#GOD I HEARD THE NAME IN THE WILD I THOUGHT I FINALLY LOST IT

[multi-fandom-imagine]

can you do husk x fem!reader where she's giving him head under the bar table?

A/n: I thought I lost this request 😩

Husk looked tense, too tense for your taste and you did not like it. So you decided to take matter's into your own hands, making sure that his back was turned and no one was around you slipped under the bar.

The demon didn't even get a chance to register what was happening as your fingers unbuckled his pants.

Husk gritted his teeth, his eyes flicking down towards you, the demon gritted his teeth feeling your hands dip into his pants.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Grinning, you looked up at him as you let out a hum. "I just wanted to suck you off, I can leave if you want." You gave Husk a smile pout.

"Shit...Just try not to get us caught" he murmurs, his voice husky.The thought of your lips wrapped around him while anyone could walk in turned him on, he couldn't help but grow hard at the thought.

His hands caress your body, his touch gentle and loving. He positions himself,stepping closer to the bar-top, giving you easy access. "You don't know how good you look right now" he says, his voice filled with anticipation.

Smiling,you tugged the clothing down just enough for his cock to spring free, running your tongue over your lips you then took him in your mouth, as Husk lets out a low groan of pleasure. His hands thread through your hair, guiding you, but never forcing. He watches you with adoration and desire, his eyes locked on your every movement.

Though he had to pull his gaze away from you as he heard the familiar voice of Angel Dust, his hand shaking as he wiped down the bar.

His heart pounding in his chest as Husk did his best to not thrust into your mouth, Angel was talking to him but it wasn't even registering in his mind.

The feeling of your warm mouth and skilled tongue on him was driving him wild. He can't help but let out soft, breathy moans, lost in the sensation of your lips and tongue working their magic. His body tenses, his pleasure building rapidly.

"Fuck" he whispers, voice strained.

"You say somethin?" Angel Dusk asked trying to peer over the bar only for Husk's hand slammed down.

Claws now digging into the wood, Husk took a shaky breath in. "Ya, I asked what you fuckin wanted."

His heart was pounding rapidly in his chest feeling your tongue glide across his cock until you started to suck the tip.

As you continue your ministrations, he reaches the edge of his pleasure, his release imminent. God he wanted to groan out your name, his head falling on the bar top not caring anymore as finds his release, his hips pushing in more as he spills himself into your mouth.

He wished he could see you, watch as you swallow his release, he can already see your eyes filled with adoration.

Chest heaving, he could feel your hands on his shaft jerking you a few more times before you finally tucked him into his pants. He was about to protest until you sat yourself on the bar top. "Hey Anthony~"

Letting out a laugh, Angel Dust gave you a wink as stepped away from the bar. "Shoulda known you were getting sucked off while talkin to ya."

Gritting his teeth, Husk adverted his gaze from him. "Shut up! Don't fucking tell anyone either."

"Ya, ya, hope you two had fun. Maybe next time you two can make a porno."

Watching him leave, a small chuckle escaped your lips as you then pulled him in for a kiss. "How do you feel."

"Slightly less irritated" he murmurs against your lips, though it didn't mean that he wasn't grateful for what you did for him

"Thank's darlin, i love ya."

Smiling, you then nuzzled into his chest as your eyes slipped closed. "Hmm I love you too handsome."

"So...bout that porno?"

[heartfullofleeches]

Graduation Teaser

A teaser for my yan final girl and slasher/loser reader fic. Shooting to be done by tomorrow, but no promises. Reader's gender is never stated, but in the full fic they have a penis as there will be smut. Warnings for bullying/Reader having trauma from said bullying

-

"Class of 20XX, bitches!"

They say its supposed to be the highlight of any young adult's life.

The crossroads between the freedom of youth and the cruel reality those just stepping out into the world have to face.

You wish...

You've known that reality for a long time now. Whenever your alarm rang for school. Everytime you hid in crowds and bathrooms praying for just one normal day. When you had to learn how to treat cuts and cover bruises- That bitter, spiteful reality has beaten you, broken you, and spat you back years before your life truly began...

And now the culprits would meet their happy end.

You could see them on the stage now- Smiling and waving to family. Hugging each other and shedding a fraction of the tears you've spilled over the years with more happiness than your anguish filled heart had known since it all began. You nearly lost what little food you've been able to keep down when the girl that said your value as a person was the equivalent of that of roadkill cried over the microphone about starting school to become a nurse. It's not a big surprise to you, really, but the thought of what her future patients will have to endure or being one of those patients made you sick to your stomach. Why did they make this ceremony mandatory-

You can't do it- You can't be here anymore. Why do you have to sit through everyone who's either made your life hell or turned a blind eye to your suffering have the time of theirs? It's not fair, just looking at their happy faces makes you short of breath. As you catch it, pulling on the tight collar of your robes - you overhear whispers in the surrounding crowd. Your name slips through a few pairs of lips here and there, and it's like you've been dragged kicking and screaming back to the not-so long passed yesteryears of the past. A body moves in the endless, suffocating sea. They push through and politely decline the advances of friends and acquaintances, clearing their way towards your general direction. A smile perfected by braces they cried about and still had to wear proceeding into college singles you out and fills your chest with dread.

Oh God... Not her.

You cross your middle finger with your index. Please be looking for someone else....

"H-hey! Glad I was able to catch you before you left."

Please, please, please- You whip your head around violently as if searching for some fictitious third party. Huffing, the girl snaps the manicured talons she called nails in your face. Your entire body locks up as her nails graze your cheek. You attempt to relax your shoulders with little gained in your favor, hoping the only slight tension in your muscles would be enough for her not to notice-

But as always, luck laughs at your pitiful prayers.

She places a hand over her mouth. "Oh, gosh- Did I scare you? I just thought you didn't hear me."

It's a struggle to force yourself to look at her. You stare anywhere close enough to her eyes to hopefully give off the impression of making eye contact. The freckles kissing the bridge of her nose. Curly strands of chestnut hair dangling from the wild mane she styled herself for the occasion and refused to stuff beneath a cap. Anything to keep you from looking into those eyes. Anything to prevent believing a word she says. She seemed happy enough just having your attention.

"I heard you, but-" You swallow, tongue feeling swollen and drilled to the floor of your mouth. You force a bit of laughter that sounds more like a bark in your ears. "I thought you were talking to someone else. Big crowd, y'know?"

Her hands fall to her chest as she exhales a sigh of relief. "Oh, Good. You've avoided me so much in school I thought you might've been terrified of me!"

What a crazy assumption.

"Aaaanyways, that's part of the reason I wanted to talk to you. Got any plans for the summer?"

Yes. Say yes. Even if it's a lie, just say-

"No."

Stupid.

"Yay!" She claps her hands together, bouncing on her heels like a child who's been given permission to stay up an hour later than their bedtime. She clears her throat, smile wavering as a blush something furious rushes to her pale cheeks. "Well, not that you have nothing to do. Since you have no plans, I was kinda maybe sorta hoping you come out with and a small group of friends to my parents cabin for a couple nights. Won't take up too much of your summer. I was just hoping we could make some final memories to cherish before we all go off to college."

She's talking as if you were apart of that group. Your eyes shoot over her shoulder, following the trail she came from. There's still enough people pushed aside that you can see the little gathering she was with before. They're all there. Ali. Bailey. Michael. Luke. Every single classmate that made you beg your parents to move you to a new school til your throat felt liked it'd bleed. Of course they said no. Too many opportunities here, and to get to any other school near-by on time you'd have to wake up when the night was still young. The world around you feels so distant until the pain of your nails piercing your palm racks up your arm.

"I... actually might be doing something around that time."

"But I haven't given you anything specific yet."

You take a step back, foot catching in your robes. It felt like you were drowning in them, and her gaze. They'd definitely kill you out there or do something much, much worse. There probably wouldn't even been enough pieces for people to find. Nobody would even look for someone like you.

"Y/n?"

Your wrists is in her hands. When did that happen? She pulls you upright and smoothes out your robes. She's a lot stronger than her gentle skin and shorter height would let on. Seriously, it's like touching cotton. A few years back her touch might've meant something, but now even thorns would feel like a soft blanket if they kept you safe from here.

"I know you haven't had the best experiences with us, but it's not just me asking you to come. Everyone wants to apologize to you. Make amends wherever we can. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

Shes told that lie before. Her knuckles brush your cheek, stroking the bone in tiny circles that instinctively draws your attention towards her and lowers your guard. Looking up, your eyes lock for the first time during the duration of your conversation.

"Y/n... I need you to be there."

You stare into her eyes....

You're going to die out there.

[dearestgojo]

Ride a Cowboy, Save a Horse

Cowboy Stripper Gojo x Fem reader.

Warnings: 18+. Roomates. Strip club. Cunnilingus. Window sex. Doggy. Creampies. Mating press. Multiple Orgasms. Pussyjob.

Wc: 5k | JJK Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It smells.

That's the first thought that crosses your mind when you step through the threshold of the door from the long hallway your found yourself walking down; the stench of cigarettes, alcohol, and sex was heavy in the air as you followed the bride-to-be and her entourage of giggling bridesmaids. They're all tumbling towards one of the circular tables, legs unsteady from drinking too much.

You don't want to be here; you would much rather be back at the hotel, under the heavy white duvet that kept you warm from the AC. It has been a long day of trying to direct you to reach all the places you need to go to and that no one got lost.

 It was your job as maid of honor after all to make sure the bride had the time of her life before she married the love of her life. And you had almost gotten to finally get the rest you had craved so dearly when one of the half-drunk bridesmaids had brought up a themed strip club that just so happened to be only a few short minutes from where you were eating.

And now you were sitting here on a velvet couch, more drinks served by men dressed as cowboys. Tonight's theme was the wild west. Most of them were only wearing speedos, cowboy hats, squared boots with spurs, and exaggerated southern accents.

You almost want to laugh at how the women were all over the men. At how their manicured fingers would run over the stripper's abs while they stuffed dollar bills into the waistband of their pants. How they giggled as they were called little missus, pretty little thing, darlin, and other overused southern pet names. 

At one point it becomes too much to handle, and you have to stand up to leave. Your friend, the bride, grabs onto your wrist and looks up at you through half alcohol-dazed eyes. Slurring as she asks, “Where are you going?” 

You smile gently at her, removing her hand easily, “Just need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay. Hurry though, I heard their show's on this night are the be

You nod your head and turn to weave yourself through the women's back of the club where you had seen a sign that read restrooms. There is a short hallway with three doors are at the end; one is directly in front of you while the two other doors are lined up against the same wall, the women’s sign nailed right in the middle. You stop in between them, eyeing both identical doors, trying to determine which one would lead you to the bathroom. With your hand reaching for the one to your right, you turn it and push it open. The door swings open all the way, fluorescent lights shining down along a stretched hallway and on the last person you expected to see.

Right in front of you is your roommate, hand hovering in the air. You can see his face shifting into shock as he recognizes you as his eyes adjust to the dimmed hallway you are coming in from. His fingers point at you as you do the same thing to him, with your free hand hovering over your lips.

“Satoru? Oh my god, what are you doing here? And dressed like that?” you point up and down to his attire, flared chaps above a too-tight white speedo, that shows off more than you want to see, a tiny white vest with fringe along the inside and armholes, a pair of pointed white boots, and on the top of his head a bejeweled cowboy hat.

Satoru’s mouth slightly opened in shock as he takes you in full. You're standing in front of him, dressed in a dress that drops just below your ass, the dress dipping in where your body curves, showing off the swell of your breasts. He’d seen you in revealing clothes, but never like this. There was never this much skin to look at all at once. Not even when you walked around in just an oversized t-shirt, and he’d get a peek of the soft upper part of your thighs. He could see all his favorite parts of your body right now, your boobs that looked like they would be nice pillows to rest his head on, the dip of your waist that he would touch as he walked past you in the small kitchen of your shared apartment, and your legs, the top of your thighs looking plush enough to squeeze. 

His eyes travel back up to your face, swallowing the spit in his mouth, and smiling at you with one hand on his hips. “Why? You like what you see?”

You scoff at him, “No. Don’t try to distract me. I asked you something. I thought you were going out of town for work; that is what you said when I asked you if you had any plans this weekend.”

Satoru shakes his head and reaches out with the arm he’s not leaning on to poke the center of your forehead, “You need to listen more. I said I was going to work the whole weekend.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, one rising a little, as your jester around you “Okay…then what are you doing here?”

Gojo jesters down at his outfit, "I thought it was obvious. I'm working." You open to ask him more questions, but your words appear to be caught in the back of your throat. Sensing your curiosity, Satoru keeps talking, "Suguru was the one that hooked me up with this job when I was struggling to make rent. This was before I moved in with you. And no, I don't sleep with any of the women here."  

You open and close your mouth, squinting at him before asking, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Your roommate shrugs, his eyes traveling down your body, "I didn't see why I had to disclose that I had an extra job. It wasn't going to change my rent or anything now was it?"

You stick out your lip, crossing your arms, "I guess you're right, it is your personal life, and I guess it wouldn't."

His eyes meet yours again, and he leans his head against the doorframe, "Now let me ask you the same thing. What are you doing here?"

"It looks like someone else doesn't listen either," you answer, uncrossing your arms, "I'm here for Maya's bridal party."

Satoru smirks down at you, "And let me guess they dragged you here." Gojo raises one of his fingers again and pokes your forehead, "Are you at least trying to enjoy yourself? You're always so tense even when you're relaxing at home."

You swat his hand away, scrutinizing the walls around you, "I was until I was dragged to this place." 

"Hey, you can at least try to hide your distaste in front of an employee," Satoru says, stepping away from the door, "At least try to enjoy my performance. I'm the best this place has."

"I can't make any promises. I've seen you dance at our get-togethers." You wave him off, opening the right door to the restroom.

~

When you walk back out to the main area, Satoru is already in the center of the stage, one of his hands resting on his hip and the other on the top of the white hat, his head tilted down. As soon as the music starts, he swivels his hips in a circular motion slowly, occasionally thrusting them out, the speed at which he moves increases as the pace of the music speeds up and the lyrics play through the loudspeakers. He then moves out to the front of the stage, two-stepping forward while doing so, the spurs on the boots his wearing spinning. He stops at the front center of the stage, thrusting his hips into the air, his hands intertwined while he does as if he's fucking himself with both hands. From where you stand, you can see the outline of his cock move as he does, and you can’t even bring yourself to imagine what the view of the women below the stage must be seeing. The same women run their hands down his thighs, stuffing a few bills into the waistband of the speedo he wears under the faux leather chaps he wears.

He shakes his hips again, circling them while he turns around his arm moving in above his head as if spinning a lasso, one foot tapping against the floor and running his hat down to his crotch, pointing at the screaming women around him. With his back facing the crowd, he bends downwards and twerks; the women screaming and hollering, a few of them throwing money onto the stage. When he straightens himself back up, he moves back on the floor, two-stepping sideways, the fringes moving along with the movement of his body. He mouths the words to the song playing, holding one finger up to his mouth and then outwards, signaling the woman to sing the next words when he points at them. When he is at the center again, he points at them just as the words he was waiting for come out of the speakers, all the women of the club yelling as loud as they can, Satoru throwing his hat into the crowd while they do.

“Save a horse, ride a Cowboy!” 

He backs up a little and slides across the stage, his body bending backward, cowboy hat covering his face until his head touches the stage floor. The women below him scream when he straightens his back up and runs his lips across his bottom lip before throwing the white hat into the crowd. He stands back up when the song reaches the guitar slowly and starts airplay.

The bartender sets your drink next to you, your attention switching from the show to the alcoholic drink on the bar counter. You can hear the screams from behind you when the song hits the chorus again. You turn your head slightly to see Satoru with the tiny vest swinging high above his head, his hips spinning, and his tongue sticking out through his smile. His breathing heavy, sweat slid down his chest, drawing every womens' attention to his toned abs down to the waistband of the white speedo that hides what they wanted.

You shake your head and turn away, smiling when he looks at you as the end of the song approaches, giving you a wink. The bartender raises an eyebrow at you, noticing the exchange. 

“He's my roommate. I didn’t know he worked here,” you explain drinking a small sip from your cup.

The music reaches its end when by the time you finish your second cup of liquor. The women behind you still shouting at throwing money on the stage. Glancing behind you again you catch a glimpse of Satoru walking off stage, picking up a few bills. Your eyes then travel to the group of drunk girls you had come with, they're giggling while tossing their heads back and drinking. 

Someone taps your shoulder, turning you to find Satoru looking at you. "Enjoy the show?" he asks, running his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. There's sweat sliding down his temples, and his chest glistens under the flashing colorful lights of the club, his white hair reflecting them. 

Shaking your head, you take a sip from your glass, and decide to tease him a little, "It was okay, I guess." 

Satoru's eyes widen, and he leans back a little, "Excuse me?"

The corners of your lips curve against your glass, hiding your smile from him. "Your dancing in the apartment is better than that."

"I thought you said that my dancing wasn't that great" 

"It's better than whatever you just did on that stage. Don't let the screaming women fool you. They're all so drunk I bet you could put a tube man in front of them, and they'd go crazy." You set your drink down and smile teasingly at him, leaning on the palm of your hand. 

It's then that he realizes you're joking, his smile spreading on his face, and his fist coming up to playfully punch your shoulder. "You little brat," He puts the hat on his hip and looks around the club, "Well my number is over, do you want to head home together? I can ask Geto to take care of your friends, and make sure they get back to the hotel safe."

You look towards the setting area where the bridal party sits, passing fruity alcoholic drinks around. The bottoms of your feet are starting to ache, and you are sure you have several blisters on the bottoms. You sigh in defeat and nod, "That sounds nice."

Satoru ruffles your hair a bit, shooting you a toothy smile, "Okay let me go tell him and we can leave."

"You aren't going to change," you ask before he even takes a step.

He shakes his head, putting the hat back on top of his head. "Nope gonna give you a private show," he jokes, swiveling his hips as he walks away, "My car is parked in the back alley, it's unlocked." 

Understanding that he's telling you to wait for him there you nod and start walking towards the exit, near the stage. It's chiller outside now, the lamposts at the end of the alleyway flicker on and off, making it hard to spot Gojo's car parked a few meters from the door. Walking towards the car, you pull your phone out shooting the bridal party a text they can see in the morning letting them know you went home and got there safely. By the time you click send you're already in the passenger seat waiting for Satoru.

You feel yourself dozing off as the seconds tick by, the sound of the bustling street the only thing keeping you from falling under the weight of the day. You shift in the seat, the sound of the leather unsticking itself from your thighs resounding in the small space, to find a comfortable position. Your forehead is pressed to the cool window and your knees touch the door. Your eyes start to close when the sound of the passenger door opening shocks you into sitting upright, Satoru groaning a bit as he gets into the driver's seat, starting the engine.

He really didn't change. Or even try to cover up. What were the neighbors going to think if they saw the two of you walking in with him dressed like that?

"You really didn't change," you comment as he turns on the engine.

He looks at you, "I told you I was going to give you a private show," he winks. 

You let out a breathy laugh, reaching over to hit his shoulder with the palm of your hand, "No thank you. What I saw in there was enough." 

