#Why is Ruby named after a road?

[insidebrianshead]

Not Pointing at Sutekh, but pointing at Ruby's name

[doctorwhoisadhd]

sorry i just dont trust RTD to do this right after martha and mickey and the first episode of the sarah jane adventures with kelsey hooper and etc etc etc. like he comes back and for. the SECOND time. names a black companion after rose. like he already did that exact same thing with rosita from the next doctor. and he comes back and does it AGAIN???? and then writes a christmas special that is just straight up blood libel. i am not about to trust this particular cis white man to do a black doctor and a black trans character right.

[shapard]

Tantrum🕷️

Satan x Succubus!fem!reader

Tw: Smut, slow burn, therapist x client, Satan being Satan to the low life, p in v

6k

Satan is so Hot

Part 1 > Part 2

The story begins after the cut

You exhaled slowly, your breath shaky as your eyes scanned the list of today's clients. One name stood out like a drop of blood on pristine parchment: Satan. Yes, the Satan. You’d laughed when the receptionist first told you. Surely, it was some dark joke, right? But the chilling sincerity in her eyes told you otherwise. For the next month, the King of Wrath himself would be your client. His personal therapist—or "anger coach," as they called it—was conveniently on vacation, leaving the responsibility to you.

Your fingers hovered over the file, tapping lightly on the thick paper. His profile was sparse yet enough to send a chill down your spine. Anger issues. As if that needed to be stated. Brutal, cruel, unpredictable. Lies often. Has a dangerously short temper. And the last line, hastily scrawled like a warning, stood out the most: Approach with caution.

The note on your pad detailed when and where you were to meet him: Satan’s castle. Even the thought of it made your stomach churn. The clock on your desk screeched, breaking your trance. It was time.

Your palms were clammy as you left your room, dread curling around your spine. The limousine waiting outside was overkill, with its glossy black finish and an interior too luxurious for comfort. You sank into the seat, but even its plush softness couldn’t ease the knot tightening in your chest. Your fingers toyed nervously with the fabric of your shirt. "Why am I doing this to myself?" you muttered, your voice a hoarse whisper.

The drive stretched on, the limousine cutting through a landscape that seemed to grow darker, more twisted with every passing mile. Gnarled trees loomed like skeletal hands, their shadows dancing over the cracked road. The closer you got to his estate, the more oppressive the air became, thick with heat and a faint metallic tang that clung to your throat. When the car finally stopped, your breath hitched.

The castle loomed above you like a blackened wound carved into the earth itself. Jagged spires clawed at the sky, and the air was heavy with the faint stench of sulfur. The gates creaked open, revealing a procession of imps scurrying about with feverish purpose. Their glowing eyes briefly landed on you before darting away, like vermin avoiding a predator.

You swallowed hard, stepping out of the limousine. The ground beneath your sneakers radiated an uncomfortable heat, as if the very earth resented your presence. You hesitated, looking up at the fortress before you. Every instinct screamed for you to run. But you were a therapist—for Lucifer’s sake, you’d dealt with impossible clients before. Just not ones who could incinerate you with a single breath.

A small, hunched imp dressed in a tattered butler’s uniform approached, its head bowed. Without a word, it gestured for you to follow. You obliged, your legs moving stiffly as if weighed down by chains. The castle’s interior was worse. Shadows seemed alive, twisting and curling around corners like smoke. The halls were cavernous and eerily silent, save for the echo of your footsteps against the stone floor.

You were led through corridors that gleamed with wealth. Gold littered every surface, accompanied by piles of glittering jewels—rubies, diamonds, and sapphires, carelessly heaped as if they were nothing more than pocket change. It was suffocating in its opulence, but it was the odd details that unsettled you. A scorch mark on the wall, as if something—or someone—had been obliterated there. Deep claw marks gouged into the stone.

When you entered his chamber, the atmosphere shifted entirely. Heat rolled over you in waves, and the room smelled faintly of ash. Your eyes roamed over the space, catching glimpses of heavy iron chains, monstrous workout equipment, and a hulking throne that seemed carved from molten rock. And then, your gaze rose.

He was there.

The dragon loomed in the far corner, a creature of pure, terrifying majesty. His scales shimmered like molten obsidian, and his horns, wickedly curved and sharp, glinted faintly in the dim light. His golden eyes burned like twin suns, locking onto you with an intensity that made your stomach drop. His chest rose and fell with a deep, growling breath that reverberated through the floor.

"So," he rumbled, his voice a deep, guttural drawl that made the air vibrate. "You’re the replacement.”

You froze, your body rigid as his gaze raked over you. His tone dripped with disdain, his lips curling into something between a snarl and a smirk. You felt like a mouse under the eye of a serpent.

“A succubus?” he sneered, the word laced with contempt. His massive frame shifted as he lowered his head, bringing his razor-sharp teeth dangerously close to your trembling form. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement dancing in their molten depths. “For a succubus, you look... innocent.”

You flinched as his claw moved, its sharp tip hooking under the edge of your buttoned shirt. With terrifying ease, he pulled you closer, the heat radiating from him suffocating.

“Sir,” you managed, your voice wavering as you fought to hold your ground, “this is… inappropriate.”

The dragon chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Inappropriate?” he repeated, his tone mockingly sweet. “Oh, little one, we’re far beyond ‘appropriate’ here.”

For a moment, the tension was unbearable, his golden gaze locking onto yours, unyielding and searing. Then, with a huff, he released you, his massive claw retracting as he settled back.

“Let’s see how long you last,” he muttered, his voice laced with dark amusement. “They always break, you know.”

Your knees felt weak, your breath shallow as you took a hesitant step back. This wasn’t going to be like any other client you’d dealt with. And as his gaze lingered on you, predatory and calculating, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into a game you didn’t fully understand—a game where the rules were written in blood.

“Let’s start with something simple—an introduction.” You tried to project confidence, raising your voice slightly to ensure he could hear you clearly. The weight of his molten gaze bore down on you, but you kept your posture straight. “Before we can trust each other, we need to know each other.”

Your words hung in the air, daring to challenge the suffocating silence. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his reptilian features. You forced a smile and continued, your voice steady despite the thrum of fear in your chest. “My name is Y/n L/n. I’ll be your therapist for the time being. In my spare time, I enjoy drawing. Now, would you care to introduce yourself?”

The room seemed to grow hotter. A deep huff escaped from Satan’s nostrils, the force of his breath stirring the papers on your clipboard. His head tilted ever so slightly, as though studying you from a new angle. “You know who I am.” His words were low and blunt, carrying the faintest edge of impatience.

You kept your expression neutral, though your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Of course, I know. But I’d like to hear it from you.” Your tone was calm, measured, even as the edges of his form seemed to ripple with heat.

That caught him off guard. His brows furrowed, and for a moment, his eyes lost some of their predatory sharpness. His breathing, which had been fiery and erratic, grew slower, more controlled. “I am Satan,” he said at last, his voice still low but tinged with pride. “The Sin of Wrath. The first sin.”

You didn’t flinch, though the words carried a weight that pressed against you. Liar. The truth was well-known—Lucifer was the first. But you kept that observation to yourself, instead lowering your gaze to jot something down on your notepad.

The scratch of your pen seemed deafening in the charged silence.

“What are you writing?” His tone was sharper now, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. You glanced up cautiously, noting the slight flare of his nostrils and the way his claws flexed against the stone floor.

“It’s nothing important,” you assured him, your voice soft but deliberate. “Just a few notes for me. Is that okay?”

His eyes narrowed further, glowing faintly as if testing your words for deceit. After a tense moment, he leaned back, the massive muscles in his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yeah… I guess.”

You allowed yourself a small exhale, the pen trembling faintly in your grip as you made another note. “Thank you. So, tell me—what’s your favorite hobby?” you asked, keeping your tone light, almost conversational.

Satan blinked, clearly caught off guard again. “Hobby?” he repeated, as if the concept were foreign to him. A pause stretched between you, and then he shrugged. “Uh… I like working out.”

Internally, you groaned. Great, you thought, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. A gym bro with anger issues. But outwardly, you smiled, though your fingers tightened slightly around your pen.

As you scribbled his answer, you felt a subtle shift in the air. His gaze hadn’t left you, and there was something unsettling about the way he watched you now—curious, calculating, like a predator studying its prey. The edges of his mouth twitched, as if he were amused by something only he understood.

“Do you always write so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice a little too casual.

You froze for half a second before looking up. “Only when it helps me understand my client better,” you said evenly.

Satan’s lip curled faintly, exposing a hint of razor-sharp teeth. “Interesting,” he murmured, leaning forward slightly. His massive frame seemed to loom larger, casting a shadow that swallowed the light around you. “You seem… different. For a therapist. For a succubus.”

The word dripped with disdain, but there was an odd curiosity in his tone as well. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

“I don’t think I fit the usual mold,” you replied lightly, though the words felt thin against the heavy atmosphere.

Satan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “No, you don’t. But we’ll see how long that lasts.”

The way he said it felt more like a warning than a casual remark. And as the room grew unnervingly quiet again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just stepped into something far more dangerous than you were prepared for.

“Anyway,” you began, trying to dissipate the strange tension in the air, “what do you usually do to calm yourself?” Your voice was steady, professional, but you were acutely aware of the weight of his golden gaze lingering on you.

Satan tapped his claw against his chin, the sharp tip glinting faintly in the dim light. “I work out,” he said simply.

You nodded and placed your notepad down. “Have you ever tried anything else? Something less… physical?”

He shook his head, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug. “No.”

“Interesting.” Your pen hovered over the page, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Bingo. A potential breakthrough, something to work on next week. “Maybe you should try something new,” you suggested, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.

Satan raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Something new?”

You nodded, maintaining your professional tone. “Yes. There might be situations where you aren’t able to work out. Finding an alternative that brings you calm can help—something you enjoy that doesn’t rely on strength or exertion.”

You could see him thinking, his gaze becoming distant for a moment before snapping back to you. Then, he said it, blunt and unapologetic:

“Sex.”

Your pen slipped slightly, leaving a faint mark across your notepad as your head shot up to meet his gaze. “Excuse me?”

“Sex,” he repeated, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “I enjoy it. Specifically, I love to dominate. It brings me a sense of calm, of control.”

The heat in the room seemed to spike as his words hung in the air, heavy and electric. You felt your breath hitch slightly, your professionalism faltering under the weight of his admission. Your teeth caught your bottom lip, a subconscious reflex as your mind betrayed you with images you hadn’t invited.

Satan, towering over you, his claws dragging possessively over your skin. His deep growls vibrating against your neck as his body pressed you into the bed like prey. The way his molten gaze would devour every inch of you, a predator savoring its prize.

The thought was dangerous, forbidden—and utterly intoxicating.

“You’re quiet,” Satan observed, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips. He leaned forward, resting his massive claws on the table between you. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to sit straighter in your chair, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed your inner turmoil. “Not at all,” you lied, your voice wavering slightly.

His smirk widened, the sharp tips of his teeth glinting faintly in the low light. “Liar.”

Your breath hitched again as he stood, the sheer size of him making the room feel smaller, more suffocating. He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, predatory. His shadow fell over you, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart pounding furiously in your chest.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, velvety growl. “Have you ever let someone take control of you? Completely?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. His presence was overwhelming, his golden eyes boring into you with an intensity that felt like it could strip you bare.

“Let me guess,” he continued, his voice smooth and teasing. “You play the role of the confident therapist. Always in control, always composed. But I wonder…” He leaned closer, his claw tipping your chin up slightly. “What would happen if you let go? If you surrendered—for once?”

Your pulse raced as his words sent a shiver down your spine. The air between you was charged, thick with tension that felt ready to snap at any moment.

“I—” You barely managed to speak before his smirk deepened.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he purred, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way your body reacts to me.”

Your breath quickened, your mind a blur of conflicting thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen—this wasn’t professional. But the pull of his presence, the raw magnetism of him, was impossible to ignore.

As he leaned back, giving you a moment to catch your breath, his smirk softened into something darker, more sinister. “We’ll see how long you can resist,” he murmured, his voice like a promise—a challenge.

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your notepad like it was a lifeline. Whatever line had just been crossed, there was no going back now. And the worst part? Some small, treacherous part of you didn’t want to.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, the ticking seconds echoing louder in your ears as you realized the session had come to an end. It felt like both a relief and a punishment. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Our time is up for today.”

Gripping your notepad tightly, you rose from your chair, the slight tremble in your legs betraying the inner conflict you fought to suppress. “I’ll see you next week?” you asked, your voice carefully measured, though the second heartbeat between your thighs throbbed mercilessly, reminding you of how thin the line was between professionalism and raw, unspoken desire.

Satan leaned back into his seat, his massive frame exuding power and ease as his ever-present smirk stretched across his face. “You’re quite interesting, you know that?” he said, his golden eyes glinting with something dark, something dangerous.

The way his words curled in the air, dripping with molten heat, sent a shiver down your spine. And then he said it—your name.

“See you next week, Y/n.”

