clicking another button. In a green flash, the two of you are inside the lab floor, silent and desolate. Your gadget goes back to your thigh, turning over your shoulder for any signs of trouble.

“Are you ever gonna tell me where you got that thing?”

You turn to look at him, a playful shrug rolling off your shoulders. “You looking to buy one?”

He sets his hands in the air, immediately shaking his head. “Nevermind-”

“I mean if you really are looking to, I can get you set up-”

“No, no, I already know wherever you got it, I don’t need nor do I want to know.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Miguel? Breaking one of his rules— what was it again?” You place a hand under your chin. “Oh yes, ‘don’t ask questions’?”

“And you’re all the more reason why the rule still applies.”

You both reach the emergency stairs however, a handprint was needed to unlock the door. You pull a small glowing blue rectangle that looks similar to glass. A press of your thumb and a hologram emits from it. You give it a swipe, the image shifting through dozens of handprints. You stop at a familiar bulky one. Facing the glass device to the lock, it takes the holographic limb into its code and clicks to unlock.

“How does it know it’s real?”

“You lurk around the underground long enough, and you’ll see that people are in the market for all kinds of things.” You place the glass back into your pocket. “Holographic or fake skin included.”

Miguel raises a brow— not to say it wasn’t possible. He’s sure that with the right elements, tools, it could be possible. But how people got ahold things like that weren’t out of the highly advanced labs he worked in, he didn’t know. The thought only made his stomach turn. Maybe he should stick to his own rules.

You both head up the steps, going from level 80 to level 84. From the window of the door, the two of you peer out to see an empty floor. It was safe to say that it seemed too easy. Only a few guards patrolling up and down in their routines. You look to Miguel, who looks right back at you. You shrug. “There’s always a patrol going on.”

He looks back to the glass. “Seems more than usual.”

“Maybe it’s because they’re starting to notice a few things going missing.”

“….Maybe.”

You tilt your head at him. “What? You can’t take them?”

His head turns to you, the red of his mask narrowing. “I can take them.”

You smile at his annoyed tone, patting his strong shoulder.

The hallway is silent for the six guards on duty tonight, say for the air conditioner buzzing in the background. Guns are held strong in their grip, pacing back and forth in their routine.

THWHIP!

Three lines of webs block the muzzles of three guns. The guards get tense, looking up to see where the webs came from. They didn’t have time to think, much less act— the lines steal their weapons from their hands, clanking to the ground along with a guard. The other three guards turn, only for their muzzles to be stuffed with webs as well. You slide past the first three, going for the second row. In your hands were clear cut batons, whacking at two guards’ knees. Your baton lets out a hard crack from an upper cut from below and dropping a guard in an instant. You use your hand to balance yourself as your calves lock around the other guard’s neck. You flip him down to the ground, landing you in a kneeled position to throw your baton into the nose of the final upcoming guard.

With a hard smack, he goes to the ground. You stand on your feet, walking over to grab the baton. You turn to Miguel, who’s got his three guards tied up. You look down to the baton, a red liquid causing your stomach to fall. Turning back, you see the guard’s nose as the source. Panic settles in your head, until you see his chest rise and fall. You let out a sigh of relief, quickly wiping the blood off of on the latex of your thigh. You look up to see Miguel, who finally turns to you after you it clean. You share a look to each other before you shrug. “Poor bastards.”

You both begin walking to down the hall to the entrance when he responds. “Never saw it coming.”

The steel doors greet you with shiny meshed reflections of your bodies. You use the holographic glass again, and the doors slide open with a cool hiss. The lab was vast, with a control center in the middle with scaled monitors larger than you both. They light the space in a light blue hue spreading to its very corners. You both approach the system after a cautious walk.

“Think it’s my turn to show off.” The spiderman pulls his wrist device into view, displaying a small gold hologram and pressing away at data.

You lean back with the computer behind you, arms crossed. “Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

“Was I showing off before?” You ask with a playful tone.

He huffs at your words, tapping away until his tech. After a moment, his hand goes out. You know he wants the drive, but making things easy for him was never something that entertained you. Your finger raises with the drive’s key ring around it, waving it. “Please?”

“Do you take anything seriously?”

“None of that sounded like please.”

You sense another deadpan across his face. You roll your eyes, throwing into his grasp. “Don’t act like you’re not familiar with the word, now.”

He starts a little, whipping his head back to the computer system. You hear him grumble under his breath, something along the lines of “-mierda, me llevarás a la tumba-”

It causes you to let out another laugh for the night, a sound that he’s gotten used to.

You watch as he plugs the drive into an insert in the computer’s system. Various windows of information pop up on the monitors, lines of words you don’t exactly understand in a quick scan from your eyes before it vanishes. It wasn’t your job to know anyhow. Whatever a client needed, whatever he hires you for, is a trade of information for his eyes only. That never stopped your curiosity however.

You look away, eyes set to the steel doors. A ponding in your chest for the unexpected, only soothed somewhat with his company next to you in the long moment of silence.

The look on your face soon narrows as he’s still at work. “Almost done?”

“Yeah, just waiting for it to give me access.”

“To?”

“A chip.” He states plainly.

You open your mouth to ask more questions, only for you to be stopped by his body tensing. You raise a brow to him and you follow his line of sight back to the steel doors. The two of you remain eerily still, awaiting what was the cause for his tension. It was quiet, but you knew better than to trust that over his enhanced senses. You both glance to each other with caution.

You start. “Is someone-”

He tenses much worse this time, on guard in a flash. “Yes, they’re outside the door with-!”

The doors open and from its crack is thrown a silver canister. As soon as it hits the ground, a clouded air is released. Your nerves feel like they’ve gone ablaze. A hiss cuts into your thoughts, causing you both to turn to the computer. A capsule releases from system, and you grab what you assume is the chip he needs. The smoke only grows larger in size. Before you can say a word, he gets close, a hand over your nose and mouth. He tells you in a low voice of urgency. “Behind the computer, now.”

You both move quickly, his hand still atop your face. Placing your backs to the monitors, you try and take a moment to regain your mind for a plan. It’s difficult when you feel your heart try to rip out of your chest. Your eyes glance up to him as his body remains close to yours, an ear out to the approaching sounds.

“We’re going to have to-”

A clank sound interrupts him as another canister lands right in front of you both. Smoke begins to seep out of it at a rapid pace. Your throat began to burn, eyes watering as you tried to force down a cough. It was no use, you erupt with the sound out of reflex. He looks to you. “Don’t-”

His spider senses take in the next one being thrown and shoves you to the other side of the lab. He kicks the second one far from either of you. When the third one flies in the air, a web grabs hold of it and throws it back over the computer, where grunts and yells could be heard. In the mists of getting control of your vision, you hear him yell to you. “Go! The stairs!”

You scrape up to your feet, and the last thing he sees of you is your fleeing backside.

Miguel was a natural in situations under pressure. He had been in labs with mixtures of chemicals that would have to be settled in seconds, fought against robots and maniacs. He could handle this.

His face remained focused, shooting out webs as soon as an idea flew through his head. The sticky components lands on a lab stool, and with a grunt, he swings it into the back of the computer monitor. It flickers in its blue light, cracking and falling in the way of the assailants. He turns, eyes darting around the environment. His eyes light up to the emergency exit, with no other choice but to push through it.

A climb of walls, a sling from webs up the steps, and the Spider-man busts the rooftop door. Whirls of technology snap his attention to what’s in front of him— light blaring in his face with a large amount of guards surrounding him.

Miguel was a natural in situations under pressure. He’s done plenty of operations, fought when the world was a blur around him hundreds of feet in the sky. A wave of guards what a slight to his determination, but his mind…was elsewhere. He removes most of their weapons out of the equation, taking them in clusters with his webs. He lands a punch here, and slam with his glowing webs there. He had yet to see you or hear you yell out to him. Hand to hand combat increased, blows getting harder in their impact, grunts slipping past his lips out of increasing frustration. It felt like there was no end in sight, not that it mattered anyhow. His mind felt as though it was sinking in the tangled ropes of his paranoia. The longer time went by, the more restless Miguel got and the more determined he was to get through his enemies with vigor.

“I GOT IT!”