Satoru shrugs, his usually teasing smile spread across his face, "Suit yourself then."

The ride through the city is quiet, save for Gojo's music playing through the speakers, and you take the time to watch as the lights of the town you called home flash around you. It was rare for you to ever have time to truly enjoy yourself or any of the city's entertainments. It was probably the reason you didn't find out sooner that your roommate was a stripper. 

The car slowly comes to a stop behind another at a red light, and you turn to look at Satoru and his attire, your eyes linger on how his thighs flex a bit in the tight shorts. You clear your throat and look up at his face, his blue eyes looking straight ahead, "How long have you been working there?" 

Satoru shrugs, glancing at you before the light turns green, "Before I even moved in with you. It brings a good flow of extra cash."

You nod and turn back to watch as the lights blur into one another, the city slowly dying and streets emptying. "Why didn't you tell me though? Did you think it'd change my opinion of you or something?"

His thumbs tap against the curve of the steering wheel, and he shakes his head, "I told you, there really was no point in telling you." Satoru turns to look at you, "But since we're on the subject, would it have changed how you saw me?"

You don't answer immediately, facing the road ahead of you, you actually think about it the rest of the ride home. Watching the city gets left behind when Satoru turns onto the street your apartment building is in, all the lights from the other tenants are turned off, leaving only the street posts and the garden lights. You hear Satoru's door click open, and that's when you respond, shaking your head and turning to him fully. "It couldn't have. I...I might have teased you for a bit, but I think I would have acted as usual." 

You don't expect to do the next thing. You lean over the console and press your lips to his. It comes out of nowhere, but his lips are pressed to yours. It's a short kiss. So short it barely qualifies. But it's longer than a peck. 

You stare at him when he pulls back, his blue looking into yours to see how you react. He's nervous that'll you'll ask him to move out. Or that you'll move out. He opens his mouth to apologize, hundreds of excuses on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't get a chance to voice any of them because just as the fist vowel makes it past his lips, your mouth is on his. 

Your smaller hands gripping the vest he wears, pulling him into you. Something must have bitten you between the club and the ride to your shared apartment because never in a million years would you have dreamed, even thought of, kissing Satoru Gojo in the parking lot while he was dressed like a slutty cowboy.

~

The door barely closes behind you when Satoru's lips meet yours. His short-clad hips press against your tummy as he forces his tongue into your mouth. His hands cup your jaw, his thumb brushing against your lips, as he desperately explores every inch of your mouth. You can feel his left hand sliding behind your head, his thumb resting comfortably at the back of your ear, long fingers threading through your hair before he pulls on it angling your head further back, deepening the kiss. 

You feel crowded, pressed against the wall with him hovering over you, his tongue tangling itself with yours and drool dripping out of the corners of your mouths. You don't think you've ever kissed anyone this messily. Don't recall anyone ever kissing you with such desperation. It's nice. 

Your hands that had been gripping the bottom of the small vest he wore, start to explore his chest, the hardness of his nipples grabbing your attention. Tweaking the small buds between your forefinger and thumb, Satoru lets out a stifled moan, his lips separating from yours. 

"F-fuck," he pants pressing his forehead against yours as your fingers continue to tease the hardening buds, hat getting pushed up to his hairline. 

You admire the way his face contorts from the pleasure that shoots up his spine, Satoru's lips open letting out small whimpers. His hips rut into yours, his hands finding him of your dress to push it up. Letting out a hiss when he sees the cute pink lace panties you have underneath. His finger toy with the waistband, a loud groan reverberating from the back of his throat when you pull on his nipples. 

You let out a laugh when he glares at you, "Really? That kinda hurt ya know? How about I do the same thing to you?" It's barely even a warning because his fingers are already pinching and tugging at your left bud over your dress. You shake in his holds, letting out a loud moan when he lets go of it. A smile spreads across his face as he repeats it until your sole nipple aches and is hardened to a peak. His lips meet yours again and he kisses you, pulling you from the wall and towards the living room couch.

You're roughly pushed down onto the seat. Satoru reaches to take his hat off and places it on your head at an angle obscuring your view. Pushing the hat out of your eyesight you're met with Satoru kneeling between your thighs, situating your knees over his shoulders. He nips at the skin of your legs, traveling up towards your cunt. You can feel your breathing getting heavier with every bite and lick, your hand reaching down to pull him closer to you.

"Tsk, you gotta be patient," he smirks, biting down hard right below the apex of your thigh and pussy, making you yelp, "you don't know how long I've been waiting to get my hands on you." Satoru continues his ministrations, teasingly traveling back down your thighs before switching to your other leg. The short five minutes he spends nipping on the soft flesh feels like hours to you, hips bucking up towards him. Satoru on smiles against your skin, pulling back and pushing your knees together before resting his chin on them and looking up at you. "If you beg for me to eat you out I just might."

You pout down at him, huffing as you adjust your weight to rub your thighs together. The thought of begging Satoru to touch made your pride hurt. In the short time, you had known him you never thought you would beg him to eat you out, even when you could hear the cries of pleasure that came from his room from men and women alike. You swore that would never be you, because as tempting as it was, Satoru was your insufferable roommate who would sometimes stare at you too long. 

But now that you're sitting her with him on his knees, warm tongue licking your knee, you can't help but wonder what it would feel if he licked at your clit. Grumbling you pull your dress up to your waist and pull your panties to the side, readjusting your legs on Satoru's shoulders, and give him any eyeful of your soaking cunt. "Please Satoru, need you," you whine, thrusting your hips up into the air.

Satoru's pink tongue sticks out between his lips, entranced by the sight of your bare pussy, and the coarse hair that decorates it. He gets closer to you, warm breath fanning over your heat, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, "You need me to do what exactly?"

Your bottom lip sticks out further, your hand reaching out to grip his white hair and pull him closer. When his head doesn't bulge, you swallow the last of your pride and beg," I want you to eat me out. Need to feel your tongue, please, 'Toru."

You hear him click his tongue, and felling the bridge of his nose bump against your clit as he inhales your scent deeply. Satoru hums, teasing the entrance of cunt with the tip of his tongue, "See that wasn't so hard was it?", as soon as the question is out of his lips he gathers spit in his mouth and letting plop onto your clit, not giving you a chance to retort. His tongue follows the warm spit, spreading it across your cunt as it travels down to the entrance, taking everything your give. 

You feel the breath get knocked out of your lungs in the two seconds it takes him to finally start eating you out. His tongue is long and warm, lapping at the juices that spew from your pussy. You can feel him humming, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

You stare up with your legs held up and mouth open in a small 'o' while Satoru laps at your pussy, the muscle pushing into your heat. Squirming down on his mouth when he flicks your clit before pinching it, and shoving two of his long fingers into it, slowly scissors them. 

Pushing on his head slightly, you whine, "Too much, 'toru," which he doesn't seem to hear because your lips are spread even more with two of his fingers, and you can feel his knuckles brushing against your ass. 

You squirm and wither on the couch, tears burning the edges of your eyes. The pit of your stomach starts to tighten with every brush of his fingers that reach deeper than yours ever could, and the feeling of his tongue lapping at your clit as he sucks on it. 

You come without warning, legs squeezing around his head when you let go of them to grip the end of the couch, hat falling off your head and to the seat next to you as you arch upwards. Satoru pulls away from you, everything beneath the bridge of his nose shining with your slick. He smiles up at your pressing kisses to the inside of your thighs before he pulls you up, "You did so well, pretty girl, think you can give me a couple more?"

You nod your head, brain still catching up with you, "Yeah."

Your chest is pressed against the window, the surface feels cool against your sweating skin, and your hands are kept above your hand by one of Satoru's hands. Satoru slides back into your slicked cunt, groaning as you clench around him.

He tugs your hair back, smashing his lips into yours. If it weren't for the coolness of the window you'd swear your entire body was set on fire when he grinds into you, tongues tangled and moan muffled.

He separates his lips from yours, sweaty foreheads still pressed together, "Wanna hear those pretty moans," he gasps before experimentally pulling his hips back and snapping them back in one fluid motion. Your face burns when you let on a surprised moan, your legs already shaking from the stimulation of your past orgasm and the heat of him inside of you. Satoru's lips curve up at your reaction, snapping his hips into yours again, knocking the air from your lungs. 

You struggle against his hold as he starts to set a pace, obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the living room. Your upper body gets pressed harder against the window, forcing you to turn around. The window is the only thing keeping you steady on your shaky legs. The view past the window is a blur, but you can make out a few of the street lights, and parking lots of your neighbors, even when your breath starts to fog up the window. 

"Tsk, your lucky everyone's asleep right now," Satoru growls behind you, his hand coming up to grip the back of your neck, "what would they think if they saw you lick this? Crossed-eyed and drooling cause your r-roommate- fuck- is balls deep in your cunt?" You feel his chin rest on your shoulders, the hand that had been gripping both of yours letting go and coming down to pinch your nipple, "Bet you'd like that by the way you squeezed my cock," you feel his breath against the shell of your ear, his tongue running along it, "but I'm not really good at sharing, so that won't be happening."

You want to retort, tell him that there's nothing to share when this is probably a one-time thing, but your mind is muddled. Your cunt clenching around his cock and spasming as the knot in your belly tightens and releases. You gasp for air, eyes unfocusing as your tremble in Satoru's hands, his hand finding your clit quickly to make the pleasure almost unbearable. 

You think you are done when you feel the coldness of the window leave your chest, your eyes struggling to focus, but you laid down on the rug of your living room. Satoru hovering over you pressing an open-mouthed kiss on your chest. "N-no more, too much," you mumble shaking your head weakly. 

"Sorry, not quite done," Satoru mumbles, "want to watch you cum. Want to have you cum on my cock again and fill you up." 

Your legs are tossed over his forearms, anklet jiggling with every thrust of his hips. The blushed tip of his cock bumped against your swollen clit, gliding along your folds and gathering slick. He has his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches his length slide between your folds, the pink head catching the hood of your clit. He keeps doing it gathering your slick up before pushing the head in and pulling it out. You peer down watching as he repeats the same motion of sliding his dick along your folds, letting the head catch your clit and entrance. Pushing more of his member in with teasing prod. 

The two of you groan when he finally decides to snap his hips, his pelvis pressed against yours. "Not gonna last long," he groans thrusting into you.

Clawing at his pecks you incoherently agree with him. Your hips involuntary jerk upwards to meet his hips. And just like Satoru said he doesn't last much longer, his hips still against yours after a few thrusts, his fingers finding your sensitive clit again rubbing feverishly to get you to cum again. Spurts of warm cum fill your insides while you wither beneath him, sweat dripping down the valley of your breast and back of your neck. 

Satoru pulls out, watching as a small glob of his cum drips out of your cunt before he pulls you up and onto the couch. He grabs the throw blanket you tossed over the back and covers you both, holding you close to his chest.

"So...are we like dating now? Cause if I'm completely honest that would be great."

You stare up at the living room ceiling, your stomach doing flips as you feel Satoru pull you in closer to him, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You snuggle closer to him, your legs wrapped around his legs, mumbling into his hair, "Only if you want to." 

You feel his hold you tighten and his warm breath tickling your neck, "Of course, I want to," he mumbles into your neck, pressing a kiss to your neck, "It's all I've wanted since I moved in."

© Copyright 2022. Dearestgojo. All rights reserved.

[ananxiousgenz]

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: A TPP HADESTOWN AU

PART 8

so this one isn't in sequential order BUT it's important context that helps explain the twist at the end of part 7 and also some other things that will come up again later :)

HEY CREW IT'S FUN TIME @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini

“Hey, Mista Steel?”

“Yes, Rita?”

“I got a question for ya.”

It was closing time at the bar, the last few customers finally beginning to trickle out into the arctic night air, and Juno and Rita were cleaning up empty glasses, stacking chairs, and wiping down tables. Buddy had come down from her room to “supervise” them, doing what was also known as “having her nightly shots of whisky”, and Peter was sitting with her.

“Shoot, Rita.”

“But I can’t shoot, Mista Steel! I ain’t got a gun!”’

Juno sighed heavily. “I know, Rita, it’s a figure of- nevermind. Ask your question.”

Rita swiped shot glasses off the surface of a table that had recently housed some particularly drunk travelers. “Where did that song come from?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know!! The song!! The pretty one you sing and make the flowers and stuff show up! Where did it come from?”

“I-” Juno paused mid-lifting a chair. “You know, I’m not really sure. It feels so familiar, like I’ve heard it before, but I’m not sure from where. I just came up with it, I guess.”

“Oh, but you have heard it before, darling. Have you ever heard the story of Hades and Persephone?” Buddy called, finishing one of the several shots lined up before her.

“Hades and Persephone? Like the gods?” Peter asked, his brow lightly scrunched in thought. “I thought that was nothing more than an old fairytale.”

“Exactly so, Pete. But sometimes fairytales can hold valuable information regarding one’s current situation.” Buddy slid a shot across the counter to Peter, who caught it expertly. “I told you their story once a while back, Juno, dear. Why don’t you recite it to us?”

“Uhhhhhh……” Juno had all the eagerness of a deer with a gun at its neck. “Can I say no?”

Buddy sighed dramatically before taking another shot. “I suppose I cannot force you. Very well then. If Juno will not tell it, then it appears I must take matters into my own hands. Gather round, children. It’s time for a story.”

Rita stopped working and happily trotted over to Buddy’s chair, taking a seat on the floor as eagerly as ever, and Juno slowly and reluctantly made his way over behind her. Buddy tended to tell stories about the old times, stories of gods and heros and monsters, almost like she had actually been there. She hadn’t, of course. But she excelled in acting like she had. 

“Now. Once upon a time, there was a god who was the king of the Underworld. His name was Hades, and he lived in Hadestown, way down under the ground, where the air is hot and the souls are many. Whether the town was named after him or he was named after the town is a fact that has been lost to history, my dear, but that is besides the point.

“He was rather lonely, this king, despite all his glorious wealth and all the souls living in the underworld. So, he made the decision to look for a wife. He went up to the surface to find the other gods and discuss his plan with them, but as soon as he made it up, he saw her there. Dancing in her mother’s garden in the sunlight and fresh air. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her name was Persephone, darlings, the goddess of spring and rebirth.

“He saw her standing there, alone against the great blue sky, and was overcome with a feeling he had never known before: he was in love.” At this, Juno and Peter, who had been holding hands beneath the table gave each other a look, and Juno squeezed Peter’s hand tightly.

Buddy continued: “He spoke with her a while and convinced her to come home with him and be his wife. Persephone’s mother threw a fit, of course, but we can never rely on the opinions of our parents to be the correct ones. They were married and lived quite happily after that, with the exception of Persephone having to spend six months away from Hades to ensure a successful spring and summer back on the surface. It was believed that this cycle between them is what created the seasons and the rhythm of the earth.

“The point of the matter is this, Juno dear: the song you sing to bring the flowers back now is the same song Hades sang for Persephone at their wedding, the same song they both sang to keep the rest of the world in harmony. At least in the version I’ve been told.”

Juno looked suddenly thoughtful, chewing on his lower lip. “Ohhhhhhh. So that’s why it can do all of that stuff. It was already connected to the seasons even before I-”

“WAITAMINUTE!” Rita cried, nearly bursting in her excitement. “If those old gods ‘n stuff really made the seasons happen, then why did they stop? What happened to Persephone? Is she okay? ARE WE GONNA HAVE TO GO ON A HEIST TO SAVE HER??”

Buddy chuckled warmly and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not, Rita dear. You see, Persephone doesn’t exist anymore.”

“‘Doesn’t exist anymore’? Whatever do you mean, Ms. Aurinko?” Peter asked, tilting a head.

Buddy raised an flaming red eyebrow and tossed some of her long hair over her shoulder. “I believe I told you to stop calling me Ms. Aurinko and start calling me Buddy.”

“My mistake. It’s a force of habit Ms.- Buddy.”

She smiled then, all neat white teeth and gentle affection. “Thank you, Pete. And to answer your question, I mean to say that the original Persephone is dead. Has been for centuries.”

“She’s- she’s- she’s dead?” Rita whispered, eyes wide and brimming with tears. “Whatdaya mean she’s dead, Ms. A? She can’t be dead! That means spring is neva comin’ back eva again and we’re all gonna die and-”

“No, no, no, Rita dear. I said Persephone was dead. I never said the goddess was dead. You see, the gods, as much as they would like to be, are not entirely immortal. Sometimes, they get into situations where they die, whether by man or by each other, and their positions in the pantheon are left open. Those gods will then be reincarnated with new names, and allowed to resume their place in the pantheon. The original Hades and Persephone died quite some time ago and have reportedly had a few reincarnations since then. It seems that perhaps the reason the seasons are so wrong now is because something has happened to Persephone’s reincarnation.”

An uneasy silence fell over the table. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together and figure out that whatever had happened was clearly very, very bad for the world to be in the state it was. Maybe they were stuck somewhere. Maybe being held captive. Maybe even actually dead, with no reincarnation to follow. The gruesome possibilities were endless.

“Well. I must say, that was a cheerful note to end the evening on. Let’s liven up the mood in here a bit, shall we?” Buddy said, shattering the silence and standing from her seat. “Finish the rest of these shots for me, darlings. And then, Juno, would you be a doll and play us a tune on the piano? I feel a bit like dancing tonight.”

Juno grinned. It was going to be a long night.

[2nd2ndalto]

When I Get Home to You

(Chapter 1)

Here's something a little time-travelly.

Will’s brow furrows. “N - Nico?”

It’s impossible, this boy can’t be Nico, but the name falls from his lips without real conscious thought. Nico is 38 years old and probably sitting at home in their living room, hopefully having figured out how to fix the clogged dishwasher line, which is what he’d been planning on doing when Will left early this morning.

Will Solace jogs down the steps of the Health Sciences building. He’s been teaching since eight this morning, but now it’s finally Friday afternoon - arguably the best hours of the whole weekend.

Will takes a deep breath of the crisp, sunlit autumn air as he sets off towards the path that will lead him to the edge of the university campus, thinking vaguely that maybe he and Nico can take a drive this weekend, look at the leaves. Will is lost in a vision of colours flashing by the window, one hand on the steering wheel and the other clasped in Nico’s when he feels an unpleasant tingle in his neck. Shit.

He glances around, half apprehensive, half irritated. He really doesn’t want to make time for this right now. He wants to get home, get out of his work clothes, maybe walk the dog. The further he’s gotten into his thirties - and now nearly forty - the monsters just don’t seem that interested in him. And he’s definitely not complaining. It’s better for Nico too, if not quite as much. That’s what you get for being a Big Three, Will supposes. He’s heard the same from Percy and Annabeth.

He’s not in the fighting shape of his teens and early 20s, but if nothing else, Will likes to think he’s gotten smarter. And better with the short blade Nico insists he carry with him everywhere. He draws it now, vaguely aware of the disconnect between his usual amiable professor self and the monster hunter who carries a knife in his belt. Well, today, his backpack.

There. There’s a small parking lot between the medical school and the adjoining building, and Will sees a… flash. Like, the clash of a sword, maybe? For a moment he considers turning and walking resolutely in the opposite direction, but now he’s a bit curious. Is it another demigod? And he feels drawn, in a weird way. Normally he's not drawn to monsters, but no time to think about that now.