The sound of your name, as it rolled off his tongue like a lazy threat, like a predator marking its prey, felt like fire licking at your skin. It wasn’t just the way he said it—it was the way he owned it, as if your name wasn’t yours anymore but his to use, to savor, to command.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you fought to maintain control of yourself. His gaze lingered on you, heavy and consuming, as if he could see every thought, every reaction you tried to bury. The room felt smaller, hotter, as if the very air bent to his will.

You took a deep breath, willing the flush creeping up your neck to subside, and bowed your head slightly—a courteous gesture, but also an excuse to break free of his burning gaze. “I’ll… take my leave now,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected, though your body betrayed you with every trembling step toward the door.

The silence stretched, but you could feel him watching you, his presence looming even as you turned your back to him. Each step felt heavier, your legs weaker, as if some invisible tether pulled you back to him.

“Y/n,” he called softly, his voice low and dripping with amusement. It was enough to stop you in your tracks, your hand hovering just above the door handle.

You turned slightly, not enough to meet his gaze but enough to let him know you were listening.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said, his smirk audible in his voice. “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.”

Your breath caught, and you didn’t trust yourself to respond. With a hurried nod, you pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the hall as quickly as you could without outright running.

As the door closed behind you, the weight of his words lingered, wrapping around you like a vice. Each step away from his chamber only made the ache within you stronger, and the echo of his voice—dark, commanding, possessive—played on repeat in your mind.

When you finally reached the outside air, you exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest as if to steady the wild beat of your heart. But no matter how much distance you put between you and him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still trapped—bound not by his hands, but by his voice, his gaze, his presence.

And the worst part? You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to escape.

______________________

Your mind drifted to Satan again, as it often did these days. His golden eyes, the low timbre of his voice, the weight of his presence—all of it lingered with you like an intoxicating haze. It was wrong to think of him this way, wasn’t it? You're the therapist. A being of ancient power. Yet his words from the last session whispered through your mind, sending a shiver down your spine: “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.” What did he mean? The thought left you breathless, your lip caught between your teeth as you tried to push the memory away.

With a sigh, you turned your attention to the mirror, pulling yourself together. Today was a new session, and you needed to remain professional. No room for fluttering thoughts or the heat that crept up your neck every time he said your name. After all, you had a job to do, and you’d prepared exercises meant to calm, not... whatever this was. You brushed out your hair, adjusted your outfit, and gave yourself one last look. You could do this.

The drive to his mansion felt longer than usual, the limousine’s quiet luxury giving your mind too much space to wander. By the time you arrived and stepped out, your palms were clammy despite the crisp air. You gathered your supplies—a palette, brushes, a canvas—and headed to the imposing doors. They opened with a creak, and there he was, standing tall, his figure sharper than usual in a tailored outfit that clung just enough to his form to make you notice. Was he doing this on purpose? The thought made your cheeks flush.

“Satan,” you greeted, keeping your voice steady as you stepped inside.

“Y/n,” he said simply, his golden eyes locking onto yours. He always said your name like it was a secret, something sacred.

You set your supplies down, the clinking of brushes breaking the charged silence. He tilted his head, his gaze flicking over the items with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “What is this?” he asked, his tone edged with intrigue.

“Painting,” you said, smiling softly. “It’s something that can help channel emotions. I thought it might be worth trying with you.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, but the flicker of interest in them was unmistakable. “You think this will calm me?”

“It’s worth a shot,” you replied, your tone light. “But first, I need you to… shrink a bit. Your current size might make it tricky.”

He arched a brow but complied without argument, his towering form diminishing to something more manageable. Even so, he still loomed over you, his presence filling the room in a way that made your breath catch.

You handed him one of your favorite brushes, your fingers grazing his. The brief contact sent a spark through you that you tried to ignore. “This one’s precious to me, so don’t break it,” you said with a teasing smile.

His golden eyes darkened slightly, his gaze lingering on you. “Why would you entrust me with something so valuable?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

“Because I think you’ll manage,” you said simply, turning to demonstrate. The truth was, you trusted him in a way you couldn’t explain, and the weight of his gaze as you worked was almost palpable.

You dipped your brush into the paint, your movements fluid and purposeful as you applied color to the canvas. You explained the process, your voice calm, almost hypnotic, as you encouraged him to let his emotions guide him. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” you said, glancing at him. “Just let it flow.”

Satan watched you intently, his focus shifting between your hands and your face. There was something mesmerizing about the way you moved—graceful, confident, entirely at ease. He tried to mimic your strokes but grew frustrated when his didn’t have the same beauty. Fire flickered briefly at the corner of his mouth as his grip on the brush tightened.

“Take your time,” you said gently, your voice softening. “You’ll manage.”

Those words seemed to echo in his mind, silencing his frustration. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. His golden eyes settled on you again, and this time, there was something softer in them—something that made your heart skip a beat.

“Pretty,” he murmured, the word so quiet you almost missed it.

You glanced up, assuming he meant his canvas. “It’s not bad for a first try,” you said, smiling.

But when your eyes met his, you realized he wasn’t looking at the canvas at all. He was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made heat rise to your cheeks, and for a moment, you were lost in it.

“I… meant your canvas,” he said quickly, the faintest hint of a stammer in his voice. He turned away, focusing on his painting as if the moment hadn’t happened. “I suppose this isn’t for me,” he added, his tone returning to its usual steadiness.

You sighed softly, setting your brush down. “That’s okay. We’ll find something else to try next time.”

When it was time to leave, you gathered your supplies, his lingering gaze following you to the door. “Till next time, Y/n,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You smiled, bidding him goodbye before stepping into the limousine. As the car pulled away, you stared out the window, your reflection blushing faintly. “Cute,” you muttered under your breath, thinking of his fleeting shyness.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to think of him a little differently too.

As the limousine glided down the winding road back into the city, Y/n leaned their head against the cool glass of the window. The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow, but their mind was too preoccupied to notice. Their chest tightened as they replayed the day's moments, each interaction with Satan etched into their memory with vivid clarity.

His golden eyes watching them, the way his brows furrowed in frustration only to soften when he heard their encouragement, and that one unguarded word he’d uttered—“pretty.” Y/n sighed and closed their eyes, the image of his intense gaze surfacing unbidden. He had said it so quietly, yet it echoed in their ears, lingering like a secret between them.

Why am I letting this get to me? Y/n thought, shaking their head. Satan was their patient. A being to be studied and guided, not… admired. And yet, there was something about him—something magnetic and impossible to ignore. His raw power was undeniable, but beneath the towering presence and occasional flashes of anger, there was a vulnerability that Y/n couldn’t help but find fascinating.

When the mansion’s doors had first opened to reveal him, standing there like some otherworldly figure carved out of the very shadows of the underworld, Y/n had been struck by how human he seemed despite his demonic origins. He was capable of humor, of curiosity, and, at times, even shyness—like when he stammered over his compliment and turned away. That brief flash of awkwardness had been disarming, endearing even, and it left a warmth in Y/n’s chest that refused to fade.

_______________

The past few weeks had been a blur of trial and error as you and Satan searched for a way to calm his tempestuous nature. Every method—meditation, physical exercises, even music—had ended in failure. Yet, with every attempt, the two of you had grown closer. Comfort had crept in between the boundaries you’d initially set, a warmth that softened the edges of your professional relationship. Perhaps it was too much comfort.

Frustrated, you ran your hands through your hair, tugging slightly as you let out a groan. “What’s left?” you muttered, mostly to yourself. You hated admitting defeat, but the lack of progress was wearing on you.

“Are you okay?” Satan’s deep voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. He leaned against the edge of his desk, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they scanned your face. Concern lingered in his tone, though there was something else in his expression—something darker, more intent.

You sighed, leaning back against the wall, your shoulders sagging. “Yeah, I’m just… out of ideas,” you admitted, rubbing your temples. “Nothing seems to work. Maybe you were right all along—this isn’t going to change.”

A low growl escaped him, and he moved closer, the space between you shrinking with every step. “There’s one thing we haven’t tried,” he said, his voice a seductive rumble. He reached out, his clawed fingers brushing along the curve of your neck with a gentleness that sent a shiver down your spine. The ruby necklace he’d given you weeks ago caught the light, glinting like a drop of blood between you.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching. “I’m open,” you replied, though your voice wavered. You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but the tension in the air was thick enough to drown in.

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, and his eyes seemed to glow brighter. “Let me please you,” he said, the words both a question and a command.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

His hand slid lower, taking yours in his. His touch was firm but surprisingly warm, and you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened. “For weeks, I’ve been thinking of you. Not just as a distraction from my anger, but as something—someone—I want to consume. Every thought I’ve had has been about how to lure you in, how to make you mine.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, your body tingling with the weight of his confession. He slipped a delicate, shining ring onto your finger, the smooth metal cold against your skin.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he continued, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “I’m throbbing for you, aching to show you what it means to be claimed by me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. His clawed hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

The first touch of his tongue against your neck made you gasp, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head to the side to give him better access as he traced slow, burning lines along your skin.

“Satan…” His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as his claws found the waistband of your pants, the sharp tips grazing your skin without breaking it.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your throat, his voice raw with need. “Tell me you want it too.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if to ground yourself. That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a growl, he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall. His lips crashed into yours, the kiss rough and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation. His sharp teeth grazed your lower lip, and the pain mingled with pleasure in a way that made your head spin. His hands roamed your body, one clawed hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your hip, holding you firmly in place.

You gasped as he tore open your shirt, the fabric giving way like paper under his strength. His golden eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed skin, and the heat in his gaze made you shiver. “Perfect,” he growled, his lips descending to your collarbone as his claws worked your pants down, leaving you bare beneath his burning gaze.

He pressed his body against yours, his skin hot like fire but not unbearable. The sensation was intoxicating, his power and desire radiating off him in waves that left you trembling. His mouth found your chest, his tongue and teeth teasing sensitive skin until you were writhing beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fought to keep some semblance of control.

But control was the last thing Satan allowed. “Let go,” he commanded, his voice a low snarl as his hand slipped between your thighs. His touch was rough but precise, drawing sounds from you that you’d never made before. He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, the heat of his body searing into your palms. His growls deepened as you touched him, and when you whispered his name again, it seemed to drive him over the edge.

He latched onto your nipple, his hot, eager tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as though it held the key to quenching a deep, unrelenting hunger. The heat of his mouth sent a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your back arching instinctively to press closer to him. Each flick and tug of his tongue was deliberate, rough yet skilled, and it drove you wild with every second.

Your hands found his horns, gripping tightly as a loud, unrestrained moan tore from your lips. The sensation of his horns beneath your fingers—solid, commanding, and so uniquely him—only heightened the intensity of the moment. He groaned in response, the vibration of it against your skin adding a tantalizing edge to the pleasure.

As you opened your mouth to say something—perhaps to beg, perhaps to curse his name—his massive hand moved swiftly, covering your mouth and silencing you with an almost possessive dominance. His palm was warm, his claws just barely grazing your jawline, a silent reminder of his power.

“Shh,” he growled against your skin, his voice thick with desire and control. “No words. Just feel.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your muffled protests turning into needy whimpers against his hand. His golden eyes flicked up to meet yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race. He didn’t need to say more; the look alone spoke volumes. You’re mine, and I’m going to show you exactly what that means.

His free hand trailed down your side, the sharp edge of his claws leaving ghostly trails that tingled with a mix of anticipation and pleasure. He shifted slightly, his lips abandoning one nipple to lavish attention on the other, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you gasp against his palm.

“Such sweet sounds,” he murmured between kisses, his voice a deep, sinful growl that left you trembling. “I want to hear every single one.”

He claimed you fully then, his movements powerful and relentless as he pushed you to your limits and beyond. The roughness of his touch, the possessiveness in every kiss and thrust, sent you spiraling into a state of pure bliss. He was consuming, overwhelming, but it was everything you hadn’t known you needed.

When it was over, you were both breathing heavily, your bodies tangled together on the floor. His claws traced lazy circles on your skin, the sharp tips surprisingly gentle now.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left no room for argument.

You smiled, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. “Yours,” you whispered, and for the first time in weeks, you felt completely at peace.

“I need to take you fully,” he growled, his voice rough with restraint, though his burning gaze made it clear his control was hanging by a thread. His golden eyes bore into yours, aflame with desire and something deeper—possessiveness, perhaps, or the primal need to claim you completely. His hot breath fanned across your face, each exhale like a spark threatening to ignite you from within.

You swallowed hard, your body trembling beneath him as you nodded, unable to form words. He stood, towering over you even in his "smallest" form, and the sound of his belt buckle clicking open made your heart skip. His hand gripped the base of his shaft, his claws brushing lightly against his skin as he stroked himself. His movements were deliberate, slow, as he smeared the slick arousal you’d already left on him along his length. The sight of it was utterly mesmerizing.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, his voice a rumble of raw need. His eyes darted to your smaller frame beneath him, the contrast between your softness and his powerful figure making his jaw tighten. Your body trembled under his intense scrutiny, and the way you shuddered only seemed to spur him on.

“You’ll take all of me,” he promised darkly, his lips pulling into a feral smirk before he positioned himself at your entrance. Slowly, he began to press in, the stretch almost overwhelming as he filled you inch by inch. The thickness of him made your breath hitch, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as your body struggled to accommodate him.

When he was fully seated inside you, he let out a guttural groan, his head falling forward as if savoring the way your body gripped him so tightly. “Perfect,” he muttered, his voice laced with awe and lust. “You were made for this. Made for me.”