You shout from across the rooftop, the chip in your clasped hand. A red and blue mask turns to in your direction, relief washing over him like a flood. Between you both were many henchmen flooding from the roof’s entrance, all set to standing in your way. He nods to you through the chaos, and you nod back. The two of you run on the sidelines until you hear Miguel faintly shout. “Get over here!”

“Working on it!” You shout back. Eyes dart through the growing group of goons to find a clear path. His eyes are set on you the whole time, watching your face as the cogs go to work.

Your eyes squint, heart beating out of your chest, but you have a plan— somewhat. You knee one person out of the way, moving through the space to shove through a few more. Two step right in front of you. Not losing your momentum, you sweep your leg under one of them and use that same leg to balance the other into a high kick. It creates somewhat of a clear path for you, trying to get closer and closer to the man you’ve been working with all night. You catch a glance of him pummeling through a few men, giving you a slight of relief and all the more determination to pull through.

You’re almost there, goons try to grasp at your suit, tools, or mask, and you’re barely able avoid their invasive touches. You waste no time pulling out your hooked tool, clicking a button to throw out a long thick wire. It wraps around the ankle of a man and you pull hard. He falls, knocking into others like pins as he’s dragged across the concrete. Your path has never been more clearer. You click your wire back into your tool, eyes catching Miguel’s.

He takes out one more enemy before jumping off of the roof. Your feet quicken, taking after him and taking your leap.

The skyscraper’s height furthered your velocity downward. Wind blew into your face, strong in its force. Your tool wouldn’t be far enough to reach the buildings surrounding you. Your body reacted, stomach twisting and turning in an effort to scream at you the very danger you were in. But you? You calmly shut your eyes.

In an instant, a strong arm catches you as intended. You open your eyes, hooking your arms around his neck to secure yourself to his body. You squeeze the device you both needed into your palm to confirm your grip. With one hand, he swings from building to building to ensure some distance between you and Oscorp. After a few more buildings, Miguel slows down to a roof with a large neon sign right at its front. The momentum fades, allowing you both to land behind the bright lettering.

You pull away from his side, hands going to your hips as you caught your breath. Your chest rises and falls with rough exhales while he was silent in gathering his own air. After a while, you catch his voice speaking to you. “You still have it?”

You swallow, nodding and throwing the device to him. He catches it with ease. His large fingers examine the data card. Gold lines so microscopic but filled with the intelligence needed for his work to protect others. He slips it away into an empty wrist capsule, eyes flickering back up to you.

You placed your back against the sign only a few steps away from him, chest slowing to normalcy. Your eyelids were low, lashes soft in their curl. He gains his focus back when your irises appear from them.

“How many times do I have to catch you staring for you to realize you’re terrible at being subtle?”

Your teasing words cause his mask to shift, knowing all too well he was displaying his usual frown. “I can be subtle. You, on the other hand, can’t turn on a filter if you had one.”

An amused smile appears on your face, causing another sudden wave of relief over him. You take a glance to the sky before looking back at him. “Yeah, but that hasn’t kept you away now has it?”

Miguel grunts, and you turn your head away with a laugh.

The back of the neon sign behind you illuminates strongly in the night, red light seeping through the crevasses of the letters to give your vision clarity. Your body regained air in your lungs but the bruising was beginning to ache from your complications from getting to the roof. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Miguel’s arm holding his side. Your brows scrunch together. Just what was so important to risk a hailstorm raised on them from Oscorp? You knew from your previous encounters, that he wasn’t just hitting the large corporation, but any place with the highest level of technology in the city.

You begin after a beat of silence. “I mean, I can’t have some idea of what you get from the jobs you-?“

“No, you don’t”

Your eyes turn to a glare. “Watch that tone.”

“You know, you being demanding isn’t exactly an ease to deal with-”

“Would you like to do something about that?” You take a step closer, looking up to his tall stature. Your gaze is set to where his eyes were, feeling his eyes look directly back at you.

“I..” His brows knit together. You know what you meant, he knew what you meant. It takes him a second to speak with a retort, locking his jaw. “…not here.”

You purposely look to his masked lips, then back to his eyes. “…Thought so.”

Miguel takes a hard and long swallow, shutting his eyes.

"So, what's the deal with that chip?" You ask.

Miguel opens his eyes when he clears the clouding in his mind. Not fully, but enough to attain what you asked. He hesitates for a moment before responding. "It's...complicated. Let's just say it's valuable and leave it at that."

You raise an eyebrow, sensing there's more to the story. "Valuable how?"

Miguel shakes his head. "I can't say. It's not safe."

You cross your arms. “What we did tonight, or what we do every other night for that matter, isn’t safe either.”

“I know that but-” He lets out a sigh of frustration, his mask fading off his face in squares of blue light. Words never were his strong suit and his paranoia didn’t help his case on which words to choose. Or for you to know what he has planned. You were different, he knew that. And yet, he still eyed you with caution. It was in his nature.

You look him the eye, knowing he was weighing his options in his head. His jaw relaxes, voice settling into a softer tone. “I’m doing what I’m doing to protect people. All the things I’ve had you get? They help with that. You know I’m not- building some criminal empire or making some kind of genetic super weapon-”

“Really? Because those were only two of my theories-”

“I’m not-” To others, they would take his tone as immediate annoyance. But you know it’s laced with a slight of amusement that immediately disappears.

He hopes it’s enough to satisfy you, to keep you out the possibilities of pulling into a growing web of complications. But he knew you just as much as you did him, both akin to an unshakable stubbornness.

“I think you can do better than that.” You step forward into his space again. His larger stature is unmoving, but he could feel warmth radiate from your body at the familiar closeness. His eyes go down to yours, crimson irises slowly loosing their sharp edge the longer your gazes are on each other.

“We said we don’t owe each other anything…no matter what we do with one other. And I get that.” You tilt your head at him. “But if more jobs end like tonight, and I can barely catch an escape-“

He’s quick to respond. “I won’t let that happen-“

“-But if,” You emphasize. “That starts to become an occurrence, I at least want to know exactly what I’m sticking my neck out for.”

He looks to your features, scanning over your unwavering expression. You can’t help but look at the way he presses his lips together. Miguel locks his jaw to think, perhaps he’d do so in order to keep the words from coming out. Eventually, he lets out a sigh. “A super computer.”

Your face scrunches, brow slowly going up. “A…super computer?”

He mutters, still looking down at you. “Yes.”

“To protect people?”

“To protect people.”

His voice was firm, supposedly closing the door as quickly as it opens. You study him, trying to go over your past jobs to try to piece an explanation together. Sadly, you couldn’t. The path you’ve gone down, your lives beginning to intertwine like a binding threads— you knew that finding out what he was up to would be wary road.

Eventually letting out a sigh, you’re disappointed but understanding. "That’ll do I suppose.”

He watches you take a step back from him, back leaning against the sign. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that he follows suit. You both look out to the vast city, lights greeting your wandering gaze once again. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes before you speak up. "You know, for someone who's always so serious, your fleeting sense of humor is enjoyable.”

Miguel huffs, chuckling soon after. "Is that your way of saying I'm not as boring as you thought?"

You grin, a sight he appreciates after your tenacious standstill. "Oh I’ve never found you boring. In need of a good fuck to let loose? Definitely.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of enjoyment in his tone. "I'm plenty loose when I need to be."

You laugh. "Sure you are. That's why you're always so tense."

Miguel smirks. "I'm not tense. I'm focused."

You give him a playful shove. "Whatever you say, Spider-man."

translations: descarada (minx), mierda, me llevarás a la tumba (fucking hell, you’ll be the death of me)

taglist: @manchuria @mezzke @rea-zxv @vvitcxen @pooiooi @jowtaro @coleseyebrows

[satorulovebot]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER ONE | the rouge captain

pairing — gojou satoru x fem!reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

next. HELP WANTED!

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back. 

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess. 

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble. 

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour. 

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for.