A few yards closer and he can see - yes, it must be another demigod… and a… Will honestly can’t remember. All the monsters have started to blend together now that he doesn’t need to think about them on a daily basis. Something spiny. And whomever this demigod is, he’s good. Dodging and parrying, his sword flashing through the afternoon sunlight. But gods, he looks young - short and insubstantial, and he’s alone - and Will increases his pace towards the fight mainly for that reason.

It’s not necessary, apparently, as the slight, dark-haired boy strikes one final blow and the monster crumbles to dust. The boy stands there with his back to Will, shoulders heaving.

“Nice one,” Will calls from behind him, hoping not to startle the boy. It doesn’t work. The boy whips around, his dark blade pointed directly at Will's chest, dark eyes wild and alert.

“Hey, sorry,” Will puts up his hands, his knife clattering to the ground. “I didn’t mean to startle you - I just felt the… monster,” he waves one hand vaguely, “and I thought you might need help.”

“I don’t,” the boy says shortly, lowering his sword a bit, his posture still tense. Will’s eyes follow the blade as it moves away from his chest and points towards the pavement instead.

“Hey, that’s…” Will’s brow furrows. He’s awfully familiar with Nico’s weapon of choice, and this one looks startlingly similar. Honestly, the number of times he’s moved it off the kitchen counter, or shoved it off the couch so he can sit down. Will can’t help the way his fingers twitch towards the blade.

“Don’t," the boy warns, sharp, and Will drops his hand immediately.

“Sorry, I just… sorry,” Will says again. He shakes his head, confused. “Your sword…” Then he lifts his eyes from the sword and takes a good look at the young boy’s face for the first time. Will’s body flashes hot and then cold. No. It can’t be. Can it?

Will’s brow furrows. “N - Nico?”

It’s impossible, this boy can't be Nico, but the name falls from his lips without real conscious thought. Nico is 38 years old and probably sitting at home in their living room, hopefully having figured out how to fix the clogged dishwasher line, which is what he’d been planning on doing when Will left early this morning.

The boy’s eyes go wide and he retreats a step. “What - how do you know my name? Who are you? I don’t know you.”

And Will doesn’t know him either, really. The longer he looks, the more sure he is that this is Nico though. He knows it instinctively, in his bones and under his skin. But how? This scrawny kid can’t be more than 13.

But then Will’s eyes follow a steady drip of blood to the pavement, and he has to put the other questions on hold. “Shit, you’re injured.” He takes a step towards the boy, and the boy takes one back.

“I’m fine,” he bites out.

“You’re not,” Will corrects, and that, somehow, makes him more sure than ever, bizarre as it is.

“Here, just let me -” and once again, Will steps forward and the boy steps back, looking cornered. “Okay, okay,” Will raises his hands in what he hopes is a placating gesture. Whatever else is going on here, this kid is injured and he needs help.

But then, he sees the kid glance over his shoulder - to the shadow of the building and he knows that look like he knows the back of his hand, or Nico’s. “No. No, you can’t shadow-travel out of here in this condition.”

And that startles the boy into stillness for a second at least. He still looks wary, but his eyes widen in surprise. “How did you -” he starts.

“Look, I know you, or I think I do,” Will tells him, hoping to convey his sincerity through his eyes. Gods, this is weird. “Please. I’m a doct - I’m a healer. I can help, okay? I promise I don’t want to hurt you.”

The boy still looks intensely suspicious, but Will thinks his shoulders relax a little. Fuck, that’s a lot of blood. Will glances back to the ground, then to the boy’s lower leg, where the red stain steadily grows and darkens.

“Seriously, let me help you,” Will begs. He’s trying to sound as calm and reassuring as possible, but internally, he’s starting to panic. Another glance at the boy’s face tells him that the kid’s compliance won’t matter in a moment anyway. He’s gone ghost-pale and his eyes flutter closed. Will manages to grab him just before he hits the pavement.

________

Gods, he’s light as a feather. Will tamps down the worry. If this is Nico, well. It gets better. Eventually. He needs to focus on stopping this kid’s bleeding, not fattening him up. There’s a grassy slope in the shade at the edge of the parking lot, and Will gently places the kid down there, carefully moving the shredded leg of his jeans out of the way until he can see the wound. Oh, that’s nasty. A slash down the side of his calf, probably eight inches long.

First things first. Will places his hands on either side of the wound and gods. The sensation nearly knocks him to the ground where he’s crouching. He’s healed Nico - touched Nico - more times than he can count - and the energy he feels from this boy is different - raw, unsteady - but also achingly familiar.

There’s the wound, of course, and Will forces himself to put everything else out of his mind long enough to at least stem the bleeding. There. He sits back for a moment, still reeling from the grief and loneliness radiating from this kid - this child. Will has healed enough teenagers to know they always emanate a kind of heady, chaotic energy. But gods, this kid’s energy is just so heavy. Will blinks back tears, forcing himself to refocus. That’s not his job, not now.

Will still carries a small first aid kit with him most of the time, and thankfully he’s got it today. He manages to bandage the wound at least well enough to protect it until he can get the kid somewhere safer. But where? Camp? Home?

In the end, Will’s worry and exhaustion decide for him, and he hoists the kid into a fireman’s carry like he’s done for Nico so many times, often post-shadow-travel, sometimes post-injury, occasionally post-falling-asleep-on-the-couch. The boy doesn’t show any signs of waking. From what Will can feel, the injury itself isn’t terrible, but he’s lost some blood and exerted his powers more than he should have, and he’ll probably be out for a while.

He debates calling Nico, but what would he even say? Besides, their house is only two blocks from campus, so it won’t take long to get there. Then they can figure out what to do next, together.

Somehow not a single person comments on the unconscious teenager draped over his shoulders or the long, black sword swinging from his hand during the entire walk home.

_____

The kid is light, but not weightless, and by the time Will climbs the front steps of their little house, he’s sweating and exhausted, shoulders aching. The healing really seems to have taken more out of him than usual; he’s definitely feeling the effects of power over-exertion. He supposes the weirdness of this whole situation isn’t helping either.

He’s absolutely not about to mess around with his keys, regardless, and he gently kicks the front door a few times, hoping Nico’s actually home.

He is.

“Hey, did you forget your - what the fuck.” Nico’s eyes widen as he takes in his sweaty, bloodstained husband and the shaggy-haired kid slung over his shoulders.

“Will, what the - what happened? Who is that? Is that my sword?” Nico quickly jumps back so Will can get through the door, clearly realizing the son of Apollo is about to collapse otherwise. Will’s out of breath and suddenly very close to tears, though he’s not entirely sure why. Their chocolate lab, Sticks, had sauntered over to the door, tail wagging to greet Will, but Nico drags her out of the way to give him space.

“Long day,” Will manages by way of explanation, his voice ragged. He lowers the kid carefully to their couch and steps back, shoving a hand roughly through his hair. Younger-Nico’s hair falls over his face, which might be just as well for the moment.

“Are you okay? Will, what the hell?” Will’s own Nico is looking only at Will now, not the kid or the sword, and the worry in his eyes is enough to make Will’s tears spill over. Nico gathers Will into his arms in an instant, one hand gentle on the back of Will’s head, the other tight around his waist, and Will clings in a way he hasn’t in a long time, hands fisted in the back of his husband’s shirt. As he tries to catch his breath, he’s vaguely aware of Nico murmuring to him, first in Italian, then English - It’s okay, it’s okay.

It’s a moment before Will can collect himself enough to say anything at all. He pulls back, wiping his eyes, trying not to let the concern on Nico’s face push him back into sobs.

Nico holds Will firmly by the shoulders, pinning him in place with an intense gaze. “Is this because of the dishwasher? Because I couldn’t fix it. I think we’ll have to call a plumber,” he says, one hundred percent deadpan, and Will bursts out laughing.

Nico grins, pulls Will back in for a kiss, and then guides him firmly to the easy chair. “Sit,” he commands. “I’m going to get you a glass of water - and some nectar - and then you’re going to tell me all about the half-dead kid on our couch and what you were doing with my sword.”

[boyfhee]

🗗 ONCE MORE | s. jaeyun

G. fluff ( 0.82k )

W. none

AN. repost yawl

sim jake is anything, but a good basketball player. he thinks he is, has a little too much confidence for someone who has never touched a basketball.

“jake, did you forget you’re an idol?” you shout from a couple meters behind him as he shoots his tenth— or maybe fifteenth shot, missing it again. “geez, you’re just embarrassing yourself.”

and his logic is a little broken. thinks he can play basketball because he’s good at football, all because they’re both played with balls— well, he used to think he can play. as of now, a little part of him dies with every shot he misses, hearing you chuckle behind him and passing teasing remarks.

in the meantime, you’re busy covering your face in the scorching sun, watching him from the far back. “jake, let’s go home!” you shout again, catching up to him, to which he replies something along the lines of ‘one last shot!’— which you don’t believe at all. he has been saying that for the past twenty minutes.

“i said, one last shot,” he pauses, looking at your eyes squinting in the sun. he doesn’t know if he should do it or not, but he does end up standing in front of you, closer than ever, blocking the sun rays that landed on your face. “you’re staring.”

you swear to god, you’ve never heard him whispering in such a hot way before. it’s crazy, you think. to find jake, your best friend, attractive in anyway other than platonic, you wonder if it’s wrong, and whether those butterflies in your stomach are supposed to go wild at the sight of him. because you’re pretty sure you’ve been thinking about him more than before. your eyes linger over his face a little longer than they used to. often, you find yourself smiling over just the thought of him— and in the end, it all ends up becoming a big question mark : is there any possibility that he feels the same?

“hey,” he snaps in fingers, pulling you out of your thoughts. “are you okay?�� the next second, you pull back as soon as he lifts his hand to check your temperature.

you step back, overlooking his perplexed face. “i’m fine.”

jake stares at your for a second, or maybe five, even more if you’re not wrong. and you’re just hoping he doesn’t find you crazy, or any of the other adjectives a person would avoid being associated with, by their crush. “whatever,”

“can we go home?” you ask again, clearly not because it’s hot but because you’re not sure if you’ll be able to do this anymore.

“why?” he looks up the net, projecting his angle of trajectory or whatever they taught you in physics a day before. “it’s not that hot, y/n.”

it is, you want to say. you want to tell him that it’s hot, and really hard for you to watch him taking shots at the game while his hair is almost drenched in sweat, the swamp white t-shirt not at all helping with his toned muscles as it sticks to his body. you’re afraid that if he doesn’t stop, you’ll end up kissing him right there.

it hits you how sunghoon stated that you’re down bad for his best friend, at which you threw a water bottle at him that gave him a minor bruise for week, and no matter how much you denied it that time, he is still right.

“jake,” you call his name, this time putting a much needed emphasis to get his attention off the game. and when he doesn’t look, you finally sigh in defeat. “y'know what, i’m going home. got geography homework to finish.”

his eyes met yours. “one more shot, please?

"gosh jake—” you step closer to him. “aren’t you tired? we both know you’re not getting anywhere with this.”

“what if i get this one in?”

“i don’t know, switch to basketball, maybe?” you pause. “listen, i—”

“a date.” he cuts you off, aiming his shot, while you’re making sure you heard him right. “go on a date with me if i get this one in,”

you’re not really sure if you process what happens next, considering you’re lost in your own world, heart going off crazily at his words, and before you could respond, the sound of ball hitting the ground reaches your ears, eyes wide open at the way he jumped as landed it in like a professional.

and with that, you try to calm your heart as he steps closer, and closer, and closer until the only thing separating the two of you is the ball that he held in his hands. “so?”

“sure,” you’re quick to reply, cheeks heating up wondering if he finds you weird for replying without hesitation. but all the worries fade away as his lips meet yours, moving in synchrony as he pulls you closer by your waist, a kiss promising he’ll never let you go.

[glitt3r-litt3r]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Succubus!Reader

Summary: requested above!

Warnings: Talk of sex, blood, demon shit. Eddie being a cute little simp. Mentions of killing and death.

A/N: This was such a cool concept to write!! Thank you @devilcherryhot for requesting i hope you like it!

You had been running for two weeks when you finally landed in the seemingly normal town of Hawkins. The mundanity was perfect for hiding hopefully they drove right past this hole in the wall and you could get off scott free.

Asking the man at the camper rental place where would be a good place to stay he pointed you in the direction of Forrest Hills trailer park. You chose a spot near the back, not saying hi to anyone on the way in.

That was 3 weeks ago. You had managed to get some clothes plus the ones you were wearing when you arrived living off a couple elderly men in the area. They were close to death and you saw it as a final wish kind of situation, it was win-win. No one really knew where you had materialized from but they were interested, you could feel yourself having to move away soon despite the peaceful surroundings.

One night as you stretched out in your van unsticking the leathery wings from your shirt you heard a series of timid knocks on the door. You stopped your movements and reached over for the gun you kept under the mattress. Remaining silent you walked over to the window to peek out. What stood in the place of what you thought would be a priest with a pitchfork was merely a man.

His silver clad hand resting on your door before knocking again. You watched closely as his brown eyes scanned the windows catching a peek of your iridescent green eyes.

"hey um, I know you're in there I just saw you" he spoke stepping back resting his hands at his sides.

You slipped your shirt back on folding your wings behind you feeling the familiar ache of hiding them return to the spot between your shoulder. Your tail which never had the chance to escape was pressed to your leg underneath your long skirt.

"just a second" you said shaking your head to rid your eyes of their color. You spent most of your energy disguising yourself and it was getting tiresome.

Opening the door Eddie stood flooded with light. His eyes kindly staring up at your full figure with admiration. He shifted nervously under your gaze as you eyed his appearance.

He didn't look like the rest of the town, his hair was long and wild and his clothes were that of a rockstar. You'd met rockstars, even killed a couple. This kid was too sweet, hasn't even lost the fat on his cheeks yet. How sweet.

"can I help you?" you asked stepping out into the night.

"yeah actually Um I was wondering if you'd let me take you out or something? I just noticed you haven't been around much and if you're staying here you might want to see the town some" he asked

Shocked into laughter you began to giggle quietly. There was no chance this kid could even pay for a meal let alone take you out. His face was red as he played with the ends of his hair. The very human part of you felt bad wanting to say yes to appease his quickly beating heart. That same part of you knew it would only end in disaster.

"I'm not staying here, just stopping by. Thank you for the offer but i'm good on my own" you replied as gently as you could. Turning to go inside you hear he hasn't moved from his spot.

"yeah me too. Could be fun to be alone...together"

he muttered. God he was really laying it on thick, how did even know you. You'd never seen him before, thinking about it.

"what's your name honey" you asked not looking over your shoulders into his brown eyes.

"It's Eddie. My names Eddie" he said quickly.

"hmm" was all you said as you walked back up the steps and into your camper. He watched the movement of your hips as you climbed the stairs. The way your hair moved, the smoothness of your skin, and now that he had seen them, the radiance in your eyes. He was mesmerized by you, completely and utterly enamored with everything about you. On his way back to his own house he remembered the way you called him honey and the long nails that clicked when you stood up against the door.

You waited, watching him turn and leave before getting undressed again. This time you stretched fully feeling your naked body beneath your hands finally free from the prison of clothes. Why humans ever chose to wear them you didn't know.

As you lay awake in your bed there's a nagging feeling in your stomach. Some evil concoction of shame and fear that made your heart swell with each thought of the boy with kind eyes. You had to leave Hawkins, and soon or you'd end up succumbing to your own nature and taking him.

Normally, you wouldn't think twice, he was young and healthy and easy. Probably a loner not like anyone would miss him. There was no reason why you couldn't have him, not one you could logically think of. But the thought of sinking your sharp canines into his neck made you sick. It dredged up a feeling of sadness you hadn't felt since the day you were turned into the animal you were.

Your 16th birthday was meant to be a joyous occasion. You had trusted your father to take care of you like he had done every year for your life, being the pastor of the church he had always made a big deal of your birthdays. You still remembered thinking it was going to be a surprise party at the church, and boy you were right it was a surprise. Men in masks and the smell of blood and smoke and the chanting haunted your dreams. Your first kill was your father, and from then on you had been on the run.

Town to town bed to bed for a while you were a machine, killing anything you could and loving it. Devouring men whole at your will became a hobby and a passion rolled into one making bets with yourself to see how long it would take or how far they'd go. You slowed eventually, becoming bored with the throws of sex and blood. Taking only what you needed and not a drop more to keep you sustained, eating human food every once in a while when you needed to lay low. And now there was a perfect candidate practically offering his flesh over to you at the sight of your eyes and you couldn't do it.

Everyday for the next week he just shows up, at the same time wanting nothing more than to see your face. At first you tried to not open the door but he would just wait until you spoke to him. He tried numerous times to get you to go out with him and each time you came up with a reason as to no. As the week passes you notice he's getting more desperate practically moaning at the sight of you. Slowly it ate away at you, sitting in your chest. You felt bad for the doe eyed boy and his inability to take no for an answer.

One morning you went on with your normal daily activities of reading, cleaning, planning your next escape route and location. You figure you'd probably stay in the camper for a while. At around the same time as last night, a knock. You already knew who it was, you also knew he wouldn't just go away.

Opening the door he stands there with something small and colorful in his hands rocking back and forth onto the balls of his feet.

"Yes Eddie?" you asked averting your eyes to anywhere but his.

"I made this of you-for you really. It's for my next campaign" he said holding up the small thing in his hands.

You walk over slowly eyeing it before plucking it from his fingers as he practically mewls at the contact. You're looking at a miniature version of yourself in perfect detail. He must've spent hours painting it and it was beautiful. At first what you're thinking is an elegant dress and or something you see his a pair of bat wings and a tail. You feel your mouth go dry as your eyes flicker between him and the figure. He must sense your discomfort because he begins rambling about what it's for.

"-it's a fantasy game so you couldn't be just a human, well you could but it would be boring you know so I made you into some demon girl thing, not exactly a demon but just as strong. There's a word i'm just, I can't remember it while you're staring at me like that." he says licking his pink lips.

Leaving was always the plan but this seal the deal. Even if no one else important ever sees this figurine even if it's going to be used in the empty rooms of some high school in the middle of this shit town. You have half a mind to kill him right there but it's to out i. the open. You'll need somewhere safe and quiet.

"Eddie?" you say sweetly smiling at him. His heart swoons as he tries to remain on two feet and nod his head. You used your finger to signal him to come forward. His feet move effortlessly as he practically runs to be near you. You lean up a bit to reach his ear moving the small hairs that crowd it before whispering.

"meet me at the Hawkins sign in an hour" you say as sultry as you can letting your warm breath fall over his ear gently. You're so close you can see the faint heartbeat thrumming under the skin of his neck. He feels woozy with desire as you step away and slink back into your trailer.

He walks home in triumph preparing for your meet up. He doesn't question the location or the fact that you slipped the figurine into your bra before going but he doesn't care. The waiting was killing him, this week felt like an eternity until he could get to you. Spending most of his time thinking about you, playing songs he's wrote for you on the guitar and even cancelling Hellfire to paint that figurine. Eddie munson had never been so in love in his life and man did it feel good.