He started to move, his thrusts deliberate and forceful, his pace building with every stroke. The wet, sinful sounds of your body meeting his filled the den, mingling with the guttural sounds he made as he lost himself in the rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his rough movements perfectly hitting every sensitive spot.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with pride as he watched your body arch beneath him, your moans spilling out freely. “Taking me so well—every inch of me.”

His hands gripped your hips tightly, claws digging in just enough to leave marks as he pulled you into each thrust. His pace quickened, his breathing harsh and uneven, a symphony of raw need that filled the space around you.

Your moans turned into cries of ecstasy as he pounded into you harder, the force of it making your head spin. The pressure building inside you was unbearable, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. He growled your name, the sound reverberating through the air as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice breaking slightly as he thrust even harder, his control finally snapping. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure and submission. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in him, his movements becoming even more relentless. His growls deepened, and the way he pounded into you left you utterly breathless. Every nerve in your body was aflame, and as you reached your peak, the intensity of it shattered you completely, your cries echoing through the den.

Moments later, he followed, his movements faltering as he let out a deep, primal groan. You felt him shudder above you, his body rigid as he spilled into you, marking you in a way that felt both physical and otherworldly.

For a moment, the only sounds were the two of you catching your breath, the heat of his body still pressed against yours. He leaned down, brushing a surprisingly tender kiss against your forehead, a stark contrast to the ferocity he’d shown moments before.

“You’re mine,” he repeated softly, almost as if reassuring himself.

And as you lay there in his arms, thoroughly claimed and utterly sated, you knew he was right. You were his. And you didn’t want it any other way.

Saw no one making shit about him so here I am your savior. Damn y'all.

💫

Masterlist

[marasmadness]

soft dom regina mills x fem reader smut where reader has a praise kink & a mommy kink <333

Midnights With The Mayor || Regina Mills x Reader

CW: smut, strap ons, praise kink, mommy kink, blindfolds, biting, magic during sex bc why not 🤷‍♀️, dom/sub dynamics

WC: 2.5K

“Granny’s Diner, this is Ruby speaking.”

Regina heard the pop of her gum through the phone as she pinched her phone between her ear and shoulder so she could flip through the papers on her desk. As usual, she was the last one in the town hall. It was long after the sun had set and all the other office lights had gone out. “ Ruby, it’s Regina. I know it’s late, but would you mind swinging by with an order on your way home after your shift? I’m at my office and I’ll pay you extra.”

Ruby scrambled for her order pad in the pocket of her apron while simultaneously filling the coffee mugs of the diner’s last lingering customers. “Let me close up, and it’ll be there around 1 o’clock. Your usual order, I assume?”

“Yes, thank you Ruby.” They hung up, and Regina continued with her work. Regina had shown slightly more softness toward Ruby than the other residents of Storybrooke. She had been one of the first to forgive Regina along with Emma, was great with Henry, and even supported her return to the position of Storybrooke’s mayor.

She quickly returned to work, plowing through the seemingly never-ending pile of town proposals or updated budgeted plans. No matter how much she accomplished, her workload also replenished itself by the next morning. She made an effort to cram out a little extra on Friday nights so that she could spend most of her weekend with Henry without having to pick up extra phone calls or bring work with her to his activities. Half an hour later, Regina heard a knock on the double oak doors echo through the hall’s tiled corridors. “ Door’s open; come on up Ruby.” She had yet to look up when the door creaked open, but the tentative footsteps across the marble caught her attention.

She looked up to spot someone unfamiliar, who was not Ruby but wore the same uniform. You lingered tentatively in the doorway of the mayor’s office, holding up her takeout bag. “Two orders of apple cinnamon pancakes?”

She nodded, confirming you had the right place. It took her a moment to address you. You threw her off. She knew every face in Storybrooke, or at least she did, before you showed up. She had been distracted, less focused on Storybrooke’s border, and using less magic recently anyway in order to gain the town’s trust.

You began to fidget under her gaze when she approached you. Her heels clicked against the floor with long, fluid steps, and she reached her hand out toward you. For a brief moment you forgot you held your order in her hand and stared at her outstretched hand. Quickly realizing what she was reaching out for, you placed the brown paper bag in her hand, dropping your head to hide the slight blush that tinged your cheeks.

“Regina Mills, May-”

“Mayor of Storybrooke. Of course I know who you are, Miss Mills,” you finished with a soft smile.

She raised her eyebrow, glad to hear her reputation still reached as far as it did when she was the evil queen. “And you are?” She asked, prodding for a name, as she rested her hand on her hip against the smooth fabric of her pencil skirt.

You gave her your name, explaining that you went to school with Ruby, and she invited you to spend the summer with her here in Storybrooke rather than in Boston, where you lived.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Storybrooke.” She turned around, leaning over her desk to grab her wallet. Your guilty eyes roved over her body while she was turned and distracted. You had heard plenty about Regina Mills from Ruby during your road trip to her hometown, but she had failed to account for the fact that with a single brief interaction, she had your palms sweaty, which you attempted to hide behind your back. Regina wore a red silk blouse tucked in her skirt, with a few unhooked buttons near the top that revealed the slightest curve of her cleavage. It was obvious she had been running her hands through her dark, silky hair, which was slightly tousled.

You attempted to loosen your tense shoulders and offer a casual smile as she turned back around toward you. Your lips parted in surprise as she grabbed your wrist, placing a stack of cash in your palm. “Here, for the late-night visit. I appreciate it. Sorry for keeping you up.” Her voice was soft; there was no need for volume when she was as close to you as she was. A subtle smirk crossed her red-painted lips as she closed your fingers around the money.

“ Oh really, it was no extra trouble at all. I would’ve been up if I wasn’t working anyway. Terrible sleeper.” You rambled nervously, trying to make your visit seem like as little of a hassle as possible to the woman.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You swore she could’ve winked with the statement, but the light surrounding the two of you was too dim to tell.

You turned around, closing her office door slowly behind you. “Have a goodnight, Miss Mills.”

…

The next morning, Regina sauntered in bright and early to Granny’s Diner. Only a few regulars had beat her here, silently sipping on their coffee in a corner booth.

Ruby spotted her surveying the room with a purpose and smirked. “ Regina! Back so soon? What can I get you? Or who can I get for you?” She raised her eyebrows, twirling a red pen between her fingers.

Regina hollowed her cheeks into a petulant expression, annoyed that Ruby could read her that quickly. “Where is she Ruby?”

The girl clicked her tongue, pointing towards the curtain that led to a back section of the restaurant. “Back by the laundry. There was a coffee spill.”

The mayor strode through the quaint Storybrooke staple before Ruby had finished, slipping away from the smell of hot coffee and homemade syrup.

Rolling her tongue across the tip of her teeth, her introduction rolled off her tongue when she found you leaning against the washing machine, your shirt splayed out in front of you as you scrubbed at a coffee stain. She held her breath, letting her eyes soak in your bare skin before you noticed your presence.

“Mayor Mills, eager for our reunion to be so soon?” You commented without turning around to face her, hiding the small smile as you tucked your chin to your chest.

Regina withheld the instinct to flinch in surprise. “How did you know it was me?” She questioned, now more intrigued than shocked.

“You’re not the only one with powers around here.”

The color drained from the sorceress’s face, fearing the worst until innocent pink tendrils flowed from your fingertips, erasing the previously unrelenting stain from your shirt.

Regina crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re not just here for summer break.”

“ Nope.” Shrugging your shirt back over your shoulders, you buttoned it up and retired your apron over it. “ Ruby’s been trying to get me to come out here ever since we were freshman roommates and she sensed I had magic. I’ve never bothered to learn more than party tricks.”

“She wanted you to learn from me,” Regina finished, putting the pieces together.

Hopping up onto the drier, you crossed your legs and shot her an eager smile. “So, teach me?”

Regina wasn’t sure what suddenly made her so agreeable, but she found herself saying yes before she could hesitate. She had a possessive death grip over her powers and was never quick to reveal her secrets, but the feelings that were luring her to you made her willing to sacrifice the slightest bit of control in order to keep you around. “Meet me tonight at 9; come prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” You asked, scrambling after her as she pivoted around.

“ Anything.” You froze, watching her leave and knowing you weren’t going to get anything more from her right now. Her hips swayed slightly beneath her red blazer as she left with the same confidence she walked in with.

Despite not having an address, the mayor’s house was not hard to find. It took all of 15 minutes to travel from one end of Storybrooke to the other. Even with Ruby’s vague instructions, you ended up right in front of Regina’s house. It was the biggest one on the block, with pristine white siding, an eye-catching red door, and an impressive collection of apple trees beside it.

The door swung open before you could even knock, revealing Regina, still dressed for work, minus the blazer. She let you in, glancing up and down the street before she closed the door behind you. She invited you to sit on a bar stool in her kitchen. You had been out for a drink for Ruby and were still dressed for it. The older woman’s eyes darted to your lap as you attempted to pull the hem of your dress farther down your thighs as you sat down.

She leaned against the countertop across from you, pouring two glasses of wine. “So what have you worked with before?”

You shrugged, tapping your fingers against the bottom of the glass. “Mostly small objects I guess, never anything powerful. I’ve used it to grab things across the room, plenty of laundry.

Regina tilted her head. A smile crossed her face, amused at your innocence. “You’re a witch, and you use your powers for... laundry.”

You laughed airily. “I’m not a witch. I’m not out here cursing people.”

“ Ruby really taught you nothing. You don’t have to be evil or cursing people to be a witch. You practice magic; you’re a witch. You don’t see me out here cursing people, well, anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, but she dismissed it with a dark stare. “So, what do you do with your powers?”

“Whatever I wish. Though I am trying to use them less due to a history of a…. magic high, if you will. Let’s start with teaching you how to work with humans. It feels different from objects and requires more strength. You have to sense their skin, touch, or blood if you’re working with dark magic.

You stood up slowly, raising a hand. “I am not working with-”

“Relax.” Regina waved her hand and your arm well back to your side.

You looked down to where your fingers rested against your hip without you placing them there. “ Woah.”

Regina walked around the counter, placing herself in front of you. “I usually get a more impressive response than “ Woah,” but we’ll work on it.”

Your eyes brightened with a hunger that Regina recognized in her younger self when she had first been opposed to magic more powerful than her own. “What else can you do?”

Regina’s eyes raked over your body in thought before she raised two fingers, curling them into her palm. Controlled purple light sparked from her fingertips, wrapping itself around your wrists. You gasped in surprise as she lifted them above your head without a single touch. Stumbling backwards, you looked up to find your hands pinned above your head and Regina hovering over you with a single glide.

Her voice husked in your ear, the sweet wine still scenting her breath. “Do you still need further demonstration that magic can feel good?”

Tilting your head brought your mouth closer to her lips, and you found her dark, unflinching stare. “Yes,” you whispered, daring her to go further.

With your word, she hooked her finger on your collar, practically dragging you around the corner. You found yourself in her bedroom, and she pushed you down on her mattress. You watched attentively as you kicked her heels off and strode over to her nightstand, digging through it for something.

She revealed a blindfold before wrapping the piece of silk around her palm. You looked up at her curiously as she kneeled into the mattress before your vision went dark.

From the movement of the mattress, you sensed her settling onto the bed a few feet away. You flinched when her raspy voice entered your ear, and you picked up immediately that she was using her powers to project her voice across the space between you.

Our powers come to the surface best when we’re desperate, so use yours, and I’ll fuck you. It’s that simple.” You could hear the grin in her voice as you sat frozen in a moment of shock.

Working based off what Regina had done with her voice, you attempted to extend your sense of touch past where your arm lay still beside you. You were hesitant to use your magic, fearful of losing control. A soft pink glow from your touch eventually reached out and wrapped around her waist, eliciting a soft smile of satisfaction from the older woman. “Good girl, keep going.”

Guiding your sensations lower, you found her belt buckle and loosened it until you heard it click where it felt beside her. While brushing over the fabric of her slacks, you faltered as your touch latched around her belt loop and, to your surprise, rested on a curved bulge straining beneath the fabric. Regina chuckled at your reaction. “Mommy’s taught you well.”

She must have finally been satisfied with your display of powers because you heard her shuffling around, stripping herself of her clothes. Your fingers itched to remove the blindfold so you could soak in the goddess-like state of the woman kneeling in front of you.

You felt her hands on the back of your head working to undo the knot, and then your vision came back to you. Regina loomed over you, her hands on each side of your head. After teasingly grazing her fingertips along the length of your body, she lined up her thick red strap, dragging the tip across your folds. “ Already soaked,” she hummed softly.

She brought her hand up over your mouth, and before you had time to react, she was pounding deep inside you, reveling in the vibrations she could feel underneath her fingertips from your moans and screams. The room filled with the sounds of slapping skins and heavy breaths.

Regina lowered her mouth to your chest, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh with restraint. You dropped your head back into the pillows, closing your eyes in an attempt to fight the dazedness that was starting to cloud your head. Sure to leave a scatter of marks, Regina’s lips latched onto your skin, only releasing it to circle your nipple with her tongue.