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the madness. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he took a step forward, "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling when you stepped out onto the streets, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, where sailors and pirates would gather to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Good Cop, Bad Cop feat. John Wick

Basically Soft!JW and Mean!JW brain rot - can’t get this shit outta my head or my drafts. Do not read this. I had to take a damn shower after I wrote it. NSFW / Eplicit Content / hitting & name-calling & dubcon

Of course, he’s soft John, who holds opens doors, pulls out chairs, gives away his coat

Little kisses all over your face til’ his jaw is sore just to make you breathless and giggly

Sickeningly sweet and charming, magnetizing in his kindness 

Master of tickle fights 

Deep laughter that rumbles through his entire body

Languid, big tongue never in a hurry

Of course, he takes mental note of your erogenous zones and sensitive spots

Makes sure you come first 

John Wick sucks toes. If you’re ticklish, oh well, he’s putting your foot in his mouth and holding you down or tying you up. Also gives fantastic foot massages with hands and tongue. 

Patient, frustrated John, big plump tip leaking and twitching, giving your fluttering cunt time to stretch and settle around it

Holding your hips down into the mattress and suckling your bloated pussy until the blue light of dawn - until he drinks you dry - don’t worry, though, he’s got the bottle of unscented, water based lube right there and plenty of saliva to keep you slippery - “we don’t want you to chafe, baby,” he coos, worrying a sloppy kiss to your overworked clit

He’s self-aware enough to recognize that his smooth voice is an effective weapon, especially when he’s talking you through taking his cock. Man of few words doesn’t mean he can’t use them the exact right way

“That’s my girl.” “Yeah, that feel good?” “Right there?” “Look at you.” “Gorgeous,” thrust, “irresistible,” thrust, “so fuckin’ sexy.”

Don’t get me started on the Russian dirty talk. Do you know what he’s saying? Absolutely not. Is it still more effective than English? Absolutely yes.

But, realistically, there’s also bully John, who always gets what he wants one way or another

Doesn’t matter how tough you think you are, this man is made of tall, corded muscle. 

Huge, mean, committed and determined, stalking toward you and letting you know, without words, that you’re fucked

Doesn’t matter how soft he tries to be, there’s still that rough undertone that always gets the best of him

You know he’s such a sweetie, but he gets so jealous sometimes. It’s to the point where he doesn’t let you touch yourself or use vibrators unless he’s controlling the scene

The charade of your innocence is over when, one night, you’re drunk, straddling his lap and kissing his collar and you can tell he’s trying not to fuck you stupid

“John,” you say, “you know I’m a big girl. You can do what you want.”

“It’s gonna hurt,” he replies, smoothing over your flushed cheekbone

“Good,” you tell him, “hurt me.”

You’ll live to regret it

He feels a little guilty that that’s all the more coaxing he needs to keep you stuffed full of his dick and crying from overstimulation as often as he can

“We’re lucky you’re on birth control,” he grits out, the wet slap of his balls against your ass as he destroys your cervix 

More filthy, awful shit from his mouth as he manhandles you into a position where he can bite your flesh and whisper in your ear and bottom out in the sanctuary of your cunt

“Cockdrunk slut, huh?” - “It would be easier if this stubborn pussy would ever loosen up a little bit. Shame.” 

He keeps you fat and red and sore and full of cum, always 

You stopped begging him for reprieve - eventually

Heavy handed John, bruising your ass a little too much, hitting you hard enough to make your teeth knock together. 

One day, he’s gonna keep you locked up in a big house, collar around your neck, always wearing too-tight clothes and overly feminine fetish outfits that would make a stripper blush 

Run, hide, fight 

There’s no getting away from the Boogeyman

Plus, he likes the chase

[snapghoul]

Renegade Rebel(s) with the pedal to the floor

In which the twins meet up again in Oklahoma and Bradley experiences first hand that the twins are more alike than he thought.

Notes: A sprinkle of hangster (or my attempt at it) also I love using songs and titles. The Glen Powell brain rot is real.

Warnings: foul language

“God, I fucking hate commercial flights,” Bradley groaned, stretching his back as they exited the sliding doors of the terminal. The cramped seats had him aching all over, worse than the confined cockpit of his jet.

“Well, you didn’t have to come,” Jake teased, grinning as he adjusted his duffel bag. “But I’d feel bad leaving you behind while Maverick’s off doing his thing.” At first, Rooster’s request to join Jake on this trip had surprised him. It wasn’t as if Rooster had family to visit, and Maverick was off with Penny.

The Dagger squad had been granted an extended leave due to a lull in missions, giving Jake the perfect opportunity to visit his brother and then take a road trip down to Texas.

“So where’s…”

Bradley’s question was abruptly cut off by the blaring horn of a truck that roared into the pickup zone, looking like something straight out of a Mad Max film.

“Never mind,” Bradley finished, shaking his head in disbelief. Jake’s smile, wide and radiant, was almost blinding. Seeing Jake so excited was a new experience for Bradley, and it stirred a strange, pleasant feeling in his chest—one he couldn’t quite place.

Tyler stepped out of the truck, his face lighting up as he saw Jake. “Welcome to Oklahoma!” he shouted, his enthusiasm matching Jake’s. He and Jake exchanged a quick, brotherly hug before Tyler turned his attention to Bradley.

“And you must be Rooster,” Tyler said, extending a hand. “Jake’s told me a lot about you. Thanks for coming along.”

Bradley shook Tyler’s hand, trying to ignore the flutter in his stomach. “Nice to meet you, Tyler. I’m sure Jake’s exaggerated everything I’ve done.”

Jake laughed. “Just the stupid shit and how you got your ass shot outta the sky.”

Bradley still felt a flutter in his chest, despite Jake’s attempt to mask it with a sarcastic remark. Out of everyone, he’d never have expected Jake to speak so positively about him. It was disorienting, yet oddly comforting.

“Look, you two showed up at just the right time,” Tyler said, practically bouncing with excitement as they loaded the truck. “We’ve got some impressive cells developing to the east. Kate—remember Kate?—thinks we might see a few EF1s and 2s today, and—”

Bradley’s eyes widened as Tyler’s words sunk in. Storm chasing. The idea was both exhilarating and intimidating. He watched as Jake and Tyler’s energy seemed to feed off each other, their enthusiasm almost palpable. It was a bit frightening, and he could only imagine what he’d gotten himself into.

“Wait—” Bradley leaned forward, trying to process this new information. “We’re storm chasing?”

Jake and Tyler turned to him with wicked grins. “Absolutely,” Jake said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You didn’t think we’d spend our time off just lounging around, did you?”

Bradley stared at them, still trying to wrap his head around the idea. “I thought we’d just be hanging out with your family, catching up.”

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head. “That was part of the plan, we’re hanging out right?And besides, who doesn’t want to experience a storm up close?”

Bradley swallowed hard, grappling with the realization that he was about to dive headfirst into something far outside his comfort zone. He could handle missiles and dogfights—things he could control to some degree—but Mother Nature was an entirely different beast.

“I wish you’d told me this before I bought my ticket,” Bradley said, casting a reproachful look at Jake.

Jake flashed him a confident smile. “You’ll be fine, Roo. Besides, I knew you’d chicken out if you knew in advance… no pun intended.”

Tyler snorted with laughter as they pulled out of the pickup zone, the rumble of the truck filling the silence. Bradley tried to suppress his nerves, focusing instead on the excitement radiating from the twins. Their enthusiasm was infectious, even if it did add to his own apprehension.

“You two are insane.”

“Yes sir!” “Damn straight.”

Bonus:

“Mav, help me, I’ve made a grave mistake. Well, multiple mistakes, but—actually, no, just one big Hangman-shaped one.” Bradley mumbled into his phone, watching from a far field as the red truck charged toward the funnel cloud. He’d bailed after getting swept up in the first tornado.

[panda-writes-kpop]

Demon! Dreamcatcher - Giving You A Helping Hand

a/n: i wrote this to help me with my dami b-day fic... so spoilers for that, perhaps? (this has nothing to do with the fic, i just had brain rot from my own idea... and wrote this instead of the fic 🤦‍♀️) I'll get back to requests and that fic eventually, I hope. 🫠

tw: lots of blood and gore for headcannons, demon eats human, the same human gets brutally murdered again and again, my opinions about what sin each girl represents, someone spits on a dead body, lots of death, DC are murder wives (literally)

♡ Masterlist ♡

Prompt - okay, this was pathetic. You couldn't even fight off one person who sent a right hook into your jaw. You didn't want to call her since she'll probably kill the person in front of you, but they started it by pulling out a switchblade.