He spends the next 45 minutes in the shower, brushing his teeth and hair spraying some cologne on basically everything including his crotch before getting in the van and driving full speed to the edge of Hawkins. The night was perfect fall weather, there was a crisp breeze and as he drove there were hoard of light jack-o-lanterns on peoples front steps.

When he arrives you're already there clad in leather and standing beside your red motorcycle. Your skin looks pale blue in the light of the moon and he swears your eyes are glowing. The light bounces off your hair making it gleam in the night and your perfectly manicured hand holds the mini figure. He thinks he might faint of excitement. You give him a smile as he exits the car almost forgetting to shut the door behind him.

"hey pretty boy" you say with a wink as he approaches you. Blush travels up his neck and paints his cheeks a rosy hue. He stops just in front of you practically touching toes as he stares down at you.

"hi." is all he says.

"You've been asking a lot of questions this week. Where I'm from and how so got here and if i'll spend my time with you. Pretty and curious is a dangerous combo honey." you playfully chide. He shakes his head trying to rid himself the shame of being so full of wonder.

"You wanna know who I am Eddie? Hmm" you ask stroking a long pointed black nail across the side of his face. He nods vigorously not trusting his voice. He watches as your glistening lips open to talk. He catches a glimpse of your white teeth noticing how long perfect they are and picturing them biting at the skin of his neck.

"say it baby, say what you want" you say grabbing his chin with your pointer finger. He swears he's never been this hard in his life it's starting to hurt as it strains against the fabric of his jeans. He couldn't wait to get back and tell everyone in Hellfire about the sexy woman who took advantage of him in the woods. Not really taking though because he'd give it up for her a million times over.

"show me who you are" he whispers eyes never breaking contact.

You smile wide and your eyes brighten up a couple shades. His submissiveness feeding into your predatory need to control. Slowly you back up and he groans at the lack of contacts between the two of you.

"Careful what you wish for honey"

And with that you open your wings behind you casting a large shadow on the ground below you. You shake them out moaning at the feeling of them being open. Your tail slithers from the back of your dress and comes up toward the side as you stroke it gently. Lastly you feel the horns you'd been hiding in hair catch in the breeze.

Eddie watches in horror as you transform into your new form. Your eyes glow bright green and pulse luminously in the dark of the night. Your wings flutter gently and as you stand there he feels himself going to scream but unable to get the sounds out. His heart drums wildly in his chest mixes of fear and longing fight in the breaks between breaths. He wants to run away and he also finds himself sickly attracted to the thing standing not even 5 feet from him.

You feel your own want spreading as you watch his face contort in fear. You step closer to him. Stepping right between between his legs pressing your bodies to one another. He is shaking beneath you as your grab hold of his face. Feeling the warmth beneath your palms is enough to make you moan out and he mirrors you drowning in his own feelings. Pulling his face toward yours you let your lips crash wildly into his for a couple seconds before pulling back to look into his blown pupils. Eyes almost black in the night he stares still wildly stuck in your traps.

You lean over to his ear and he squeezes his eyes shut in preparation for the death he's certain to meet. Kissing his neck gently at first it becomes hard to control your hunger as you smell the blood rushing just beneath the surface and feel the hard mound poking you in the stomach. You bite him, gently, teasing you both.

"Goodbye Eddie" you whisper.

Before he can even open his eyes you're gone, cold air causing goosebumps to spread over his entire body. The only reminders of your presence are the small bite mark on his neck, his own arousal and the small figure you'd slipped back into his hand at some point. He stands staring at it glowing pale blue in the moon and realizes you painted the eyes the same iridescent green to match your own.

///////////////////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

"...her beautiful skin is smooth enough to seduce even the most happily married men. Eyes glowing and skin gleaming she'll slip into your mind and drive you to the point of insanity!" Eddie screams at his loyal audience of Hellfire members as he showcases the new villain of their next campaign. He slams the figure down on the table as their mouths remain open in awe. He subconsciously rubs the little scars left on his neck and smiles thinking about how no one in their right kind would believe him if he tried to explain how he got them.

A/N: Thought she was gonna kill him? me too lol

[legendary-alliance-stance]

OH my god, I'm finally able to post this, I'm so excited to be able to post this!!

Here is all the idle/location/misc dialogue for Viktor/Archemorus! Please enjoy!

Transcript under the cut:

Idle Dialogue

Archemorus: Viktor and I were somewhat famous, back in the day. We also conquered a god.

Saint Viktor: Correction: Shiro thought he was a god, but I assure you he was not.

Archemorus: Eh, what's the difference?

-

Archemorus: We didn't save Cantha standing around, did we, Viktor?

Saint Viktor: We certainly did not. Though I'd prefer it if you called me by my full title.

Archemorus: Apologies, most revered Saint Viktor of zu Heltzer.

-

<Character name>: I thought the Luxons and Kurzicks didn't get along, but you two seem pretty friendly.

Saint Viktor: Oh, it wasn't always this...cordial. After we awoke in the Mists, Archemorus was angry.

Saint Viktor: It took a long time for him to accept death. But we did what lost souls should: we stayed together.

Archemorus: Oh, Vikky... I—

Saint Viktor: I hate him—I meant to say that I hate him.

-----------------

Reacting to Legendary Assassin Stance

Archemorus: Was that Shiro's voice I heard?

Saint Viktor: Shiro? Did you say Shiro? Who invited that filth?

Archemorus: At ease, my friend. He's as dead as you or I. And somewhere close, perhaps! Shall we pay him a visit?

----------------

Boarding a Skiff

Archemorus: That's more like it. The sound of the waves, rocking back and forth...

----------------

Locations

Arborstone

Archemorus: You're very still, friend.

Saint Viktor: I never thought I would feel lonely in Arborstone.

Archemorus: It may not be the same, but it breathes. Does that not bring you joy?

Saint Viktor: Some, perhaps.

-

Echovald Wilds

Saint Viktor: It's so... quiet.

-

New Kaineng City

Saint Viktor: "New" Kaineng? Too many Ministries, eh? Did they run out of room?

Archemorus: The system needed to fall apart to be rebuilt. And it was. Only took a tsunami to set the record straight.

Saint Viktor: And then some.

Archemorus: I welcome the change. The city needed more color.

-

Seitung Province

Saint Viktor: Shing Jea... It hasn't changed much, has it?

Archemorus: In some ways, it has. But the grass is as green as I remember—the sky just as blue...

Saint Viktor: My thoughts exactly. It's too bright; I miss the shadow of Echovald. Can we go there instead?

-

Dragon's End

Archemorus: This isn't my home. This is a battlefield.

Saint Viktor: At least the battle is nearing its end.

-

Atop the Harvest Temple

Archemorus: This place...

Saint Viktor: We will never forget.

[blackjackkent]

Oh my god. I guess we've all gotten past Alfira's murder because Rakha is getting every single companion heart-to-heart one right after the other. Shadowheart has decided it's time for the full backstory drop. We really need to go find something for Rakha to go apeshit on before the Dark Urge chews its way straight through her skull. ("If you don't schedule blood for your Durge, your Durge will schedule it for you.")

Anyway, hi, Shadowheart.

"There's something I've been wanting to share with you, if now's a good time."

People have been sharing a lot of things with Rakha lately. She's not bothered by it, per se, and perhaps it distracts from the constant thoughts of blood. But she's not really looking for it, either, and in their cramped camp deep in the spider pit is not exactly what qualifies as comfortable quarters for such conversation - or any conversation.

But she nods vaguely. "I'm all ears."

Shadowheart hesitates. "It's difficult to put into words," she says. "I think it might be easier to just show you. Use the tadpole - the connection. Come into my mind."

It's an interesting thing - Shadowheart has never seemed as bothered by the connection as others like Wyll and Gale. When Rakha has used it before, Shadowheart's barely seemed to notice - and now she's asking for it directly.

Rakha can certainly understand finding it easier than talking.

Use the parasite to explore her mind.

It's becoming easier now, more familiar, to focus outward, find the thread of the connection that binds them, follow it back into its source. At once she is beset with a flood of foreign images, memories of a dark forest.

"I don't remember how it started," she hears Shadowheart say. "Only how it ended. I was fleeing..."

Images of a girl - Shadowheart as a very young child. An enormous animal - like Scratch but much larger; wolf, Shadowheart's memory tells her - hunting her down. A set of masked figures rescuing her, protecting her, killing the wolf, guiding her home.

"She asked me my name," Shadowheart says as the memory begins to fade. "I can't remember what I said. I can't remember anything before those woods. All I know is she saved my life and gave me a new home. With Lady Shar."

She hisses with pain as the mark on her hand flares. The connection breaks, snapping Rakha back to reality. "Ngh. It hurts," she mutters, clutching her hand into her other palm. A long pause; then she lifts her eyes to Rakha's, gauging her reaction. "That's all I remember."

Narrator: Something sparks in your memory, about Selunite rites of passage. You heard once about how they would send their children out into the wilds, to navigate their way home.

It's a scrap of information she gleaned from the Selunite shrine they found near the owlbear cave, along with other bits and pieces of knowledge about the religion and its symbols. No doubt Shadowheart - much more versed in religion than Rakha - has already made this connection, but she mentions it nevertheless. She herself would jump at any scrap of information about the memories she has lost; she can only assume Shadowheart feels the same way.

"You looked like you were wearing a moonstone," she says matter-of-factly. "Isn't that commonly worn by Selunites?"

To her surprise, Shadowheart reacts with anything but gratitude; instead she scowls and backs up a step defensively. "You're reading too much into things," she snaps. "A childhood bauble, that's all. Just because Selunites claim something doesn't mean they own it."

Rakha nods slowly. A long pause stretches between them. It's Rakha who finally breaks it, still fitting together these latest pieces of information into a cohesive whole. "No wonder you're so dedicated to Shar," she says pensively. "You feel like you owe your life to her." She is starting to understand, at least in part, the importance of this religion in Shadowheart's eyes.

"*Lady* Shar," Shadowheart says firmly. "But yes. Her, and those who saved me and taught me her ways. The Mother Superior. She made me who I am. At least, as best as I can remember. She taught me, trained me... punished me when I failed her - which was often."

Rakha quirks an eyebrow. The slight twist in Shadowheart's voice is subtle but not lost on her. Punishments strong enough to make the stoic cleric's voice tremble at the memory - and often, according to Shadowheart.

It stinks of Mizora's punishment to Wyll - a powerful leader and a follower brutalized for failure. It ties in, she suspects, with the stabs of pain that break across Shadowheart's hand at odd intervals. She finds, rather to her surprise, that she feels a surge of anger at it as she did when Wyll was transformed - an anger on behalf of someone outside herself.

"Sounds like abuse," she says bluntly, her eyes narrowing.

"Abuse?" Shadowheart sputters, backing away another step and turning away. "Nonsense. The Mother Superior made me strong - for the Dark Lady."

Perhaps, Rakha thinks. Or perhaps not.

[babyharleezy]

Blind Date

(urban wyatt x reader)

bloo's notes: yeah so i watched druski's stream, very painful to watch but yeah. this for my baby urban. hope yall enjoy!! 1:00:00 is about when urban shows up. i might make a part two of this!

druski had dragged you to do this stream with him and the rest of the homies. you really didn't want to be apart of it at all. "y/n, you just gotta go on a blind date. it won't be that bad" druski said, trying to get you fully on board. "i heard the wild shit y'all be asking over there and you know i'm a private person" you retorted. after much convincing, you finally caved. you made your way inside the house and saw how packed it was. apparently you were going first. great you thought to yourself. you got blind folded and hooked up to the polygraph. you were nervous but you mostly just wanted this to be over.

"alright y'all we got two special guests going on a blind date today" druski's voice filled the now quiet room. "introduce yourselves" druski continued. "umm hi i'm y/n" you said shyly. "what's up i'm urban" the mystery man said. 'wow, his voice is so attractive' you thought. "you got a cute name" you said. "ooooh we already got some flirting going on right now" ari teased. you heard urban laugh. 'oh god, that laugh' you thought. "alright, let's start off easy, describe your dream partner" dru asked. "okay, i'll go. i like someone who's got a nice personality, good sense of humor, tall, honest, loyal, nice smile, and just overall a nice person" you said with full honesty. "damn long ass list. okay, urban you're up" druski said. "um i would say i also don't got a type. i like big lips tho. i like some ass too, i can't lie. every type of ethnicity or whatever you know what i'm sayin, i can get down with anything" he said. he sounded a bit nervous and you made a mental note of that.

as some more questions went by, they finally got into the questions you dreaded. "alright, we're coming close on the end but we got time for a few more questions. some spicy questions." dru announced with a deep laugh. ari continued to ask the question, "head or penetration?" "alright, whatever i said i was an open book tonight so. i would say i need both. like head isn't required but i would prefer it" you said, ending your sentence with a giggle. "yeah imma have to agree on that. imma need head and then go in" urban said in agreement. "okay well, what's y'all's body count?" dru questioned. "goddamnit dru, imma kill you after this shit is over" you yelled, the room erupting in loud laughter. "but um, i would say 5" you said shyly. it was true. you didn't have the time to sleep around or have one night stands. "well, my number is higher than that, uhh" he let out a nervouse chuckle before he continued. "my number is higher than that even if you doubled it a few times but i've lost count" he said, mumbling the last part, he was being honest. you admired his honesty but his body count did intimidate you. "okay y'all, the last question before the reveal. do you guys see yourselves going on a date with each other?" ari asked. you chuckled before answering, "um yeah, he seems like a nice person. i don't mind" "i mean, she hit every single thing on my check list so i think imma have to take her out and get to know her. if she's down" urban said. "i can see y'all going on a little something something" ari said. "alright alright, it's reveal time" druski announced.

the minute urban took his blindfolds off he was taken aback at your beauty. he could've sworn you were an angel sent by god himself. you took your blindfold off and made your way to look at the unknown boy. you instantly fell in love with the boy. his beautiful eyes, plump lips, and not to mention the nose ring which drove you crazy. you both blushed. as soon as you were unhooked from everything the two of you stepped aside and started talking as everyone was getting ready for the next people to get tormented.

"i think you're pretty cute and i would love to get to know you more" urban said shyly. "oh, i think you're pretty cute too, let me take your number down" you said. he told you his number and you saved his contact under "tarzan". "really? tarzan?" he questioned, busting out laughing. "well it's not my fault you remind me of tarzan" you said, laughing with him. you shot him a text, making sure it went through. the rest of the night the two of you ended up being stuck to each other. you got to know each other very well and you even got to know a bit about jack as the three of you conversed throughout the night.

as the night was coming to an end, you were just about to order an uber but before you could you heard the voice of tarzan urban, "hey, i can drive you home, don't waste your money on an uber" he offered. "no, no don't worry about it" you said. "nah, i would feel much better if i knew you were getting home safe. pretty ladies like you shouldn't get in uber's this late at night" he argued. "okay, sure but i owe you" you said. "how about, tomorrow at 6? dinner?" he questioned. "i would love to" you said with a huge smile on your face. "wonderful" he replied, never breaking eye contact. you said your good bye's to everyone and so did urban, informing everyone that he was driving you home. on the way to your house, urban thought to himself damn, i could see myself getting used to this.

as urban pulled into your driveway, you thanked him for driving you home and you gave him a small kiss on his cheek. he watched you make you way to your door, unlocking it and giving him a small wave just before you shut the door behind you. he made sure you got inside safely before heading back home. you managed to give him butterflies all night and no one had ever managed to do that to him. that's how he knew, you were the one for him.

[whitewolf2759]

Asking Her Out-Clara Oswald

Hey guys I have only just started posting my stories so there may be some mistakes but I hope you enjoy them anyway.

You had been traveling for so long you had lost track of how long however that had little effect on you seeing a you were a timelord the last of your kind or so you thought, this changed when you met the Doctor.

The events leading to your meeting was what you expect seeing as you had heard about the stories of the Doctor at the academy, the wourld was in danger and you had run into him and his beautiful companion Clara.

After saving the day the Doctor had asked you to travel with them but you had your own adventures to go on with your own TARDIS, so you had wished the two luck and left.

It had been a while since meeting them and you had decided to live as a human for a bit, you were currently working at cafe but that could change depending of you mood.

It was early in the morning and you had just finished breakfast when you heard the wheezing of the Doctor old model TARDIS.

You stood up with a smirk and quickly got dressed before skipping to the front door opening it to see the Doctor and Clara about to knock.

“I see you finally found me” you said with a smug look of your face.

“Hello pipsqueak” the doctor greeted with an annoyed look on hid face.

You never gave him a place to find your or your chosen name, you had thought it would be more fun this was and slightly annoy him.

Your chosen name was Artemis. You chose the name because you love the wild, meeting different animals and looking at night sky to see moon and stars glowing. However this cause quite a few headaches for you teachers at thr academy.

“No need to frown you get more wrinkles” you laughed. The Doctor frowned further. “okay not in playful mood gotcha”

“Who are you?” He grumble as he stepped closer to you, leaving Clara at the doorway.

You ignored him and instead looked at her, you thought she looked stunning so you gave her a wink causing her to slight slightly smile and looked back at the Doctor.

“Who are you?” He grumbled, stepping closer to you, leaving Clara just outside of the blue police box. You glanced at her, Gods was she pretty. Giving her a quick wink you looked back at the Doctor.

“I hardly think that matters” you said shrugging your shoulders.

“I think it does, you have TARDIS and I want to know how” he said

“Why not ask beautiful, I’m sure she has already worked it out” you shot back.

Clara looked at you, Her wonderful brown eyes filled to the brim with wonder and understanding.

“Are you… a Time Lord?” She asked. She glanced between you and the Doctor with concern. Worried on how her friend might react if there suddenly is another of his kind. How would that make him feel after all he’d done to their people?

“I knew you would work it out before him beautiful ,” you smile, shooting her another wink. “I am a Time Lord.”

The Doctor’s frown slipped from his face as his eyebrows raised, mouth agape ever so slightly. Pure shock displayed on his face. “That’s not possible.”

“I do love surprising people” you said smirking.

“What is it, then? Your name?” The Doctor pressed.

“I’m Artemis” you smirked. “Course, you know that’s not my real name.”

“What is your real name? Gallifrey’s gone. You can tell me.” He said

You raised a brow towards him. NI don’t think so,” your smile widened mischievously.

Your eyes locked on Clara. “You know, you’re very beautiful.” Clara looked away and attempting to hide her blush.

“I think I’d like a word alone with dear, Clara.” You said still smiling from her reaction.

“If you try anything—

“Doctor,” Clara interrupted. “Let me talk to them. I’ll be fine.”

“Very well call if she tries anything.”

He closed the door behind him and Clara looked back to you. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Clara are you seeing anyone?” you asked with a smile

“You asked him to leave so you could flirt?” She raised a brow at you, causing your smile to widen.

“Maybe, that alright with you?” you replied with a flicker of mischief is your eyes

“So Artemis who are you?”

“Hmm, are you asking my name?”

“Maybe,” she nodded. “That alright with you?”