You let out a guttural gasp as the woman bent your legs over her shoulders, brushing her faux cock against your throbbing clit. “Come for me baby,” Regina whispered just as she drew you over the edge into a blinding orgasm. Your thighs tensed and quivered as you coated her cock with your cum. Her pace slowed down as your euphoria faded and sleepiness washed over you. Regina climbed up, satisfied, and grabbed a warm washcloth. Sitting on the bottom of the bed, she smiled, watching the starry-eyed look you wore as she cleaned you up. “So, lesson tomorrow?”

[razorblade180]

9 Days of Lancaster Day 2: Jealous Ruby

The bustling streets of Vacou

Jaune:Alright everyone, single file line. No need to push or shove. You’re all going to the same place one step at a time.

Nora:*watching* He’s really gotten a lot of mileage from taking those traffic jobs.

Ruby:I think he appreciates the organization and structure of it all. *sips drink*

Yang:Better him than me. Be it driver or pedestrian, I fear my road rage has taken my tolerance for bullshit away.

Weiss:One, tolerance? Two, you don’t get road rage. You just have rage.

Yang:Why do you feel the need to pick me apart every chance you get!?

Weiss:Careful. You might prove my point.

???: Mr. Arc!

A little boy and his green eyed mother approach the young man. Without hesitation, the child holds up a drawing of Jaune with an extra big sword and muscles.

Jaune:Hey, Zach! Aww, is that me!? Quite the artist.

Zach:Thank you for saving me last week!

Jaune:Of course! Gotta look after one another. Remember, don’t away from mommy next time.

Cynthia:That’s right! You scared me half to death. It was fortunate Vacou has no shortage of talented heroes.

Jaune:It was nothing really.

Cynthia:Oh you’re too modest. This little guy is my world, and you’re the wonderful man that protected it. Quite literally a knight in shining armor.

Ruby stared at the raven haired older woman in yellow. She was quite tall. Almost Jaune’s height. Something about the way she carried herself made it clear she was late 20s or early 30s, yet her flawless tan skin and youthful grin made the idea of her having any children a surprise.

Ruby:Who’s that?

Nora:That’s Cynthia. Jaune saved her kid last week when a few Grimm snuck in. Not only did he kill it, but shielded Zach from an oncoming car that was attacked.

Yang:Damn. Maybe I should take traffic patrol?

Weiss:I’ve seen her before. She gave Jaune a pie last week and thanked him. Now I understand why.

Yang:That’s where that apple pie came from?! I knew it was too delicious to be store bought.

Blake:You can taste the difference?

Yang:Of course. There was love in it.

Ruby:Love? Pfft, maybe admiration. Gratitude for a hero and stuff.

Yang:Yeah, but like… look at them.

The two were still having a conversation. Nobody could make it out but they were laughing alongside the child. Cynthia even went as far as to touch Jaune’s left arm, and he made no move against it.

Nora:Oh, bold approach. I respect it.

Ruby:Guys, they’re just talking.

Blake:He might be. She’s pretty close to him. Physically I mean.

Yang:You think he’ll take the bait? Get a bit more than a pie?

Weiss:Yang, grow up. Jaune isn’t like that anyways.

Yang:It’s not like he’s leveraging the situation. Plus he’s been isolated for a long time. If anything, he’s out of his depth, but clearly in his element. Who knows, maybe he has a taste for older women now? What do you think Ru- Ruby?

Nora:Yeah she started walking over after your pie remark.

In no time at all, the redhead weaved through the crowd and made it to Jaune. Instead of calling his name, Ruby didn’t think twice about surprising the three of them by suddenly taking his right hand as she made herself known.

Ruby:Hey, sounds fun over here.

Jaune:Oh hey! Finished early? Cynthia, this is-

Ruby:Ruby Rose. Fellow huntress.

Zach:Wooooah!

Cynthia:Oh wow! I know you. Everyone knows you! I mean that speech was really something. Jaune, you didn’t tell me you knew such a celebrity around these parts! Must take a load of worry off working with someone like her.

Ruby:I should be the one praising him actually. He’s pretty reliable.

Cynthia:Isn’t he!? You should’ve seen him last week. *squeezes his arm* He’s got quite the muscle, and knows how to use it haha!

Ruby:Hehe oh I know… He is my partner after all.

Cynthia…Oh? Is that right?

Jaune:Yeah. Ruby and I have been through practically everything together. I can’t count how many times she’s saved me.

Ruby:And vice versa. Yep, lucky to have you by my side. Speaking of which, I need you. *leans on him* We have another mission together.

Cynthia:…

Jaune:Oh? Already? Okay. I’m technically not done with this one though.

Ruby:It’s okay. Yang volunteered to fill in. Cynthia, Zach, sorry to steal him away from you but duty calls. *grins*

Cynthia:Oh, no problem. A hero’s job is never done. We can have dinner another time. My treat of course. After all, you have my number.

Ruby:!?

Cynthia:Feel free to give me a call whenever you get back. Zach would love to hear all about it, and I can give you a fresh dessert.

Ruby:.. *looks down*

Jaune:That does sound pretty nice. Thank you, but…I think I have to decline.

Ruby:Huh?

Cynthia:Oh? It really isn’t a hassle. I’d hardly say it’s the least I could do for you.

Jaune:Perhaps, but right now I’m pretty tangled up in some crazy situations. Like you said, a hero’s job is never done. The last thing a hero should be doing is attracting danger to innocent civilians. I’ll save Zach any day of the week, but better to have him in no danger to begin with, right? *smiles*

Cynthia:R-Right. Of course…

Zach:Does this mean you’re not coming over?

Jaune:Sorry, lil man. *ruffles hair* I wanna keep you nice and safe by fighting the baddies. Meanwhile you keep your mom nice and safe by sticking with her. Can you do that for me? I’ll show all my friends your awesome picture and make sure to hit a monster for you!

Zach:Really!? Coooool! It’s a promise! I’ll be extra good! Then I’ll be hero too.

Ruby:You already are one kiddo. Welp, we should get going. It was nice meeting the both of you.

Ruby immediately walked away with Jaune in tow, not looking back once as she put distance between him and Cynthia. She glanced over at Yang, pointing at her specifically, then towards the spot they left.

Ruby:Have fun on traffic patrol!

Yang:Wha-hey! I wasn’t being- and she’s gone. Would any of you like to maybe-

Nora:Nope?

Weiss:Should’ve kept quiet.

Blake:At least it’s half a shift.

Yang:…

Jaune:Umm, Rubes? We don’t have to walk so fast. Is the mission that urgent?

Ruby:Huh? Oh! Uh, sorta? I just think your talents are better used on active hunts. Keeps fighters healthy and stuff, so…*red* try to leave the civil tasks to others if you can.

Jaune:…I can delete her number.

Ruby:…That’s your business. Not mine. It’s not like I have a say in who you socialize with.

Jaune:Doesn’t mean you can’t express an opinion. I’ll listen to what you have to say; you know that. *squeezes hand* So, be honest with me.

Ruby:*bright red*…. I don’t think you should get caught up with Cynthia. Just a personal feeling I guess. So… deleting her number would probably be for the best.

Jaune:Hmm, is that so? Good thing I never saved it to begin with.

Ruby stops walking immediately. She whips her head around to see a cheeky grin on the boys face that gets her face hot the same it does when she feels caught being mischievous. She can’t evil speak. Ruby can only make varying degrees of frustration before giving up and looking away entirely. Still, she gripped his hand tightly.

Ruby:Name your offer to never speak of this again.

Jaune:Hmmm how about… one delicious apple pie?

Ruby:…Alright. Mark my words, it’ll be the best you’ve ever had.

Jaune:Heh, I know~

[m0nsterqzzz]

Cat's Out of the Bag La Rue

pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader

summary: Valentines Day rolls around, and what kind of girlfriend would Clarisse be if she didnt get you the only present you've been wanting?

a/n: i wrote like 5 fucking valentines day fics yesterday (one with natasha, one with wanda, one with clarisse, one with carol danvers, and one with katniss everdeen) yet this is the only one im posting and i kinda hate it. literally the shortest oneshot i've ever written. also, I'm literally a dog person writing about cats. what has life come to?

is this the worst thing i've ever written? yes. do i hate every other piece of written recently cuz im in writers block and haven't updated in like 3 weeks? also yes. im so done yall.

With a baseball cap covering her head, tucking her curls against her head and being the best disguise she could come up with, Clarisse’s eyes dart all around the cab. It zooms through the streets of New York, making the child of Are’s slightly concerned for her and her siblings safety as they get honked out. The man driving seems like he’s barely paying attention to the road, but in the end it doesn’t really matter as long as they get to their destination. 

There are three children in the yellow car; Clarisse, her half brother Mark, and her half sister Ruby. They were the only ones who she could convince to come with her to town, past the safe bounds of camp half blood where nothing but their weapons can stop monsters from hunting and hurting them.

It’d be a lie to say Clarisse isn’t nervous, but she pushes the feeling down as she grips her spear tighter in her left hand. 

This is for you. She’s going into town and risking getting in trouble for the end result of seeing her favorite smile. Your smile. Her partner of one year. It may not seem like a very long time to some people, but you guys are demigods. It’s surprising you made it through the year without being killed by some horrible, ugly monster.

The car stops and the guy counts the large amount of money Mark hands him before telling them to get out of his cab. It may have annoyed the teenagers on any other day, but it doesn’t bother them too much since today is a special day.

“Why are we here?” Ruby asks, eyes scanning the area around them as if sure something is going to jump out at them. In the blonde haired girl's defense, it’s very possible something will.

Clarisse gestures to the small building in front of them. It’s run down and in desperate need of a paint job, but it doesn’t matter. That’s not what grabs the child of Ares attention. It’s the small animals chilling in their little spots inside the store. That’s what she’s here for.

The sign above the small colorful store reads, “Mike’s Animals”. Boring name, but gets the point across. She can already see the little animal she came here for when they walk through the door, the loud bell ringing from the action of opening it but no employee comes to help them. Clarisse lets her siblings stare in awe at the other animals for a few months before shoving towards a section near the back. The kitten section. You had been showing her a website on your phone a few days ago, one with a different selection of the small animals. The website was for Mike’s Animals, but you explained that even though you’d really like a cat, pets aren’t allowed in Camp Half Blood. It’s a rule.

Well you wanna know what Clarisse says about that? Screw rules. What her person want’s, her person gets.

So if the police ever come around, asking you why Clarisse shoved a black and white kitten into her brother's coat pocket and then made a run for it while the store manager chased after them, that’s what you have to say.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You're laying on your bed reading a book when your girlfriend walks in, a large box covered by a piece of fabric under one arm and a bouquet of flowers in her free hand. She ignores your siblings' gazes as she walks towards your space, setting down the box with a type of gentleness nobody in camp but you gets to see and then holding out the flowers.

They’re your favorite, clearly straight out of the flower fields by the slight glow they give off. They’re wrapped in a brown type of paper with a pink bow clearly down by one of the Aphrodite kids to hold it all together.

“Hey my love.” She starts. “These are for you.” You take the plants with a large grin on your face, bringing them closer to your face to smell the amazing natural scent coming from them. Something moves inside the box she sat on your bed, making you hold in a scream as you jump closer to your girlfriend and farther away from it. “What the hell is moving in that Clarisse?!” You ask, your siblings' attention all over you guys now.

Clarisse just laughs, but she seems slightly nervous as she puts the crate in your lap. “Just look. I hope you like it.” She continues to nervously ramble as you remove the cloth from the top of the box, letting out a small gasp when you see the small animal looking back at you with wide, curious blue eyes.

Your girlfriend stares as you gently pick him up, him instantly curling into your hold with a soft pur as you hold him close to your chest. “You um…you like him?” She asks with a small smile.

“Of course I do! He’s adorable, Risse!” She lets out a relieved sigh, laying down next to you as your siblings surround the bed trying to get a look at the animal. “You know Chiron will never let you keep that right?” One of your brothers asks with a laugh, and you frown as you look at your girlfriend.

She thinks about it for a moment before she says, “We’ll just hide him. He can lounge around the cabin while you’re gone, and you guys can hide him somewhere during cabin checks. Chiron will never know.”

Your siblings eventually leave you alone, going back to their acticicus as your two favorite beings cuddle up to you. Clarisse cuddles up next to your side, and the kitten on your stomach. “I really like you Oreo.” you whisper to the animal, making your girlfriend laugh. “Oreo? That’s the most original thing you could think of right?”

“Okay if you're so great at naming things, what should we name him?”

She goes quiet for a few seconds before mumbling in defeat, “I like Oreo.”

You guys enjoy the silence that surrounds just you guys as you pet Oreo, but then a small laugh comes from you when Clarisse gently grabs the cat and pulls him off your chest so she can lay her head there. “He’s been here for half an hour and you're already jealous?” “He was getting way too touchy. Mine.” She teases and then fakes an annoyed groan when he crawls onto her back and lays down, stretching himself out just to prove a point.

“Will you be my Valentine, my love?” She asks as she places her chin on your chest to look up at you. There's a certain softness in her eyes that you and only you get to see. In fact, it’s very, very rare you ever see the side everyone else talks about when they talk about Clarisse towards you. “You guys just don’t know her like I do.” You tell them. Not like they believe you, half of the camp still believing you somehow put a spell on her.