Yeah, pleasantries went out the door a long time ago. Fuck, this was a bad idea.

Yet you still summon your girlfriend to your side.

○●○●○●○

• Your girlfriend didn't have the most elegant summoning pose - she was in the middle of biting an invisible dish.

JiU - Demon of Gluttony

• Annoyed, she turns to you before smiling and going to greet you...

• -before she notices the small cut on your face.

• Her head snaps to the other direction, noticing the other person who looks terrified at Minji's sudden change in demeanor.

• "I've always wondered what human meat tastes like."

• She lunges and tackles the person to the ground, and you close your eyes as blood and guts fly everywhere

• Not a bit of human flesh lands on you before Minji calls your name.

• You open your eyes to see her wiping her face of blood (as if her clothes and hands aren't soaked in the color red).

SuA - Demon of Pride

• "C'mon, my dear, I've still got leftovers back in hell. Shall we enjoy them together?"

• She's happy you called her - why wouldn't you call the best demon girlfriend to assist you?

• Oh, someone's bothering you? SuA simply opens a portal to hell behind the person and nonchalantly flings them into the portal.

• "Don't worry, babe, I won't touch them. Cerberus will tear them to pieces. :)"

• You forget how terrifying (and hot) she is at times.

• SuA, without dropping her smile, approaches you and gently places her hand on your cheek.

• With a bit of mischievous demon magic, the cut on your face is healed without a scar to be seen.

• She grabs your hand and drags you to a nearby bar.

Siyeon - Demon of Lust

• "Let's go have fun and forget about that miserable person, baby. Doesn't that sound like a much better way to end the night?"

• Your girlfriend drips charisma as she appears in a brilliant display of pink smoke.

• Her eyes glance between the two of you as a wicked smile appears on her face.

• "Well, what do we have here?"

• Siyeon corners your opponent and pins them to a wall with one of her hands as the other strokes their face.

• "You're going to regret ever touching them, you wretched little thing." Her voice drips venom as your attacker's face changes from pleasure to fear.

• The darkness of the night hides the gorey scene as Siyeon, in a brutal display of power, rips every body part from the other person.

• Once she's done, with a snap of her fingers, the blood on her, the ground, and the cut on your face are completely gone.

Handong - Demon of Wrath

• "Now we can enjoy the night together without any disturbances, right?"

• There's no warning after you summon Handong. She simply goes into attack mode after spotting the other person.

• They scream in terror and pain, but she simply scoffs at them

• "Should've thought about that before you punched them, huh?"

• Of course she knows about that, your girlfriend knows about every time someone wrongs you so she can correct things in your favor.

• With nothing but her hands, she's literally ripped them to shreds in what must be a world record.

• "Didn't even put up a fight." She rolls her eyes before landing another punch to their body. "Tsk, what a shame."

• You're the one who has to pull her off of them, with a gentle reminder that the other person was dead a long time ago.

• "I want to make sure that there's no chance that resurrection can happen, my dear." She hisses before spitting on the body.

Yoohyeon - Demon of Greed

• She's not always like this, you swear.

• "Hey, I was busy planning another bank robbery that would be totally foolproof! What are you-"

• She pauses as she looks at you and then the other person.

• "Well, you'll work as bait for Cerberus so SuA doesn't interfere in my plans."

• She snaps her fingers and the other person disappears, but you swear you can hear them scream in the background as you talk to Yooh.

• "They'll have a quick death, I promise!" She squeezes your hands as you nod and agree.

• In her hand, she offers you a bandaid. When you go to grab it, however, she snatches the bandaid away from your grasp.

• "Let me do it, babe!" She whines before opening up the bandaid. "It's the least I can do."

Dami - Demon of Envy

• She's awfully cute for a terrifying, murderous demon.

• She has a less flashier entrance than the other demons, and a less visible response to the other person.

• Her way of handling things is much less brutal. She simply places both of her hands on the person before gently pushing them against the wall.

• Their eye color changes to orange before running off while muttering on about coveting things or people (you can't really tell).

• Dami's attention turns to you as she wipes away any bruises, marks, or blood with the touch of her hand.

• "Are you alright, my dear?"

• Once you've fully reassure her that you're okay, you ask her why she didn't murder the other person in front of you.

• "I know that violence will scare you away, and that's the last thing I want. You shouldn’t be scared of me, darling."

Gahyeon - Demon of Sloth

• For someone who was created to be an incarnate version of envy, she sure doesn't show it off a lot.

• You've summoned her to you, but she's sleeping while standing up.

• So much for getting help from the demon representing sloth. You should probably know better at this point.

• When your attacker tries to approach you with the knife, Gahyeon holds out her arm and catches the other person's arm.

• She then proceeded to harshly throw them into a wall, giving them a quick death with a lot of head trauma.

• Without waking up, she sleep walks over to you. (How does she not fall over her own feet?)

• "There's something on your cheek." She mumbles in her sleep as you touch your face. "You should fix that."

• Thanks, Gahyeon, that's really helpful.

• "I'm going back to bed and I need a pillow." She says before pulling you into her arms. "You're coming with me."

• You can't break out of her grasp as she sinks into the ground, but you give up and accept your fate. That's simply how your girlfriend is.

[ashley-foster-13]

I normaly don't like to read angst but the voices are speaking to me so, I have this idea for a while "what if W.C.K.D kidnapped reader and did some experiments on her. And when the tmr boys founded her she was a crank. Basically what would their reaction be if they saw the reader as a crank. I used she/her pronouns for to wrtite this request but the reader can be gender neutral. I am sorry if my writing is wacky its late at night and I don't know what am I doing

You are a crank

"Y/n, NO!” someone shouts, but a WICKED soldier is already dragging you away. You kick and scream and bite and hit but can’t free yourself from the firm grasp.

Janson found the Right Arm, and all of it was Teresa’s fault.

“I hate you, you hear me? You’re killing them!” you yell, still kicking. “Rot in hell!”

You can’t see a thing, wither from anger, or tears, or the hair wind keeps blowing in your face. Then there is a spark of pain, someone punches you in the stomach. You collapse on your knees.

“Help,” you whimper, but your voice is too weak, and people around you are too loud.

With hope fading in your heart, you let loose and allow the darkness to consume you.

You aren’t sure how long you have been awake. You aren’t sure you are awake.

It feels like you’re drowning in memories and feelings, some real and some not.

Pain.

Grief.

Surprise.

Hope.

Love.

Pain.

People are talking, but you brain can’t differentiate any words. It all sounds like a song or a moan, and with every passing second grows louder.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

You try to scream, but no sound comes out. You can’t feel your body. Then it all goes black again.

“Y/n!”

You sleep.

And then you wake, and you wish you didn’t. Ever.

In the mirror just by the bed, you saw a person in the reflection. Not human.

Black eyes, dark circles around them. Hollow cheeks, bony limbs. It looked like you haven’t been eaten in a few months. Maybe you haven’t.

It was so surreal, for a moment you thought it was just another nightmare, another vision.

But then you hear the voices of your friends, and realize that’s not the case.

You feel something cold on your face, and only when you look in the mirror again you see black tears running from your eyes.

“Y/n! She’s awake,” Minho says. He takes you by shoulders carefully and tries to make you face him, but you don’t let him.

“Y/n, you alright? You bloody scared us all,” you heard Newt limp closer. A familiar sound of his uneven steps forced the memories rushing to your mind, warm memories of the Glade.

Your sobs are the only sound in the silent room.

“Y/n..?” It’s Thomas, sounding like he already knows the ugly truth. So, ugly as you are now, you turn to their simultaneous gasps.

“Bloody hell,” Newt mutters, staring at you in disbelieve, his body gone stiff.

He was the first Glader you ever saw, the one who helped you adjust in that cruel world.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, because now you’re gonna have to leave them, and all their efforts to rescue you were for nothing.

Minho bows his head and closes his eyes, trying to block out the tears, but a few escape.

You got really close because you were his running partner back in the Glade. Now he will ave to run alone.

“Hey, listen to me, alright?” in two long strides Thomas crosses the room and grabs your shoulders. He doesn’t speak until you look him in the eyes. “We’ve got the cure. We cured Brenda, remember? We can still save you.” At these words, Minho ran out, probably searching for Mary. “Just don’t give up, alright?”