You grinned wide this girl would be the death of you if you let her. And you were willing to. You were head over heels for this Clara, and this was your second time seeing her.

“Well,” you whispered, leaning in closer. “I could tell, but there would be consequences.”

“Consequences?” She echoed.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly be allowed to let you walk away, according to Gallifreyan Law.”

“What would you have to do?” She leaned forwards so that your breath mixed in the space between.

“I’d have to marry you,” you grinned. Your eyes shift to her perfect lips before landing back on her beautiful brown eyes.

“Hmm,” Clara considered the idea, and smile played on her lips as well. “That doesn’t sound that bad.”

“Now, Clara, we just met,” you leaned in a bit closer, lust taking over. You wanted to kiss her, but you didn’t want to scare her off so you stopped halfway

“True,” she replied

“Maybe I should take you to dinner first,” you responded, noticing Clara’s eyes switch periodically from your eyes to your lips. You grinned a little more at the thought that she liked you too.

“Is that a promise?” She wondered.

“Are you free Saturday” You asked her”

“Definitely” she replied happy smile gracing her face as she looked into you eyes.

 “Seven sound good?” You began to turn away back into you apartment.

“Sounds great,” Clara agreed.

“Perfect,” you nodded opening the door to your. “I’ll pick you up at seven, then. See ya ‘round, Clara.” Then you disappeared inside and immediately started thinking ideas for your date.

Clara grinned at the interaction and skipped back into the blue box  where her old friend was waiting impatiently.

“Well, what did they want?” He pressed.

“I just got a date with the only other Time Lord in existence,” Clara giggled, a slight blush gracing her cheeks.

“Seriously?” The Doctor stood there aghast.

“Yes, seven o’clock Saturday” she nodded. “So you’d better get me home on time”

Clara went towards her room giddy with the thought of what the date may bring

[pstelwitchcraft]

Critical Role - C3E52 (before break)

Its so weird to have just 4 people on the table I'm squirming

Poor Imogen just keeps taking L's man my girl can't catch a break

That little "please be okay" 🥺

Very worried about both imogen and laudna whenever they're separated but I guess that's precisely the point

And these are some damn good combinations

Already miss orym, ashton and laudna tho :(

I have a feeling the leylines are going haywire right now and that's why magic can't travel long distances

And/Or they're in the Shadowfell and it's hard for it to go to a different realm right now

Not even Dorian??? Yep, it's the leylines

I LOVE shoebills! Google their call, it sounds like a machine gun

Why do they keep getting attacked by subterranean monsters?? I swear it's a pattern at this point

Oooooo we're in a pretty snowy battlescape i love getting to fight in Santa's backyard

I love ashley's surprised little "ooooh! Oooh!" everytime she has to go

Yesss dominate beast!

Love how they always think matt's abominations are cute, i get it, it IS kinda cute

Damnit i thought we could get a pet :(

NO FCG! No, don't- don't do it- FUCK WHY

42 POINTS OF DAMAGE?? WHAT IN THE NAME OF-

Ya'll what if half the party TPKs. What then?

Imogen continues to be the hottest, like yes babe blow. Shit. Up

Yesssssss we have guests!!

It's Christian and Aabria!!!!!!!!

It's so cute all of them hugging 🥺🥺

Does this mean we're officially not gonna see the others until April??? Kinda sad I'm not gonna lie but I get it

These are COOL FUCKING CHARACTERS

Buff automaton 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

Nick Jonas spiritual weapon 🤣🤣🤣

The hottest legendary mage ever you heard it first here folks

Aabria is always so fun she's my girl too

I always get lost staring longingly at her tho

She's just so prettyyy

EXU was a doozy for my gay self with all the pretty makeup she had as a DM

It's going to be so fun to see FCG finally meet another automaton

Why do i get a feeling he's gonna be horny towards this buff robot? It's something in his eyes, he's plotting some bullshit

AAAAAND my girl fearne gets the hdywtdt

"Oooh, hello!"

I love her sm obliterate him queen

Old lover??? I love Deanna already 😍

Fcg and this robit rn:

Omg fcg is such a little shit stirrer

Fearne is gonna end up banging the new gnome isn't she

I feel like she's gonna bang the gnome

Oh it's been HUNDREDS of years??? I keep forgetting Chet is OLD old

I'm getting worried yall

The gods are being affected by this already?? A day ago??? I'm scareeed

I hate/love that flesh tongue is now canon, sams bullshit always gets carried away from even him i swear

The robot is a flirt 🤣🤣

The energy at the table right now is WILD

Not the HAT 😂😂😂 I am BAwLInG why is aabria so good at being a petty scorned lover 🤣🤣

Awn poor deanna 😞

This is gonna be awesome we now have this character that has been so close to divinity and can show them so much abt the perspective of life and death

Love the backstory dump

Feel like im walking around the hub in a videogame asking every NPC a 1000 questions

Oh my god this robot is so sweet 🥺🥺 i love him

Also VERY obviously sentient and emotional I'm SO interested to understand more abt the great awakening of the bots

Like, why would it happen? Who or what did this??

Oooooh that's what frida means??

I'm SO curious to know what FCG rrally means if anything

Love the cadence Christian gave this robot, i feel like the movements and voice are pretty monotone but not so much that it even feels robotic?? But it's still like something A.I would probably create? Like google translate voice but better.

Also I ship f.r.i.d.a and deanna a lot btw

Chet is going through it right now and honestly i feel like he deserves it 😂

FCG is such a little toddler trying to understand like and it never fails to be both adorable and terrifying

A killer robot with an existential crisis just does not feel good to me fellas

Love the confusing time frames at weekly d&d tables we really could be doing this for a month or a year we have no clue

Yall i'm nervousss there's GOTTA be another shoe about to drop

Like there HAS to be, right? It can't all be alright?? We saw shit blow up, we saw the key go off, so what happened?!

What do you mean imogen's scars are turning red???

[undercoverbastard]

How to Get Unlimited Sleepovers

It took a minute, but suddenly Stiles froze and felt his stomach plummet. Hale. He’d heard that before. He’d heard it recently. It was the center of conversation in passing with his dad, asking why the older man looked so tired and the reason he gave as to why Reese had to spend more time with Mrs. Barker the past few days.

Leo Hale was missing. Or well, he wasn’t missing, he was obviously in Stiles’ living room. But no one else knew that! And oh god, Leo Hale - the Hales. They were werewolves. And he had accidentally-not-really-but-kinda-sorta kidnapped said werewolves’ kid. Oh shit.

+.+.+ OR: Accidental kidnapping, lack of communication, and odd soul bonding happens! I got really carried away with the kidnapping and kid aspects so there's Gentle Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski but it's there!

Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43913400

“Reese!”

Stiles glared up the stairs, his daughter’s head poking out around the corner and looking at him with wide innocent eyes. He would not be fooled by that look. Stiles invented that look. He used that look all the way through high school and then some (even though it stopped working before he even hit middle school).

“Yes, Papa?” Reese asked sweetly, her voice soft and gentle. She was laying it on thick - and that just made Stiles’ radar go way off.

“Why are there muddy paw prints all across our dining room floor?” he asked pointedly, his hands coming up to brace themselves on his hips. The little girl at the top of the staircase seemed to shrink in size, an air of defeat already clouding the room.

“No reason…” she mumbled, staring at the floor. Stiles raised an eyebrow, humming as he stared her down. She was his kid. He knew if he gave the ole stink eye he’d learned from his own father long enough she’d break. 

“Well…” Reese finally spoke up, “it was raining! And it was cold, Papa! If you didn’t want me outside, why should he have to be out there!”

Stiles groaned as he saw a furry little head poke itself around the corner right under his daughter, the eyes almost as wide and innocent looking as his own daughter’s. After staring down the (admittedly cute) furry little creature, he sighed in defeat. As if to drive the final nail into his crumbling resolve, a loud crack of thunder echoed throughout the house. He wouldn’t want anyone out in the current storm - even if it was a four-legged little beast.

“Reese, bubs, someone’s probably missing him-”

“But they’re not, Papa! We play every day, he’s here all the time,” Reese argued, “he’s just… inside this time.”

Huffing, Stiles shook his head and admitted defeat with a wave of his hands. “Fine, I hope your furry-headed little friend likes grilled cheese because that’s what we’re having.”

Stiles really should be used to this by now. His daughter was a creature of the forest herself, born of magic and mischief, her heart rooted next to the oldest tree in the forest and her mind swimming in the highest clouds above it. She brought home more animals than he could possibly name - though rabbits, frogs, and (unfortunately) raccoons seemed to be the most common. His daughter couldn’t just find a stray cat or two - no, she had to attract the lost souls of the woods right up to their doorstep.

At least, Stiles thought graciously, they were all well-behaved. It was Reese’s connection to nature, he knew. The way she seemed to tame and befriend any and all animals. They all acted as if they’d lived with her their whole lives. Deer ate from her palm, raccoons snuggled in her lap, and birds sat happily on top of her head. They were all primed and ready for a Disney movie, not a single one missing a beat on the How to Be Polite checklist.

This, however, was pushing it. Having gotten used to the wild animals roaming around his life, Stiles’ only rule was that they stay outside. An occasional bird had flown in through the window, and a deer once stuck their head through the back door, but Reese seemed to take to heart the ‘no wild animals in our house’ rule.

At least she only brought a dog inside, Stiles grumbled to himself mirthlessly. At least he wasn’t dealing with a yipping fox or a stomping deer or a pecking woodpecker. Small miracles, right?

Stiles was abruptly yanked from his grumbling when he heard his daughter giggle excitedly, a small rumble of footsteps sounding from overhead, and a small, soft yip from the dog echoing throughout the halls. Despite himself, Stiles smiled and shook his head, grabbing out the ingredients for grilled cheese and tomato soup.

+.+.+

In retrospect, he should’ve seen this coming. It had been two weeks since the storm and slowly but surely, the dog had wormed its way into their house on a near-daily basis. It had started as the pup just following Reese inside for snacks and water, wandering back outside to continue playing right after. Then, it became normal to see Reese curled up in a huddle of blankets in the living room, dog beside her, reading her books.

But this? Stiles hadn’t even fully realized it until just now but the dog (Mouse, he’d begun to call him in his head, as he seemed to love cheese and was none too shy about snagging it when left out in the open) had been at their house for three days. Day and night, it would seem.

Stiles hadn’t initially noticed, used to seeing the two of them in the backyard and even in the living room, but when his dad asked about the new “four-legged addition to the family” when he got off of work, Stiles had a sudden realization. Mouse had been at breakfast both yesterday and today. He had noticed an uptick in giggles and rumbling footsteps upstairs the last couple of nights.

“Yea… I… Reese found him and I guess we adopted a dog,” Stiles groaned, explaining to his father as he saw him out the door. John simply grinned wryly at his son, enjoying the payback his son seemed to be getting in exchange for the troubles he himself experienced with a once 7-year-old Stiles.

John laughed, clapping his son on the shoulder before seeing himself out. Normally he’d swing Reese around and kiss her silly upon departure, but even he sensed how inseparable the girl and dog were. Stiles ran his hand through his hair, huffing a quiet laugh as he watched them play in the living room together.

It could be worse, Stiles thought, at least his daughter hadn’t brought home any stray raccoons or random deer in a while. He could handle a dog in exchange for not dealing with the plethora of woodland creatures that used to take up his backyard.

+.+.+

Unfortunately, as with most things in the Stilinski household, all good things come to an end. Abruptly.

It had only been another two days of Mouse living with them (Reese had readily agreed to the name Mouse, giggling wildly, while the dog seemed put out - how a dog could look put out, Stiles wasn’t sure). It had been fairly anti-climactic. Since it was spring break and Reese was out of school, he and his dad had been taking turns watching Reese while the other was at work, occasionally Mrs. Barker next door would come over and watch Reese for a few hours when their shifts ultimately overlapped. It was normal (seemingly).

But by that Thursday, five whole days of Mouse properly living with the Stilinskis, shit hit the fan.

“Reese, if you want to keep Mouse he needs a collar, bubs. It’s how others will know where his home is,” Stiles tried to argue, the new collar still in his hands. Reese seemed distressed by this new development. Stiles thought she’d be over the moon, taking the gesture for the acceptance of their apparent new pet, but his daughter was instead fighting it.

“No!” she screeched, her eyes wide. Stiles was beginning to get concerned, unsure as to what the actual problem was at this point.

“Reese, sweetheart, here let me show you,” Stiles tried to soothe, now kneeling down and gently reaching for the seemingly equally terrified dog. “It won’t hurt him, I’ll make sure it’s loose and everything! This way we can even take him on walks to the park - dogs need collars and leashes at the park, Reese.”

Stiles had gently guided the dog towards him but once he began to close the collar around its neck, the dog began to thrash wildly, backing up with haste as if trying to escape. Stiles, instinctively, grasped the squirming animal to avoid it thrashing into something and also to try and soothe it. The dog was whining and whimpering, Reese was hiccupping gentle sobs, and Stiles was lost.

Just as he was about to admit defeat (again) and let the animal be free of a collar, the suddenly furry, squirming bundle in his arms was… not so furry. No, it was human. With plenty of human skin. And big, wet, tearful human eyes. Stiles watched, bewildered, as the once-dog shifted into a human child. A naked human child.

“No!” the boy wailed, pushing at the hand Stiles still had the collar gripped in. Stiles immediately dropped it, staring at the child in his lap now. Stiles let the boy go who squirmed out of his lap and curled into himself, hiding partially behind the chair in the living room.

Glancing to the side, Stiles saw his daughter with tear-streaked cheeks. Her bottom lip was wobbling and she was looking at Mou- the boy with a mournful expression. She knelt down and crawled towards him, apologizing and trying to console him. It took Stiles another minute or two before his brain came back online and he pieced things together, getting himself moving into action.

“Ah… Reese, babydoll, M-... your friend needs clothes. Can you go get him some so he can get dressed?” Stiles softly asked, his hand resting on his daughter’s back. She looked at him, pausing as if she was going to deny the request, before slowly nodding. 

With Reese clamoring up the stairs, Stiles squatted down closer to the boy, trying to look into his eyes and remain as calm and collected as possible.

“Hi there,” he started off, trying to be cheerful, “we haven’t properly met. I’m Stiles, Reese’s dad. I know we met when you were a do- uh… a wolf, but, uhm, I never got your actual name. Not that Mouse isn’t a cute name but I’m sure you have a much better one, one better suited for, a uh… person.” Stiles winced, embarrassed by his own rambling and stumbling over words. To his credit, however, the child before him seemed to relax ever so slightly, his wide green eyes now poking above his arm and looking back at stiles.

“Leo,” the boy murmured, and Stiles grinned widely at him. Small victories.

“Leo! What an awesome name. How about your last name, Leo?” Stiles asked.

“Hale.”

It took a minute, but suddenly Stiles froze and felt his stomach plummet. Hale. He’d heard that before. He’d heard it recently. It was the center of conversation in passing with his dad, asking why the older man looked so tired and the reason he gave as to why Reese had to spend more time with Mrs. Barker the past few days.

Leo Hale was missing. Or well, he wasn’t missing, he was obviously in Stiles’ living room. But no one else knew that! And oh god, Leo Hale - the Hales. They were werewolves. And he had accidentally-not-really-but-kinda-sorta kidnapped said werewolves’ kid. Oh shit.

“Hale,” he repeated, mumbling it, “Your family has been looking for you, Leo. I’ve heard about it - they’ve been quite worried. They must miss you quite a lot.”

At this, Leo sniffled, a small whine echoing from the back of his throat as he looked up at Stiles, his eyes filled with fresh new tears. Thankfully, it was at this time Reese decided to return. She had a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt of Stiles’ that she liked to sleep in in-hand, rambling about how she wasn’t sure if they’d fit but she found the biggest, comfiest clothes for Leo that she could so he’d be comfortable.

Letting out a breath, Stiles quickly launched into action, standing up and gently coaxing Leo up as well, trying to discreetly maneuver him to the bathroom so he could change. He paused in the hall, grabbing Reese’s discarded pair of flip-flops and a jacket left on the stairs, adding it to the pile in Leo’s arms. The kid needed shoes, and the jacket would probably be comforting at the very least if he wasn’t cold.

Once dressed, Leo came out, his eyes red and puffy but no longer filled with tears. He stared at the ground, mumbling a string of apologies and minutely waving his hands at his sides as he tried to explain to Stiles how he just wanted to play with Reese and have sleepovers like the other kids at school but both his parents and Stiles didn’t like sleepovers (Stiles, assumed, for the same reasons - their kids were supernaturally inclined and sleepovers were a bit of a safety risk).

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Stiles soothed, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he knelt in front of him. “How about we finish off the cookies in the kitchen and you tell me where your home is, hm? I’m sure you’re family would love to see you and you must miss them, too.”

Leo sniffled and nodded, obediently following Stiles into the kitchen. Reese easily chattered enough for all three of them, filling the silence and pulling half-smiles out of her friend. They had a more-than-an-appropriate-amount of cookies with a couple of glasses of milk and Stiles was able to coax out the general location of the Hale house from Leo. He didn’t provide an actual address, but Stiles also assumed there wouldn’t be that many three-story houses in the middle of the preserve with a red mailbox at the end of the driveway (at least, he hoped).

+.+.+

Approximately twenty minutes later, after reassuring both children and rushing to get them in the car (and trying to conceal Leo as best as he could to avoid being stopped - because that was the last thing any of them needed), Stiles found himself parking in front of aforementioned three-story house in the middle of the preserve.

There were several cars out front but the house seemed oddly quiet. Stiles was hoping someone was home despite the silence as he climbed out. He no sooner pulled Leo out of the backseat of his Jeep, Reese expertly clambering out herself, that the front door slammed open.

Stiles whirled around, Leo’s hand in his, and winced when he saw not just one or two people emerge, but an entire housefull. No less than a dozen people now filled the porch and one woman was flying down the steps, arms outstretched and grabbing at Leo before Stiles could even introduce himself.

“Leo! Oh my god, where have you been?!” the woman cried, crushing the small boy to her chest. She stood in front of Stiles for only a second before her eyes snapped up and narrowed at him, backing up and shifting the small boy to the side, acting as if Stiles was going to attack at any moment. Why would he have bothered to bring Leo back if he had nefarious plans afoot? Seriously?

Backing up a step, Stiles raised his hands as if in surrender, trying to give a welcoming smile and missing by several hundred miles. The rest of the family was glaring at him and one man, in particular, was shoving his way to the front, stomping towards him. His face was downturned into a murderous glare, his shoulder set and taut.

“Hi, hi, hello!” Stiles spoke up quickly, taking another step back and pulling Reese behind him. “I, uhm, found your son uh - Leo! I found Leo.”

“Found?” the man ground out, his voice more a growl than anything else. He’d stopped just a couple of steps short in front of Stiles, glaring him down as if he could kill him with just a look. And honestly, Stiles was starting to think that was a very possible scenario.

“Uhm, well…” Stiles let out a big huff of air, glancing to the side as if looking for the words, “found is… a bit of a stretch, but not inaccurate!” Stiles reared up, meeting the man’s eyes and ready to fully explain himself, the slightest falter in his stance giving Stiles just enough of an in to hopefully fully explain himself.