“Only if you’ll be mine.” You whisper back as if it’s a secret.

“Oh…this is awkward. I already agreed to be like ten other girls date.” Her voice is teasing as she tries and fails not to giggle.

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hm.” You fake being offended as you cross your arms over your chest and look away. She laughs, and the sound practically forces a smile on your face.

“I’m kidding. Only you, angel. I’m yours. Always.” 

“And I’m yours, Clarisse La Rue.” 

“Always?” 

“And forever.”

There’s a knock on your cabin door, and you figure it’s another camper until a voice calls from the other side of the door, “Clarisse? I know you're in there. Your siblings told me where you went. Cat’s out of the bag La Rue.” Chiron says. Very terrible choice of words. She groans into your stomach, rolling off of you and successfully getting Oreo to jump off her back and onto the bed.

“Those little snitches.” She snarls as she gets up to open the door, making you instantly miss her warmth.

You place the cat under your sweater, giggling and then shoving his face back under when he crawls to put his head through the neck hole. Once she knows he’s covered, Clarisse opens the door. Chirons eyes fall to you, and it’s only then do you think about the fact that there is a giant Oreo shaped lump in your sweater.

All your siblings fall silent as they watch to see what’s gonna happen.

“Mac and cheese day am I right?” You try to joke with a nervous chuckle, but he doesn’t laugh. He just runs a hand over his face and then stares at you. “You know what? I don’t care. You find a way to feed him that isn’t taking resources from us, you make sure he doesn’t do any damage to the furniture, and you keep track of him at all times, you can keep him.”

You grin at him, letting the small animal out of your sweater who in turn lowly hisses at the sight of Chiron.

He groans, walking off as he mumbles something about needing a very long vacation. There's only so much of your girlfriend bending the rules to get you presents he can handle before he was bound to just accept it.

The cinatar leaves, your girlfriend flipping him off when he can’t see. He yells over his shoulder, “I know what you’re doing Clarisse! Stop it or no dessert!” 

She stops flipping him off. Next to you, chocolate cake is what she lives for.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, as you sit with Clarisse at the bonfire, she listens to you complain about how much you miss Oreo. Usually, you’d be too busy roasting marshmallows and cuddling with her to think about anything else, but your girlfriend doesn’t do anything other than smile, happy she made you so happy.

“So how’d you get him anyway? You don’t have that kind of money and there’s no way Chiron gave it to you.” You say, and she freezes in her spot on a log, slightly tightening her arms that are wrapped around your waist as she avoids your eyes.

“I stole him.” Her voice is slightly quieter than usual, and she says this in the most casual tone she can muster.

“CLARISSE LA RUE!”

[dark-dragon-8]

I want to write a supernatural fic where Sam still hunts while in college.

Like, hunting has always been such a big part of his life that he just can't live without it, especially when he knows other people are going to die and/or suffer if he doesn't help them.

I want Sam to be one of those students that you know never goes to any of the classes but almost always gets an A (or at the very least a passing grade) on all the exams/assignments (he both knows from experience and studies in his free time while on the road).

I want Sam to be the weird/cool guy at school that everyone theorizes about ["Do you think he has a girlfriend?" "He must be rich or something, how else can he afford to travel so much while still attending school" (he's not BTW) "I wonder who that guy that always drives him to and from classes/exams is" (that's Dean) "So he's a passenger princess" (they've never seen him drive), etc].

Everything about the show is the same (I might keep Jess alive though, IDK, like that girl who ends up having a crush on him so she's looking into him and finds out some stuff) except he's still in school and he & Dean always cover their faces/only Dean impersonates people (that work with the state/law & stuff) so that the authorities won't be able to connect things too quickly and ambush them while there's a test or something.

Sam is literally the cryptid of the school after getting his powers, like people literally see him get visions/mumble about future events in the middle of those rare lessons he comes to/exams/assignments.

After Dean becomes a demon, people start thinking he's his drug dealer and that they're a part of some Mafia group that needs a new lawyer/future new lawyer (hence why Sam is learning law) after they keep hearing hushed conversations where Sam practically begs this Dean guy to "Just please give it to me, please Dean I don't think I can take it much longer" (assuming "it" probably means like heroin or some other type of drug. Also how they finally found out Dean's name) and Dean begrudgingly handing him a small red vial and telling him he'll give him more, sometimes directly from the source (his wrist), later. Sam also starts bringing a second, smaller, steel water bottle to school after those interactions start but almost nobody notices (or they do and there are a thousand and one new conspiracies about it and what it means, after all, it could just be coffee for all they know, they can't be sure though, and they're too scared to ask whenever they do see him and he actually stays in school for a little longer instead of instantly leaving to go somewhere. So they don't really get the chance to ask him even if they want to).

They see him "give a random girl hickeys" in the alley right beside the school (he's actually drinking Ruby's blood after she got her throat slashed/slashed her own throat just a little bit so that they won't look too suspicious) and they think that's his GF. And then some other students see him doing the same to his drug dealer's (Dean's) wrist a few days later and they don't know what to think anymore [he was desperate (read; needed a boost before a stressful exam/lesson/finals week), okay? He wasn't thinking straight and all three thought it was at least somewhat okay as long as they were being careful].

One day, during a lesson because the others know he won't answer during an exam, Bobby (because he still isn't talking to John, fuck you John) is calling him, saying it's an emergency and that they need him there ASAP. He doesn't remember to control his reaction in front of the class and now everyone further believes that he's in the Mafia and that was his boss talking to him [they vaguely remember hearing him, quietly whisper, if they need him to bring his extra guns at the start of the conversation/if he needs to kill someone/if anybody died towards the end of it (all said somewhat casually, considering the situation, mind you)].

I imagine Gabriel coming over to fuck with him one day at the school and people thinking he's part of a rival group/family (that may or may not have joined Sam's own after betraying said family, depending on the timeline) based on their interactions. On that same note, I want Castiel to be like the boss's right hand/messenger and that their boss's name/title is God/the lord (if I was in that situation, I would think their boss is very narcissistic, but I won't say anything about it because crime and I don't want to die yet). And then when Godstiel comes around, Dean, who at this point knows way more than Sam about these rumors (because unlike Sam he's actually been around), makes him seem like their new boss (he might just use it to help him get laid, like in that one episode, but IDK).

I really want to write it, and I might just do it, I just need to finish the series first so that I'll be characterizing them correctly (these are all characters I already somewhat know about/saw) so we'll see if I remember it by then.

Feel free to use this idea but also I want credit/link to the story (mainly a link) if you do use it, since I want to read it regardless of whether or not I actually write this (knowing myself, I probably will. Like 78% will).

[castiwls]

false god - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt;'They all warned us about times like this. They say the road gets hard and you get lost'

Requested; @andicedeo

Notes;sorry its taken so long a-levels are kicking my ass rn

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Ever since Dean had been pulled down to hell your life had been a whirlwind. You’d been under the impression that your boyfriend’s demon blood issue was a thing of the past just to come to the realisation that maybe it wasn’t as far gone as he’d made you believe.

Sam had been instant that after Azazel’s death, that part of his life was over. That while it would never go away he would never let it cause issues again. Yet that had all come tumbling down when a new demon had made its way into your lives.

During the year Dean had been in hell you’d been hopeless to do anything but watch as Sam crumbled before your eyes. He pulled away and began spending more and more time alone something which never sat right with you.

Your eyes glanced at the clock hanging off the motel wall and a sigh left your lips. 3 hours. Sam had been gone for 3 hours. You’d given up on trying to call him about five calls ago and instead had taken to watching whatever crappy movie cable was currently showing.

The door opening pulled your attention from the movie. A frown was etched onto your face as Sam caught your gaze. He stopped in his tracks like a deer in headlights before moving to shut the door. 

“Hey. Sorry…I…I uh didn’t mean to be gone for that long.” His shoulders were hunched slightly as he spoke and he refused to meet your gaze. He was feeling guilty and you knew it. “Where were you.” You turned your attention to him fully letting the movie blend into the background.

He faltered for a moment before moving to stand in front of you. From your spot on the bed, you could make out the dark bags under his eyes and the worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin. “Sam. Please tell me what’s going on.” You reached out to rub his arm. “I know something up.”

You already knew what was up. The last time Sam had looked this bad was just before Azazel had kidnapped him and taken him and the others to the ranch. You knew it had something to do with the demon blood (the thought alone sent a shiver down your spine)

He stared down at you for a moment. A sigh left his lips before he all but collapsed down to the floor. His hand landed on one of your legs and a small groan left his lips. A look of concern flashed across your face as he readjusted himself to lean against your leg.

Your hand fell into his hair, slowly rubbing against his scalp as you both sat for a moment. “It’s her, isn’t it? Ruby.” The name alone left a bad taste in your mouth and him tense. “You don’t have to say anything.” You continued. “I know it’s her.”

He moved his head to rest on your knee. “I need her help. I need to get Dean back.” He stared up at you, his gaze softening. “You have to understand.” 

“Sam.” The word fell from your lips as a sigh. You knew he was struggling and you expected nothing less. You’d been patient as he grieved. As you both grieved, but this was taking it a step far.

You could feel him slipping through your fingers but you were determined to not let him fall through entirely. You knew the demon blood would cause issues, you weren't stupid. But you were prepared to do whatever you had to. 

Your relationship meant too much and you refused to let him pull away. You’d been through this once and you’d do it again.

“There are other ways to do this. You were so glad when Azazel was gone and you could put the whole demon blood behind you, why bring it back now.” You moved to cup his face with your hands, rubbing a thumb over his cheek.

“Think about this. Please.” You trailed off for a moment. “I can’t lose you as well.” 

At your words, realisation seemed to spark in his eyes as he pushed himself up to his knees. “You're not gonna lose me. I promise.” He reached out to cup the back of your head. “I…I’m willing to look at other things if that’s what you want.” You could feel the worry in his tone as he spoke and it pulled on your chest. 

The thought of losing you sent a spike of fear through him as his actions dawned on him. He’d spent so much time obsessing over the idea of getting stronger and being able to live without Dean that he’d completely forgotten in his haste how his actions would affect you.

“I’m not gonna leave Sam.” You smiled reassuring him as he pulled you into his chest, his head finding the crook of your neck.

You’d never leave him. Not while he was so vulnerable. You knew there was a chance along the way he could be swayed onto the wrong path, having demon blood in you was something which you could never imagine. But with Azazel gone, you knew nothing was going to come of this blood. 

As long as you were here you would do everything in your power to keep him on the right track. 

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

~After the first Fight with Roman~

Glynda: Well I hope you've learned a lesson here today.

Ruby: Taht shooting things is fun AND useful!

Glynda: *Just so tired* No.

Ruby: Is this where I get speech and learn another lesson?

Ozpin: No. Here's your schedule for Beacon. Let us Never speak of this again.

~~~~~

Port: HEY! IS YOUR NAME JOEY!

Ruby: No, It's Ruby!

Port: If you Don't hurry up, I'm gonna call you Slowy Joey!

Ruby: But that's not my name?

~~~~~

Neptune: I thought it was about the whole thing with the brain-eating Grimm that walks out of the lake at night to hunt for victims!

Ruby: ...

Neptune: *walking away* Well, See yah!

~~~~~

After Beating Yang in a sparring match

Ruby: *Doing a victory dance* Eh! Eh-eh! Eh-eh eh eh!

Ruby: Soon they'll be "Dragon" your ass outta here! Ha ha!

Ruby: Hey you awake? Did you hear that?

Ruby: ... Yang?

~~~~~

Ruby: Okay. Mid-Mission status report!

Ruby: Fell through a road. Team Separated. I'm tied to a chair.

Ruby: I'm gonna put those in the "challenges" column.

~~~~~

Qrow: You'll need one of these *Hands Ruby a Rifle*

Ruby: Now We're talking!

~~~~~

Penny: *Currently hovering behind Ruby*

Ruby: I need to get even higher.

Ruby: Like way higher.

Ruby: As if I were flying.

Ruby: ...

Ruby: I know! Maybe I could find some stilts!

~~~~~

Ruby: Hi ... I don't wanna make things awkward, but you kinda murdered my Mom.

Salem: I have murdered a *Lot* of People.

Ruby: ...

~~~~~

Ruby: IN a life-or-death battle between General Ironwood and a Great White Shark, But the Shark could see the future and Ironwood was blindfolded-

~~~~~

Oscar: Two Words; Caw caw.

Ozpin: Well I mean, that's really one word, Isn't it?

Oscar: How are you spelling it?

Ozpin: C, A, Hyphen, C, A, W.

Oscar: Oh, well if your' gonna use a Hyphen, I mean-

~~~~~

Ozpin: Are you ready?

Oscar: No, Not now.

Ozpin: *Mental Smack* How about now?

~~~~~

Jaune: Who's your favorite grandchild? It's me, right?

(Totally Not) Salem: Ooh, of course! YOu are my favorite!

Jaune: *Happy*

Salem: My precious little Saphron~

Jaune: *Sad*

~~~~~

Jaune: Alright ... I'll pack up my stuff and go ...

Glynda: You ... Don't need to do that ...

Jaune: You're right ...