“He’s right, we’ll save you,” Newt is out of his stupor by now, but his voice is slightly shaking.

“What if it doesn’t work?” you whisper. You can already feel the Flare getting to your mind, twisting it to form the most violent ideas and crazy thoguhts.

“There!” Minho pants, back with the doctor.

“Thomas, I need your blood,” Mary calls.

At that moment, everything hurts again, and you think you pass out.

Until you hear gunshots.

“A crank!”

“Kill it!”

“Step back!”

And you do, stumbling over your own feet and falling to the floor.

When you look up, you see Newt crouching on the floor not far from you, clutching his bad leg and uttering curses under his breath. Then you look at your hand that is holding a dagger soaked in scarlet, and you understand.

You could have killed him.

You almost killed your friend.

Hating yourself more than the Flare, more then Teresa or WICKED, you bring the knife to your throat.

“Y/n, no!” Thomas shouts, grasping your wrists and holding them behind your back. “It’s okay.” he soothes, but you know it’s a lie.

“No, no, no. It’s not okay. It’s not okay. It’s not…” You whimper, trying your best to stay human.

“It’s okay, Y/n, just hold on, yeah?” Newt calls.

He doesn’t sound like it’s okay.

Then Mary is in front of you with a syringe, and all that’s left for you to do is pray.

[snoozepotato]

We’ll Be Fine -1- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

A/N: I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors I missed, characters may be a lil ooc because I just love big men being soft! Ghost brain rot since 2009🔥💀🔥 I AM SORRY!

she/her pronouns

Congratulations, I have gifted you a younger brother for this story!

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: swearing, eye contact, mild shenanigans

Masterlist

Summary: You arrive at base to pick up your brother, he does a terrible job at introducing you to his friends.

Part 1

~Kiddos~

Standing near the entrance to the facility you thoughtlessly bounced back and forth on the balls of your feet, an outlet for your slowly growing anxiety. ‘Technically’ you're a government employee, it’s complicated... Despite that being here leaves you feeling uneasy, most places like this still do.

 After an extended deployment overseas your brother had finally returned home, and you had promised to cook him dinner. So here you are, waiting for him to make an appearance in front of the military base he currently calls home. It's been a dreary day but the dense clouds are parting, making way for a steady building sunset. 

‘At least it’s not TOO cold,’ you suppose, allowing a false relief to wash over you. You were never very good at dressing for the weather, which comes with the ‘indoor person’ territory you radiated. What you lacked in physical prowess you made up for in technical abilities, at least that's what you tell yourself.

A brisk wind suddenly strikes your back, the thin sweatshirt just barely enough to stop nature's oncoming assault. Stuffing your hands into the front pocket, you fumble with your keys in an attempt to keep distracted.

‘Should have just waited in the car,’ brooding, you roll your eyes before catching sight of a group heading outside.

Curious eyes scanning the lot of them as they exit the building, spotting your brother's large figure somehow dwarfed by the hulking men beside him… Suddenly feeling very small.

Your eyes lock momentarily with a stranger's murky stare, deep brown orbs stricken gold by the fading rays of light. Dark grease paint smudging out the skin left exposed by his balaclava.

‘That's different,’ your thoughts halt, shoulders stiffening involuntarily realizing you're just staring at this man who you don't know. Quickly averting your gaze, attention shifting to greet your brothers steadily approaching figure.

Large hands grasped your forearms before pulling you into a crushing hug. Wrapping your arms around him stiffly, you let out a breathy laugh.

“This is my older sister, and I’m off to have a home-cooked meal,” he declares, snatching the keys from your hand and making a dash for the car. Abandoning you on the sidewalk.

“Debug,” you correct and turn to leave, attempting to place the now empty appendage back into your pocket but are stopped mid-motion.

 Another lad seems to materialize in front of you, your small hand now clasped in his much larger one. Looking up you take him in for a moment, gray eyes cast in the warm light of the evening sun. Brown hair cropped into a short Mohawk, and a handsome stubbled jaw.

“Hello, lass, call me Soap,” The Scotsman gushes, your hand still loosely resting in his grasp. He shoots you a wicked smile resonating with a boyish charm.

Stony facade you'd been maintaining cracking in the slightest, gaze softening before retracting your hand. You turn, giving them a curt wave, a gentle smile. Enough socializing for one day!

“Bye kiddos,” Words stumble awkwardly out of your mouth before promptly following after your brother, who is waving you down from the now-open driver's side window. Mentally cursing yourself for being such a colossal dork…

“Kiddos,” Soap repeats blankly.

Having rushed off immediately after Soap's introduction, Ghost can’t help but wonder if they scared her… If he scared her.

They watch as she reaches for the passenger side door, car abruptly lurching backward leaving the handle just out of her reach. Very much unamused she is left standing there with a blank expression, arms slack.

Taunting laughter can be heard across the lot as the action is repeated twice more before she is finally allowed to enter the vehicle.

“Fuckin wanker,” Ghost irks scrutinizing the juvenile interaction.

“Feel kinda bad for her,” Soap chuckles

Thanks for reading &lt;3

[spaceace0599]

Demon Slayer/Wicked AU rambles

My sibling is obsessed with Wicked rn (aren’t we all, it’s fantastic) and I’ve been experiencing Demon Slayer brain rot for a while and we “accidentally” created a mini AU around it and it was the most fun I’ve had in a while and wanted to share my joy so HERE WE GO

If we’re going off of the sibling angst that is Elphaba and Nessa we gotta go with the Shinazugawa brothers. I said Sanemi is Elphaba so we could get some Sanegiyuu content and they disagreed but I’m the one with tumblr so my word is law. Sanemi is Elphaba and Genya is Nessa

Obviously this makes Giyuu Galinda. For both Sanegiyuu reasons and also so Giyuu could still be the one to start Dorothy!Tanjiro on his journey. Yes I know her whole thing is being Popular and Giyuu is not that but it’s an AU leave me alone

This makes Galinda’s two friends Shinobou and Sabito. No I will not be taking notes

Gyomei is Nanny Bear and raised Sanemi and Genya. Shout out to my sibling for this stroke of genius, this made us laugh for like five minutes straight

Tanjiro is, of course, Dorothy. There’s no other option

Inosuke is Toto. No followup required

Zenitsu is the Cowardly Lion, obviously

We had no idea who would be Boq until my best friend suggested Muichiro which is so perfect (“because Tanjiro helps him find his heart again” as my friend put it) AND he’s a solid match to be paired with Genya as Nessa

Wasn’t really sold on who should be Fiyero? Currently thinking Kanae since she kinda had a thing going on with Sanemi for a bit and we couldn’t think of anyone else

Muzon is the tornado that brought Dorothy to Oz cuz “he ruins everything” according to my sibling. Peak comedy there

We couldn’t really decide on the Wizard for sure beyond maybe Ubiyashki? I guess that makes the demons the animals, and even though demons are horribly tragic and COULD fit I’m not sure if I’m sold on it for many reasons (like how it wouldn’t really make sense for Sanemi to give up everything to fight for demons rights, which was part of why we weren’t sure if he should be Nessa or Elphaba. Plus Zenitsu isn’t a demon but he has to be the Lion lol) I’d suggest Muzon but the tornado comment won lol

We went two different routes with Dr. Dillamond and neither one follows “the demons are the animals” but my sibling suggested Rengokou with Akaza as the new history professor, while I said Masachika for the emotional tie for Elphaba!Sanemi

Obviously this is very rough and not meant to be taken seriously, and I know not everything fits with the characters we chose but we had SO much fun discussing it I wanted to share lol

If anyone has any other thoughts or wants to expand on this PLEASE share this was the most fun I’ve had in a WHILE

[tobuo]

(o///o) got tagged by @sasseffects for WIP WHENEVER so uHhhh here's a snippet of an ais x mc piece i've been working on forever and will hopefully finish one day when i feel like creating again ~