“I’m sorry, Momma, I’m sorry,” Leo was crying again, seemingly shaken from the spell of silence he had been carrying since before they left Stiles’ house. “I didn’t mean to tell them but the collar scared me and I had to shift and I didn’t mean to I’m sorry, they won’t tell anyone, I promise! I’m sorry, Momma, I didn’t mean to!”

Stiles closed his eyes, sucking in a breath of air. While that string of words was not incorrect in any way and indeed told part of the story, it sounded bad. Very bad, actually.

“Collar?!” the man hissed, taking another step towards Stiles. A growl left his throat and Stiles saw his eyes flash, teeth elongating just the smallest bit. Reese, who was still behind her father but peeking out, whimpered as she sensed the growing tension.

Stiles tried to step back but felt himself and Reese collide with the Jeep. The man before him took another step and without any other options, Stiles waved his hand in an arch, pushing it forward and effectively shoving the man back until he was almost back on the steps to the porch. Stiles could feel his magic singing in his veins, could feel the rise of it in his body, the atmosphere becoming almost clouded as he draped it around himself and Reese in a cloak of defense.

“Witch,” someone growled out, several members of the family now inching back on the porch. Though, Angry Brows (the official name of the murderous man in front of him) was undeterred, simply making another step toward Stiles and Reese again.

“Look, I know how bad this all looks, and admittedly it is quite bad, but if you’d just give me a chance to explain-” Stiles tried, rushing his words.

“Leave,” a voice spoke up from the porch, drawing Stiles’ attention. He was met with a woman with a stern face, dark hair framing his sharp features, and her eyes shining a bright red. She was descending the steps, coming to stand beside Angry Brows.

“Really, please, I just want to-”

“Leave, or I’ll make you,” Angry Brows growled out. Reese was whimpering behind him again and Stiles gripped her shoulder, trying to reassure her as well as defend her through the action. He was making no headway with any of the Hales and he was beginning to fear for Reese’s safety. If they thought he’d kidnapped their child, they may not be as so kind as to treat his own with any niceties.

“Fine, okay, fine - we’ll leave. Just… let us leave, we’ll leave you alone,” Stiles placated, once more raising a hand in surrender, his eyes darting to glance back at Reese. The woman - alpha, Stiles mentally noted - grabbed Angry Brow’s shoulder, pulling him back just a step, and nodded once at Stiles. Taking it as the best form of reassurance he’d get, Stiles quickly turned and picked up Reese, sliding her into the passenger side of the car as she sniffled. Laws be damned, he wasn’t dealing with shoving her in the backseat and having his back turned to an angry pack of werewolves for more than a second.

With that, Stiles was sliding into his car and promptly drove off, his eyes flicking between the road in front of him and his rearview mirror, making sure no one was moving towards them. Once he got far enough away that he could no longer see them, Stiles pressed his foot to the gas peddle a bit harder, driving as quickly as he could back home.

Reese, for once in her waking life, remained quiet the entire time - the only sounds being her sniffles as she rubbed at her puffy eyes and her snot-ridden nose. It broke Stiles' heart, weighing him down even further with guilt. But he had other things to focus on right now; such as watching their backs for any revenge-seeking werewolves.

+.+.+

After the whole kidnapping mishap, Stiles filled in his dad (“Werewolves? We have werewolves now? For Christ’s sake…”) and made the executive decision to bring Reese with him to work for the rest of Spring Break, doing the bare minimum at the library as he kept his eyes glued to Reese who sat behind the desk in the corner, her quiet spell everlasting. 

He warded their house to hell and back, lined the doors with mountain ash, carved runes into doors, chanted protections until his voice was almost gone, and then repeated it all.

No one reached out, called, or showed up at their house. John confirmed the missing person’s case had been called off, the family claiming that they found him out in the woods in an old treehouse, spinning a tale of the boy getting lost on a forest adventure. John said that aside from a side glare from the boy’s mother, she said not a peep to him nor did she mention any of the Stilinski family members - though her realization of John being related to Stiles was obvious.

It seemed like nothing would happen, though Stiles continued to ward and line the house just in case, only letting Reese out of his sight once school started again the next week. He had almost begun to believe things were cooling down, had slowly started to consider how he could try to explain all that happened (a phone call? No, they’d hang up. A letter perhaps? They could just throw it out…) when, once again, shit hit the fan.

“Papa!” Reese half screeched, half whimpered as she launched herself at her father. He had to leave work early, the school called and said his daughter was having a meltdown (though the lady at the front desk put it much nicer). When he arrived in the front office he was to see a downtrodden child, head hung and sniffles coming out. Once she became aware of his presence, Reese launched herself across the room and hugged him tighter than she should’ve been able to, crying loudly.

“What happened?” Stiles asked, alarmed. He was staring at his daughter but the glance thrown to the receptionist at the desk indicated who he was really asking. The woman, in turn, gave a half-hearted smile, concern edged into her features.

“Well, we received a call from another student’s parents requesting that their child and yours be… separated. He was transferred to a new class this morning and during recess one of the teachers saw them together and had to separate them per the request. Their child spent the remainder of the break in the library and well… that’s when this started,” the woman explained, gently gesturing at Reese towards the end. “I’m not sure what may have happened between, a uh… the families, but both children seemed very upset at being separated. Reese’s teacher said they always got along and worked together every chance they got - it was a shock for her.”

Stiles groaned quietly, running his hand down his face slowly as he pushed out a long breath of air. While he hadn’t not expected this, he also didn’t expect this exact scenario. It seemed a bit excessive, though they didn’t know the full story, Stiles had to remind himself.

“Leo Hale’s family?” Stiles asked miserably, his eyes never leaving Reese as he tried to pet her hair and shush her in as comforting a manner as possible. Predictably so, none of it worked. She was inconsolable, apologies slipping out, pleas for Stiles to fix everything, promises to be good - the whole chimichanga.

“I cannot confirm, but I’m sure if they were as… close, as it appeared, you already have your answer,” the receptionist said gently, an apologetic smile on her face. Stiles sighed but nodded, understanding. He picked Reese up, slinging her backpack over one shoulder, and signed the appropriate forms for early release, wrestling his ID card out one-handed to confirm identity.

As he turned to leave, he saw out the long windows of the office one dark-haired young woman carrying her own child out. When the child looked up, Stiles’ heart broke. It was Leo, face equally tear-stained, eyes puffy and red. He locked eyes with Reese after seeing Stiles, and Stiles faintly heard an echoing sob before they were out the door. Reese herself whimpered, curling further into her father.

With a soft thank you and goodbye to the receptionist, Stiles was carrying Reese out to the parking lot. He tried to walk slowly and linger in the corridor in front of the front entrance just a bit, hoping he would miss the Hales driving off and avoid further turmoil. Only when he got to his car, not a single other car in the visitors' parking in sight, did he let a sigh of relief out. Reese was still crestfallen, crying and hiccuping as they walked.

“Papa…?” Reese asked quietly after a few silent minutes in the car. Stiles’ eyes shot up, meeting her’s through the rearview mirror. Reese had been nearly mute the past few days since the whole scene occurred at Leo’s house. She stayed in her room instead of going outside, she mumbled instead of shouted, and she constantly looked down - she was the opposite of herself, all in all.

“Hm?” Stiles hummed out gently, not wanting to spook her as if she was a skittish animal. It seemed the only approach recently - soft words, gentle voices, slow actions.

“If I apologize to Leo’s parents do you think they’ll let us play again? I didn’t mean to get him in trouble… we just wanted a sleepover, Papa, I promise,” she whispered, eyes downcast once more. Stiles felt his heart cracking in his chest, a sob of his own threatening to tear out of his throat. Instead, he clenched the steering wheel tighter and stared down the road, trying to pick out his next words carefully.

“I don’t think Leo’s parents want to talk right now, Ree,” Stiles began, “they were quite scared when he was gone. Maybe we can try to talk to them again later. But… for now, they need some space, okay?”

Reese nodded silently. Her cries had stopped and the silence was almost worse, leaving a buzzing in Stiles’ ears. It had never been this quiet. When he was younger, he filled the silence between him and his father. Then, once Reese came into his life, she filled the silence when Stiles was unable to. They were alike in that way, always moving, always talking, noise following their every step.

But not now.

Stiles sent a silent prayer to whatever entity may be above, begging that the Hales allow an explanation. For some reason, his daughter and their son were attached at the hip and this separation jig was causing a disturbing level of upset and actual pain. 

He didn’t know how much longer he could take it, and Reese seemed like she’d already been enduring it for too long.

+.+.+

The absence of Leo continued for two more weeks. Reese had to be picked up from school two more times and Stiles was beginning to consider switching her schools, despite the next closest one being almost thirty minutes from their house. Anything to try and give her some sense of normalcy.

Sheriff Stilinski had attempted to call the Hales twice, the first time he got hung up on before he even finished his introduction, the second led to a dead ring - he’d been blocked. Stiles was becoming desperate enough that he even considered driving up to the house again, preparing to ramble until his lungs gave out to try and amend the misunderstanding between the two families. 

It was two weeks later on a Friday and Reese had stayed home - ‘sick’. She’d barely been sleeping, eating the bare minimum, and crying. When she woke up that morning, voice barely a croak, eyes rimmed in dark circles, and limbs sluggish, Stiles didn’t have the heart to send her to school. Mrs. Barker, ever too kind and overly concerned about the suddenly recluse child next door, didn’t hesitate to agree to stay at the Stilinski household for the day.

Stiles left for work, hearing Mrs. Barker make promises of cookies and brownies and cartoons, her voice kind and cheery. The woman may have been moving up in age with the white hair to prove it, but not even Stiles could doubt the magic of her baking and the comfort of her voice. He hoped she could get Reese to eat, even if it was pure sugar. He’d take anything he could get at this point.

At work, Stiles felt robotic. He did front desk duties, looked over reports and documents that needed proofing before being sent out, and drank cup after cup of coffee. He had become the main librarian just a year prior, Mr. Wilkins having officially retired and being much too cheerful to hand over the reins to one freshly graduated Stiles and his enthusiasm for literature. As such, he was able to push off most of the public-facing duties onto the clerks, library assistants, and all the others in between. He was thankful for that saving grace as he had seemed to lose the ability to speak, his own spell of silence overtaking his life in the wake of Reese’s own.

The day dragged on, piles of paperwork, mountains of books, loads of coffee - all of it in abundance and all of it repetitious. It wasn’t until around 3 o’clock that things became hairy.

Answering a sudden phone call, Stiles listened as a frantic Mrs. Barker unloaded a string of sentences, explaining that Reese was missing. She apologized profusely, gentle sobs heard down the line, swearing to Stiles she had double-checked all the doors and they were all locked and that she’d been keeping an eye on the stairs but never once saw Reese slip out. Stiles was sure his magical little offspring had no need to use a door, but he couldn’t very well explain that to Mrs. Barker despite his desire to reassure her he knew it wasn’t her fault.

According to Mrs. Barker, Reese had choked down a couple of cookies and stared through the TV for several episodes of whatever cartoon they found. Around 11, after denying any and all offers and suggestions of lunch, she asked to lie down and claimed she was tired. Mrs. Barker could see the dark rings around her eyes and gave in, letting her go back upstairs. She checked on her once around 12 and then left her be, keeping an eye on the stairs in case Reese slipped back downstairs as she cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and tidied up a bit.

After three more hours of silence, she climbed the stairs only to find the girl missing. After checking every room, closet, and available square inch of space in the house, Mrs. Barker called Stiles. He could hear her opening cabinets and doors, shifting around their house as she spoke on the phone. He felt a surge of anxiety for his daughter and also a pang of guilt for the concern and anxiety his neighbor must be feeling. None of that could be good, especially for a woman her age.

“Thank you for calling,” Stiles interrupted her, tone clipped and wobbly, “I’ll call my dad and I’ll go look for her right now.”

Brushing off the concerned looks of the clerks, Stiles swiftly moved to grab his keys and wallet. He paused momentarily to check in with Kira - the assistant librarian who wasn’t meant to start for another thirty minutes but had come in early with baked goods for the staff - letting her know a rundown of the situation.

Kira gasped, her eyes immediately filling with tears. She loved Reese and had been all too happy to help Stiles watch after her when Reese was younger and he more regularly brought her to the library, back when she and Stiles were both just clerks. Kira had helped raise Reese and become good friends with the Stilinskis over the years, so the heartbreak on her face when Stiles gave an excuse for his hasty retreat was all too genuine.

Giving a tight, anxious smile to Kira who squeezed his hand before he left, Stiles dashed out to his car, already dialing his father. When he didn’t pick up the first or second time, Stiles called the station directly and demanded to be redirected, the words “the sheriff’s granddaughter is fucking missing” getting him bypassed the parade of excuses and niceties he knew the guy at the front desk had to spew.

“Have you checked at the Hales?” his father suddenly asked, after he momentarily tried to console his son and listed off the first handful of obvious places a 7-year-old may run off to. 

Stiles' heart stopped. He had been on his way to his house, preparing to dive into the woods and seek out his child. The most logical place for her to be was somewhere amongst the trees, perhaps holed up in a fox’s den or piled up with some coyotes, knowing her. But the Hales…

“I’m going there now,” Stiles said, tone hard. He ended the call just as his father began to try and dissuade him from going alone, the phone being tossed haphazardly into the seat next to him and the subsequent ringing calls all ignored. Stiles had a one-track mind at this point: Reese.

Going a bit (a lot) over the speed limit and almost (just barely avoiding) crashing his car several times, Stiles arrived in front of the Hale house. His car was pulled too far up, possibly crushing a random plant or two, and he was jumping out faster than he probably should have. He actually almost beat whoever it was on the other side of the door, but not quite.

Once again, he was met with Angry Brows, a glare immediately fixed on him.

“I thought I told you-” the man began, but Stiles cut him off.

“Do you have Reese?” he asked, tone begging. The man actually faltered, but quickly picked himself back up, crossing his arms across his chest tightly and throwing yet another glare at Stiles. At least he wasn’t charging him.

“Your kid?” Stiles nodded. “Why would I have your kid? Unlike you, we don’t go around stealing random children. Is she even actually yours?”

Stiles felt his veins surge with anger, his eyes light with fire, and his magic itched at his palms. However he looked - pissed, deranged, depressed, all three - it was enough to cause Angry Brows to widen his eyes ever so slightly and back up just a half step.

“Are you- no, you know what? No. I don’t have time for this. I didn’t kidnap your kid, I don’t go around stealing random children, and I don’t have time to try and explain how fucking crazy you and your damn family all are!” Stiles half yelled, taking a step closer each time he punctuated a word until he was almost chest-to-chest with the man in front of him.

“My daughter is fucking missing - yes, my fucking daughter - and unlike Leo, who ended up nice and cozy at a friend’s house, eating grilled cheese and chicken nuggets to his heart’s content and sleeping in an actual bed every night, my daughter is somewhere with no one she knows, probably alone, in just her pajamas, and has barely eaten a full meal within the last week. So if you have any idea where she is or happen to get a whiff of her, give the fucking sheriff a call,” Stiles hissed at the end of his rant, chest heaving. His glare was icy and the man before him looked shocked.

Not wanting to waste any more time on someone who couldn’t be reasoned with, Stiles turned away sharply and started making his way back to his haphazardly parked car. That is until a hand gripped his arm.

Turning, Stiles saw Angry Brows - who now looked like Confused Brows - looking at him, his throat clicking on an audible swallow as he seemed to gather his words. Stiles let out a noise of frustration, pulling at his arm so he could leave and find Reese.

“I don’t know where Reese is,” he finally spoke up, his hand tightening ever so slightly on Stiles’ arm to prevent him from pulling away, “but I’ll help look.”

“Oh?” Stiles laughed, cold and without any actual emotion, earning him a flinch from the man in front of him. “And why would you do that? Huh? You don’t even think she’s my actual daughter-”

“You didn’t lie,” he spoke quietly, letting go of Stiles’ arm finally. “Just now. And before. You never lied. And… you wreak of anxiety. Just like Laura did. When Leo was missing.”

Stiles stared, bewildered, before rolling his eyes heavenward and drawing in a deep breath. He’d take any help he could get - and this help came with a super sniffer and expert tracking capabilities. He couldn’t turn that offer away, not when it was Reese on the line.

“Fine,” Stiles said curtly, turning away. “I assumed she was out in the woods, probably holed up in… I don’t know, a fox’s den or with a pack of coyotes or… or somewhere out there. It’s where she always goes so… I guess we start there.”

“Do you… do you have a jacket or something? With her scent? It’s hard to pick up her scent from you when you…” Angry Brows vaguely gestured a hand, words falling away. Stiles huffed but nodded in understanding. 

“In the car. We can go back to my house and start there. The woods lead into the preserve and connect somewhere around here but I don’t… I don’t know where and she couldn’t have gone that far I don’t think I…” Stiles was staring at the ground now, hands shaking in front of him. She could be anywhere.

His daughter had magic in her veins. She was the byproduct of Stiles’ magic, the grace of the moon, the wisdom of fae, and the heart of the woods. She was just like Stiles but also so much more and he didn’t know what she could do. Maybe she could teleport. Maybe she could grace herself with supernatural abilities. Maybe-

“Hey,” Angry brows spoke, grabbing once more at his now-shaking arm, “let’s start here. If the woods behind your house connect to the preserve then I should be able to catch her scent if she’s been in them recently. Not like you can drive right now anyways.”

With a glare, Stiles shook off the other man’s hand before stalking over to his car. Just because the guy was right didn’t mean Stiles would give him the satisfaction of agreeing - besides, he was kind of an ass about it too. A passively, seemingly caring ass but an ass nonetheless. Instead, he pulled out the jacket Reese had left in the car after school the day before and shoved it toward Angry Brows.

Stiles watched as his nostrils flared, head cocked slightly to the side, and he began to move towards the tree line on their left. Stiles wordlessly followed, unable to do much else. He could perform a tracking spell, but that could take up to a couple of hours and he didn’t want to do that right now with how soon it would be dark and especially if Reese was just out hiding in the woods near the house. It would be the next step, however.

It was silent save for the crunch of leaves. The two men tread through the woods, pausing occasionally and switching directions minutely. Angry Brows would sometimes pause, knit his eyebrows in either confusion or concentration, then keep moving.

It wasn’t until nearly half an hour, just as Stiles was about to call bullshit on this whole thing, that the other man suddenly stopped. He circled around, confusion etched on his features.

“She’s… gone,” he stated, a confused lilt to his words. Stiles’ heart plummeted.

“Gone?”

“Her scent it just… it’s gone. It seemed faint before and I thought maybe she had gone through one of the streams or was surrounded by animals before like you mentioned, dulling and covering her scent, but it’s… gone. Even the trail from before isn’t there,” he explained, looking at Stiles with an arched eyebrow. Stiles, in turn, closed his eyes, a quiet count down from ten in his head as he pulled himself together.

Gone. Not gone as in dead, but gone as in disappeared. Maybe she… teleported. Maybe she learned to mask her scent maybe… maybe something. All Stiles knew was that scents didn’t just disappear, not that quickly. It had to mean she did something and was nearby by or had been. She was okay enough to use her magic. She was okay. That’s what was important, he reasoned.