Jaune: I don't have anything to pack. I'll just go ...

~~~~~

Jaune: Why do I feel like I'm going to end up naked in a closet again?

~~~~~

Glynda: Who are all these people?

Mama Arc: We Are! THE ARCATOS!

~~~~~

Weiss: It's like that time in X-ray and Vav issue #314-

Jaune:

Weiss: Shut up!

[zablife]

Johnny's Meets a Glamour Girl

Johnny Davis Masterlist

Summary: Johnny offers you a ride when he finds you stranded outside of town, but you're wary of motorcycles. Can he find a way to persuade you to trust him?

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon who wanted to see Johnny with an elegant woman who doesn't like motorcycles. This began as a simple set of headcanons, but I couldn't stop adding detail!

♡ You met Johnny the day your car broke down at the edge of the field where the Vandals were holding a race. Cursing under your breath, you struggled to restart the flooded engine as a group of mud caked bikers ambled toward you in a menacing throng.

♡ Your heart clawed at your throat as you listened to their approaching voices over the sputter of the engine, hand trembling helplessly at the ignition just as a broad shouldered man began tapping at your window.

♡ The moment he caught sight of your panicked expression, a large hand fell over his heart in silent apology before motioning to the others to leave. His eyes softened as he mouthed an instruction for you to roll the window down, taking a step back as he waited patiently for your well manicured hand to crank the handle.

♡ Something in his gentle demeanor convinced you to take the risk, cracking the window as he leaned down in polite introduction. "My name's Johnny," he began, explaining he was the president of the motorcycle club you'd just encountered and assuring you with a kind smile, "don't worry, I won't let nothin' happen to you.”

"Wh-what's gonna happen to me?" you gulped, stealing a glance of the motley crew in your rearview mirror.

"Nothin'," he emphasized, holding your gaze confidently before giving a firm nod.

♡ True to his word, you remained unbothered as you passed the time reapplying your makeup in the passenger seat. However, a mutual attraction seemed to grow the longer he took to assess the problem.

♡ You seemed to catch his eye a few times as you puckered your lips for a swipe of ruby red lipstick, but it didn't bother you. If you were honest, you were using your compact to ogle his glistening biceps whenever he peeked around the bonnet.

♡ Johnny worked until the golden light at his back faded and the evening air turned chilly before calling you outside for the bad news about some faulty spark plugs. He didn't hesitate to drape his leather jacket over your shivering form, smiling sheepishly as he admitted, "Ain't no mink, but it'll keep ya warm."

♡ The wholesome gesture surprised you, but not so much as the comforting weight of it enveloping you safely in his distinctly masculine scent. And Johnny couldn't help but beam with pride when you clutched it to yourself tightly, exhaling a sigh of relief that you hadn't scrunched your nose in disgust at the tattered sleeves or protested about getting motor oil on your expensive dress.

♡ In an attempt to lighten the mood, he told a few amusing tales from his travels as a truck driver and offered you a cigarette to ease the lingering tension you held in your shoulders. When you finally leaned in for a light, laughter bubbling in your chest, he grinned widely at his accomplishment.

♡ By the time he'd gotten around to recounting the time a milk tanker overturned on him, attracting every cat in three counties, you were covering your mouth to hide an unladylike snort. But Johnny was charmed by the noise, realizing you weren't as haughty as he'd assumed.

And you couldn't help but be enamored by the way the sides of his eyes crinkled as he chuckled good naturedly in return. "Reckon I spin a pretty good yarn after a decade on the road," he boasted.

♡ Things were going well until he had to convince you to climb aboard his Harley for a ride to town. It seemed you saved all argument for that moment, listing a myriad of reasons why that would be unsuitable--the wind in your perfectly coiffed hair, the length of your dress, the impossibly high heels strapped to your feet.

♡ Johnny listened patiently as your anxiety ridden voice rattled off a laundry list of worry before finally stumbling to a halt. He nodded his head in understanding, then countered with one very valid point. Your car would have to be towed back in the morning. "Bike's the only way I can get you outta here tonight," he offered with a small shrug.

♡ As he attempted to gauge your degree of stubbornness on the issue, you took in the deep furrow of his brow and how adorably perplexed he looked as it knit together in concern for your welfare. You found the sincerity of it endearing and knew instantly you could place your confidence in him, so you gave a small nod of consent as you began tying a scarf over your intricate hairdo.

♡ Once again he surprised you with his chivalry as he walked you to his motorcycle, carefully placing your bag and shoes in a saddlebag before extending a hand to help you position yourself on his bike. "I'll uh...give you a minute," he mumbled trying not to stare as you struggled to arrange the layers of your dress beneath you.

♡ As the roar of multiple engines announced the presence of the other Vandals, Johnny quickly took his place in front to protect your modesty, calloused fingertips brushing against your exposed thigh with his haste. Though you couldn't be sure in the dim light, his cheeks appeared flushed as he looked over his shoulder to remind you to "hold tight, sweetheart."

♡ It hadn't occurred to you that you might be flirting with him as you bit your lip to stifle a giggle. That is, until you placed your hand at his chest for security and found a rapidly beating heart thumping against your palm.

♡ It was your turn to be nervous as he revved the engine of the bike, watching the others tear away into the night at high speed and waiting for Johnny to do the same. You unintentionally fisted the fabric of his shirt in your hands so tightly, you felt him inhale sharply.

♡ In the same way he'd been quietly comforting you all evening, his thumb grazed over your knuckles softly, repeating a familiar promise, "Won't let nothin' happen to you." You began to relax against his strong back as he hummed, "M gonna take it slow."

♡ He was a man of his word, pulling onto the highway behind the others at a more leisurely pace and easing the bike around corners so smoothly, you actually leaned into the wind to feel it grace your cheek. By the time he was parking at the curb in front of your house, you felt as though you'd been lulled into a dreamlike state, a pleasant weightlessness to your body unlike anything you'd ever felt.

♡ As Johnny helped you off the bike, he held your waist a moment longer than necessary to linger over the glimmer in your eye. Suddenly aware of your appearance, you rushed to smooth your hands over your head, finding you'd lost your scarf somewhere along the way. "My hair must look..." But he stopped you with a chuckle, one hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock behind your ear. "Looks real good to me," he winked. "Don't matter as long as we had fun, right?"

♡ It might have been the first time a man valued your company over your looks and you nodded in speechless awe. When Johnny reached past you to retrieve your belongings without a single attempt at a kiss, your heart sank a bit. Thanking him for the ride in a reserved voice as you returned his jacket, your eyes traced the pavement as you shivered up the front walk alone.

♡ However, as you unlocked your door, you realized he was still standing at the curb and you could practically feel his eyes boring into you. Then his voice boomed into the cul de sac, "Tell me somethin' before you go...Was it worth it?"

Observing your rumpled dress and mussed hair in the reflection of the large picture window, you spun around to face him with a smirk. "Looking like I'm taking a walk of shame before midnight?"

"Takin' a chance on me," he ventured through a nervous squint.

"Bring my car back tomorrow and I'll tell you," you baited him with a mischievous raise of your eyebrow.

"It's a date," he agreed. "Somethin' nice this time," he promised with emphasis.

"Then I'd better get my beauty rest," you teased before giving a little wave and ducking inside the house, heart fluttering in anticipation.

[that-stanford-girlie]

The Goatman - A Supernatural Case Fic

Sam sits on the phone with Ashley as Dean drives. “Lia. I get that, but we can’t just gun it-”

“Tell Essie we’ll be there in twenty,” Dean laughs. “Nobody’s on the road. It’ll be fine, Sam.”

“Absolutely not.”

Ashley’s voice comes through the phone. “Dee, don’t kill yourself. I’m fine with waitin’,” she muses, her thick southern accent coming out.

“You’re no fun,” Dean grumbles.

Sam stays on the phone with Ashley as Dean keeps driving, not liking how he’s not allowed to speed. But he doesn’t, because he knows Ashley will get upset. He does not like Ashley being upset.

But then her voice cuts off.

“Lia?” Sam asks. “Lia, what’s wrong?”

After a moment, Ashley’s voice comes through once more. “You know the old Goatman’s Bridge in Lantana?”

“That’s where we first met, ain’t it?” Dean asks.

“I need y’all to get there now. I can’t get out there, but there’s been a very strange spike in deaths around there.”

“Send me everything,” Sam says. He quickly opens his laptop, searches “Goatman’s Bridge” and reads. The laptop dings. “A’ight, Lia, I got it.”

“We’re on our way out there, Ess,” Dean replies.

—

“So a large spike of deaths?”

“And sulfur. Dean, this is our kind of gig.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, how much longer until we’re there?’

Sam pulls out the map. “Take a right up there.” He points ahead of them at a break in the road. 

Dean turns, and there’s the bridge. The structure is taped off, and police cars are scattered across. An ambulance rings through and drives away. Sam and Dean get out of the car. 

“Hey. What’s goin’ on?” Dean asks, flashing the FBI badge.

“More murders,” one of the cops responds.

Sam gives Dean a nod and continues to talk to the officers as Dean investigates. 

A car must’ve veered off the bridge, but there are what looks like horn scratches all over the vehicle. “It makes no sense,” a female cop says, shaking her head. “They change between human prints to animal marks. I don’t know who’s killing these people, but somebody is.”

Dean nods, snaps a couple pictures, and heads back to Sam. “Come on,” he mumbles. “We gotta go.”

—

“It’s called ‘Goatman’s Bridge,’” Sam reads from his laptop. “It’s said that a lynched farmer by the name of Oscar Washburn, now a vengeful spirit, haunts the bridge. He was murdered in the 30s.”

“And why is it called ‘Goatman’s Bridge’?” Dean asks, already having an idea.

“Cuz the Goatman haunts it too.”

“Could be why there are so many murders. Both the Goatman and this Washburn guy?”

“Could be…”

—

At about midnight, they make it to the bridge. Nobody’s there. Nobody’s watching for trespassers. 

The boys climb out of Baby with rock salt-filled shotgun rounds. Dean also grabs the flare guns as Sam gets the holy water. They’re dealing with a ghost and a demon. Or maybe a shifter. They’re not sure.

Dean shoves his machete in his waistband along with his pistol, and Sam does the same but with Ruby’s demon-killing knife instead. 

They’re about to head onto the bridge when they hear the soft and familiar flutter of wings behind them. Dean turns around with a smile. “Cas. You came.”

“Hello, Dean,” the angel Castiel greets. “Sam.” Cas gives a curt nod before turning back to Dean. “What was it you needed me for, Dean?”

“We’re dealing with… something,” he says. “Either the vengeful spirit of a farmer or a Goatman.”

“Interesting,” Cas says, tilting his head just a little bit and squinting ever so slightly, lost in thought. 

Sam shakes his head and walks over the bridge, keeping an eye out. 

“Does this Goatman have red eyes?” Castiel asks. His scrutinizing gaze is on something in the distance behind Dean. The Hunter spins around and sees what the angel is looking at: a shining pair of red dots in the forest.

“Yeah,” he breathes quietly. 

“Guys,” Sam warns. He’s looking at something in the other direction. 

In the direction of Baby.

Dean spins around, his eyes locking on the ghostly figure standing atop his car. His sweet, shiny Baby. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

He raises the shotgun and fires three rock salt rounds at the apparition, and it barely does anything. “Where’s the dang bones?! We gotta salt and burn a sucker.”

“Nobody knows!” Sam shouts back, aiming his own pistol at the Goatman in the distance. He fires off three rounds, but it does nothing to stop it.

“Sam, you have to cut off its head,” Castiel says from behind the Goatman, grunting as he struggles to keep it contained.

“I’ve got it, Cas!” Sam yells back.

“Cas, go find the bones!” Dean shouts, using as many rock salt rounds as possible. “Figure somethin’ out to kill the sucker so we can focus on one at a dang time!”

Castiel nods and disappears, leaving the Goatman to charge at Sam. He yells for Dean to throw him the machete, and he catches it with his free hand as he drops the now-empty pistol and grabs the demon-killing knife, stabbing the creature in the chest and swinging the machete at its throat, decapitating it instantly.

He rushes over to Dean, grabbing out his own salt-filled firearm and blasting at the spirit. 

The spirit that is quickly becoming immune to said rock salt.

“Cas, hurry up!” Dean shouts, abandoning the firearm and pulling out the flare guns in hopes it does something to harm the farmer.

“You won’t kill me,” Washburn snarls. The brothers shake their heads and keep firing, hoping to get the spirit off the car and get him gone.

“Get off my dang car!” Dean responds.

The spirit lunges at them, throwing them to the ground. He leaves large scratches on Dean’s face before going to strangle Sam.

“You killed my demon! You will die for that!”

Dean tries to help Sam fight off the spirit, but that only results in him being thrown into a tree.

But before they know it, Castiel is behind Washburn, who is now burning to go back to where he came from. Castiel found the bones and burned them just as the brothers wanted him to.

—

“Yeah, we got ‘im, Ess.”

“Great. Hope y’all didn’t get too hurt,” Ashley laughs.

“They didn’t lay a finger on us,” Sam responds. “It was honestly pretty easy. We had Cas help out.”

“I have the First Aid kit out,” Ashley sighs.

Dean laughs, starts up Baby, turns on AC/DC, and heads on out to Ashley’s place, driving over the bridge with the mountains in the far distance.

taglist

@cevans-is-classic @keircat7 @yftmaifky123 @peoplewatching-notstalker

[deadly-jellybaby]

apparently saturday’s episode will be a big one so I’m going to put my theories down now:

The Doctor has been imprisoned for spilling the salt at the edge of the universe, his sentence is to live out his life as a TV show, and Mrs Flood is his gaoler.

This is the real reason the season count has been restarted. (Or, Disney wanted it to restart, and Russell found a way to play with it.)

Ruby Sunday sounds like a silly made up name because it is. She’s a fictional character.

Everything that happened until the end of The Giggle was real. After 15 leaves at the end of the episode, he is caught and imprisoned.

The Church on Ruby Road is the beginning of the TV show.

All that happens in 15’s life is what we see. He has no real memories between episodes, he just goes from story to story.