Haven’s never been blessed with the gift of premonition, no matter how ardently the priests of the temple had proclaimed otherwise. The only prophecies that have ever come to pass at their hands are ones of rot and ruin. They’d never foreseen their sharp and sudden fall from grace, nor divined where the next few months would lead them, alone in the world for the first time.  The muddled mess of their room above the Wet Wick is a far cry from their chambers at the temple, but it already feels more like home than those hallowed halls ever did. There’s a strange kind of comfort to be found here in the ashes of who they used to be, and they no longer have to fear wax scalding their skin as others force them closer and closer to the heavens.  Ais is still asleep, tucked beside them and half tangled in the scratchy, threadbare blankets. The rise and fall of his bare chest with each breath is steady and constant under Haven’s bandaged hand. Even through the thick fabric of the wrappings, they can feel the warmth of his skin… the steady thrum of his heartbeat.  Not for the first time and not for the last, Haven wonders what it would feel like without anything to dampen the sensations.

taggin @aelyosos @coldshrugs uhhhh anyone else who has some writing in progress so share ???? my brain is soup lately i cant tHink

[cherrybean]

What songs that Lalo/Nacho would f*ck you to

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️COMPLETED VERSION‼️‼️‼️

‼️only missing Lachos part, but will write a longer fic for that one next week‼️

‼️‼️PURE SMUT‼️‼️

💀 the Lalo and Nacho brain rot is real 😵‍💫

Lalo Salamanca

- “All Mine” Bryson Tiller

- This man is the definition of a toxic relationship

- If you listen to the lyrics it’s about a toxic situationship in which they have a good connection, mainly sexually (lmao) but you can tell there’s still some deep emotions there

- Lalo would definitely sing the lyrics to you while he’s pounding into you

The music filled the room, as your moans bounced off the walls. Lalo gripped the sides of your mouth as he bucked his hips into yours, filling you up to the brim. “Say it princesa” he’d coo watching as your eyes rolled back into your head. “L-lalo” you pathetically moaned as you tried to concentrate on what he was asking of you, as if you could concentrate on anything else but your your legs hoisted up on his shoulders in a mating press. “Dimelo muñequita” (tell me little doll) Lalo said assertively. “I’m yours” you managed to get out as he continued to pound into you as the headboard started to smack against the wall. His thrusts were relentless as Lalos callused fingers gripped your breasts and he twirled your nipple, causing a small yelp to leave your lips. “Lalo please” you whined as he started to slow down his movements now to follow the rhythm of the song. “But you look so good like this muñequita” Lalo said grinning, “look at my little slut begging to climax”. Your nails gripped his shoulders as he continued to edge you. You could feel him pounding into your cervix and sweet spot, but just as soon as you’d feel yourself about to reach your climax Lalo would change positions to prolong the torture. “Lalo please, I want to cum” you practically begged. Lalo loved watching you like this, pathetically begging for him to let you cum and watching the way your body reacted to him. Your face flushed and eyes with a small glint of tears from the edging and how fucked out you were. Lalo set your legs down now into missionary, “fuck muñequita, you feel so good” Lalo grunted as his thrusts were more sped up to a better rhythm. You moaned as you felt your delayed orgasm finally getting closer. As you felt your orgasm and Lalos you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling Lalo twitch inside you as you felt his cum fill you up. Lalo grunted as he continued to thrust making sure he filled you up with every last drop. The only noise now was the music in the background and both of your heavy breathing. Lalo kissed up your jaw, “can’t wait to give you a baby princesa, you’d look so good bloated with our baby”. You couldn’t help but moan as you felt Lalo getting hard again at the thought of filling you up with a kid. “Guess I gotta give my muñequita what she wants” Lalo said grinning as he gripped your breasts beginning to thrust into you.

Nacho Varga

- “Wicked Games” The Weeknd

- Feel like he listens to The Weeknd lmaoo

- This song mainly because The Weeknd talks about leaving his girl and messing with someone else…so he’d be messing with you while having his other women at home

Nacho had picked you up after a stressful day of dealing with his boss. You didn’t care as you were parked out in the middle of nowhere as your face was on the cold leather seats as he hit it from the back. The stereo playing music to mask your moans as Nacho dug his hands into your hips. “Nacho right there” you moaned as he had one knee on the leather seat to be able to angle into your perfect spots. Your makeup had been ruined, but it usually was any night he would call you up to meet in his car. With one eyelash on and the other other already on the car seat, all you could do was grip the leather seat with your nails. “Fuck, you feel so good” Nacho would groan as he’d bend over to grip your face forcing you to look back at him. “Look at me hermosa” Nacho said as you felt the tears in your eyes form from the pleasure. He held your jaw with a grip as he forced you to look into his eyes as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Your jaw going slack as the only sounds coming out were strained moans from his hand cutting some of the circulation, leaving you breathless and pathetically enjoying every second of it. “Fuck” Nacho moaned as he pulled out last minute feeling his dick twitch on your ass as the hot streams of his cum painted your sweaty back. Nacho let your jaw go as you regained your breath and finally let your knees relax into the cold leather seats. “We gotta do this more often” you’d hear Nacho say chuckling as he’d clean the cum off your back. You shimmied your way out of the back seat of the car and pulled your mini skirt down and adjusted your panties into place. “Come here hermosa” Nacho would say as he’d give you a big kiss on your lips, “you know you’re my favorite right?”. You just smiled knowing that all you were was just a late night booty call, but it didn’t matter as long as he’d be the one who’d have your face smashed into the nice leather seats late at night.

[pessimisticoptimistsblog]

AN: It’s been YEARS, possibly like a decade honestly, since I’ve written down a story idea, but I have like this incessant story bug in my brain. This series and Lucifer especially have me in a chokehold, so hopefully, this helps to ease the brain rot a bit… this is inspired by the series, obviously, but also by a clip I’ve seen of Supernatural that mentioned Nephilim and them being not accepted by heaven (I think? I’ve never watched SPN, so maybe I got the idea wrong, and the clip was out of context.. oh well, in this story, Nephilim exists, and heaven doesn’t like that.)

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

This has been lightly proofread. I needed to get the idea down finally since it's been circling my brian since I watched the finale. Also  chapter 1 is written! I’ll probably edit it a bit more tomorrow and post it by tomorrow evening. Anytime my oc is just signing and it isn't being interpreted by her assistant, it will be like this *text*. If her assistant is translating, then it will appear as regular speech.

CW: Not much yet, just some cursing

Summary: He claimed her mother seduced him, bewitched him with some devil-magic to make him fall for her, making her inherently evil. How else would a mere human have come to carry a half-angel? So he forced their offspring into hell, hid her amongst the “Losers,” and sealed her angelic half and her voice away so no one would ever know what he had done. With the extermination creeping closer to her doorstep and now being moved up, Madame C has finally had enough of her father’s hypocrisy. It’s time to leave the shadows and show Heaven and her father they’re not as great as they think.

Prologue

~ THE BEGINNING ~

Year – 1467

Quickly, wee one, only a bit further. We cannae’ risk being found!” The urgency in the older woman’s voice was barely masked, wishing the younger girl holding her hand could still think of this as nothing more than a game. The two slipped into a small cave opening, and the mother raised a finger to her mouth with a shaky grin.

Her tired brown eyes peaked out after a few moments searching the wood for any sign of the mob they had just outrun. The village they had only just reached a fortnight ago seemed to have decided the woman was a witch when they caught her using herbs to heal a scrape on her daughters knee. The village elder had gathered every able-bodied man and some women, armed them with anything sharp they could grab, and set the woman’s small home on fire. One had seen the “witch” and her daughter trying to sneak out of a window, and soon, the mob had begun chasing the two into the woods surrounding the village.

The woman scanned the trees half a dozen times, hoping and praying that some diety would hear her and the villagers would give up soon. She knew her daughter was growing weary, and at nearly 13, she was too heavy for the small woman to carry while trying to escape certain death. After a few tense moments of eerie silence and no sign of flames or shadowy figures, the mother breathed a small sigh and sunk into the wall of the cave. She looked to her side, seeing her daughters green eyes wide and scared – scanning her mother’s face for whether they would begin running again or if they were finally safe. For now.