Instead of responding to the silent questions he felt directed at him, Stiles turned and began walking back. Angry Brows matched his pace, gently redirecting as needed. This continued for several minutes before he once more broke the silence.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you had Leo?” 

Stiles paused, but only for a second, eyes never straying from the invisible path in front of him. He huffed a breath of air, shoved his hands in his pockets, and decided he might as well answer the question while they had the time. No one was trying to Main him this time around, so that was an improvement.

“Because I didn’t realize it was Leo until just before I brought him here,” came the response. Angry Brows squinted his eyes, head cocked in confusion.

“How can you… not realize?” he asked, his tone slow but not accusatory. Stiles assumed he was listening to his heartbeat again, detecting no lie. At least that was one benefit of the whole ‘being werewolves’ thing.

“Because,” Stiles sighed out in annoyance, “Leo was a pup- a wolf. He was a wolf the whole time he was at my house. He only shifted back when I tried to put a collar on him. I thought he was a stray dog - Reese bringing home random animals is normal. I thought getting the collar would show her that we were keeping him or… whatever. He’d been around for several days, with no attempt to leave, so I assumed he was staying. Then…”

“Then I had a random crying child in my lap, and that’s when it hit me,” Stiles finished, finally finding the words to finish off his sentence. He was suddenly stopped when a hand grasped his shoulder and whirled him to the side.

“That’s impossible,” the man argued. Stiles narrowed his eyes and ripped his shoulder away, moving to leave and continue walking, but the hand returned and Stiles gave a hiss of annoyance.

“My daughter is still missing,” Stiles growled out, then rolled his eyes and added, “and it’s not impossible. You’re - what? - listening to my heartbeat? Scenting my intentions? Whatever it is, you can tell if I’m lying, okay? So listen carefully. Leo was shifted, a full-blown wolf cub assumed dog, and living with us as such. The aforementioned collar was a dog collar, a yellow one with a name tag. I did not kidnap him, I did not withhold him, I did not know he was a human child or werewolf or anything besides a dog, and I did not attempt to hurt him. Okay? Great, now let’s find the actively missing child.”

Stiles launched himself out of Angry Brows’ grip, propelling himself forward. After a beat of hesitation, the man followed, quiet once more. It was only when they were approaching the treeline, Stiles’ blue jeep faintly visible through the leaves and branches, that he spoke up again.

“Full shifts are rare… and they don’t happen until a ‘wolf is fully mature and anchored. He shouldn’t have been able to do that… that’s why we thought…”

Stiles huffed, shaking his head, and emerged through the treeline, already pulling out his keys and preparing to go back to his house and scour the woods there after checking up with his dad. He didn’t have time to explain this whole shitstorm that led to his daughter disappearing. He didn’t have time to explain to the family of werewolves how he was not some monster out trying to kidnap children (which, by the way, if he was - why would he have even brought Leo back? Did they ever ponder that angle? Stiles was willing to bet not!).

“What is he doing here?” came a growled out voice. Stiles shifted and glared, meeting eyes with the same woman who had picked up Leo from school a couple of weeks ago - the same one who flew down the stairs and gripped him so tight that first day that Stiles was sure she’d crack a rib or two.

“Laura. Don’t,” the man said, walking up beside Stiles. Stiles shook his head and turned to climb back in his Jeep, unwilling to waste any more time on the jerks behind him.

“No. He needs to leave, he isn’t-”

“Cool your fucking jets, I wasn’t planning on staying,” Stiles cut her off, throwing a nasty glare over his shoulder. He watched as the woman’s eyes flared and flashed at him and she made a step towards him, only to be cut off by Angry Brow’s arm wrapping around her stomach and anchoring her in place.

“Derek, let me go!” she shouted, and Ang- Derek. Derek muttered something in her ear, all of which seemed to go out the other if her expression was anything to go by.

“The nerve you have,” Laura growled out, “taking my son and-”

“I didn’t take your son!” Stiles shouted, turning around. He had better things to do but if taking two minutes to angrily shout out an explanation would get the feral werewolf pack off his back, maybe it was worth it if only to stop slowing him down. He was willing to take the gamble. Or maybe he was just angry and frustrated enough to not give a damn anymore.

“Your son showed up, fully shifted, and was an assumed stray! My daughter brought him in. I fed him fucking chicken nuggets and Reese read bedtime stories to him. I did not know he was a werewolf, I did not know he was a human child - I thought he was a dog! We named him Mouse because he ate so much cheese! I bought him a collar - a dog collar - and that’s how we found out! Because he freaked out. So cut the bullshit, get off your high horse, and leave me the hell alone because my daughter is missing and you and your family are wasting my time.”

Stiles huffed out a breath, his second rant of the day both taking his last bout of energy and simultaneously giving him a boost through pure, unadulterated rage. At least Laura had the decency to look chastised, but she quickly picked herself back up, throwing on a scowl to rival Derek’s own murderous expression.

“Then explain why you blocked out his scent for five days, you witch,” she hissed out, and Stiles was suddenly pulling at his hair, a dry, humorous laugh bubbling out of him a bit manically. Both Laura and Derek seemed taken aback, their stances going from guarded and ready to pounce to wary and ready to bolt in a second. Stiles shook his head, laughing and tugging at his hair.

He didn’t know. He didn’t do it. He didn’t kidnap a kid. He didn’t force a shift on him. He didn’t hide his scent. He didn’t even know there was a shift to force or a scent to hide or anything else! He thought his daughter found some poor abandoned puppy and charmed it into their house before charming Stiles into keeping the damn thing. He didn’t know what the hell was going on at this point, similar to the rest of the time.

“I… I can’t do this right now,” he laughed out, dropping his hand and giving the duo in front of him a wide grin that probably looked insane, “I can’t… deal with any of you. My daughter is missing and I’m standing here trying to defend myself against something I didn’t do. I… I have to go, this is ridiculous.”

Stiles was rubbing two fingers to his temple, posture deflating as he turned, moving towards his car with noticeably less energy and drive. He was desperate to find Reese but he felt like he was drowning. She wasn’t at the house, he’d already had his dad check his own house, she wasn’t at the station, if she’d been at the school a teacher would have called, and the woods were a miss.

It was all turning up dry and Stiles felt like he was trying to build a bridge with sand, everything slipping between his fingers before he even got a proper grip on it all.

As he opened his car door, a new voice spoke up. “Mr. Stiles,” Leo’s voice came hesitantly, and Stiles dropped his head. He couldn’t deal with this. He knew Leo wouldn’t be shouting accusations at him like his other family members, but he couldn’t… do this. But he’s a kid too, Stiles reminded himself, he needs to know it’s okay and it’s not his fault. With that in mind, Stiles turned back once more, plastering a tight smile on his face, trying (and failing) to look as approachable and kind as he could. The last time he saw this kid, he was crying. Similar to the time before that as well.

Stiles wasn’t having the best track record with Hales.

“Yes, Leo?” he asked softly, trying to make his voice as smooth and even as he could. It felt jagged in his throat and sounded even worse even to his own ears, his voice sounding like it went through the garbage disposal a time or two. 

“I… I know where Reese is, Mr. Stiles,” Leo said quietly, now looking at his feet. At this, Stiles straightened. He saw from the corner of his eye that Laura looked shocked and Derek had a strained expression on his face, both seemingly out of the loop on Leo’s own knowledge.

Without care of the repercussions and ignoring any and all survival instincts he possessed, Stiles rushed towards the small boy who was now hovering at the top of the steps, looking down slightly at the small group of adults on the lawn. He dropped to a crouch, bracing one of his feet a step a few from the top so he would be directly looking up at Leo from his crouched position.

“Leo,” Stiles said, voice strained, “please, you need to tell me where Reese is. She can’t shift and protect herself, Leo, and she doesn’t run hot like you do. She’s going to be getting cold soon, she can’t defend herself, and she isn’t as good at navigating as you and your family - she might be lost-“ Stiles cut himself off, realizing he was rambling. Collecting himself momentarily, he spoke the only words that were important currently.

“Where is she?”

Stiles was pleading with a child, on the verge of begging, and Leo must have sensed it because his bottom lip began to wobble. Sniffling once, loudly, he scrubbed a tiny, balled-up fist across his face to rid it of the building tears. A stern look came over the 7-year-old's face and he nodded once, looking like he was about to brave some sort of war.

“I’ll take you. I can smell her still,” he said. Derek made a noise of protest behind them and Stiles swiveled around, ready to plead once more - get on his knees and fucking beg if they so wished.

“Lee… her scent is gone. I can’t even get a track on her,” Derek explained quietly, looking at the boy in front of him with a strained sort of expression. It seemed like he was silently begging the boy not to get Stiles’ hopes up and if Stiles wasn’t dealing with earth shattering trauma right now he may have been moved by the sentiment and the notion those words offered. Instead, he was ready to send out a plea that he was willing to take up any possible lead.

“Yea, and Uncle Der is the best tracker, remember?” Laura softly added on, her eyes darting to Stiles and sending him a… sad look, oddly enough.

“After Uncle Peter,” Leo added, scrunching his eyebrows. He abruptly shook his head, looking at his mom and uncle, before looking back to Stiles with a stern look. “I can smell her, she promised I could always find her - she doesn’t hide from me.”

Stiles choked a bit, reaching both hands up this time to rub at his temples. He’d have to dig into that can of worms at a later time. After a few seconds, he instead nodded slowly, leveling Leo with a look, “Okay. We’ll follow you.”

Casting a look behind him, Stiles saw no protests from Derek and Laura. Looks of bewilderment and doubt, but nothing indicating they’d stop them. Leo must have deduced the same thing because he was clambering down the stairs, spinning around a bit, and his nose held high in the air, taking an exaggerated deep breath of air. Nodding to himself, Leo turned and began walking toward the back of the house, the three adults following dutifully.

It was quiet as they walked, Leo pausing and scrunching his eyebrows as he looked around. He alternated between looking like he was trying to remember a path and sniffing at the air a bit dramatically, but he kept moving.

Stiles saw Laura open her mouth beside him, about to speak, but he absently held up a hand - the appendage shaking as he did so. Laura furrowed her brow, seemingly contemplating if she was going to listen, but eventually cast her gaze forward again and allowed the silence to continue.

They seemed to walk for a long while, though in reality, the trek was just slower, Leo’s legs not moving as fast as Stiles and Derek had on their lonesome previously. But eventually, he paused at the base of a tree and looked up before looking back at Stiles.

Looking up, Stiles saw nothing. Derek and Laura seemed equally perplexed, but Stiles was resolutely not going to take a first glance as his answer. He learned the hard way that magic had a funny way of encompassing the “seeing is not believing” notion. Instead, he stepped forward next to Leo and placed his hand on the tree. He felt the ripple of magic, a tingling running across his skin and zapping him straight to the core it felt. He was pushing against a spell, another’s presence. It wasn’t a ward, not a protective spell…

“An enchantment?” he mumbled quietly, looking up. “Reese?”

Silence. They all waited a moment, and just when Stiles was about to call out again or maybe ask Leo if he was absolutely sure, he heard a sniffle. He snapped his eyes to look at Leo who simply had his eyes fixed up on a tall branch, not a tear in sight, before looking back up.

“Claudia Reese Stilinski, so help me god if you don’t get down here,” Stiles called up, looking up and giving a pointed look towards the higher-up branches. A small whine came in response but almost instantly, Reese appeared, jumping seemingly out of thin air and onto a lower hanging branch. Stiles could barely reach the bottom of the branch, but Reese dove off and into his outstretched arms, clinging to his neck once he got a proper hold on her.

“Don’t you ever run away like that again,” he whispered harshly, squeezing her tighter, “and don’t even think about trying to hide from me with an enchantment like that. I will bind your magic I swear, Reese.”

Reese gave a weak giggle, sniffling as she did so. Once Stiles had squeezed her impossibly tight and reassured himself ten times over that she was right there, he finally set her on the ground. Immediately, Leo reached out a hand and grasped hers.

Giving a weak smile to him, Reese turned back towards her father, head downturned. “I’m sorry, Papa. I… I just wanted to see Leo again, but everyone was so mad and- and you said to wait! And I did, Papa! I waited and I waited but they took him out of class and we couldn’t be on the playground together and… and,” Reese broke off into a sob, slipping her hand out of Leo’s and falling against Stiles’ chest as she heaved. He felt the tears drench the collar of his shirt, snot leaking onto his neck and surely dirtying his shirt. He didn’t care, not when those broken sounds were coming from his child.

Squeezing her tight, Stiles shushed her and rubbed her back, trying to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he remembered they weren’t alone and he startled.

Looking up, he was surprised to see Laura, giving him a grimace that was supposed to be a smile as she knelt beside the father-and-daughter duo.

“Reese?” Laura asked softly, drawing the attention of the small girl. Reese hiccuped a sob, wiping away the snot and tears with the back of her hand as she tried to meet Laura’s eyes. “I’m sorry - for separating you from Leo. It was nothing you or Leo did, we…” here she paused, looking at Stiles guiltily, “we should have taken the time to try and talk with your dad. We were all so scared when Leo went missing and-”

Laura never got to finish her speech, her arms soon filled with a shaking child, thin arms wrapped tightly around her neck, and a tear-stained face pressed into her neck. Stiles grimaced, knowing Laura would have a nice collection of tears and snot in that exact spot when Reese pulled away.

“I’m sorry Miss Laura, we just wanted to have a sleepover, I promise! Papa didn’t know, we made sure Leo was a pup the whole time Papa was there and- and-” she broke off again, lip wobbling and arms tightening around Laura once more. “We won’t do it again, promise. We just wanna be in the same class again and play at recess, I won’t ever play with Leo after school again I promise. He won’t come over ever again!”

Laura was already rocking her and hushing her softly, the expertise of the motions done in a way only a parent could mimic. Any resentment or upset previously held seemed to melt away the longer she held onto Reese.

Reassuring her once more, Laura pulled back, smiling at Reese and then at her own child. Stiles was anxious to hear her next words but they seemed promising enough, so he simply sucked in a deep breath and stood up, moving to settle his hand on the top of Reese’s head once she let Laura go.

“I don’t think we’re quite ready for another sleepover,” she glanced at Stiles, “but I also can’t and won’t separate you two anymore. I’ll talk to the school and see about getting Leo back into his old class.”

Reese looked up at her dad, a wide grin taking over her face. It was as if a switch was flipped and his previous version of Reese was back. Without hesitation, Leo was barrelling into Reese’s side and their arms were wrapping around one another, both smiling widely at the revelation.

After the tearful, strained, and joyous reunion, the group began to walk back to the Hale house. Reese was happy to fill the silence, babbling and raving to Leo about the family of squirrels she made friends with in the woods and asking him question after question as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. Stiles just smiled, listening to his daughter as he sent off several messages to his dad and Kira, asking one of them to call Mrs. Barker and reassuring them everyone was okay.

Once back at the house, Laura invited both Stiles and Reese inside, promises of dinner and a clean set of clothes for Reese (“Since someone looks like they rolled across the entirety of the forest floor,” Reese giggled loudly at this but denied nothing).

Stiles hesitated, unsure if he could handle explaining (again) this whole mess of a situation. His hesitation must’ve been apparent as Derek laid a hand on his shoulder and gave a slight smile, nodding as if in reassurance. And yea, okay, he couldn’t really say no to that face. That oddly kind, if not a bit awkward, smile and those mesmerizing eyes and-

Okay. Stiles was going a bit overboard. He could pick apart that train of thought… not now.

“Uh… okay,” he mumbled. Reese squealed with delight, racing into the house before even being properly invited in. Stiles let out a long-suffering sigh. Yea, she was his kid alright. Laura just laughed and Derek gave a too-well-knowing smirk. 

Once inside, it seemed none of the other Hales had issues with the two newest additions to the mix. His confusion was short-lived as he realized they must’ve heard his explosive rant earlier and his confusion soon turned to embarrassment, head ducked down. Derek nudged his shoulder and laughed, seemingly knowing his exact train of thought.

It didn’t take long for Stiles and Reese to be enveloped in the folds of the Hale family. Reese was promptly re-dressed in some clothes of one of the other small girls running around, Stiles was promptly sat in the living room between Derek and Laura, and everyone was easily chattering.

Stiles remained quiet, not wanting to disrupt the peace and he was, after all, properly drained by now. Reese, on the other hand, seemed to have not a single trace of her tiredness or melancholy left, racing around with the other kids, hands clasped with Leo, laughing up a storm and playing to her heart’s content.

Everything was easygoing, and then Reese brought up a couple of big topics everyone had either seemingly forgotten or were dutifully ignoring. Because of course she would.

“Papa, can we take Leo to the caves? If he’s a wolf, he can fit into the small ones! There might be treasure or another den or more coyotes, maybe even some raccoons,” she said excitedly, bracing herself on his knees and looking at him pleadingly. “We can go tomorrow! You don’t work on Saturdays, Papa, and you like the caves.”

Stiles smiled tightly at his daughter, trying to suppress his grimace. He and the Hales had just barely met eye to eye, best to not ask about dragging their previously-assumed-kidnapped son out for a hike in the woods.

“Wolf?” came a voice, and Stiles recognized it as the strong-featured woman from the first day at the Hales - the alpha. “How does Leo become a wolf, Reese?”

At this, the room seemed to quiet down, some leaning forward and everyone looking interested. Reese turned around, leaning against Stiles’ knees and looking at the older woman across the room with a tilt of the head as if pondering.

“Like normal?” she asked, confused. “He just… becomes a wolf. But Papa thought he was a puppy, but he’s really fluffy and soft as a wolf so he kinda does look like a puppy!” Reese seemed to entirely miss the point of the question and the confusion clouding the room. Stiles wanted to sink into the couch and disappear. Promptly.

“Reese,” Laura interjected, “Leo can’t… do that. It’s very rare, a special talent. And he’s too young to do it yet. Did… you help him?”

Reese rolled her eyes as if Laura was asking the most obvious of questions. “Of course! He could do it, he just needed a push! But he can do it, Miss Laura, he does it all by himself, I just help. Leo said I’m like a ship, weighing him down closer to his wolf or something. I thought that would be bad but he said it helps make it easier to shift! Sounds more like I’m a cloud than a ship because clouds are light and make you relax, but that’s what he said, though it sounds funny.”

Stiles covered his face with a hand. Anchor. The word his daughter was looking for was anchor and he didn’t need to look at anyone else’s face in the room to know the looks they had. His daughter just admitted to them all that she was Leo’s anchor at the ripe age of 7. His own knowledge (albeit limited) led him to understand anchors didn’t independently form until closer to puberty and teen years, most reverting to their packs as an anchor. He could only imagine the uproar about a 7-year-old having another 7-year-old as their anchor, let alone one with ticking time bomb magic.

“Did I say something bad, Papa?” Reese whispered. Stiles removed his hand, giving her a tight smile. He cast a glance across the room and sure enough, looks of surprise and slight concern were etched across many of the faces. Derek had the audacity to actually look amused, however.