Mrs Flood knows she is on a TV show. As the Doctor’s gaoler, her job is to keep an eye on him in his prison, hence why she keeps popping up. She lives next to Ruby and then Belinda because she knows they’re his next companions.

“I’m the Governor” is literal — she is the governor of the Doctor’s prison. But she wants more, and she wants to erase the real world and make her world the only reality, which she will have control over. The episode title The Reality War refers to the war between the real world and the TV show world, as only one can exist forever.

Sutekh being on the Tardis is part of the TV show. He was never really on the real Tardis.

Ruby was meant to be the companion for the whole show, but she went “off script” by finding her birth mother and she had to be replaced by Belinda. This is linked to the reason why Belinda looks like Mundy.

While 15 is imprisoned, 14 is the Doctor that’s left in the real world. Rose Noble is will play a part in freeing 15, we will see her but not 14 and Donna.

Rogue will appear in the Interstellar Song Contest. (This is just me hoping tbh)

By the end of ISC, 15 knows he’s in a TV show, or at least that his world isn’t quite real.

His remembering something he shouldn’t (ie his memory of meeting Anansi’s daughter as Fugitive) will play a part in his realisation that something isn’t right.

The Doctor is serving a death sentence. The world ends on 24th May because the story ends when he’s executed. He survives because his is a neverending story.

The resolution will be about belief, lies, fiction and reality.

Conrad will be back. He knows his world is fake. He wants to make it real at the sacrifice of the real world, and Mrs Flood promises him the power to control reality. He realises too late she lied to him for her own gain, then dies shortly thereafter.

The fans in Lux are foreshadowing. Ruby and Belinda are fictional characters but they will become real. The UNIT characters we’ve seen in 15’s episodes are fakes of the real world characters so they can’t become real. They will make the choice to sacrifice their own existence for the real world.

Ruby will lose her mums and gran as they will stop existing. They exist in the real world, but they don’t know her.

IF Ncuti regenerates, it’ll be into Jo Martin. There’ll be a wibbly wobbly timey wimey explanation (using those words) as to how she is both 16 and Fugitive.

[stargazerlily7210]

So, in an effort to continue my reign as Queen of Overthing Everything I Love, here's two more things I've noticed while rewatching Church on Ruby Road...again.

1) How The Doctor words his telling of the story of Ruby being found. His narration of the story goes like this:

"Once upon a time, late on Christmas Eve, a stranger came to the church on Ruby Road.

"She carried in her arms the most precious gift of all: A newborn child. A baby girl.

"Just before midnight, she left her daughter on the steps of the church.

"The child was taken in, and they named her Ruby after the place where she was found.

"As for the mother, she was never seen again. No one ever knew her name...

"Until that night a time traveler came to call. A traveler known as The Doctor."

Now, certain parts of that feel like artistic liberties for the sake of the story/fairytale vibe. (Ex. "...on the steps of the church" as we watch Ruby be placed on the ground in front of the door, no steps insight.)

I've already made a post about why I think the woman being Ruby's mother is likely one of those artistic liberties, but that's not what this is about.

This time, I'm caught up on the "No one ever knew her name UNTIL..."

The only ways to take the whole last part of his story is that when The Doctor arrives during that scene, are a) he knows her name in that moment, or b) somehow his arrival causes an unnamed but relevant someone else to know her name.

And while, that alone wouldn't be enough to warrant this post, it did feel intentional. Especially considering that by the end of the episode, as far as we can tell, there's no known reason/opportunity for The Doctor to have learned her identity yet.

Which leads me to my next point.

2) I can't help but wonder if we're intentionally being misled. Because the scene we're shown at the beginning during The Doctor's story is not the same as what we see in the end of the episode when The Doctor goes back to rescue Ruby from the goblins.

And I can prove it.

It's shot as if it's the same scene twice, and we're clearly meant to think we've just caught up to what we saw at the start of the episode.

Pardon my poor quality photos (idk how to get screen shots from either iplayer or disney+) but look:

These are from the start of the episode. Note: the tears actively running down his cheeks.

BUT!

These are from the "same" moment but at the end of the episode. Note: watery eyes, but no active tears spilling over.

Now I understand enough about the filming process to know there can absolutely be minor inconsistencies between shots as the various takes are edited together to create the final product. But why bother to edit and use different, identically framed shots that are supposed to be of the same moment, but don't line up? Especially when it's a closeup of a single person?

It just seems intentional to me. Especially when you consider my first point in tandem with it.

I think what we hear/see at the beginning isn't what we see in the episode. Maybe it happens later after Ruby and The Doctor figure out the identity of the woman/Ruby's mother.

Thoughts?

[monster-disaster]

[orc] Zorag Iron - 2/3

orc!Zorag Iron x human!Reader - 2/3 Good to know: smut

Summary: Your argument with Zorag takes a sudden turn.

The rain is still heavy and restless. It pours from the dark sky, drumming on the roof of the van. The wipers on the windshield move back and forth without pause. Their clicking is a constant noise in the background, mixing with the songs coming from the radio. None of you pay attention to it. You can barely see the road through the window, and you definitely can't see the name of the streets.

"They will still be open, right?" You ask, glancing at the clock. If they didn't decide to close sooner because of the weather, they should. You only hope you didn't come all this way for nothing. And the orc next to you thinks the same thing. "I hope so," Zorag grunts. "If not, I will find someone to take care of the orders."

"Turn to the left," you are the one who breaks the silence again. "Now, Zorag!" "That's the wrong way." "No, it's not. I have been there before." "Me too," he continues to argue with you, passing the left turn completely. "I know how to drive, Ruby." You roll your eyes. "Of course, you know." His frown deepens. You aren't even sure what he looks like without the wrinkle between his thick brows. "What do you mean by that?" He grunts. "Why can't you listen to me?" You ask him, pulling your arm tighter in front of your chest. "That was the right way." "Or maybe…" Sarcasm drips from each word he says. "Maybe there are several other ways to get to the address."

You know he is right. And you want to pull on his hair because of it.

Soon, you reach your destination, and fortunately, the gates open in front of you immediately. One of the workers shows you where to go, and Zorag parks down in front of a building that looks familiar that you have in the lumberyard. Nobody is outside, but you can hear the others working inside. "Stay here," Zorag grunts. "I will be quick." The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. "I bet." The line of his jaw clenches into a hard line but says nothing. The only reply you get is the hard thud of the door as he pushes it shut.

Zorag is at his wits' end with you. But he always feels like this when you're around. No matter what you do or say, there is a twitch in his stomach that makes him want to spank you and kiss you senseless at the same time. You are bossy and bratty. You always want to tell him what to do and how to do it. You always think you know better, and you are not afraid to tell him that. He has every reason to dislike you, and still. Here he is. Half hard, even after your comment about his quickness. He can't help it, though. The van is small compared to him. You were close to him the whole time, with your sweet scent mixed with the rain. Your shirt clung to your body, showing off the soft swell of your breasts and the gentle slope of your collarbone. Your hair is still a mess even after drying in the warmth of the car.

You sit and watch the men take the planks out of the back. Zorag helps them. The hood over his head hides half of his face, but you can still see the thick tusks between his lips. You can't hear what he says, but the deep rumble of his words reaches your ears and resonate in your core. He seems even bigger next to the humans. He towers over them with his broad shoulders and muscles that make his coat stretch around his arms. You can't help but stare at him the whole time.

When everything is done, the orc sits back in the car and starts the engine with a roar. The end of his dreadlocks is wet, dripping down onto his thighs. The dark jeans he wears soak them up.

"Well," you speak up. The air is heavy and tense between you two. "I'm glad it's done." Zorag just grunts. "Thanks for coming with me," you try again. He nods but says nothing.

The tension doesn't lessen, and you start to worry. Maybe you really pushed him too far? The thought almost feels comical. There is no way Zorag would get mad at you just because of a snarky comment. You two do it all the time. That's the base of your relationship. You are angry at him, he is angry at you, and that's it. Life goes on. At least, that's what you try to tell yourself the whole way back to the lumberyard in your hometown.

You don't try to speak with him anymore, and he doesn't say anything either. Your eyes are on the window, watching the trees passing by through the rain. The forest is dark, and it seems unforgivable. Lush greens surround the mountains in the background. Their tops disappear in the dark clouds. The sky flashes here and there, and thunder shakes through the air.

You can't wait to get home.

When the van stops in the protection of the storage, you can't help but sigh with relief. The day was longer than you anticipated. The sun is ready to disappear behind the trees, and the dark clouds are still thick and loud. Another flash. Another rumble.

For a second, you just stare at the orc when both of you get out of the car. You are leaning against the door while he puts the keys back in their place. He is still tense and quiet. You can see his taut muscles even through the layers of his clothes.

"Zorag?" You break the silence after biting your bottom lip almost to bleeding. He grunts in acknowledgment, and you roll your eyes. "Hey," you sound almost angry. "I'm sorry okay? My comment clearly hit a sore spot, and I apologize for it. I didn't mean it." Apologizing to Zorag is new. You feel awkward, and you just want to be done with it.

And you are clearly doing it wrong.

His body froze for a long second before turning back to you with a low growl. His dark eyes seem even more dangerous than the storm outside. The hoops around his tusks glint under the dim light of the storage.

"Hit a sore spot?" He spits. Oh, oh. "I mean…" you gasp. "I didn't mean it like that. I just… It was too much, and I know that now." Before you know it, he is in front of you. His tall form towers over you, caging you against the car as you press your back to the door some more. "Why are you so upset about it anyway?" You ask him, frowning. When your attempt to apologize takes you nowhere with the orc, you choose another route. You argue. You want to fight because you are familiar with it. You know what to expect from it, and in a strange way, it gives you comfort. So you are almost shocked when, instead of snapping at you, Zorag smirks. And damn, he is really handsome when he does that. The curve of his lips is crooked because of his tusks, but it still stirs something in you. "What?" You snap. "What are you doing?" Tension keeps your back straight against the van. "If you really want to know how long I last in bed, you only have to ask." You scoff. Heat creeps up on your face. Your lips open and close as you try to come up with something. "I don't- I mean- I-" "Don't lie to me, Ruby," he warns you. "Maybe my nose is not as good as the shifters', but I notice everything." His words fan over you as he leans closer to your ear. The ring in his nose feels cold on the warm skin of your neck. Your whole body shakes at his closeness. "What are you doing?" You gasp.

What is he doing, really? Zorag isn't even sure himself. The only thing he knows is that there is no way he will let you go this time. You and his own thoughts drove him crazy the whole way back to the lumberyard.

"Tell me you don't want it," he says. His voice is a low rumble. "Tell me you don't clench your pretty thighs every time we argue. Tell me you don't get excited when we fight." You really want to tell him all those things. They are on the tip of your tongue. Lies. Lies. Lies. "That's what I thought," he hums when you say nothing.

The kiss starts slowly, giving you a chance to say no. Just a brush of his lips across yours. Soft and warm. The loops on his tusks are cold. For a second, you are not even sure if he can kiss you fully because of his teeth, but then he presses his lips against yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, demanding everything you can give him. One of his arms wraps around your torso, pulling you to his body and away from the car. He is devouring you. Cradling your head in his large palm, his thumb caresses the soft spot under your ear. His chest is large and hard under your hands. You burn and ache in his arms. The feeling of his tusks pressing into your skin makes you gasp against his lips. Your mind wanders to how it would feel between your legs.

After a while, he breaks the kiss but doesn't step away from you. His breath is hot against your cheeks. Your lips are swollen, and the throbbing between your legs is in sync with the rapid beating of your heart.

"Well," you gulp. Your nails dig into his coats to keep him close. "You proved nothing." His laugh is booming. The pleasant sound runs through your body. "I really hoped you would say that," he grins with mischief in his dark eyes. His arm falls away from your body after another quick kiss as he lowers himself to his knees. Oh. "Here?" You gasp, looking around even though you know nobody else is here. The door of the storage is open, the rain still pours, and you can barely see the forest surrounding the yard. "Here," he replies. "I don't think this pussy could wait any longer either." Your back falls against the car again. His thick finger brushes over your center through your jeans. Your stomach twitches at the feeling. A breathy gasp leaves your lips when he tugs on your pants and panties until they are thrown down on the floor a few meters away from you. The cold air sends shivers through your body, and your toes curl with anticipation.