In truth, the duo had been doing this for years. The young girl could barely remember a time they weren’t running or hiding, and she had only recently begun to grasp why. Witch hysteria was gripping the continent, and women healers and single women were being targeted. Someone like her mother, a healer and mother with no husband in sight, was no doubt evil and wicked. So the two were hunted, like animals, no matter how far they tried to stay away from civilization. This time, the mother had hoped to use a ruse of her husband dying on their travels to gain acceptance into a small village. It had worked for a short while until one of the older men tried to court her, and her rejection immediately put her under suspicion. Only a few short days later, their new home was behind them, and they had even fewer belongings than what they had come with, unable to grab much in their haste.

The young girl stared at her mother a few moments longer until a gentle, calloused hand began to smooth out unruly brown hair and a small smile stretched on the older woman’s face. Just barely gracing the planet for 28 years, the woman looked much older in this moment. So tired and broken from the last 11 years of running and hiding, unable to give her daughter the life she deserved, all because of a “man” that had promised her everything and then disappeared. The girl wanted nothing more than to ease her mother’s worries, put a stop to the need to run, and escape certain death. With exhaustion pulling her closer to sleep, all she could do at the time was collapse into her mother’s lap and cuddle into the last bit of safety she would feel for many years.

~ PRESENT DAY ~

Green eyes cracked open at the sound of a knock on the bedroom door. Red light was peeking through curtains, unable to break through the darkness of the rest of the room.

“Madame C? We’ve got breakfast ready, and Miss Carmine’ll be here in an hour,” a gruff voice called through the door before footsteps could be heard pacing away from the door.

The woman In the bed stretched before sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes. Slowly rising from her bed, her feet softly padded over the wooden floors towards her small ensuite bathroom. After washing her face and getting dressed, she allowed herself to be enveloped in darkness, appearing to everyone as a shadow figure anywhere she went. The only visible part of her – green eyes and the short white gloves she wore so everyone could see her sign. The rest of her appearance she had found, after the first hundred years, was too close to her father’s for Hell.

Exiting her room, there stood a slightly buff hell hound watching the area around her door. He began to follow her to her office while speaking into an ear mic, “Madame C is on the move. Bring breakfast to the office.” Reaching the large double doors to her office, the first hell hound greeted another smaller, younger hell hound with a nod before they opened and shut the doors, allowing their boss through and positioning themselves on either side. Inside the office, the small shadow figure seemed to float to her desk, turning on a small light on her way and taking a seat in her chair with a sigh.

Not long later, a female hell hound came through the doors; dressed in leather and spikes, the only sign she was a secretary was the tray of food in one hand and a stack of files in another. The hell hound’s mouth turned up into a smirk seeing her boss slumped in her chair already. “C’mon boss lady, don’t tell me ya didn’t get any sleep? You got important shit to take care of today!”

Madame C gave a wry grin. When did she ever sleep well? She made a motion with her hand, waving off Nia’s question before signing to ask for the coffee on the breakfast tray. After setting the tray down and handing the coffee to her boss, Nia launched into a spiel about who had scheduled a meeting and why. Sipping her coffee, Madame C sat and listened to her assistant before a knock sounded on the office doors, signaling the start of another long day for the woman blanketed in shadows.

Hours later, Nia was absently scribbling in a notebook, bored out of her mind and not bothering to hide it. The meetings had ended 30 minutes ago; new contracts had been made, old ones were closed and paid out, and others would have to have bill collectors sent out to ensure clients paid their dues. Madame C sat back in her chair after signing checks for the hell hounds she employees, stretching her fingers out and rolling her shoulders to ease the ache that had settled in.

She looked at Nia with a small smile before tapping her desk to catch the young hell hound’s attention. Her white gloved hands began to move as soon as Nia looked up, *You should go. Beelzebub has a party tonight, right? Go.*

The female hell hound's head perked up, and her tail began to wag as she practically vibrated out of her seat. “Oh my Satan! Are you sure?! It’s supposed to be a big one tonight, so that’d be amazing if I could leave, like, now, but I totally understand if you need me! But, there’s also, like, this super hot guy that’s supposed to be there and I really want to shoot my shot, ya know? Ugh! He’s so fucking hot. I just-“

*Yes! Go! Please.* Hands moved quickly to cut the hell hound off. The green-eyed woman cut off Nia’s rambling, all but pushing her out of the office doors. Nia shouted a quick thank you, running off with the pile of envelopes leaving Madame C and the 2 hell hounds outside her office shaking their heads in amusement. The smaller demon looked between her 2 guards, signing that they should be heading home, too.

“You sure, ma’am?” One questioned.

“We don’t mind sticking around. Sinners are getting a bit braver with the next extermination coming up,” the other added.

*Go home, I could use the quiet. Plus, Carmilla left me a couple of new toys. I might enjoy a reason to test them!* White gloves signed as green eyes shone bright and sharp white teeth poked through a grin, accompanied with a short, silent laugh.

After sending the rest of her employees home, Madame C closed her office doors and collapsed onto a small couch to the side of the room, releasing a sigh. She had dreamt of that awful night again, the last time she had been able to hug her mother and feel her warmth. Her final moments of life before they came and cornered her and her mother. Before she was cast into hell and striped of her identity and voice. A gloved hand reached up to the center of her chest, where binding marks lay beneath her clothes.

One day, she’ll break the chains her father wrapped her in and show everyone just how evil he truly is.

Soon. Very soon. Were her last thoughts before she allowed sleep to claim her, hoping for no dreams to plague her tonight.

~I'm screaming inside. I hope ya'll like this at least a little. 🙏~

[theweeping-whistlers]

The Daily Fanfic Rec #2

Fandom : Supernatural

Site : Ao3

Title : There is rest for the wicked

Author : fleeceframe

Summary :

“So what’s up with- Dude, again?” Sam’s voice rings through the room incredulously.

Dean grunts in response.

“You can’t possibly still be tired. Like, I feel like this should be physically impossible.”

“Tell that to my melatonin levels.”

“How do you know what melatonin is?”

Dean does his best to roll his eyes under the cover of his eyelids. “Jesus, Sam, I’m not an idiot. Will you shut up so I can sleep?”

He hears Sam huff. “Ya know, if you wanted to nap, you could always use that thing you have called a bed.”

“Not the same,” Dean grumbles. His body doesn’t get all loose when he’s laying in his bed watching horror movies. The synapses that slow their firing contentedly seem to be wired to that same invisible bodily response of the outside world, and apparently being in the openness of his family’s space turns his brain into mush. “Now unless someone’s dying, I’m beggin’ you to shut up.”

or the one where the whole family is together, dean finds enough peace to take some naps, and he's not sure he'll ever figure out how to say those three big words to cas

Notes :

If you do read this, be ready for heart warming, tooth rotting, soul snuggling amounts of fluff. This fic is my 3 am feel good fic. After binging angst, this fic makes sure everything is OK. It focuses a lot on Dean and how he would react to the safety of after the storm. His relationships with the people around him are *chef's kiss*, and in general, if you want to smile like a loon, this is the final destination.

[grapefiesta]

Because I know you're a Menace

Henlo! I have brain rot so I wrote about bby

Hobie's friend patching him up and joking around

A/N: changed it to second pov! (and also some minor things)

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You woke up due to an aggressive knocking on your window. It was obviously Hobie. If not… then.. well, shit. He must have forgotten something, but when you peeked through the window, you saw nothing but the alley behind your flat.

"Open the window!" From outside came his voice in a quiet tone. You couldn't really make out what he said but guessed, that he wanted you to open the window (if you think about the pounding earlier).

"No fucking way… it's like 11 in the mornin'," you whispered, groaning when you heard his voice. "This bloody guy.."

You walked over to the window in your room. (It was basically a door for Hobie, considering how often he crashed at your place and came in through the window).

You opened the window and had a peek outside in search of the familiar sight of either Hobie himself or his spider-punk mask.

Hobie was sitting on your windowsill. He was wearing his Spider-Punk suit, But it was dirty, and his mask was torn and ripped.

"Hey." He said quietly, his voice laced with pain, and you could see it hurt him to talk as he winced.

"I forgot my coat last night. Would you be a dear and throw it out?" He asked, his British Cockney accent still present as ever.

You facepalmed. "You absolute mug. Have you fought this early in the morning? I can see you're in pain. And your suit looks absolutely soiled!"

Hobie rolled his eyes playfully, trying to make the situation less serious. "Shut up, yeah? It's a look, and you know it." He grinned, trying to play up his smug look. But he couldn't do much after that, because of his injuries.