“No, bubs, nothing bad,” he reassured, “but… that’s, that’s a big responsibility. It means you help Leo with his wolf. It’s… it’s like how you make the raccoons calm so they can play on the porch, yea? If you get too distracted they get scared, remember. Anchors are important that way, they help keep people calm and you have to be a good anchor otherwise they may get scared like the raccoons.”

Stiles was stumbling over his words. He was not the one to explain this. He was not a werewolf and his knowledge was limited to books and he was trying to explain it in a way a child would understand it while simultaneously not offending anyone in the room (and okay, maybe using the raccoons was a bad choice but they were the most skittish and scared the easiest!).

Reese got a serious look on her face and nodded in understanding. “It’s important because it’s his balance, right?” she asked, Stiles nodded. “Like Leo being my guide is important and can help me but can also be dangerous, because it’s about balance, right?”

Stiles paled. He stared at his daughter for a minute before slumping back into the couch, hand coming up to cover his eyes as he groaned.

“Please tell me Leo isn’t your guide, Reese.” Silence.

“You told me lying is bad, Papa,” she replied in a small voice. Stiles heard a laugh turned cough to his right and he immediately threw a glare at Derek. Next, he turned towards Laura, who was looking at him with wide eyes and an apprehensive expression. He gave her a cheerful smile in return, his anxiety surely seeping out in all ways possible and ruining any possible facade of cheer he was portraying.

“So my daughter…” Stiles began.

“Is my son’s anchor,” Laura finished, “And my son is-”

“My daughter’s guide,” Stiles finished for her, miserably. “It doesn’t look like we’ll be spending much time apart unless we plan to deal with the next world war.”

Reese giggled and Laura rubbed a hand down her face. “What… what’s a guide? Is it the same as an anchor?” she asked apprehensively, and Stiles laughed, slumping further into the couch.

“You wish,” he muttered. “Anchors, from what I’ve read and come to understand, center you. They bring out your humanity and also strengthen your wolf,” Laura nodded an affirmative, “Guides, however…”

“Guide lead us!” Reese announced loudly, a proud grin on her face at being able to add to the conversation. “Guides were mostly familiars but Papa says they can be anyone and even anything! They guide our magic and lead us on how to use it. Good guides make sure your magic is good and helps, bad guides make your magic bad and can hurt people. Guides are promises and can only be changed if the-”

Stiles wrapped a hand around her mouth, giving her a stern look as he continued. “Guides are our indicators. They don’t control us, but they center our motivations, they’re the focus of our magic and the source of our intentions. While anchors can change over time and it’s normal for them to change especially for kids, guides… don’t. It’s possible to have more than one, but guides usually aren’t developed or found until much later in life. They can be removed but not… naturally,” Stiles finished, attempting to skip over the more gruesome details.

Nonetheless, Laura looked dutifully horrified. Stiles understood her pain.

“Don’t worry, Momma,” Leo suddenly piped up from the side of the couch, “I promise to be a good guide! I’ll help Reese’s magic to be helpful, pinky promise!”

Laura, without much else to do, wrapped her pinky around her son’s. Her smile was tired but neither of the children seemed to notice, promptly disappearing and forgetting the initial question that started this all. The room remained quiet for a minute, everyone apparently mulling over the new information.

“Did your children just soul bond or something?”

The question came from a girl who looked similar to Laura but whose hair was lighter, her build broader and stronger compared to Laura’s narrow and lean one. Stiles was willing to bet sister, otherwise a freakishly similar-looking cousin.

Laura growled at her possibly-sister while Stiles just nodded, groaning. 

+.+.+

After that point, Stiles was blessed with the presence of Hales on a near-daily basis. He no longer had to worry about having to juggle schedules to pick up Reese every day from school - which was a major benefit of the new Hale additions - because one of Leo’s family members was happy to grab her too if he was busy. Stiles also found himself picking up Leo most days he was free to get Reese, despite the Hales having a seemingly flexible schedule between them all. It was ultimately due to the fact that Leo and Reese wanted to milk their time together and no one was about to try and stop that again.

Stiles and Reese went over to dinner at the Hale’s almost every week without fail, and almost every weekend Reese and Leo were taking turns in weaseling their way to each other’s houses. More often than not, Leo ended up at the Stilinski household, Derek almost always in tow as his designated chauffeur.

When the question of sleepovers came up (again), Stiles quickly settled the argument by explaining that sleepovers were only for family and even though they were close with each other’s families, they weren’t all actually family. It just didn’t work that way, he explained matter of factly.

It was a flimsy excuse, but it seemed to stump the mischievous duo, for the time being, and questions of sleepovers since halted. That is, until they came to a sudden realization.

Stiles was sitting on the couch with Derek, having long since gotten used to the other man’s presence in his house when Leo was over. Often, Derek brought Leo over and he and Leo stayed for a few hours, and then they’d take off back to their own homes. Apparently, Derek worked early mornings and Laura worked later into the evenings, leaving Derek a prime suspect to childcare for her in particular (although he was also the one who more often than not picked all the kids up when no one else could - Stiles would feel bad if it wasn’t so funny to watch Derek drive Laura’s minivan when he dropped Reese off).

While the two sat on the couch, they held a steady conversation, pausing to cast looks at the TV and keep an eye on the game as they took sips of the beers in their hands. It was more often than not baseball on the TV, but Stiles indulged Derek’s love of basketball and put it on when there weren’t any new games on for baseball.

The relative peace was suddenly shattered as two overly innocent seeming children sat on the coffee table in front of them, pleased smiles on their faces.

“What did you little monsters do this time?” Stiles asked warily, moving to the edge of the couch. He was nervous about the response but wanted to ultimately get it over with. He was willing to bet his child instigated it, after all.

“So sleepovers are only allowed with family,” Reese began nonchalantly as if confirming. Stiles nodded slowly, squinting at her.

“No, I am not adopting Leo, and no, Laura cannot adopt you. You’re both stuck with the families you got,” he answered, but Reese giggled and shook her head. Leo grinned widely, turning to look at his uncle with gleaming eyes.

“When Uncle Peter married Aunt Marissa, she became family, right Uncle Derek?” he asked sweetly, earning a slow nod from the man in question.

“So that’s it then!” Reese squealed, grinning at them a bit too widely.

“So what’s it?” Stiles asked, scrunching his brow and looking at his child with an apprehensive look. This couldn’t be good.

“You and Uncle Derek can get married and then we’ll be family! Then we can all have sleepovers whenever we want because you’ll be family once you marry Uncle Derek and if you’re family then so is Reese!” Leo supplied. Derek promptly choked - on nothing - and stared at his nephew with wide eyes. His ears began to turn a bit red as he stuttered on the beginning syllables of a word, an attempt at a response.

Stiles was equally dumbfounded, frozen to the spot. He’d be laughing at Derek’s reaction and his brightly colored face if he wasn’t sporting his own blush and unable to find his voice.

“Lee, that’s… not how that works,” Derek hedged, glancing at Stiles and then giving a pointed glare to his nephew. It had no effect, as Leo simply rolled his eyes in response, seemingly exasperated by Derek’s inability to grasp the simple concept of marrying Stiles so he and Reese could have sleepovers.

“Yea it is! You can get married! Momma married Daddy, grandma married grandpa, Uncle Peter married Aunt Mari-” Derek cut him off with a noise of protest.

“No, Lee, I meant… you marry someone because you love them. A special love, like your mom and dad or grandma and grandpa. You can’t just marry someone for-”

“Sleepovers,” Stiles finally spoke up, shaking his head slightly. Derek nodded in agreement.

Groaning, Leo narrowed his eyes at Derek as if in a challenge. “Momma said she loves Daddy because he’s funny. Stiles makes you laugh all the time!”

“And Grandpa said he loved Grandma because she was really smart. Derek knows about all the books you always talk about!” Reese added in.

“Uncle Peter says Aunt Marissa is the prettiest woman he’s ever seen, and you told Momma you thought Stiles was pretty! You said he had pretty eyes and that you like his m-mu-moe… his moles!” Leo continued, much to Derek’s horror.

“Uncle Scott loves Aunt Allison and he talks about her ALL the time, just like you talk about Derek ALL the time! You even told Uncle Scott that-” Stiles slapped a hand over his daughter’s mouth, mortified for what would come out next. He was not ready to know what she overheard or what she thought she overhead, much less was he ready for Derek to know.

“Okay! Great examples, a lot of compelling evidence but, uh, well… you have to date before you get married! So we can’t get married because we haven’t dated, so no sleepovers, okay? Okay,” Stiles rushed out, looking for any kind of out to this slightly mortifying experience that was unraveling before him.

Leo got a thoughtful look on his face before he brightened and straightened up. “Uncle Derek can take you on a date! Daddy and Momma go on dates all the time, they drop me off at grandma’s or Uncle Derek’s. Reese can stay at grandma’s too and he can take you on a date, Stiles!”

Derek groaned, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands. 

“Uncle Scott says you should go out, Papa, Derek can take you out! Last week Aunt Allison said you should get lai-” Stiles’ hand clamped back down on Reese’s mouth and she glared at him before moving her face away. “It’s just a nap, Papa, you can just lay in bed if you don’t want to sleep, that’s what you tell me,” she grumbled, and yep. Okay. That just made it worse. Stiles couldn’t help the pained noise that came out of his mouth.

Neither he nor Derek spoke up, and both children took it as a triumph. After a couple of minutes, Reese turned to Leo. “They can totally get married!” she said, before jumping off the coffee table and pulling Leo with her, already chattering about their next sleepover and what movies they’d watch, and how Stiles could make them grilled cheeses again. Leo was agreeing happily to all the suggestions, simply content with the idea of there being another sleepover in their future.

Stiles sat staring straight ahead, unwilling to turn and face Derek. He wasn’t sure who was more mortified and he didn’t want to see the look on the other man’s face. Maybe they could play this off, the old ‘haha… kids!’ excuse, maybe they could just ignore the whole thing and pretend it never happened, maybe they could just focus on the game, maybe if Stiles drank the beer in his hand really fast he could-

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” Derek suddenly spoke up, surprisingly breaking the silence. Stiles froze up again, then slowly turned to look at Derek. “Going on a date. With you. If… if you wanted to… go out. With me,” he clarified, stumbling on the words, his eyes unable to meet Stiles’ own.

“Are… did you just ask me out?” Stiles asked, bewildered. Derek’s ears turned impossibly redder and he gave a stiff nod. Stiles simply stared before breaking out into a laugh. Derek looked at him, a bit annoyed, but Stiles waved away the expression, gasping on a bout of laughter.

“No, no. I’m- I’m not laughing at you, I just… I’m laughing at us,” Stiles explained, prompting Derek to grumble in response.

“Because that’s so much better,” he huffed.

“No! Not- okay, first,” Stiles said, huffing out his last laugh before shifting to face Derek fully, holding up a single finger, “first, I would love to go out with you. Second, I’m laughing at us because how did me accidentally kidnapping your nephew and you passively threatening to kill me turn into… this!” Stiles emphasized the ‘this’ with a bit of a wild hand gesture, encompassing the whole room. The whole situation.

Derek cocked his head, finally looking at Stiles head-on, before a grin broke out across his own face slowly and he began to laugh. Stiles easily joined in once more, the two of them laughing and leaning into one another as they doubled over.

After laughing perhaps a bit too long, Derek straightened up, leaning a bit more closely into Stiles. Stiles sobered up from his laughter, looking at the man next to him as his breath hitched at the newfound proximity.

“At least we know there’ll never be a dull moment between us,” Derek mumbled, quirking a smile. Stiles gave a grin in response, leaning further in himself.

“Yea, I guess you could say that,” he murmured in response. 

Derek raised a hand to Stiles’ jaw, pulling him in the last couple of inches. Stiles let one hand slide up to grip Derek’s waist, balancing his weight against the other as he pushed forward to kiss him. Derek replied in kind, holding Stiles’ jaw firmly and maneuvering them into a deeper kiss after the initial soft press of lips.

If there was any possibility of it going further or anything else happening, it was interrupted by giggling from the staircase, causing the two to pull back ever so slightly just in time to hear the excited whispers.

“They’re totally getting married!”

“We’re gonna have sleepovers all the time!”

[bhaalbabebardlock]

Daises on My Nightstand

Chapter 11- The Daughter of a God

Masterpost

AO3 Link

Summary: Ilara finally finds out who and what she is.

She was pulled from the bliss of her dreams into the anguish of a nightmare, the cold stone around her coming into focus. She was on the floor of a temple, somewhere, staring into the eyes of a face she did not recognize before the name washed over her with a cold realization: Bhaal.

Naughty, naughty, naughty little Master. Dread coiled in her stomach as she heard Scleritas' voice, quickly rising to her feet. You have disobeyed your father's wishes one time too many. For she who fights with monsters, should look to it that she herself becomes a monster.

Pain ripped through her skull, and she screamed, falling back to her knees, a sob wrenching from her chest as images flashed through her mind. And they were all her. Her- standing proudly -cold fury on her face- in a room full of people dead around her, her dagger dripping blood in her hand as she raises it to her mouth. Her, stalking a man down a dark alley, sighing softly, wickedly, as her dagger sinks into his ribs and he cried out in surprise. Her, laughing cruelly as a woman begged for mercy she would not receive. Her, weaving through the underdark to deliver sweet nothingness to anyone that crossed her path. Bloody and wild and feral, again and again and again. Her on her knees, vowing in this very same temple that she would make the world bleed, make them beg that she had never come to be. A child, born from the flesh of a god, created to reign death upon all who cross her path. Another scream tore from her mouth.

When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Another will embrace what you have rejected, and that other will be your death. Orin. The name brought icy fear dragging down her spine, the image of the pale woman she had seen in Moonrise flashing behind her eyelids.

But your father loves you dearly. You may reinherit yourself yet. Slaughter your line. Become the last of your name. Lord Bhaal shall have but one chosen, it was always meant to be you.

She bolted awake, her heart pounding in her chest as she sat up. She could not think, could not process anything that she had just seen. It wasn't possible. It wasn't possible that those memories were hers. It wasn't possible what Scleritas had said.

She hurriedly thought back to everything that had happened these last eight weeks. Her thoughts twisted and dark and angry. The urges, the nights she had lost herself to the sway of her violence, how unnatural her talent with a knife seemed to be, Alfira, the dreams, the letter, Ketheric, Enver. It felt like time stopped as the realization dawned on her.

I am a weapon of destruction. An assassin. The child of a God. And this is all my fault. What have I done?

[cherie-zip]

The Fallen Angel and the Black Swan

On that day, the black swan erased my wounds, embracing my flaws with tender grace.

"Do you think I deserve all of this?"

This question often slips past my lips, resonating with the night breeze as the window stands wide open. The moon looks stunning tonight, and the stars are dancing across the sky. The man behind me tightens his hug around my waist.

It was an uncountable number of times that I had asked him that kind of question. He never complained about it, and I knew beyond any doubt that he would always be sincere about his response. Instead of immediately answering my question, he chose to place a kiss where my wings were supposed to be.

"Define 'these,' little angel," he said, as his fingers made circular motions around my bare stomach. I secretly smiled, feeling his breath brush against my skin. "If you were asking about your unfortunate events, then you absolutely never deserved anything like that. But if you were asking about us, then you deserve it. You deserve to be loved like this."

I chuckled as I rubbed his arms that wrapped around my waist, trying to guess what kind of expression he made behind me. "I love being loved like this," I said with a smile.

The breeze seemed to get a little wild, becoming slightly harsher and sending shivers down my spine. I curled up, snuggling closer into his embrace. He whispered sweet chants into my ears, like the most peaceful lullaby, while I couldn't take my eyes off the moon.

It was a long story, and I lacked the energy to recount every little detail of how I encountered this man. He wasn't the cause of my broken wings or the curse that confined me to this human world, but he became the reason I could endure the pain of living without my wings.

He was the one who discovered me, discarded from heaven, by the edge of a lake. My vision was blurry at the time, clouded with tears as my wings lay broken, their white feathers strewn about.

He didn't display any surprise at witnessing an angel in such a wretched state, as if it were the hundredth time he had encountered something like this. In that moment, I questioned my sanity, for as he approached, I saw a black swan walking towards me.

Silently, he removed his warm, padded coat and draped it around me, concealing the wound on my back. Even without words, I knew my back was bleeding. His eyes betrayed a mixture of concern and fear, yet in my mind, I continued to envision the gentle touch of a black swan upon my imperfections.

Ever since that moment, he never left my side, not even for a second, except when I had to attend to other wounded angels. At first, I believed he was a devil, the reason for my cursed state, as if the gods and goddesses knew I would fall in love with a devil. Thankfully, he proved me wrong.

He is undoubtedly a human, but in my eyes, he personifies the essence of a black swan. When I was in heaven, another angel once spoke to me about black swans. They said that encountering a black swan could signify something surprising and impactful, though they never specified the nature of that impact. I choose to believe it was something good and extraordinary, given how he cherishes me above all else in this world.

"Angel. Little angel? Hey, my angel. Are you okay?" he called out, his voice filled with concern.

I blinked several times, finally realizing that I had been lost in my thoughts and hadn't heard him calling my name countless times. I turned slowly, curling up in his embrace, allowing our bare skin to touch. He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, his hands occupied with tenderly caressing my back, providing soothing rubs.

"What makes you never hate my flaws and curse?" I asked, my voice barely audible, but he undoubtedly heard every word. "I was banished from heaven, and now you're probably embracing a demon."

He chuckled softly, his fingers gently stroking my hair. "The things you perceive as flaws and curses are already a part of who you are. I love you exactly as you are, every inch of you. If heaven cast you out from being an angel, then you shall be my angel."

I was on the verge of tears when he whispered in my ear, warning me not to cry or he would playfully bite my nose. His words instantly made me burst into laughter, and a sense of joy filled my heart. Yet, unintentionally, tears still welled up in my eyes. I had forgotten that the habit of shedding tears remained with me, a remnant of my angelic nature, whenever something touched my heart.

In his presence, I came to realize that a guardian angel could take the form of any creature. Being a guardian angel wasn't solely determined by the designations given by gods and goddesses; it was about one's willingness to protect anything that fell within their sight. It dawned on me that an angel could have their own guardian angel too. He was my guardian angel.

Whenever he planted kisses on my skin, I felt as if the pain that had once pierced me from behind, where my wings should have been, completely vanished.

Perhaps my favorite Goddess had sent a black swan, embodying a marvelous transformation, to me in the guise of a human. He is perpetually genuine and untainted, yet possesses a strength that could lead him into battle at the slightest hint of a threat near me.

"Call me again, please?" I softly pleaded.

It struck me as amusing to witness an angel begging a human, all the while being held in his embrace. It felt slightly embarrassing, given that as an angel, it should be my role to protect humans in this world. Yet, here he was, protecting me even from the faintest trace of dust carried by the night breeze into our room.

"Little angel. My angel," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness.

Once again, beneath the moonlit sky and amidst the freezing night breeze, our lips met in a passionate embrace. The red string of fate that bound us intertwined, compelling me to draw closer, surrendering myself to his complete control over my body and soul.

On this night, both the fallen angel and the black swan succumbed to desire, as love consumed their very souls.