Your scent fills Zogar's nostrils to the point the blood in his veins flows and burns with desire. His mouth waters at the pretty sight of your pussy. His palms smooth over the flesh of your thighs, gripping the back of your knees to pull your legs apart until he can see your folds. Wet and aching. One of your hands is on the van behind you as you try to keep your balance while the other is already in his hair. Your grip on his thick locks is almost painful. It fuels his need for you. Zorag leans in, licking over your wetness once, twice, three times before he delves into your pussy. His tongue swirls through your folds, around your clit, and inside your entrance. Your juices coat his taste buds, his lips, and his chin. And all of a sudden, he has no idea how he could live without this anymore. Urging him on, you pull on his hair and grind your burning cunt against his face. You almost ride him, and he is more than happy to be used by you. He licks and teases, grazing his tusk over your clit. "Zorag!" You cry out his name. "Fuck!" His cock is hard as he listens to your moans and groans. His name leaves your lips like a prayer. One of his fingers finds your entrance while his lips close around your clit. Your frantic breathing changes into sobs at the sudden feeling. Pleasure burns your veins, and the coil in your stomach is tight and ready to snap. Zorag pumps in and out of you, curling his finger just the right way to find every spongy spot that makes you scream and beg for more. "Please," you moan. His cock twitches with every sweet word that leaves your lips. "Please, don't stop. Zorag!" He recognizes your orgasm even before you do. Your clit throbs on his tongue, and your walls flutter around his finger as you chase your release. He is the only one who keeps you from falling as your body jumps and shakes with pleasure.

"See?" He grunts, standing up. His arms slide around you to keep you on your legs. His mouth is full of your taste. His deep green skin glints with your wetness. "It's so much better when you stop being so bossy."

You want to hit him.

- Masterlist Ironridge Masterlist Patreon

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

How did it end?

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Reader

Warnings: : , hurt/comfort, written on my phone during a road trip 🫣😭, sad lesbians, mentions of not being dead, unedited, angst

"Let me let you go" I whispered as I grasped Larissa's jaw, her blue eyes welling with tears as she tilted her head down. I watched as she closed her eyes attempting to blink the tears away "I can't" her voice cracked.

"I have to Lissa" I let my hand down sliding onto her shoulder brushing down her arm until I held her hand in my own "no you don't". It's for the best.. we've grown out of each other well at least it felt so, she had bigger things for her life than me. I knew I would always carry a piece of her with me always, I didn't really want to leave but I couldn't stay and hold her back either.

Now we stood in the middle of my living room toe to toe the air heavy as we stare back at one another. "You have so much ahead of you" I whispered "I do" she agreed as she raised her hands one on the junction of my neck and the other on my jaw.

I wish I could've stopped the tears but I couldn't "I have a marriage and a family, I have a home to come back to each day... I have you Y/n. I come home to you everyday"

"Larissa" I breathed out looking down only for her to tilt my head back up "I love you Y/n, I waited years and I will wait a million years more if that means I get to call you my wife. It felt like being ripped apart when I thought you were dating Gomez, I'm not sure I could handle anymore."

She rested her forehead against my own, our noses brushing "but you say the word Y/n my heart is yours, I could never give it away after it's known nothing but you after it's entire pattern only beats your name". This bitch I thought with a bittersweet chuckle "I love you Larissa but what if I'm not the same person you fell in love with?" my cheeks burned with hot tears.

She smiled sadly "then I will fall in love with this version of you and the next and the next because I love you, I'm so madly in love with you and I don't understand.." she paused taking a breath.

"I just wish you could see how beautiful you are in my eyes, my love.. my dearest if only I could trade with you so maybe you could love yourself.. you have such beautiful features". I closed my eyes trying to breathe but I was suffocating in her warmth, I was choking back my tears "you deserve the world, Larissa". The hand at the base of my neck moved up to grasp my jaw "you are my world" I don't deserve her and I definitely didn't deserve her when we were in school.

Why did I have to ruin everything, why couldn't I accept something good? I didn't want to push her away. It's been so many years she must be tired, I make her tired "come back to me Y/n" she whispered "your thoughts are so loud". Larissa dropped her hands to wrap them around my frame instead, a hand in my hair and the other around the mid of my back.

I cried into her shoulder before my shaky hands wrapped around her too, my tears soaking through the fabric of her expensive coat. "I love you Larissa but aren't you tired?" I whispered into her neck unwilling to let her go "of you? Never" her breath fanned against my ear. My knees felt like they would give way and snap beneath me "but I make you miserable" my fingers twisted the fabric.

"No you don't love, there's plenty of things that make me blue but you're not one of them" opening my eyes it was dark outside as I peered over her shoulder out the window. "Are you sure?" I pulled back to gaze up at her "of course" she smiled sadly "but what if..what if we can't have children of our own?" I mumbled. "There's plenty of options and if we can't adopt well, it's not the end of the world we can always get a cat" Larissa chuckled.

"I already ruined everything" I sighed trying to step back but Larissa wouldn't let go only moving to hold my waist. "I'm here aren't I?" She asked her ruby lips extra red against her pearly white smile. "Because of me" I cried the guilt weighing heavily on me "and that's the way it should be Y/n, wherever you are.. I want to be with you okay? On both the sunny and rainy days"

"I'm here for you, always on the days you don't love yourself I will love you and the days you don't feel beautiful I will tell you just how gorgeous you are"

If I knew anything about love, it's because I learned from you..

Larissa Weems, the woman you are I thought to myself we were only twenty-two back then standing in my family home. The same home that would become our home, the place where we raised our children and the place I could've lost her all those years ago.

A pair of hands slid around my waist where I leaned against the door frame to the living room. "What are you thinking about my love?" She pressed a kiss to my temple "you" I smiled looking back to kiss her lips.

"Me?" Larissa chuckled "why?" She pressed another kiss to my lips "I'm just feeling nostalgic is all" I shrugged turning in her hold, my hands on her chest.

"Thank you for never giving up on me" I sighed resting my head under her chin "You don't have to thank me for something like that, of course I would never give up on you. I love you Y/n"

"I love you more Larissa"

I always loved you more dearest she wanted to respond but there wasn't anyone in her arms. With a shake of her head she passed the living room to enter the kitchen, this house was haunted by the ghost of you.

"Don't be so dramatic with the story" I laughed taking a seat on her lap "I didn't die, I went away for work" I kissed her lips with a smile. "Though I am forever grateful you never gave up on me" I whispered snaking my hands around her neck as our grandkids watched us. I played with the baby hairs at the back of her neck "oh yes, you went to work and left me behind for three days" she groaned. "I'm sorry that you also had a job" I giggled looking up to see our kids standing in the doorway, they looked so much like we had back then when we were younger.

[time-is-restored]

What Happened At The Church On Ruby Road?

AKA: Why does RTD want us to watch Ruby's first episode with a ruler and protractor?

Alright, so since I read this article excerpt yesterday night I haven't been able to stop thinking about what trick could be hidden in the sequence between the cloaked woman, the doctor, and baby ruby. While I'm not at all claiming to know the answer, I have a few details to point out that might help with further analysis.

First of all: A Continuity Error (On Purpose?)

At the very beginning of TCORR, when the doctor's giving his 'once upon a time,' speech, we see the TARDIS materialise + the doctor appear, looking in the direction of the cloaked woman, looking distraught. Disney+ is evil so I can't get an accurate screenshot, so take this scuffed photo instead, taken from 1:03. You can see a tear rolling down his cheek (little white dot on the left of his face, in line w this nose).

Later in the episode, when the doctor materialises in the scene for the first time, there is no tear. It's a marginally different shot in several ways, but that's the most noticable to me - screenshot taken from 42:59.

By itself, this is totally negligible. But I think when taken with the opening monologue (which heavily implies that the doctor finds out the cloaked woman's identity - "As for the mother, she was never seen again. No one ever knew her name, until that night a time traveller came to call. A traveller known as the Doctor."), there is possible evidence here that the doctor came to this moment twice. Once in the sequence of events as we see them, rescuing Ruby from the goblins, and once where... something else happened.

Second: The Layout of The Church

We get a few aerial shots of the church when the camera is showing the ascent of the ship, and a lovely wide shot as the doctor decides to not follow the cloaked woman (taken from 46:28 and 44:07).

The most important thing I want to point out is the way the hedge path curves to the right in the direction the doctor and the cloaked lady are facing. You can only really see it in that one shot (so I hope it's not a lens effect!). The aerial shot helps clarify that nothing is obstructing either of the character's view of the church.

We can also see that in this iteration of their encounter, the cloaked woman is standing a little bit to the right of the doctor (thanks to the curved path).

Third: The Timing

The only real indication of how much real time is passing in each scene is the clock striking midnight. So, when does that happen?

In the opening sequence, the clock strikes midnight after the man from the church has found Ruby and picked her up. We then see the woman relatively far down the road that we can see in that above screenshot, and THEN we see the TARDIS apparate and the Doctor appear.

In the goblin sequence, the woman is already far down the road well before it hits midnight, as the doctor sees her walking away before he runs to save baby ruby. Obviously time moves slower than usual in TV actions scenes, but that's not all - we see the clock strike midnight before the man from the church picks Ruby up.

Furthermore, the woman has... barely moved at all in those few minutes. Screenshots from 43:00 and then 46:45.

Okay, that should be all the relevant information from TCORR. Now to get to that point!

Fourth: The Point

This is where things go off the fucking rails. Here's our orienting shots for the Point.

Just to compare the positions of the doctor's shot here, here's the last shot we have of him looking at the lady in TCORR:

While this could just be a fancy camera angle, I think the Doctor is standing more to (his) left of the TARDIS than in this above shot. AKA: he's standing more to the left than she is. That emphasises that, if the woman was to be pointing at him when she turns around, she should be pointing to her right.

But I don't think she is -- especially in that wide shot, her arm looks like it's going wide. It's going more to the left than it should be. If RTD hadn't explicitly said the 'who's pointing at who' was significant, I would be fine with accepting that she's pointing at the doctor -- especially since that's how the doctor reads it.

And if we go back to the layout of the church, the things she could be pointing at are, in order of exactly how far to the left she'd have to point:

something just behind the doctor (would explain how close the point is to him)

the path up to the church

the clock tower

ruby/the baby

Regardless of where she's pointing, I think the implication is that there's someone else at the scene, doing something that the doctor didn't notice (perhaps due to his own bias with mother figures).

Wild Speculation:

Now, what do I think this means? Honestly, no idea LOL. It's still all just vague enough it could go in fifty different directions. But we know for sure that the moment where Ruby Sunday was left at the church is a moment in flux, thanks to the the Doctor's memory changing + the song in the background being different in Devil's Chord.

Part of me wonders if there's something (someone?) hiding inside that memory/moment in time? Like how Thirteen hid her companions inside their own time stream to try and buy time away from the swarm guys? It would explain the Maestro's reaction -- 'he couldn't have been there[...] on the night of her birth' -- in the devil's chord, the young boy is a harbinger. Maybe ruby is the harbinger of something too? That could also explain why it started snowing in the TARDIS after 15 scanned her -- the same thing happened when Maestro started trying to pull out her song.

Then if you go with the changeling angle, it's entirely possible we're about to get a shell game with babies 2: electric boogaloo (thanks russel for saying we should rewatch a good man goes to war, i'll never sleep again 👍). Maybe while the doctor's too busy watching the cloaked woman, someone else is intervening, switching her baby for ruby? Or doing something To her baby that explains why ruby is so... wrong, for lack of a better word?

Also, looking between the opening sequence vs the goblin sequence timing, we have several minutes where the cloaked woman is totally unaccounted for in the latter, as well as an entire interaction between her and the doctor that... didn't happen? Or did happen, but was forgotten? Unwritten? Rewritten? Etc.?

If I had to make a bet (and let's be honest, what else are we doing while theorising LOL), I'd say that something about that night has been memory-holed out of existence. Possibly a doomed timeline that righted itself, ala 73 yards, but left just enough trace that the people involved know something happened (ruby knows she's been to wales three times before, the doctor knows he was pointed at).

I think it was triggered when the lady and the doctor got too close to each other (did she hear that the goblin ship was taking her baby? did she turn around and see something she otherwise would have missed?), and realised something about each other (or ruby?) that needed to stay dormant. the cold opening implies the doctor learns her name, and since there don't appear to be any time of the angels sneaky outfit change moments, i can only assume it happened here, somewhere in this memory.

And hell, in for a penny in for a pound, maybe it all got undone (retconned, in universe, in real time), because the Doctor shouldn't learn about the cloaked woman until the finale? Spoilers? In TV meta, did the director tell all the other actors (the church man + the cloaked lady) to hold in place until the doctor was back in position?

[Final note, regarding the continuity error I noted first up, in TV shows with ad breaks factored in -- brief fades to black at dramatic moments, then the last ten seconds play again to remind the audience what's happening -- sometimes directors would use different takes for before and after the ad break. Maybe that's the explanation for the tear -- in universe, that cold open stopped in its tracks the moment the opening was cued to play. It then started again with a doctor who had last cried several minutes ago, and the scene played out as intended.]

Anyway fellow 'the mistakes are in there on purpose' believers how are we FEELING!!!!!