"What? You expect me to let criminals get away?" He chuckled. "Besides, they had it comin'." He added with a small shrug, wincing a bit at the burning sensation of his shoulder.

You puffed out some air. You were about to lose the plot. "Get your dingy ass inside." You said whilst pulling him by the arm through your window and closed it.

Then you went to a drawer where Hobie had left some spare clothes. -Ah, he truly didn't deserve such a lovely best friend.

You shoved the clothes into his arms. "Go take a shower, mate."

He grunted. "I'm bloody fine, you sod." He said incredulously. Yes, he had been attacked the night before and this morning, but he was responsible for keeping the streets safe. It was just part of the job.

"I can't believe I'm taking orders from you." He muttered, grunting and wincing at the pain.

"You calling me a sod, you git? Move before I make you leg it," you said with a bit of a pissed-off undertone.

He snorted. "You could never make me leg it. I'm Spider-Man. Come at me." He grinned at you, still holding onto his clothes that you shoved into his arms. He was obviously trying to be funny, despite being injured.

You then climbed out the window to the fire escape of your flat. "Uh-huh. Sure thing, Spidey," replying from the fire escape you waved him off and read a book.

After about ten minutes, the shower turned off, and Hobie came out in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair wet and sticking to his face and reaching his shoulders, now that his wicks were soaked with water.

"Better?" He asked and approached the window.

"Yes. Let's get your wounds, plural, tended to now." You climbed back into your room, where Hobie stood by the window, and pulled a first aid kit from the nightstand drawer.

He looked down at the first aid kit before looking back at you.

"Yeah, all right. Get on with it." He muttered, leaning against the wall.

You shook your head and took Hobie by the shoulders. You led him to his usual patching-up spot, made him sit on the bed and began your usual routine of tending to Hobie's wounds.

Hobie sat down and winced as you pulled out the medical supplies. He remembered all the other times he had sat on the bed like this and got patched up by his best friend. You were merciless and rough with him most of the time, annoyed at his carelessness. When he thought about this he once again realised that he definitely didn't look forward to this.

When you finished patching him up, you gave him a little pat on the shoulder.

"What would you do without me?" you joked.

He smiled before chuckling. "Probably get killed by street thugs, honestly. But that's a story for another day." He chuckled again.

"What would you do without me?" He tried to get a reaction out of you.

"Probably get more sleep and patch up a less reckless Spider-Man, perhaps someone from another universe? Someone like Pav?" you didn't bite. Instead, you teased, mentioning the name of a friend Hobie had mentioned.

"Oh, shut up. You know you like patching me up." He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You have a thing for me, and we both know it. Admit it, love." He grinned, teasing them.

Flicking his nose lightly, you giggle at your usual back and forth. "Sure I do."

A dramatic gasp of pain escaped Hobie when you flicked his nose. He rubbed the spot and snorted. "That hurt." 

"Now you're picking on me? I don't know if we're friends or enemies anymore.” His face was serious but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that let you know he was only joking.

"Those are just labels. I thought you disliked those?" you continued to joke around.

He groaned but then laughed. "You're unbelievable."

"Is this the beginning of my villain arc?" He asked jokingly.

"Seems like it, innit?" you grinned and sat beside him on the bed.

"Would that make you the hero?" He asked, grinning at you. "I don't think it would fit. Maybe you're the annoying little assistant." He pretended to be deep in thought, and then he looked you straight in the face with a grin that reached his eyes.

"Because I know you're a menace; the role's perfect for you." He joked, trying to stifle a laugh.

You used your shoulder to nudge him with a grin, "Oh shut it, you love it."

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[moobell55]

Curls

Being content was not a feeling Jacks had ever experience before he met his wife.

He spent so many years searching and looking for his One True Love, or anything to break his curse. His wake was full of death and foolish mortals who'd made deals with him they would regret for the rest of their lives.

He'd never truly imagined he ever find happiness or peace if his wicked soul thought he deserved it.

But here he was, lying on the coach with his head in his beloved wife's lap as she ran her delicate fingers through his curls.

She was so gentle with him, treating him as if he was a priceless vase resting on a rotting shelf.

How could a man as awful as himself ever be loved so delicately?

Jacks asked himself the question every day, and found that he didn't care for the answer as long as Evangeline viwed him as worthy of love than he would be.

Evangeline was an angel of a woman, sent from Heaven to finally rid the world of his wicked heart by claiming it for herself.

Every brush of her fingers against his scalp had him holding back moans of pleasure, such magical hands his wife had.

As she worked her fingers along the sensitive parts of his head, Jacks found himself melting even further into their soft couch.

His hair had always been his weakness, even as a child he could faintly remember a blond haired woman kindly brushing out his curls. Even though he couldn't remember her face his love of having his hair touched had never faded.

He loved whenever his Little Fox would hold the hair on the nape of his neck as they kissed, or when she's ruthlessly yank on his locks as he made love to her.

It was truly moments like these where he could give his own heart in her hands if she only asked him, he'd happily bleed for her time and time again.

And his wife knew it, she'd ask him to go to the market for her, or even to stop stealing all the blanket in his sleep.

And he couldn't deny his Evangeline anything.

Carefully she gave a final gentle stoke to his curls before asking the question Jacks knew she'd been holding in this entire time.

But for once her words shocked him.

"I want a baby."

He sat up from his pot of her lap so fast that his head almost collided with hers.

He stared at her as if he'd never heard a person speak before, and for once his careful hidden facial expressions couldn't hold.

"I want a baby," she simply repeated her words as if she was asking him to hand her a blanket.

"A baby," he asked skeptically.

"Yes a baby," she took his hand in her own, "well your baby to be exact."

His brain could not find the thoughts to truly know what his wife was asking.

Him a father? He could hardly believe he was a good husband or even a human most days,

But bringing a child into the world who would be raised by him, look up to him, and be half of Jacks own person seemed like a terrible idea.

He'd never been around children much but he knew how precious they were, how they needed to be loved and cared for in a way Jacks didn't think he could give.

They sat in silence while he thought to himself.

When finally he broke, "I don't think that's the best idea my love."

She smiled at her anxious husband kindly and tenderly brushed his knuckles.

His silver eyes followed her hands as she ran them over his much larger hands, unable to meet his wife's eyes.

"You truly have nothing to worry about, you'd be a wonderful father," her words brought warmth to his heart.

Still unable to meet Evangeline's eyes his fingers began rubbing over her rings, the golden and silver woven band she wore matched his own.

"I've never once thought of having children, I always thought I would've been content just being your husband," his words were quite but he truly meant them.

Carefully her warm hands tilted his jaw upwards so he could meet her kind grey eyes.

"Ever since I was little girl I dreamed of meeting the love of my life and being happily married, but in truth I never thought of having my own children before I met you," Evangeline spoke anxiously.

Her words truly shocked the Prince of Hearts, his wife who always had so much love to give to others, had never thought of having children before she met him.

"Truly my dearest?"

"Yes, soon after we married I couldn't get the idea of a little boy with golden curls and grey eyes out of my mind; or a little girl with dimples and silver eyes. Lately it's all I've been able to think about whenever I see you."

Hope bloomed in his chest but his fears still filled him.

"I have no idea to care for a baby, I don't think in my lifetime I've ever even held a child," his words had a hint of embarrassment in them.

"I always loved seeing the young children who'd visit the shop in Valenda, and mu mother had a few friends with children younger than me I'd care for sometimes," she smiled fondly at the memory of her mother.

He smiled at his wife, the idea of her nursing and rocking a little girl with soft pink curls like her mother filling his heart with joy.

"I think you'd be a wonderful mother, you're so kind and caring and any child would be lucky enough to call you their mother," nothing but sincerity laced his words.

A warm blush filled her cheeks.

"And you'd be an amazing father, you're so loving and attentive that our children would adore you," she paused for a minute, "and anybody would be lucky to inherit your looks."

He smiled flashing the dimples she hoped their children would have.

Jacks had already made up his mind from the minute he imagined her rocking a small little baby.

"How soon would you like a child?"

And with this Evangeline laughed and crashed her lips against her husbands, and soon he carried her up the stairs to their bedroom.